Momo The Ripper [Isekai/LitRPG] by villa1ny

Category: Original

Genre: Adventure, Comedy, Fantasy, Female Lead, High Fantasy, LitRPG, Magic, Portal Fantasy / Isekai, Progression, Supernatural

Status: In-Progress

Published: 2022-11-10

Updated: 2023-06-19

Packaged: 2023-06-19 21:46:10

Chapters: 138

Words: 265,515

Publisher: www.royalroad.com

Summary:

For Momo, an anti-social art major perpetually at risk of dropping out, college life wasn't a great fit.

When she wakes up one morning in a dark cavern full of skeletons and necromancers, she knows a new era of her life is about to start - and dedicates herself to actually being successful in this one.

Chosen for her meek and harmless personality, she is able to exist under the radar as she completes the Dawn's necromantic missions. Watch her as she gains confidence (and class levels), and reluctantly rises from meager apprentice to the Queen of the Underworld.

This is a lighthearted and humorous (but epic!) isekai LitRPG, with a vivid world full of characters for Momo to meet, battle, and revive from the dead.

Schedule: Mon-Thu on RR, with an extra chapter every Friday on Patreon.

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—ordering 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—a 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—sleeping—that 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.

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—so 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—there 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—corpses gaining sentience, rising against us, yada yada—but 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—mixing 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—the 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]!

[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—it’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—the 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—that 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—and 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—as 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.

Momo's 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—with 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—except 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—a 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—”

“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—outside of speaking, and several other greatest fears—was 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.”

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—oh, dear, heavenly God—a 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—for whatever stupid reason—to 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—a map of the surrounding area, instructions on how to get to Kalendale, and the name and address of the customer—and 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—not 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—who she supposed was never cosplaying, but just an actual, real life necromancer, wonderful—and 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—she 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—the 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—INT—had 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—or 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—she 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.

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—plenty 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—their 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—I’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.

She hoped desperately that Necromage Initiate came with an eventual invisibility skill.

“Ah, nope, no coin. I’m fine, t–thank 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—reachable by Kalendale Way—led 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—an 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—your 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—and 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—there 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—believed 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—a college art degree, several self-help books, cleaning her room—she 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.

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—classes, 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—like 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.

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—to 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—Valerica?” 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—a rush of power. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt a sense of dominionover 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—her 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.

One Person's Trash is Another Person's Undead Cat

She should have known that success, especially for a Momo, would always be fleeting.

“You! Smelly one!” an unfortunately familiar voice interrupted her momentary happiness. It was John, smack dab in the center of the market. All around him, onlookers watched in silence as he ground his foot into what looked like a bear pelt, “do you know something about this bag o’ bones?”

Oh no. Momo gasped, dread washing over her. Phil!

An overwhelming sorrow crushed her good mood into dust. Phil didn’t deserve this fate—to be crushed under the fat, stubby toes of John the Meatman. Phil had been a good bear. He didn’t particularly like listening to instructions, or going where he was meant to go, but he licked her hand once or twice, and he had a good heart.

Okay, he didn’t have that either. But still.

Momo remained still and silent, the ocean of eyes upon her heightening her anxiety to a peak. She began to sweat, and she hurriedly shoved her bag of gold coins into her back pocket..

“Our watchmen tell us ye came from the south, and nothing good ever comes from those woods,” John shook his head, approaching her. He clenched the bear’s skull in his hand, his fingers holding it by the eye sockets, “and they saw a bear following close behind ye.”

“We’re a tight-knit village, this one,” he said, gesturing to all the people behind him. Most of them were country peasants, sellers of meat, dairy, and beer, and they were looking at her like she might as well be the next witch they hang, “and we have a real explicit attitude towards necros: slay ‘em.”

The urge to not be slain once again overpowering her urge to be silent and curl up into the fetal position, she stuttered “I–I’m not a necro, and I’ve never seen that bear in my life.”

“We saw ya!” a beanstalk of a man piped up, holding an accusatory finger towards Momo, “me and my lass Johanna. We were watching the woods with a mighty intensity, as we do everyday, when we saw a little lass and a bear walk on by. We thought she might have passed our village, but then we saw this undead bear walking on in…”

“A bear made a’ bones!” Johanna chimed in.

Momo cowered under the allegations. This was bad. But of course it was—why did she expect it to go any different? She couldn’t remember the last time something had just “worked out” for her. When things just “worked out” for people, they turned into social media influencers, and made their money selling magical weight loss powder on the internet.

A beautiful, enviable lifestyle. But not the one she had ever led.

With no other options, Momo did what she did best—she stood still, absolutely paralyzed by fear.

“Hello?” John barked, shouting at her again, “you can’t even dignify us with a’ response, ya' necro?”

Embarrassingly, her eyes began to well up with tears. Not this again, she thought helplessly, once again at the mercy of her very low emotional ceiling. No matter who raised their voice at her—her mom, her dad, her brother, a professor, the Bendy Burger’s cashier when her credit card got declined—it only took a few moments before she was a babbling, crying mess, rivaling only nature’s greatest waterfalls.

She sniffed. How could she ever dream of becoming someone who inspired fear in others, like Valerica so badly wanted for her, when this was how she reacted to a threat?

“Oh,” John paused, suddenly unsure of himself, “uh, er—don’t cry.”

“It’s a necromancer trick!” Johanna cried out, but the rest of the town looked at her skeptically.

“Is this who we are now?” Bertha said, shaking her head. She walked in front of Momo, shielding her from the pitchfork wielding citizens, “blaming a smelly, unhoused girl for our own issues?”

Wonderful, Momo bowed her head down. If this was how she was going to win this encounter, she would much rather lose.

But it worked—everyone fell silent, thoroughly chastised.

Even John, with all his indignance, looked a bit regretful.

Congratulations! For making the town wizard offer you his sleeping quarters out of pity, and getting out of a potentially deadly situation by using your tears, you gained the skill [Pitied]!

[Pitied]: You have a 20% increased chance of persuading someone when they pity you. This skill increases as a factor of your Charisma score.

Momo frowned gravely. She was proving Valerica right in all the wrong ways.

Bertha turned to Momo, patting her lightly on the shoulder, “I’m sorry, my poor girl. Let me get you to my bathhouse. We need you washed up and presentable, so the folks stop accusing you of raising undead bears and all that mess.”

Momo wanted to pipe up (there was still no way she was stepping foot in a naked pool full of strangers) but she decided against it, at least for the time being. Better to go along with their helpless impression of her until she could slip away unnoticed.

Bertha led her to the bathhouse, a large, exquisitely designed building east of the university. Through the broad wooden doors, Momo could already see a singular, giant bath, housing dozens of (clothed!) townspeople. At the front, a bored receptionist was absentmindedly doodling in the guestbook.

“Nasi,” Bertha snapped two fingers in front of the receptionist's face, “book this girl down and give her a complimentary six hour stay at the baths.”

Nasi looked up, a bit startled. Long, red hair framed her narrow face as she peered over the guestbook.

“Name?” she said, completely monotone.

“Momo,” Momo answered. It was becoming kind of her catchphrase.

“Momo. Huh,” Nasi stared at her blankly, “haven’t heard that one before.”

Momo shrugged, “it’s Korean.”

“Korean?” Nasi furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, “what’s that?”

“Oh, um, right,” Momo stuttered, momentarily forgetting herself, “it’s just a place.”

“Interesting,” Nasi said, voice completely the opposite of interested, “go on then, what size bathing suit you want?”

“Small?”

“Small?” Nasi was losing patience, her eyes narrowing, “you really aren’t from around here, are you? Sizes are goblin, human, elf, and reptile.”

Reptile? Momo’s mind was immediately filled with images of geckos in bikinis. She tried to hold in her laughter, covering her mouth with her hand.

“You look human enough, so here you go,” Nasi shrugged, handing Momo a bathing suit that might as well have been for a human child, “it’s elastic, so just stretch it out a bit beforehand.”

Momo thanked her quietly and made her way to the changing rooms, where she shoved herself into the baby sized swimsuit. Just as Nasi had mentioned, the more she stretched it, the more it expanded, until it fit perfectly over her hips.

Somehow, Mallmart sizing still managed to be worse than this. And she had just received a swimsuit meant for both infants and fully-sized adult men.

Still a bit self conscious, she wrapped herself in a towel before she left. She walked out of the dressing room and into the bath, which was nearly half-occupied. It was mid-day, apparently peak time for elderly bathers in Kalendale, with the pool being mostly occupied by wrinkled, leathery bodies of all races.

Less worried about what elderly geckos thought of her body, she discarded the towel and lowered herself into the warm waters. And promptly nearly died. It was piping hot—just above boiling, and her skin broiled at the mere touch of it. She immediately yelled, jumping back out.

“First timer?”

Momo faced right, eyes landing on what she could only guess was a goblin. His skin was as red as lava, and he had bright yellow eyes and a short, stubby body. His voice was gravelly and old, as if it was smoked out of a hot tobacco pipe.

“Um, yes,” she answered honestly, sitting awkwardly at the edge of the bath, “what gave it away?”

The old goblin chuckled.

“Mid-day is predominantly goblin hour, so they crank up the heat like we’re swimming in a volcano,” he explained kindly, “not too many humans find the temperature… survivable. Well, except Bob.”

The goblin gestured to the plump human man resting on an inflated donut in the middle of the pool. His body was as red as hot coals, but he didn’t seem to mind it.

“Huh, cool,” she said, admiring the heat-resistant fellow, “I’ve never met a goblin before.”

“Is that so?” the goblin smiled. He had a kind, grandfatherly energy about him. His yellow eyes were warm, like two discs of lemon cake, “well I am pleased to meet you then. My name is Ragnok.”

“Momo,” she said shyly. Still, she was truly surprised she had managed this far into conversation at all; it seemed her confidence—or charisma, whatever it was—really was aided by that [Burgeoning Confidence] skill. She could feel it in the way she carried herself. Even a day ago, the prospect of talking to a stranger would have had her running for the hills.

These skills fascinated her. She craved to find out more about them—how she could possibly grow into a version of herself she never knew could exist. The mere thought exhilarated her.

Looking at the friendly goblin, she inhaled sharply and ventured a question, “Mr. Ragnok, do you know what classes are?”

“What an unusual question,” he said, but no malice laced his tone, “do you not?”

She looked down, embarrassed, “no clue. I’m from the… Other-World?”

“Is that really so? Hm. Never met one like you, in all my long years,” he hummed, splashing his feet in the boiling water, “but I’ve heard of this Other-World. Something the dark ones dabble in. Occasionally High Mages also venture into it, but rarely any return unscathed.”

Momo’s eyes widened, “people from here visit Earth?”

He nodded, “I’ve heard it done. But I’m told it’s an unkind and cruel land, and many of the King’s most talented mages have been lost to it. Apparently, a great evil dragon haunts the place, by name of Capalism.”

“Capalism? Do you mean... capitalism?”

“That’s the one,” he frowned, “powerful beast. Seen many of our wisest warlocks lost to him. Heard he uses his magics to turn them to a twisted class—something called the [Tech Bro], or occasionally an [Investment Banker]”

Momo opened her mouth, but then found she couldn’t disagree.

“On Earth, we don’t really have classes in the same way you all do… with these skills, and levels, and all that…”

“Ah, I see,” he nodded, “well, it’s all very simple, except when it isn’t,” he grinned goodnaturedly, “classes are tied to a few different variables. Predominantly, actions you take, and meeting certain entry requirements. You can have two major classes, and one minor class.”

Momo bit her lip. So it was basically… college?

“Can I change classes?” Momo interjected, knowing full well that she had changed her major approximately five times until settling on art.

“Nope,” he shrugged, crushing Momo’s (very subtle and innocent, totally not betraying Valerica) dreams of possibly escaping necromancy, “that’s why young ones are always told to be very careful and deliberate with which class they seek out. Of course, there are many ways to specialize, and your second major and minor can be a great opportunity for that, too.”

Momo frowned. She wondered how exactly she could have been more careful and deliberate about waking up in a necromancer’s den. What was she supposed to do? Not talk to the skeleton? She had thought he was an elaborate halloween decoration.

“If you’re not too keen on your starter class, that’s no worry though,” he waved his hand, “classes have plenty of evolutions for a reason. Different paths you can take.”

Momo brightened, “oh, really?”

“Yes, absolutely. For instance, I started as a [Wayfarer], a jack-of-all-trades warrior class. Then I picked up some spellcasting, transitioned into a [Spellsword]. Then I was drafted into the Dark Calamity war, and became a [Holy Knight].”

Momo’s eyes gleamed, “wow. Sounds… powerful.”

He smiled, and stretched his arms above his head, “so I am. Or was. I’m retired now, and spend my time teaching at the university. Haven’t had to fight anyone in quite a while except students over their grades.”

“Seems like they have a good professor,” she smiled back at him.

“Ha, flattery,” he waved his red hand, “I do alright. But how about you, then? What class did you get stuck with to start?”

Momo’s eyebrows shot up. Shit. She swallowed.

“Uh—” she gripped the side of the pool until her knuckles turned blue, “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” he quirked his head, “Huh. I suppose you might have missed it, considering you’re from the Other-World and all. Well, if you want to check, all you have to do is say stats check.”

“Oh, okay,” she said, stupidly, “well, I’ll remember that for later. I’d rather… enjoy the water, for now.”

She was still a good foot away from the water, gripping her knees for dear life.

His expression changed slightly, eyeing her with a bit of concern.

“Whatever you say,” he chuckled, and lowered himself back into the bath, “I wish you luck on your path, Momo.”

“Thanks,” she mumbled feebly, feeling like the path had just gotten ten times more confusing.

After spending another half an hour breathing in the warm steam, Momo decided it was time enough to leave. After thanking the red goblin profusely, she slipped back into her day-clothes and left the bathhouse, heading back towards the woods. She wanted to get back to the Dawn before sundown. Without Phil to accompany her, the prospect of venturing through the trees in the dark sent a chill up her spine.

The sun was lingering over the horizon by the time she made it to the forest’s entrance. Just as she was about to start her journey back to the sanctuary, she spotted a clump of flies hovering near a nearby tree stump.

She wrinkled her nose. Something smelled of death.

She walked up to it, now completely immune to the sight and scent of insects, and found the most miserable thing she could have ever imagined.

An abandoned gray tabby cat. Left to rot.

Momo felt her eyes immediately prickle with tears, and she reached for the animal, waving away the flies.

“No, no, no…” she mumbled frantically, cradling the ball of fur and bone in her arms, “I… I can fix this. What was it, that stupid spell—”

“Right!” she exclaimed, remembering the new skill she earned the night before. She stared down at the cat in her arms, “[Raise Undead].”

And just like that, the cat came to life in her arms. Its bony legs began to squabble about, tail flicking in every which direction. It jumped out of the cradle of her arms and on to the ground, churning the dirt beneath its paws. Finally, the cat turned to her, and purred.

Momo felt her heart leap in her chest.

Congratulations! For reanimating your first ever corpse, you have gained a level in   [Necromage Initiate].

She immediately regretted ever reconsidering Necromancy. Valerica was right—people had it all wrong. What was more kind and beautiful than giving back life to the lifeless?

The cat shook itself, releasing several lumps of bloody fur onto the ground.

Momo grimaced.

Okay, some things were more beautiful. But very few.

She kneeled in front of the cat, “you’re my new favorite thing. I’m calling you…”

Momo looked around. There were a couple dead flies. A molding tree stump. She frowned. Her surroundings were severely lacking in creative inspiration.

Looking up, she could see the waxing moon appear in the sky. The sunlight was receding fast.

"Dusk," she hummed, petting the cat's spine, "I'll call you Dusk."

Excalibur

After returning home from her successful mission, Momo was quickly ushered into the main hall on the shoulders of two necromages. The gold from her purse was flung about like confetti.

“After a mere two days, this initiate has returned to us with more gold than the sanctuary has seen in months,” Valerica boasted, holding Momo up in her arms like they were in the Lion King, and Momo had just inherited the kingdom, “this is a feat no other recruit has managed since the Dark Calamity war.”

The room roared as if they were at a football game. Momo felt like the new Lionel Messi, except she was much smaller. And weaker. And bad at sports.

But apparently very good at impressing people who wore hoods in a room with zero sunlight.

Finally placing her on the ground, Valerica looked at Momo with shining eyes.

“I believe a promotion is in order,” she clapped Momo on the shoulders. Momo nearly went dizzy with the amount of touching; not only because it was Valerica, but also because Valerica’s hands were the temperature of frozen glaciers.

But… promotion? Momo fought off the frostbite creeping on her shoulders. The word ran circles around her head. The only promotion she had received in her six years at Mallmart was from bathroom cleaner to ambulance-caller for pregnant women who went into labor in the maternity section.

It happened more than you’d think.

“You obviously have a talent for customer relations management,” Valerica said, leading Momo through a hallway that broke off from the main corridor.

Momo heavily disagreed, like, heavily, but she remained silent.

They entered a room far more decadent than the rest. In the center of it was a long stone desk, covered in envelopes, parchment paper, inkwells and writing quills. The desk chair behind the table resembled a queen’s throne, with spears of bone jutting out of the back.

Valerica sat at the throne, and the bones—mostly skeletal arms, with hands intact—relaxed to become arm rests. Arm rests made of arms.

This world was completely insane.

“Welcome to my office,” Valerica spread her hands, “my little slice of heaven.”

From behind Valerica, a fountain came to life, blood spurting out of the mouths of sculpted heads. Undead koi fish wriggled about.

“It’s very nice,” Momo complimented earnestly.

“Thank you,” Valerica grinned, her fanged canines showing, “now Momo, I have to admit, your first mission was a bit of a test. You know, something you earthling mortals might call a hazing.”

Momo nodded, very familiar with the concept.

“But you passed with flying colors, my dear. Tell me, how did you convince Mr. Mole to part with his coin? I know it couldn’t have been easy.”

Momo quirked an eyebrow. Had Valerica known he’d resist?

“Oh, um, well…” she weighed telling the truth with lying, but she didn’t put it past Valerica to secretly be a living lie detector. The woman contained multitudes, “really, I just mentioned you. That was all it took.”

Valerica’s grin grew, nearly splitting her face in two.

“Oh, is that so? And how did he react?”

Her eyes were glowing red; two discs of bright hellfire.

Momo squirmed in her seat.

“He—uh, he got very scared,” totally unlike how Momo felt right now, absolutely not similar, “and started panicking. And then he ran to his chest and gave me gold.”

“Oh, splendid. Just splendid.”

“Do you know each other?”

Valerica tapped her red-tipped nails on the table. Wherever they landed, paper burned to a crisp.

“We’re acquainted,” she shrugged, “when the Dark Calamity war waged, he was one of the necromancers that picked the side of the King. A weakling. He thought it would keep him alive, hiding his powers. Didn’t want to risk his hide for the greater cause.”

There was an unnatural bitterness in her tone. Not much seemed to phase Valerica, but she seemed to view his choice as a real betrayal.

“Cause?” Momo squeaked. She was sweating in her seat, but her curiosity was overwhelming.

“It started like all conflicts do—with a simple misunderstanding,” Valerica rolled her eyes, “before the war, the King had an in-house necromancer. All nobility did. When the King’s wife died, the necromancer did what any necromancer worth his salt would do, he revived her.”

After seeing what revive meant in the context of her new feline friend, Momo felt like she knew where this was going.

“Of course, no one is ever the same after they’re dead. Maybe their eyes are a little absent. Their cheekbones a little more… bony. But that’s really no different from the living. We all wake up every day a little bit different than the last, no?” Valerica raised an eyebrow, “but the King refused to see it this way. He cast out his necromancer and declared every necromancer a plague on Alois. They were to be caught and killed, no nuance about it.”

“Naturally, our great Goddess Morgana saw this as a threat to her children. She saw us in peril, and charitably gifted us the ability to fight back against a greater foe. To save us from extinction.”

Valerica raised her hand to the air and a plume of green smoke erupted from it. The smoke flickered and flashed, as if jolted by lightning. In her other hand, a ball of fire grew in her palm.

“I was one of the chosen,” Valerica grinned, dispelling the fumes, “the first [Necromage]. A necromancer with the ability to harness the elements—water, earth, fire, air. There were two other chosen: Sera, the [Necropriest], and Azrael, the [Necroknight]. Our disciplines existed in a previously unknown tier of the class system—the excalibur tier. Previous to the Dark Calamity, there were only three tiers: novice, intermediate, and expert.”

Momo’s eyes widened. She was starting to see why the wizard nearly fainted at the mere mention of Valerica.

“Are there any other excalibur classes that aren’t necromancers?” Momo asked. From her impression of the world outside the sanctuary, the necromancers hadn’t exactly won the Dark Calamity.

Valerica frowned. It seemed Momo had touched a nerve.

“Tragically, yes,” she groaned, “in reaction to Morgana’s gift, the other deities responded in kind. Kyros, the jealous oaf, couldn’t resist but bless the Holy Knights with a similar path to ascension. He gave the King’s most elite circle of soldiers access to the [Knight of the Sun] excalibur class, and crushed the necromancer’s rebellion.”

Momo hummed, listening intently.

“But,” Valerica whispered, leaning over her desk so she was barely a breath away from Momo, “Morgana tells me things. Whispers. Things that even the other Gods do not know.”

As she spoke, Valerica’s fangs reflected the candlelight. Momo’s cheeks heated up, her breathing stuttering.

“She tells me that excalibur is not the end, but only the beginning,” her eyes lit up like lava, and Momo could feel her molten hot breath on her face.

Just as she looked like she was about to say more, she drew back abruptly, clearing her throat.

“Anyways,” Valerica said, “your promotion.”

Momo’s jaw dropped. She was going to leave it at that?

“But, Morgana—”

“Is very impressed by you!” Valerica clapped her hands together, pivoting the subject swiftly, “and so am I. That’s why I’m promoting you to Sales Lead of Morgana’s Dawn. You will be in charge of all of our customer relations; getting new leads, maintaining relationships. We want to be at the forefront when it comes to undead services, and I think you’re just the girl for the job.”

Momo wanted to slam her head on the table. In a mere second, she went from dreaming of eternal power—power that rivaled the Gods—to a second-rate customer service employee.

She sighed. She supposed everyone had to start somewhere.

Valerica looked at her with shining eyes, and it caused Momo to stand up straight again.

“I’ll be the best Sales Lead you’ve ever had,” Momo nodded, and meant it.

“I just know you will.”

“Goddess, I can feel it. She’s the one.”

The main hall, usually bustling with necromages, fell silent in the night. The members of the sanctuary had retired to their beds or to their studies, tucked away with pillows and spell tomes. All that remained was Valerica, sitting cross-legged before the statue of Morgana.

She is meek and frail, Valerica.

Valerica sat with her eyes closed in a meditative position. As was her tradition every midnight, she communed with the Goddess. The deity's voice filled the room, echoing everywhere yet coming from nowhere.

“That is exactly why I am sure,” Valerica dug her nails into her thighs, “she comes to us as a wolf in sheep’s clothing.”

A deafening silence passed over the chamber. They used to talk in hurried tones, exchanging ideas back and forth like children. But as of late, their conversations had become charged, a tension hanging in the air.

This is not a game to be played lightly. If we want to achieve our goal, we must be exact. Certain. We must not grow close to a lamb while searching tirelessly for the wolf.

Valerica shook her head.

“I am certain,” she said, teeth gritted, “she is the wolf.”

Death by Tummy Ache

It had been five days since Momo died, and life had never been better.

She had friends (a cat that smelled like rotting flesh and a mentor that may or may not kill her at a moment’s notice), a steady job (Sales Lead at Morgana’s Dawn), and most importantly, a rent-free place to sleep (a pile of hay inside the stables).

Momo stretched out her arms and yawned happily. The stench of manure couldn’t even dampen her mood. Valerica had been charitable enough, given her recent promotion, to let her sleep outside among the animals. Momo was over the moon; it was far preferable to a dark cavern full of rat bones.

Dusk had promoted herself to resident [Alarm Clock Cat], making sure to meow everyone awake like a rooster the moment the sun slipped over the horizon. Momo admired her dedication, and gave her a good rub on the vertebrae as she prepared for a new day.

Brushing her teeth with a toothbrush constructed of grass and pine needles, Momo looked at herself in the mirror. Okay, not a mirror, but a reflective surface that wasn’t completely covered in manure or poison. It was a small, questionably drinkable pool of fountain water. Following the fountain’s piping, Momo deduced that it was supplied by runoff water from the moat which bordered the sanctuary.

The moat was full of snapping fish and skeletal alligators, but no blood or curses or human remains, so Momo dubbed it fine enough to reflectively gaze into.

Of course, gazing was a mistake for other reasons—as soon as she caught sight of the human that was supposed to be her, Momo yelped. The reflection staring back at her was one of a malnourished ghost. Her hair, which on Earth was nearly black, had turned bright, bed sheet white. She had been getting gray stress hairs for years in college, but the trauma of dying and being yanked cross-realms seemed to have painted her head the color of snow.

Not to mention that she looked nearly undead herself. Her cheekbones were jutting out of her flat cheeks. Her arms looked like scythes beside her. She hadn’t eaten a full meal in days. There were no snack breaks at the sanctuary. The necromages were a reclusive, overly sedentary bunch, who seemed to subsist off of eating the bugs that climbed on their spell tomes as they studied.

Not that she was really complaining; it was a group very befitting a Momo. She too was a creature of convenience. She regularly would survive off of the same takeout pizza that sat by her end-table every night, complemented by the occasional Gren & Berry’s ice cream bucket.

But even she had her limits.

Remembering the incantation that the bathing red goblin had taught her, Momo spoke stats check aloud. Like magic, a piece of parchment zipped through the air and into her open palms. She noticed that the parchment looked slightly different from before—skeletal fish lined the sides, decorating the page. Odd.

She had little time to dwell on it before one look at her health points nearly floored her.

MOMO

Health Points

15/50

Mana

60/60

Intelligence

10

Strength

2

Charisma

4

Dexterity

6

Class Level (Necromage Initiate)

5

Second Class Level (Unclaimed)

Minor Class Level (Unclaimed)

CLASS SKILLS

Friend of the Dead I

Bone Infusion I

Raise Undead I

PERSONAL SKILLS

Burgeoning Confidence

Pitied

Momo was no math wizard, but 15/50 did not sound good. She was pleasantly surprised by her level in Intelligence, but she wasn’t sure if that was because it was actually high, or all of her other stats were abysmally low.

Her stomach grumbled. She frowned.

“Come on Dusky,” she said, beckoning her cat and strapping into her day-shoes, “I’m finding us this world’s version of a McMenu.”

“Valerica, do people here eat?”

It was an innocent enough question. So innocent that it took Momo an entire hour of cold sweats to prepare herself for asking it.

Valerica had her head buried in a comically large tome. On the front, it depicted a necromancer dancing in a field of bones, skeletons doing the waltz around him. It seemed to be a spell tome for something called [Bone Dance].

The High Necromage peered over the top of the book, her eyes an icey blue. The color of her pupils seemed to change to account for whatever element she was currently attuned to. It was quite fascinating to study, making Momo itch for her sketchbook.

“Why of course we do,” she said quizzically, snapping the book shut, “oh rats, have we forgotten to feed another recruit?”

She tutted to herself, “this must be the fifth time this month. And Magnus keeps wondering why our attrition numbers are so high this year.” She rolled her eyes, insinuating that people could be deliberating quitting their jobs by dying of malnutrition.

Valerica turned to the back of the room, where the army of dormant skeletons stood. She chose one of them at random and cast [Raise Undead].

Unlike the skeleton in the dungeon, this skeleton soared to Valerica’s aid. He floated through the air at the velocity of a sports car, shoving himself together with icy precision. When he was completely constructed, he blinked. The godforsaken thing blinked, with no eyelashes or eyebrows. It just—did.

Momo’s eyes bulged. This one seemed so much more… alive.

“Skeletor,” Valerica said, and the skeleton immediately bowed to her, “I trust you are good at cooking.”

To Momo’s great alarm, the skeleton began to speak.

“I was first in my class at the Gastronomical Academy of South Michigan,” he saluted, “at your service.”

“I’m—I’m sorry, is it… real? Is this a person?” Momo stuttered, looking frantically between Valerica and the skeleton.

“Not any longer!” Valerica cackled, and patted the skeleton on its bony shoulder, “ah right, dear Momo, you’re probably unfamiliar with a high level casting of [Raise Undead]. Since I’m a [Necromage], I can cast [Raise Undead VI], which allows me to easily imbue a skeleton with a soul from the Other-World.”

“Most necromancers have to fish for these souls first in the Nether Pool, but I can just summon them at will,” she smirked. She snapped her fingers, and a purple flame appeared between them; captured inside it was a tormented man, silently screaming as he gripped the metaphorical bars of the flame-prison.

“I simply open my mind’s eye to the other side, browse through the abyss, and fetch a fresh one with the most fitting skills for the task,” Valerica said, snapping her fingers again. The flame erupted, burning the ghostly figure of a man to ash.

Momo couldn’t help but feel a bit like she was just complicit to a murder.

“I am honored to be selected,” the skeleton man interjected with another bow, “I mean, you did just tear me from a peaceful afterlife, but there’s just something about you, ma’am. I feel that I want to dedicate my entire remaining un-life to your service.”

Momo grimaced. He had just read her own inner monologue out loud.

“Am I… like them? Is that what you did to me?” Momo ventured, wondering if she too was simply under Valerica’s spell. It would explain a lot, but would also dash her hopes that she actually still possessed any amount of free will.

Valerica shook her head, “oh, no, not in the least. As inconvenient as it is, I am afraid you are completely in control of yourself and your actions.”

Momo laughed nervously, the word inconvenient making her question what exactly Valerica had imagined for her otherwise.

“Chained human souls like this one cannot participate in the class system. Only free souls can. It’s a very annoying law, put in place by Kyros,” Valerica said bitterly, “but it is the way of things. So when I recruit new necromages from the Other-World, I must completely move them, free will and all. A much more draining practice.”

“I see,” Momo nodded, feverishly curious about how Valerica got her here, “and how about—”

Valerica interrupted her again, “now minion, I order you to make this over-curious one a meal. Your ingredients can be found in the supply closet.” Valerica pointed to the closet that Momo had fetched her goods from yesterday.

Oh, good. Momo could already feel the stomach cramps.

For what felt like the hundredth time, Momo retched into the hole-in-the-floor that the sanctuary called a toilet. Stomach cramps was a very grave underestimation. That meal had been total stomach annihilation.

She felt her entire world spinning. Her pulse was in her head; her ears were ringing like a cataclysmic orchestra.

She felt on the brink of death for the second time that week. And God, if this was how her body felt after that one last cheeseburger, she’s glad she couldn’t remember it.

“Oh—oh wow, I’m going to die…” she mumbled, her head falling limply into the dirt.

The skeletal cook that Valerica summoned stared at her from above, blinking in pity.

“I am sorry for the consequences of my dish, although it was technically and gastronomically superb.”

“Shut up,” she groaned. She felt bile climb up her throat again.

Her vision was beginning to fade. She could feel the Game Over screen itching to fall on her head and finish the job. No. No. She wasn’t going to die this way (again). Not over dead bug souffle.

“Stats check,” Momo whispered into the air.

MOMO

Health Points

1/50

…

…

Ignoring her singular blinking health point, she gazed down at the list of skills, searching for something. Anything.

Ah—what was that skill… Bone Infusion?

“Come here,” she beckoned the skeleton, her vision blurry, “lay down.”

The skeleton seemed confused, but obeyed. Thank God, Momo thought. In Valerica’s absence, the skeleton seemed to be subservient to her.

Momo inhaled sharply, then poked him on the bony cheek.

“[Bone Infusion]”

The skeleton let out an annoyed groan, and then dissolved to ash.

Momo’s brain immediately cleared. Her burning throat became numb, and she was able to cough out the rest of the fatal souffle. She got up, still in a daze, but no longer at death’s door.

As if summoned by the God of Bad Timing, Valerica appeared outside the bathroom stall.

“Good dinner, then?” she grinned.

That settled it—Momo definitely wasn’t under any spell. She very much wanted to throw a brick at this woman.

“Please don’t tell me that was another test,” Momo groaned, her stomach still spinning like a washing machine.

Valerica laughed, throwing her head back, “test? Me? Never.”

Momo was starting to understand the meaning of conniving.

“But a valuable lesson nonetheless,” Valerica scooped up the skeleton’s remains, stuffing them into a small pouch, “minions make good supper, and their remains make for an even better bone broth.”

She strolled off, humming a tune.

Momo sank to the floor and groaned.

“Dusky, I think I might be in a toxic work relationship.”

In stark contrast to this morning, Momo’s mood had taken a post-traumatic dip. Nothing like a deathly tummy ache to put a damper on one’s day.

She laid on the soggy barn floorboards, staring upwards as flecks of remaining daylight peeked through the roof. She strummed her fingers along Dusk’s vertebra. Dusk arched into it, purring like a motor engine.

“I know, I know, she’s just trying to push me to be my best,” Momo frowned, “But I’ve never strived to be anything other than, like, alarmingly average—D grades, public school art degree. If I had stayed on Earth, I probably would have ended up teaching fingerpainting to twelve year olds,” Momo sighed, and Dusk meowed in agreement, “That would have been my great crowning achievement.”

Momo sat up, looking around at the undead cattle. They were peacefully chewing on bug-infested feed, all four of their exposed stomachs working in unison towards digestion. Even these cows could do something she couldn’t—digest food properly.

“Everyone just expects so much of me,” she mumbled, “I can barely get through a conversation with a stranger without wanting to cry, and now I’m supposed to be a sales lead?”

Dusk purred in her lap, offering consolation the only way an undead cat could.

“I know you’re only nice to me because you’re one of those chained souls, or whatever,” Momo said with a skeptical eyebrow, “forever cursed to do my bidding.”

Huh. The word put an idea in Momo’s head.

She looked around at her surroundings. The barn was brimming with cattle and horseflies, but little else. She picked up Dusk and marched outside, conviction filling each step. It only took walking a few yards to find a pit of unloaded carcases. Bones galore.

“Dusk, you’re a genius,” Momo muttered, a smile—could it be a conniving smile?—painted across her face.

“[Raise Undead].”

Beast Tamer

Around Momo, an army of undead rose. A war party of battle-hungry skeletons, at the ready to die for their fearless leader.

Okay—slight exaggeration. Two short and stubby goblin skeletons stood next to her in the pit of dirt, making unintelligible moaning sounds. And they weren’t exactly ready to die, seeing as they were already very dead.

“Stupid cooldowns,” Momo mumbled, gripping a piece of parchment in her hand. The parchment had a ticking countdown on it. Thirty more seconds. She had already been in this smelly pit for over an hour, having to wait thirty minutes between each casting.

Making the best of her time while she waited, she unwrapped the orders that Valerica had given her a day before—more maps and addresses for customer leads.

Trent Magelegs

100 South Way

Bruda

Momo giggled. Mage legs? What kind of name was that?

The timer on her parchment stopped, the countdown complete.

“Yes!” she fist-pumped the air, and then looked towards the next pile of bones, “[Raise Undead].”

You are out of mana.

Momo’s face dropped. Mana? What in the unliving hell was mana?

“[Raise Undead],” she grumbled again, pointing a finger at the pile of bones.

You are still out of mana.

Dumb, passive aggressive parchment. She tossed it to the ground.

“Mana check,” she said aloud, wondering if that would do anything.

Mana

2/60

Welp. So much for her army.

She stared out at all two of her foot soldiers.

“You’ll have to do,” she sighed, “okay, do either of you speak words besides unintelligible moaning, by any chance?”

The skeletons considered this, gaining a brief moment of sentience.

After a moment, the answer was clearly no, so the unintelligible moaning continued.

Momo frowned. That would have been too convenient.

She’d have to make do. Using [Disguise], she could at least make them look alive, so that they wouldn’t attract too much attention while making deliveries. She’d just have them deliver the goods, collect the payment, then drop off the gold into a chest in the barn, where she’d collect it.

All in all, a genius plan. One of her very best.

She quickly gathered the goods for delivery from the sanctuary and headed back out to the Pit.

“Okay, you,” she turned towards the first skeleton, who she decided she’d name Lop because he looked awfully lopsided, with his neck not quite attached to his shoulders, “will be in charge of Mr. Magelegs.”

Momo laughed to herself again. Mage legs.

“You take this,” she handed the skeleton a bag of wriggling worms, “and go here.”

She pointed out the path on the map. It was a very straightforward path from the sanctuary to Bruda, something she hoped even a low-level zombie of a minion could manage.

He moaned in understanding—or at least that’s what Momo assumed.

“On your way, then,” she demanded weakly, not really used to giving out commands. The skeleton grunted and attempted to climb out of the pit. Its movements were janky and uncontrolled, as if he was operating his own body through a drone. Instead of climbing, his fingers sort of just poked in and out of the dirt, going nowhere.

After several minutes of trying and failing to escape the four feet tall hole, the skeleton gave up.

“Urrrgghhaburg,” he said with a shrug.

“No! What?” Momo groaned, “don’t urgghhhaburg me, you have deliveries to make.”

She was five minutes into Management and she was over it. Being a boss sucked.

She shook her head and turned to the other skeleton, “you—come help me push Lop up.”

Momo took one of the skeleton’s legs and began to push upwards. Her own body shook from head to toe, the exertion way beyond her strength skill.

“Come on!” she cried out to the other skeleton, “a hand, please!”

The other skeleton removed his hand, handing it to Momo.

Her body gave out, and she tumbled back into the pit, Lob laying on top of her.

“Not literally,” she said sadly, face down in the dirt.

After ten more minutes of unsuccessfully issuing commands, Momo decided to eat them.

“[Bone Infusion],” she poked Lob, and watched with pity as he turned to ash, “I would feel bad about this, but I feel like I’m putting you out of your misery.”

She did the same to the other, and used her regained health to climb out of the hole herself.

Congratulations! For assembling your first party of undead minions and then mercilessly sacrificing them, you have gained a level in [Necromage Initiate].

INT + 2

Well, at least that was something. Her brain felt fuzzy again. It seemed that [Necromage Initiate] levels came with an ever-so-often boost of brainpower, which was helpful enough, but the rest of her skills were quickly falling behind. She wished that the class could do something about her flabby arms and bad posture. Or lack of social skills.

Looking down at the now-dust laden pit, she sighed “I guess I’ll be making deliveries the old-fashioned way. With my own two feet. Terrible.”

Deciding to save Magelegs for last, she unfurled the next order from her pouch. Maybe it’d be someone with a real name.

Devola Wraith

Morgana’s Respite

Momo shivered. Great. That name and location—it absolutely reeked of Necromancer. She supposed she was quite literally also a necromancer, but still. Their kind didn’t exactly inspire excitement in her. If Valerica didn’t like Momo as much as she did, she was confident she’d be undead bird food by now.

Still, she was… enticed. Valerica had mentioned that there were other factions of necromancers out there. Necromancers with different skill sets and abilities. The [Necropriests], the [Necroknights], and those were only the cults led by excalibur necros. Apparently, there were various other cults that specialized in expert-level Necromancer classes: [Necrodancers], [Necrothieves], the list went on. The world was her necro-oyster.

It was settled, then. To the Respite she’d go.

Devola had ordered not bugs, but spell tomes, which while less gross, were much heavier. Her spine nearly gave out just transporting them to the pit.

“I don’t suppose you’d like to carry this?” Momo offered the book to Dusk, who hissed at it.

Momo would also like to hiss at the idea of physical labor. It was a pity her mouth wasn’t capable of it.

The pair of them walked to the stable, where the cows were taking a nap. On the left side of the stable were several more of the harnesses that Phil had worn before his tragic end.

Momo’s eyes prickled with tears just recalling it.

“This time, no dead animals,” she frowned, and then thought about it more, “or more-dead-than-usual animals. Whatever.”

She woke up one of the cows and carefully strapped it into the harness, loading the spell tomes into the attached bag.

“Perfect. Now, let’s make you pretty. How about some spots?” Momo thought aloud, “[Disguise].”

Skin began to grow around the cattle’s legs, with pretty, brown spots forming around its stomach. The entire [Disguise] process was still utterly disgusting, but it was admittedly kind of cool that she could customize her pets every time she cast it.

Congratulations! For your love and empathy towards animals, and for frequently making use of them as your helpers, you have gained a level in the class [Beast Tamer]. [Beast Tamer] now occupies your second major class slot.

You have gained the class skills [Animal Affinity] and [Beast Leveling].

[Animal Affinity]: All animals (including undead animals) will start with a baseline positive attitude towards you, unless they perceive you as a threat.

[Beast Leveling]: By training your companion animals, they can gain pet classes and levels. After gaining this skill, all your companion animals will gain the starting class [Companion].

Momo’s eyebrows rose. She had somehow stumbled into her secondary class, and she wasn’t even mad about it. She was so sure she’d accidentally get something like [Gravedigger] or [Cry Baby], but this class seemed perfect for her! She grinned just thinking about the endless opportunity: an army of intelligent cats with their very own specialties? So cute!

Momo kneeled down to pet Dusk, “Now, how do I check your stats.”

Dusk meowed, and a piece of parchment fell like a meteor through the ceiling, punching a hole through the stablehouse roof.

“That was…” Momo looked at the hole in the ceiling, to her cat, and back again, “did you do that?”

Dusk purred, rubbing herself against Momo’s leg.

Momo shrugged, and studied the sheet of parchment.

Dusk (Undead Cat)

Health Points

10/10

Mana

10/10

…

…

Class Level (Companion)

1

“I don’t know why I expected you to have more Health Points than me, somehow,” Momo laughed to herself, “so what does [Companion] do?”

A second piece of parchment materialized in front of the first, with an explanation.

[Companion]: You are soul-bonded to a human. When in close proximity to your human, both of you gain +1 STR per level of [Companion].

Hm, so by leveling her cat’s skills, she could fix her bad back? Momo very much enjoyed the way this world worked.

With two [Disguised] cow lackeys in toe behind her, and Dusk wrapped around her neck like a scarf, Momo started off towards Morgana’s Respite. It was technically a shorter distance than Kalendale, but the route was shaped like a corkscrew. It sloped up the mountains in a tight circle, taking more and more oxygen out of Momo’s lungs with each mile.

When the altitude got too much, she landed face-first into the dirt.

“Uuurgh..”

Noticing her obvious distress, the cattle trotted around her, pushing their hooves under her belly in an attempt to lift her up. It was endearing, but absolutely not helpful. Momo could already feel the bruise forming over her belly button. Dusk, for her part, meowed right into her eardrum.

Two pieces of parchment hit her in the face at once.

Congratulations! For trying to help you in a time of need, your [Undead Cows] have gained a level in   [Companion].

Congratulations! For somewhat caring if you live or die, your [Undead Cat] companion has gained a level in   [Companion].

With the new levels in [Companion] stacking, Momo once again regained feeling in her arms. She felt strength course through her veins, from her head to her feet. Her pinky toe felt like it could lift a particularly heavy pebble.

She pushed herself up from the ground, brushing the dirt off of her clothes. So… if she just played dead enough, she could grind her pet’s [Companion] levels up so high that she’d have abs?

Momo grinned. This journey was about to take some detours.

Bone Dance

Thanks to Momo’s brand new intelligence points, she very quickly realized how stupid her idea was.

Firstly, Momo gravely underestimated how many times an animal could care that you’re about to die. For cows, it maxed out at about 3. Cats, um, 1. After her first fall, Dusk pretty much stopped reacting at all, preferring to meow at bees and use the cows’ legs like scratching posts.

Secondly, while the [Companion] skill was nice when they were closeby, as soon as any of them wandered out of her sight, she went back to being Alois’s weakest, feeblest traveling salesman.

Luckily, in spite of her stupidly thought through idea, all of the walking and the flinging herself at things turned out to be an actual workout. By the time she reached Morgana’s Respite, her muscles were stretched and sore, but in the ‘gym bro’ way instead of the ‘hasn’t moved from couch in three days’ way.

She huffed out a sigh as she rested her head on a smooth boulder. Three hours of walking, and she had nearly summited the small mountain. As the adrenaline slowly left her body, she could clearly see the entire valley below, with Kalendale in the north, and the tip of Morgana’s Dawn peeking out from the south. It was quite the vista. If it wasn’t for the trek up and down, she’d love to live here.

“Just a bit more,” she said, comforting herself more than anything. She whistled for the cows, who had been grazing on the frozen-tipped grass that lined the path towards the summit. Dusk climbed up her neck again, and they hiked the remaining half-mile up the mountainside. As she rounded the last corner, long columns of obsidian jutted out of the fog.

“Oh, God,” her eyes bugged out of her head. If Kalendale was a proper fairytale village, then this was a proper castle. The obsidian columns gave way to a courtyard, lined by spike-tipped fences. In the courtyard, hundreds of bones lay dormant, arranged in small piles over dead, frostbitten grass.

Momo and her pack slowly crossed the threshold of columns, entering into the main courtyard. The moment her feet stepped into the grass, the field began to hum and vibrate. An orchestra of invisible lutes began to play, each strum echoing across the meadow. The piles of bones jumped from the ground, linking together to the beat of the music.

All at once, the reassembled skeletons began to dance. In pairs, they threaded their fingers, placing bony hands on bony waists. The grass field became a makeshift ballroom, with Momo standing at the center. The skeletons waltzed with passion, undulating in perfect patterns around the grass. The notes of the lute were accompanied by a violin, and then a shouting bass.

In the midst of the chaos, the castle door flew open. A single, red high heel stepped out. Then another. A flowing, black dress, woven out of minced bone and sinew, came out in a rush of wind.

“Visitors!”

In the blink of an eye, a woman was looming over Momo like a giant. Her fiery red hair shot in every direction, swimming through the air as if she was in water.

“H–h—hello,” Momo stuttered, the woman staring her down with an eerily large grin.

“Good afternoon!” she yelled in return, her voice projecting over the entire field. She finally backed up from Momo, walking a few steps backwards on the cobblestone path. As she walked, the dancing skeletons coalesced around her, hoisting her up on their shoulders.

“We so rarely get visitors here. And when we do, they leave so quickly,” she frowned, and Momo couldn’t help but wonder if those visitors had become the skeletons that now formed her dancing throne.

“I’m here to deliver a package,” Momo made clear before the woman got any other ideas, “from Morgana’s Dawn.”

"Ah yes, that upstart sanctuary with the fantastic discounts on spell tomes. Tell me, who is the High Necromancer there?"

"Valerica..." Momo paused, realizing she never got Valerica's last name, "just Valerica."

The woman’s eyes widened, and she slapped a hand to her face.

“Valerica! That witch,” she said with utter endearment, “I haven’t heard from her in so long, I thought she might have died. What a doubly pleasant surprise. Please, come in.”

The undulating throne approached Momo and picked her up by the shoulders. She yelped, getting thrown into the mosh pit of dancing skeletons. She bodysurfed on their hands all the way into the castle’s entrance hall, where she was promptly dropped onto the floor, the skeletons swelling around her.

“Dancers, make us tea,” the woman descended the throne of hands, ordering them to disperse. The skeletons trotted away to the kitchen, rhythm in each step.

The entrance hall was as magnificent as the castle’s exterior: obsidian walls, a giant marble staircase. In the center was a long dining table which could easily seat fifty guests. The woman led Momo to the head of the table, and then sat beside her.

“So, what is your name, delightful visitor?” the woman leaned closely to Momo; her red hair had quieted down, lying flat now on her shoulders.

“Ah, um, Momo. I am Momo.”

“Momo,” she hummed, “fabulous. Dearest Momo, my name is Devola Wraith, High [Necrodancer] of Morgana’s Respite. I am so very pleased to meet you.”

A skeleton came rushing out, a piping hot tea kettle in hand. With a flick of its bony wrist, it poured the hot tea into two mugs, and set it down in front of the pair. Momo inhaled the tea, and immediately recoiled. Wonderful, it smelled like bugs.

She was nostalgic for that stupid wizard. At least his tea came from plants.

“The pleasure is mine,” Momo said shakily as she sipped the tea. It was surprisingly good.

“So, Momo, I trust you have brought my things?”

“The spell tomes? Yeah, my cows are carrying them.”

Devola snapped her fingers, and a skeleton did a ballerina leap to her side.

“Please acquire the book-bearing cattle,” she commanded, and then added, “gently.”

The dancing skeleton nodded, and Momo watched in awe as a group of the skeletons hoisted her cows over their backs and carried them into the entrance hall. These skeletons were spectacularly strong. The power of one’s undead seemed to scale with your own level, just as in the [Beast Tamer] class, Momo mused.

Dropping the cows to the ground gently, Devola clapped her hands together and grinned. Momo couldn’t help but notice glaring similarities between her and Valerica. They were both obviously insane, sure, but it seemed to go deeper than that. The way they carried themselves, the way they spoke so nobly while doing very un-noble things.

“Ah, yes, yes,” Devola feverishly grabbed the books from the cows’ leather sack. She flew through the pages of [Limb Tornado], “aha! That’s what I was missing.”

She whisked her hand in the air and a plume of white smoke erupted from it. The smoke branched off into hundreds of smaller tornados, with each tornado targeting a different skeletal minion in the room. The smoke completely enveloped them, twisting around them and sending them round-and-round in a flurry.

“Right, so that part was straightforward, but then…” she flipped to another page in the book. Momo looked over her shoulder. The pages of the book were not written in text, but in pictures. It looked like a common children’s book.

Following the depiction on the page, she assumed fourth position, posing like a proper ballerina. She had such presence, as if a spotlight was drawn on top of her, everything else in the room sitting in wait for her next move.

“[Limb Tornado]!”

The tornados wound tighter and tighter around their victims until there was no space at all, their limbs compressed so tightly that the pressure reached a crescendo. All at once, the pressure became too much, and it inverted, bones exploding outwards like bullets. Devola laughed maniacally as the limbs soared over her head, cratering through walls.

Momo ducked out of the way, protectively covering Dusk as bones skyrocketed overhead. Eventually, after punching holes in nearly every surface, the bones clamored to the floor. What was once an army of dancing bones was once again a sea of dust.

Devola clapped her hands together, “divine.”

She shook the bone fragments off of her shoes and sat again next to Momo.

“Now, wasn’t that fun?” she grinned.

Momo could think of funner things than watching a million bodies get compressed to death, their limbs fired across the room like shotgun ammo. But hey, to each their own.

“I’ve been trying to get that spell right for ages. When you get to my level, you must resort to dusty tomes to teach yourself new things. You can’t simply dance the King’s men to death anymore.”

This piqued Momo’s interest, “you can learn spells just by reading books?”

Ugh, books. Then again, moving. She wasn’t sure which was the lesser evil.

“Of course. But the speed in which you retain the spells depends on your skills, and the level of the spell you’re attempting to learn,” she dragged her finger across the tome, which shined with a fuzzy white light, “I’ve always been an avid reader, so I’ve acquired the [Instant Learner] skill, which allows me to instantly retain any spell book at or below my level.”

So Momo would have to read in order to get good at reading? Hard pass.

“There are other ways to learn skills, of course.”

Devola had a mischievous glint in her eye. Momo became very afraid.

“Take my hand,” she reached her hand out to Momo, who stared at it awkwardly, sweat dripping into her brow.

After a few moments, she reluctantly took it. Momo was instantly dragged out of her seat, chest to chest with Devola. Devola wrapped an arm around her waist, and took her hand in her own.

“[Bone Dance].”

Momo’s bones began to sway, but not out of her own volition. Devola pressed a hand to her back and began to spin them like a cyclone. Momo’s body followed without a thought; every joint had a mind of its own, moving in asynchronous synchrony. It was as terrifying as it was euphoric—with no body to control, her mind dissolved into a singularity.

For the first time in her life, Momo could completely let go.

The two spun and spun until Momo’s vision went hazy. In the far back of her mind, the part with a small remaining tether to her physical form, she could feel something amiss. A creaking sensation, as if her bones were near splintering.

Oh. Oh no.

“Feel it yet?” Devola laughed, throwing her head back.

The moment she tuned back into her body, the feeling was overwhelming. The building tension was nearing a crescendo; her bones were about to split in half. Momo tried to get away, but she found herself tethered to the other woman.

“Yes,” Momo squeaked, hoping that was the answer she was looking for.

Thankfully, it was, and Devola pulled away. Unable to stop spinning, Momo crashed face-first into a wall.

“Ouch.”

Congratulations! By receiving a dance lesson from an expert [Necrodancer], you learned the spell [Bone Dance].

[Bone Dance]: Take control of an enemy's body, forcing them to dance the waltz until their bones break.

Devola and Valerica

“You’re awfully alone in here,” Momo observed. Without the hustle and bustle of the skeletal helpers, the castle was eerily quiet, accompanied only by the gusts of mountain wind blowing through the open doors. Momo couldn’t imagine living in such solitude; her college dorm was practically a prison cell with 100 bunkmates, and Morgana’s Dawn was constantly a hub of nefarious activity.

“Don’t rub it in,” she whined, “I’ve been an empty nester for a while now. Most of my students were slain by the King in the war, that nasty brute. But my minions keep me occupied.”

Devola frowned, looking away in memory. It seemed to be a hard subject for her.

Naturally, Momo said the stupidest thing she could think of, “but Valerica’s sanctuary is so full.”

Devola’s eyes grew.

‘Full? With what, skeletons?”

Momo quickly regretted ever speaking, “um, uh, no. People. With heartbeats and stuff.”

“People? Like necromancer people?”

“Yep. Those kinds.”

Devola shot up from her seat, “you kid me! I’ve gotten so out of touch, living up here! Last I heard from Valerica, she was living in a lonely fort in the woods, not a soul to accompany her. Her students suffered the same fate in the war as mine. Nearly every necromancer below excalibur level was culled—I was one of the lucky ones to escape the slaughter.”

Her red hair flew in every direction. Momo couldn’t help but think she resembled a troll doll.

“Valerica must have been rebuilding her ranks while I’ve been sitting up on my pretty little mountain top,” Devola mused, “but how? Necromancers have basically become the village boogeyman. I can’t even go down to Kalendale for my grocery shopping anymore without the entire town trying to run me into the hills.” She sighed, perching her head on her hands, “at first I thought they were just escorting me home politely, if a little enthusiastically. But then they just wouldn’t stop poking me with their silly pitchforks… ”

“Yeah, how silly,” Momo deadpanned.

“Truly!” Devola raised her hands, “but oh well, now I simply send my skeletons to steal their cattle every few days. So I think we’re even.”

I’m sure they see it that way, Momo thought.

“Anyway, you are the bearer of great news,” she offered Momo a genuine smile, “I'm one of those people that feels purposeless without others, you know? My purpose is to teach. I’ve been itching to return to my calling.”

Momo cringed, remembering the teaching she had just received. Her bones still felt like cooked rice.

“So, I will happily accept your invitation to join you at Morgana’s Dawn. How exciting. I’m sure the place is lacking a dance teacher. At least no one that is as good as me.”

‘Oh, I don’t think I invited—”

“Splendid,” her hair danced through the air, “dancers, grab my things!”

Her commands fell on deaf ears. The dust-laden room responded with silence.

“Right, I forgot about that,” she laughed, “[Raise Undead]!”

The piles of debris slowly gathered themselves together. Crumbs of bone glued together into cylinders; those cylinders became fingers, then hands. Toes, then legs. They no longer resembled skeletons, but dust-beasts, sentient piles of debris. They had no mouths, yet they moaned incomprehensibly.

Momo had a bad feeling about this.

—

“You brought her here?” Valerica gritted her teeth, towering over Momo. Momo cowered underneath her; she had never seen Valerica so incensed.

“I–um, it wasn’t exactly my choice,” Momo stuttered, stepping back.

“I said to acquire customers, not roommates.”

Valerica groaned, burying her head in her hands. Momo and Devola had arrived nearly an hour ago. The two necromancers exchanged what looked like pleasantries—hugs, a kiss to the cheek. Valerica went on and on about how much she missed her, and oh what an honor that she came to visit. But then as soon as she was out of earshot, Valerica had dragged Momo by the collar into the broom closet.

“Aren’t you two friends?” Momo said quietly, still covering her body in case of any surprise attacks. (Which was entirely stupid, because if Valerica wanted her dead, she’d be dead before Momo could lift her pinky finger.)

“Yes, friends,” Valerica dragged out the syllable, “we grew up together in the same village. Wherever I went, she went. When I accidentally killed my first knight, she took the blame and insisted she did it. Because of her, I never got to experience every necromancer’s right of passage—being hunted out of their hometown by peasants with pitchforks.”

Valerica looked genuinely distraught as she recalled the memory.

“When I joined my first necromancer’s coven, she joined the same one. She was like a bloodsucking bat whose fangs I could never get out of me… until the Dark Calamity,” Valerica’s lips grew into her usual sinister grin, “when Morgana chose me. When I became one of the Circle of the Lich. It was finally a place that Devola couldn’t follow.”

Momo couldn’t help but notice that for a war that seemingly killed 90% of necromancers, Valerica recalled the Dark Calamity very fondly.

“I’m sorry I led her here,” Momo said meekly, looking down at her shoes, “but she was on the customer list.”

Valerica paused, and then sighed, “yes, well, I suppose I did accept her order. But I was tired of Morgana’s statue looking so undecorated. We haven’t had money to buy the good sacrificial flesh recently. And the koi pond is looking more water than blood these days.”

Momo nodded, “that’s understandable.”

“Quite,” Valerica pointed her head up proudly, “oh well, she might have followed me here, but she will not step in my spotlight, nor yours.”

Momo couldn’t even imagine what she’d do under a spotlight. Probably cry, or sit on the stage and wave to her parents. In fact, Devola was welcome to take it.

Seemingly recovered from her fit, Valerica took a deep breath in, and looked at Momo once again with those shining, belief-filled eyes. It was the kind of look that filled Momo with conviction, as if she was the most important person in the whole world—or, well, broom closet.

“Regardless. You may have brought the devil, but you also brought the devil’s coin,” Valerica’s eyes grew green with greed, “not only that, but Devola has given us the keys to the Respite, which I will immediately be re-naming Morgana’s Dawn - West. It will constitute our second base of operations.”

Second base of operations? Momo swallowed. There was seemingly no limit to Valerica’s ambitions.

“As a reward, I’m giving you something more from my armory.”

Before Momo could react, Valerica released them from the broom closet and whisked her into the main hall. As they walked past Morgana’s statue, Momo could swear that it winked at her through stone eyelashes.

As they commuted towards the armory, Momo took note of the sanctuary’s design. The entrance hall seemed to be the heart of the fort, with every other corridor spreading out of it like arteries. South of the room was the door to the cavernous abyss that Momo had climbed out of. She had yet to see anyone else emerge from it since, but she had seen plenty of the necromages use it like a trash chute.

Wonderful. If not for the stables, Momo would have been living in a landfill. Valerica was nothing if not charitable.

The High Necromage led her north, past her office and towards a large, impenetrable door. It had several large, interconnecting locks.

“[Skeleton Key],” Valerica cast, pressing her hand to the lock. Momo heard several things click, and then the door slowly opened, revealing a gigantic room lit by unusual torches. Peering closely at the torchlight, Momo could see faces—screaming faces. They shared the same appearance as the soul that Valerica had held in her hand days before.

Momo shivered. Another reminder to stay on her good side.

In the back of the room was a golden chest, patterned with snakes and koi fish. These seemed to be the two icons of the sanctuary, inscribed on nearly everything.

“Hi there my little friend,” Valerica squatted by the chest and gave it a pat on its metaphorical head. To Momo’s alarm, the chest bounced up and down, as if wagging its tail excitedly, “oh, good boy. Good boy.”

She turned back to Momo, offering a knowing smile, “oh, don’t look so confused, it’s just a [Mimic].”

That was not a helpful explanation.

The chest opened wide, revealing an assortment of shining items: Diamonds, pearls, necklaces and rings; a small dagger with a hilt bearing the crescent moon. Valerica took out a ring and the dagger, handing the ring to Momo.

Momo’s eyes nearly jumped out of her head. The ring was utterly stunning. Its golden band held a blood red diamond. It looked like the type of thing a vampire would wear on her wedding day.

On Earth, Momo had never been much for clothes or jewelry. Seeing as she had spent most of her time sketching in a notebook from the comfort of her bed, such accessories like “a bracelet” or “pants” felt kind of optional. Not to mention that Luna had nearly sent her to the ER the last time she wore hoop earrings.

Momo grimaced in memory, reflexively holding her scarred earlobe.

But jewelry like this was another thing entirely. Their family had been poor when they immigrated from Korea, and most of the jewelry her mother owned had to be sold to afford necessities for Momo and her brother. Her mother had been devastated to part with it, as if the jewels were holding a valuable secret just below their surface.

Slipping the red jewel onto her finger, Momo finally understood.

⟡ You have equipped [Olivia’s Blood Diamond Ring (LVL 5)]. ⟡

This ring once belonged to Olivia Magelegs. She was wearing the ring when she plunged her dagger into the heart of King Reginald, his blood splashing on its surface and turning it blood red.

+5 DEX, +5 INT

“I feel…” Momo blinked repeatedly, her skin tingling, “amazing.”

“Fantastic,” Valerica grinned, and then thrust the dagger towards Momo’s neck. Momo immediately screamed and dodged to the right, avoiding the attack.

“What the hell was that for?” she cried out, holding her neck.

“Just testing your new reflexes,” Valerica giggled, “great work!”

Momo inhaled sharply, her heart about to burst from her chest. Any more of Valerica’s tests, and she’d be one of the bodies they were throwing to the cave rats.

“This dagger also belonged to Olivia Magelegs, bless her cold dead heart. But it’s much too powerful for someone of your level. It would corrupt you just to touch it.”

“Magelegs?” Momo would laugh, but she was too busy watching the dagger in case it might leap at her again, “Like the other delivery customer?”

“Precisely! That would be her son,” Valerica sheathed the dagger in her belt, and Momo let out a breath, “he’s nowhere near as powerful as his legendary [Shadow Thief] of a mother, but he’s still loaded with her coin.”

“And what could he possibly want from us?”

“Ah,” Valerica pointed to a nearly unreadable sentence on the parchment. Momo hadn’t noticed it the first time she looked, and her face went white reading it now, “not quite. We want something from him.”

The Earl of Bruda

Bruda was an anvil and leather town. The village was soundtracked by the clang-clang of hammers and the rush of steam shooting from forges. It sat east of Kalendale, mid-way up the mountain, where the weather was cold and brisk, but snow had yet to fall. The town was small but astir, occupied by an Earl’s longhouse, crowded around by knights and noblemen, a church, and several small residences decorated for the holidays.

The citizens of Bruda seemed more well-to-do than the farmers and cattle herders of Kalendale. Momo could see it in the way they walked, the fine embroidery in their leather. Their hair was dressed in elaborate styles. Many of the women kept blonde locks trapped in bows and pins, adorned with bright accessories.

Not for the first time, Momo felt out of place. Besides the jewelry Valerica had lent her, her clothes were still the sad, earthly Mallmart threads she had arrived with: a graphic tee, torn jeans, ragged sneakers. She had stolen an old cloak from the stables to cover herself in the cold, but she stuck out like a sore thumb nonetheless.

Like Kalendale, Bruda also housed a marketplace in the city center. The sellers here sold tanned leather, fine clothes, jewelry and teas. It was a market of luxuries, not necessities. It reminded Momo of the Christmas markets from Hallmark movies. It was quaint, smelled of berries, and would drain your pockets with a quickness.

“Free sample?” a man with the horns of a deer offered her a small mug of liquid. He had a friendly, meek face, with a long nose that had turned red from the cold breeze. Momo felt like he looked a bit like a retired Rudolph the Reindeer.

She gave him a small smile and took the mug. She sipped it, and felt a sudden yet wonderful tranquility. That sort of peace you only get while alone in a room, music playing, your feet bobbing to the rhythm. It was warm, and tasted of honey and cinnamon.

For the next 24 hours, you have gained the temporary skill of [Safe Place].

[Safe Place]: Stressful events can’t break your cool. When things get too much, you can go to your Safe Place. This skill cancels all Mind Control or Body Control spells.

“This is so good,” she groaned, “what is it?”

He laughed, “my milk.”

Momo blinked at him slowly.

“Your what?”

“Eldergoat milk,” he said nonchalantly, stirring a new batch over a portable oven, “mixed with some cardamom and cinnamon sticks for the holidays.”

Momo blinked again, unable to process what he was telling her. She looked down at him, checking for udders.

“They are there, correct,” he laughed again, “have you never met an eldergoat?”

“I’ve never ‘met’ a goat, period,” her throat was very dry, “where I’m from, we don’t really speak the same dialect.”

“That’s unfortunate. We really are a fun bunch, and good for more than just our milk,” he frowned. It seemed to be a sore spot, “I’m glad the Earl sees that, even if nobody else here does.”

“Ah, of course,” Momo said, endlessly out of her depth, “I’m sorry for looking at your… um, udders. Is that bad manners?”

He shrugged, “it’s not very proper, no. But I’m fine with having someone a little less frilly around here. The duchesses all have their own in-house eldergoats, so they’re impossible to sell to. Hard to compete with a vertically aligned milk business.”

Momo nodded, as if any of those words meant something to her, “I bet.”

“So, care to buy a mug of Bruda’s finest?”

Momo blushed, now intently aware of just how light her purse was. Well, light was a bit of an exaggeration. It was empty. Valerica had promised her a monthly salary, but Momo hadn’t exactly beenhere a month yet.

“I’m fresh out of gold,” she smiled apologetically.

He sighed, “Ah. Oh well, you probably wouldn’t have been able to afford it anyway. A mug goes for 100 coins.”

Her eyes bulged. Venison in Kalendale had been going for 10 gold coins. A pound.

“Don’t give me that. Milking season only comes once a year, and it’s a whole ordeal,” he crossed his hoofs, “my udders are sore for months.”

“I can only imagine,” she answered quietly.

The man shuddered. Haha, shuddered.

“You can’t.”

Thoroughly traumatized by that run in, Momo avoided any further interaction with the townspeople. She walked swiftly around the square, holding Dusk in a picnic basket. She had brought the cows, too, to carry the load of bones that Trent had ordered. Not wanting to attract too much attention, even with a fresh cast of [Disguise], she parked them on the outskirts of town.

100 South Way was a lot more difficult to find than Momo’s previous client. All the street signs had been worn down, and no house here was exactly screaming “necromancer den.” This town had the look and feel of a Christmas village, and Momo couldn’t even imagine a person in need of one hundred bones living amongst these pompous and cozy little people (and goat-people).

After nearly running herself in a circle trying to find it, she took a break on a bench outside of the Earl’s longhouse. Two knights stood outside, having a spirited discussion with a woman dressed in a fine down jacket.

“This is unacceptable. My family has been living in Bruda for generations, and this foreigner thinks he can just wander on in here and impose these draconian laws on us? I won’t stand for it.”

“We understand that you’re frustrated, ma’am—”

“Do not ma’am me, you goat-legged milkmen,” she accosted them. Momo hadn’t even noticed the hooves poking out of the knight’s gauntlets.

The knights huffed, not dignifying that with an answer. Unable to accept being ignored, the angry woman turned to Momo. Momo instantly regretted ever sitting down.

“You! Poor, orphan girl,” she said, and Momo cringed, “before Yadek took over, girls like you had homes. Warm food to eat. Clothes.”

Momo looked down at the cloth rag she was wearing over her shirt.

“I am—nevermind. Who is Yadek?”

“Well the new Earl, of course! He is one of the King’s godawful men. That tyrant. He slayed our previous Earl, the Good Max Maxington, on accusation of being a Necromancer. A necromancer! As if.”

Momo’s ears went cherry red, and she let out a nervous giggle.

“A necromancer? Here?”

“Exactly! Totally inane,” the woman huffed, “and now this fool Yadek is in charge, imposing all kinds of crazy taxes and tariffs on our land. The people of Bruda will not live under the rule of such an iron fist.”

One of the knights interjected, “these taxes are not unjust. The populace here has for many years controlled the house prices for villagers living in cities up and down the mountain, renting them out for inane fees. Before Yadek was appointed Earl, I had to live in the fields.”

“As goats should!” the woman yelled.

“For the last time, Eldergoats are not goats! We are people with goat-like traits!” he growled back.

Angry rich people and taxes, Momo thought, a problem that spanned the infinite universes. As the tension heightened, she got up from the bench and began to step backwards slowly.

“You! Don’t go,” the knight said, halting Momo in her tracks, “I see you carry goods. All merchants must register officially with Yadek now. Please register inside before you go about your business?”

“Me?” she pointed to herself, “I’m - I’m just a.. um, poor orphan girl.”

“Do you know how many days a week we hear that one? Come on.”

Momo thanked Morgana that she had left the bones with the cows. Wait - when did she start thanking Morgana? Dear God, the Stockholm Syndrome here was powerful.

But, shit - there was still the matter of the undead cat in her basket.

“[Disguise]” she whispered under her breath, tapping the top of the picnic basket.

“What was that? Did you just cast something?” the Knight approached her, putting his hand over the basket. She panicked, unsure if the spell had reached its intended target.

“Careful!”

As they fought for control of the basket, Dusk leapt out, fur thankfully intact, and landed on all fours on the man’s helmet.

He screamed, releasing the basket and throwing his hands in the air, “I’m being attacked!”

The other goat-knight equally panicked, totally frightened by the tiny feline beast.

He turned to Momo, pointing his spear at her, “You dare attack a Knight of the Earl?”

“What?” Momo stuttered, “no!”

Getting tired of all the noise, Dusk jumped off the man’s face and back onto the ground, where she ran to cower behind Momo’s feet. Free from the cat’s claws, the two knights grabbed Momo, dragging her into the longhouse. She struggled against them, but their strength far superseded hers - even with Dusk by her side.

Dusk hissed, moving to jump on the backs of the knights again.

“Stop! Dusky, go to the cows and sit there until I get back.”

The cat quickly halted, meowing in protest.

“I can handle it!” Momo yelled as she was thrust through the doors, leaving Dusk to meow to the air.

-

For the second time, Momo found herself in a dark, rat-smelling dungeon.

But this time she wasn’t scared. In fact, she welcomed the break. She had been on her feet all day, and cherished the comfort of a nice, hard, prison cell bed. She had everything she needed here: a toilet, a shower, and even a luxurious mirror (made of glass). In fact, maybe she’d stay here awhile and kick back. If only she didn’t have cows and cats to attend to.

“Prisoner.”

One of the knights from before was standing by the bars. He held his menacing spear to his chest, his hoof wrapped protectively around it.

“Goat knight.”

He scowled. Momo had successfully pushed the right button - maybe she’d get to spend another day in this resort.

“It’s elder – you know, what, no. I am not even dignifying you fleshy fiends another word. If it wasn’t for Yadek summoning you, I’d leave you here to rot.”

Ah, to rot. That sounded nice.

Wait—

“What? Yadek summoned me?”

Before Momo could get an answer, she was being yanked again.

The prison was a small chamber underneath the longhouse. It connected to the war room, which Momo was escorted through on her way to the Earl’s chambers. The war room was full of tactical maps and axes, and little else. A wizard and a knight discussed something in hushed tones as they looked over the map, and Momo couldn’t help but wonder what they talked about.

Wait - why the hell did she care? Momo had never before thought herself curious. These intelligence points had been poisoning her beautiful mediocre mind, and now she was finding herself interested in topics like politics and war. It was terrible.

“The Earl will meet you now.”

Momo was torn from her thoughts to realize they had made it to the main chamber. Sitting inside was a tall man on a tall throne. He was flanked by a knight and a spellcaster, both of them Eldergoats.

The man, though, was not. He was made of normal, human flesh, as far as Momo could tell. (The necromancing had really gotten to her - to describe people as flesh.) He held a staff with a glowing yellow bulb at the top. His robes were a similar color of yellow, dashed with red. Most saliently, he seemed to have a… glow about him. As if he was protected by some sort of magical barrier.

He leaned forward, resting his head lazily on his chin.

“I hear your minion attacked my guards?”

The Earl’s voice was bored, apathetic. He did not seem concerned in the least.

“No, sir, um it was not a minion - it was my cat, Dusk. The guards grabbed her and she got a bit confused. You know how cats are.”

He evidently did not.

“A cat? Like the thing people keep in their houses? That’s not how my knights tell it.”

“Yes, exactly that. Just a cat, sir. Made of fur and definitely alive.”

Duh, Momo internally chastised herself. Of course it was alive.

He narrowed his eyes, but didn’t seem to think too much of the Freudian slip.

“What is your name, then, great owner of this deadly feline named Dusk?”

“Momo.”

“Alright, Momo. Well, considering no one sustained any injuries except for emotional damage,” he side-eyed the knight in the corner, who looked terrified, “I will not bother with sentencing you. But I will ask you to do me a favor.”

Great. Not only was Momo not going to stay in a free hotel - read: prison cell - for the night, she’d have to do a quest on top of her initial quest. This annoying concept really begged for a name. Urgh, something like a side quest.

“Of course,” she said, trying her best to sound like she wanted to be free, and not in jail.

“You may have heard that the previous Earl of Bruda was a necromancer. Now, unlike the King - I am not as zealous in my hatred towards them,” he shrugged, “but I have to every so often do a cursory check. I’d like you to go around to every house marked suspicious on this map, and do a cursory investigation.”

“And if they don’t let me in?” she mumbled, not enthused by the amount of strangers that would involve.

“Show them this,” he dug into his pockets, and threw her a leather bag that bore the King’s insignia, “they should be quite talkative then.”

She swallowed, and slung the bag over her shoulder.

“The map is in the bag. As well as five hundred gold coins for the trouble,” he rolled his eyes, “so the sour people here can stop calling me uncharitable.”

Momo went completely pale. Holy shit. Trusting that the conversion fee from fantasy-world money to Earth money wasn’t too high, this might just be the most cash she had ever held in her life.

Screw McMenus. This was Cheesecake Factory Money.

She was rich.

For possessing over 400 gold pieces, you have earned the skill [Interest]

[Interest]: Money creates money. You now receive an extra gold piece for every ten gold pieces you acquire.

All Classed Up

Valerica didn’t have to know. It was a side quest, outside her normal work hours. She came into the money entirely on her own. She didn’t have to know.

At least, that’s what Momo told herself as she slid two hundred gold coins over the desk.

An eldergoat woman manned the desk at Thrifty Threads, Bruda’s one and only “discount store,” if you could call it that. Momo had spent the last hour going from shop to shop to buy new clothes, but found that even a hat would cost her her entire new savings.

Something Momo learned during a youth spent in San Francisco was that the best thrift stores were in the most opulent locations. Whenever rich people had the motivation to be charitable, they’d dump off their old Burberry coats and Louis Vuittons in trash bags at the store entrance and then drive off to buy new ones - a bit of obligatory self-charity.

Several universes away, things seemed to operate in quite the similar way. The regalia hanging from the mannequins in Thrifty Threads looked nearly identical to the clothes worn by the duchesses, the petticoats and embroidered robes that hung from hangers in the luxury stalls. The only difference was a bit of dust and the rich-people-repelling ‘second-hand’ label.

“Which one would you like?” the eldergoat asked while wheeling out three sets of robes. The first was a brilliant blue with white accents; the next, emerald green and Christmas red; finally, the last was plain black lined with golden threads. Momo couldn’t help but fall for the black, as it was the most inconspicuous of the three. Nothing she liked more than something that let her fade to the background.

“I should mention that these have all been enchanted,” the eldergoat piped up before Momo could continue her decades-long monochromatic streak, “the blue one provides [Water Resistance], the green provides [Poison Resistance], and the black provides [Death Magic Resistance].”

Momo nodded, weighing her options. Being resistant to water or poison would certainly be helpful in a multitude of scenarios and weather conditions. And seeing as most of her friends were necromancers, she probably wouldn’t have too many run-ins with Death Magic being turned against her. Then again, sometimes disputes did occur even amongst one’s allies. Hold your friends close, and your enemies closer - that sort of thing.

That was a principle Momo learned the hard way at Mallmart. She grimaced. Linda.

Shaking off the memory, Momo quirked her head cutely, “which would you recommend?”

The eldergoat brightened, seemingly unused to being asked her own preferences.

“Oh, well, personally…” she took the blue robes off the hanger and laid them on the table, “I think these would perfectly match your complexion. The bright blue complements your beautiful winter snow hair just perfectly.”

Momo blushed, taken completely off-guard by the compliment.

“Oh – ah, thank you,” she played with her hands nervously, “but I meant more like, which enchantment do you think is best?”

“Oh. Sorry. People around here usually aren’t very concerned with the enchantments. It’s much more about appearances here than class levels,” the saleswoman laughed, “I’m not sure I’m really the authority on such things. I was a [Wayfarer] back in the day, but after my brother moved here for work, I’ve been taking levels in [Merchant] ever since.”

Momo hummed, “is [Merchant] your second class?”

“Yes, exactly. I’m hoping to eventually set back out on the road again and combine the two into [Traveling Salesman]. Maybe in a few years, once things have calmed down…” she looked wistfully out the window.

Momo’s eyebrows rose.

“You can combine classes?”

The saleswoman looked at her oddly, “well yes, of course. The system would be rather rigid if not. If your two major classes happen to align into an evolution, they can be combined into a single major class, which reopens your secondary slot again. From what I have seen, some of the most powerful classes are Combination Evolutions.”

“How cool,” Momo whispered, her brain abuzz. These stupid new intellect points - she was so endlessly interested, “do you know of any combination evolutions that involve animals and... um, magic?”

The eldergoat laughed, “as I told you, I’m nowhere near the authority on this. If you’re that curious, I’d recommend seeking out a class scholar. Most of the scholars here are specialized in [Merchant], [Leatherworking] and [Milk Production], but there are colleges all over the realm with various specialties.”

Momo nodded fervently. College had never gotten her this motivated. It was so much more gratifying that the system here seemed to actually reward progress - and have so many different options in how you attain it. All her university awarded was how many rich alumni you could trick into donating.

Momo’s world record: 0. She didn’t exactly have the personality for ‘give me money please’ campaigns.

“Thank you for the information,” Momo smiled broadly, and she meant it.

Her eyes wandered over the cloaks. She wouldn’t let her fatal indecisiveness win today - this lady had been too kind to her.

She took in a deep breath, looking down at her black tee-shirt and black jeans. Today would mark the end of an era.

“I’ll take the blue ones,” she said weakly.

The saleslady grinned from goat-ear to goat-ear, “oh, splendid!”

The woman packaged the robes into parchment paper and then wrapped a bow over the top. After handing it over, she took most of Momo’s coin, but left about twenty pieces.

“Discount for a new friend,” she smiled.

Momo blushed again, “oh, no, please, take it -”

“I insist. I am simply investing in a very promising young adventurer,” she smiled, “let me live vicariously through you, alright? Until the age of the Dark Calamity properly ends, I’m stuck here in this shop.”

Momo stopped in her tracks.

“I’m sorry - properly ends?” Momo’s throat had gone dry, “didn’t that war end?”

“Mm, technically,” the eldergoat sighed, “but in a way, the remnants are worse than the war. King Jarva uses the necromancer blight as a scapegoat for his totalitarian rise to power. Whichever local ruler he deems unfit is replaced with one of his own men. He is installing shell governments throughout the continent to serve his singular interests.”

She folded the unbought robes, smoothing out the wrinkles, “everyone knows the necromancers are no longer a threat now that the [Knights of the Sun] operate throughout Alois. Still, the King insists they are up to something,” she scoffs, “who exactly would be up to something? All the necros he put into the ground?”

Momo swallowed. She could think of a few people who she described as ‘up to something.’

“Seems paranoid to me,” Momo laughed awkwardly.

“It seems that way to all of us,” she sighed, “plus - and let Kyros be merciful - not all necromancers are terrible. Most of them, absolutely. But before the Dark Calamity, nearly every town had one. If it wasn’t for our village necro, I wouldn’t have been able to commune with my mother one last time.”

Momo softened. Everyone else made the dispute between society and necromancers seem so black and white. To Valerica, it was genocide; to the King, it was like culling a plague of pestilence.

“I agree,” Momo responded softly.

“I knew you were my kind of gal,” the eldergoat smiled, “now, get out of here before I get any more charitable. I can’t afford to be giving away all my goods in this economy!”

She shooed her out of the store, leaving a pit of warmth in Momo’s stomach.

-

Sitting in the field with her cows, Momo took a moment to breathe. She inhaled the chilly, mountain air. Grass tickled her hands, and clouds colored the sky above. With down feathers lining her new robes, she could finally enjoy Fall.

She opened the knapsack Valerica gave her and browsed. It had gotten a lot heavier in recent days, now holding 300 gold pieces, several pieces of parchment, her old clothes, several charcoal sticks, and Momo’s art notebook.

She took out the art book and began to sketch. She hadn’t gotten the opportunity lately - obviously - but the itch never dissipated. Daily sketching had been about the most consistent thing in her life since she was born, and going without it felt like operating a body with a phantom limb.

She began with the cows, outlining their faux-fur, and the bones that jutted conspicuously out of it. She smudged the charcoal across the page to form grass, then the silhouette of the mountains. A smear of gray became Dusk, with her calico fur and boney paws. Momo lost track of time sitting there, the sun falling slowly towards the horizon.

She was torn from her trance by a gust of wind delivering a piece of parchment straight to her face.

After spending three consecutive hours lost to the magic of drawing, you have earned a level in the Minor Class [Artist]. You have learned the skill [Focus]. All of your class slots (Major 1, Major 2, and Minor 1) are now full.

+ 1 CHA

[Focus]: Once a day, you can enter a trance-like state while practicing a skill, reading a book, or meditating. Your proficiency in that skill will increase 5x the normal speed while Focused.

Cool, she smiled. While Necromancy maybe wouldn’t have been her… natural choice of a first major class, she was happy that her secondary skills seemed to feel more well-aligned. Even if she never got to complete her art major in college, maybe she could do it justice in this world.

Not to mention that [Focus] seemed to be an invaluable skill. Maybe she could even use it on things that bored her - like urgh, reading - and still reap the rewards. Maybe.

Dusk crawled into her lap, nudging her head against Momo’s knee. Momo’s eyes widened with an idea. Maybe she could combine two things - training her cat, and [Focus]? She had been a terrible pet owner with Luna, spoiling her like she was the fair princess of San Fran. But this was a different world - one full of potential, even for stubborn felines.

“Dusk,” she said with a grin, getting the cat’s attention, “let’s play hide and seek.”

It's Called a Cerberus

Completely unused to the concept of having money, Momo did what any sane person would do with gold - she buried it.

For her cat to dig up.

She gave Dusk a good sniff of the coin pouch before instructing her to wait in place. Dusk did not like that, meowing in protest while Momo dug holes in the field. Casting [Focus] as she went, she felt the world fade away. Her eyes went black, her pupils fully dialated. Nothing and no one existed except the task.

Digging holes was who she was now. This was her purpose.

The cows watched on with apathetic interest, grazing as Momo dug holes like a madman. Momo couldn’t help but think that they were judging her for digging holes in their perfectly good food, which - fair.

If some cow put their hooves in her pizza, she’d be pissed too.

But nonetheless, she had to overlook their perfectly justified feelings - Dusk's training had to be taken seriously. She had real faith in the cat. Yes, admittedly, she was currently engaged in a one-way beef with a leaf that had just fallen on her, but alas. Momo was certain she was meant for great things.

Finally satisfied with the amount of holes she had dug, Momo held herself high, suddenly feeling like one of those olympic gymnastics coaches - those people who were just wayy too involved in the success of ten year olds. But this was different. Dusk was a cat, for one. A cat of unlimited potential.

Continuing to the next phase of her plan, Momo filled the holes with the gold pieces and kicked dirt and grass back on top of them, obfuscating the shining gold underneath. Momo grimaced as the [Focus] faded away, becoming completely aware of what she was doing. Despite her new intellect points, she had failed to think about how dirt-filled her purse would be after she collected these again. Oh well - maybe she could dunk them in the river first. Or have Dusk lick them clean. What did undead cats eat, anyway? Dirt seemed nutritious enough.

Regardless, the field was set. She put her feet together, holding her hand to her head in a salute.

“Dusk, at your ready!”

Dusk assumed the position of a sprinter - one furry leg back, another forward.

“And… search!”

Dusk took off with the speed of a bullet train. She pounced from dirt patch to dirt patch, digging frantically into the ground. Her guess was accurate about half the time - sometimes she emerged with whiskers full of worms, other times with a gold coin caught firmly between her teeth, her ears perked up, proud as a peacock.

Momo clapped, her mouth breaking out into a wide smile.

“Seven out of ten! There we go!" she cheered, "just three left now, that’s my Dusky girl!”

Dusk didn’t stop until all ten were found. She sent grass flying as she dug up over half the field, much to the cows silent dismay.

Carrying the last gold coin to Momo’s feet, Dusk flopped over with her belly to the sky. She was utterly exhausted.

Congratulations! For claiming a hard-won victory in a game of bury-the-gold, Dusk has gained two levels in [Companion]. Dusk has now earned the skill [Claws Up].

[Claws Up]: You have honed your claws, and now they’re sharper than ever. +3 STR.

Momo jumped up and down, endlessly happy for her feline friend. Dusk did not seem to share the excitement - instead opting to nap in what was left of the chewed up terrain.

Congratulations! For putting in the work to train your companion animals, you have gained a level in [Beast Tamer].

+1 CHA

Nice! Momo was a huge fan of the symbiosis between her cat’s leveling and her own. If only looking after Luna (and cleaning her litter box) had provided these kinds of perks; she would have been way more enthused to scoop shit on the daily.

Momo turned her hands to fists, feeling new power course through her. With her fearless, napping cat by her side, she felt her muscles grow from nonexistent to semi-existent. Not only that, but both [Beast Tamer] and [Artist] seemed to reward her with Charisma points - and God knows she needed those desperately.

She sat next to Dusk on the ground, giving her a scratch behind the ears, “Check stats.”

Momo

Health Points

60/60

Mana

70/70

Intelligence

12 + 5

Strength

3 + 4

Charisma

6

Dexterity

6 + 5

Necromage Initiate Level

6

Beast Tamer Level

2

Artist Level

1

Class Skills

Friend of the Dead I

Bone Dance

Bone Infusion I

Animal Affinity

Raise Undead I

Beast Leveling

Focus

She studied the piece of parchment. The green points were new. They seemed to signify the temporary bonuses she got from her equipment. Five new points each in Intelligence and Dexterity from Olivia’s ring, and four in Strength from Dusk from her 4 levels in [Companion].

And six in Charisma. Six! Momo patted herself on the back. Hello, Queen of Social Skills.

Then she remembered she was supposed to be knocking on people’s doors right about now and her stomach flipped, anxiety-induced nausea overcoming her. She had never proven a thought incorrect quite as fast as that one.

Oh well, her therapist had always been keen on exposure therapy, not that Momo ever actually tried it. Momo got out the map that she’d been given, and decided that it was better late than never to give the whole thing a try. The Earl had marked three houses with the ‘suspicious’ symbol. One of them in particular stuck out like a sore thumb.

Trent Magelegs.

Momo’s eyes widened. If word got out that she was delivering bones from a necromancer den to him, she could say goodbye to her pretty gold pieces (and, even more optimistically, a budding freelance relationship with the Earl.) That could not happen. Even if it meant she got to spend another much-needed vacation in jail.

She was going to settle two birds with one stone - it was time to finally find the boy with the dumb name.

Her second attempt to find 100 South Way was a roaring success.

The town map the Earl had lent her had proven very helpful, making up for the town's abusive lack of signage. Having grown up navigating her way to school by a heavily mismanaged line of public transportation, Momo was very good at following a map. It was one of the very few things she considered herself ‘very good at,’ previous to her life here.

The others obviously included sleeping, drooling while sleeping, and being a decent Cat Mom.

Most of those carried over quite well to her new life in Alois.

Talking to abrasive strangers was not on that list.

“State your reason for disturbing me!”

Momo stared blankly at the thick wooden door. 100 South Way was a simple house, with simple decoration. No wonder she wasn’t able to find it before - it was the definition of inconspicuous. She had trouble imagining that the son of a King-slaying [Shadow Thief] lived here.

When she knocked, a small slit in the door opened, revealing two suspicious eyes. The eyes then promptly shouted at her.

"State your reason, or - or leave!"

“Stop yelling, please," Momo grimaced, "I’m here to make a delivery."

“I did not order any takeout! Go away!”

Momo frowned, her arm going sore from the ridiculous amount of bones she was carrying. The cows had carried most of them here, but she quickly shooed them away out of fear that [Disguise] would wear off. So now she was stuck here with two piles of barely-concealed bones, her arms going limp by the second.

“I have your bones,” she whispered harshly into the slit in the door.

That shut him up. The startled eyes blinked, and Momo heard a variety of locks click behind the door. With a sweeping flourish, the door flung open, and a cloaked figure ushered Momo inside. She limped in, dragging the bones behind her. Dusk trotted in from behind.

As soon as the bones had made it inside, the door slammed behind her. The entrance gave way to a small, average living room: a couch, a fireplace, an unfinished puzzle on the floor. There was only one out of place thing in the whole place.

A dog – three dogs? – a dog with three heads taking a nap on the floor.

Dusk hissed at it, her fur flying straight upwards.

Momo remembered the fine print that came on the piece of parchment Valerica gave her - ‘bring us the dog.’ Well, that explained that. Momo already knew she wasn’t being paid well enough to deal with this.

“Chill, Dusk,” she shushed, petting the cat’s back, “it’s just a dog.”

“It’s a cerberus, actually,” came a nasal voice from behind her.

Momo turned behind her. The boy from behind the slit in the door was just that - a boy. He had to be a bit younger than Momo, no older than eighteen. He was wearing green and black robes that were much too short, riding all the way up to his knees. He had scruffy, unkempt hair and thick-rimmed glasses.

“So you’re Trent Magelegs,” Momo couldn’t help but laugh. The image of him perfectly aligned with the version she imagined.

“Yes, that’s me,” he huffed, pushing up his glasses, “and who are you?”

“The bone delivery woman,” Momo deadpanned, messing with him.

“Obviously. What is your name?”

“Momo.”

“That’s not a real name.”

“Sure is. It’s mine.”

“I haven’t heard it before.”

“And I wouldn’t have named my child Trent, but here we are,” Momo shrugged.

Suffice to say, Momo’s social anxiety did not exactly apply to huffy schoolboys.

“That’s quite a rude thing to say to a customer,” he squinted, but moved on quickly, ripping open the pile of bones she had brought. He began to count them.

“It’s exactly a hundred,” she informed him.

“Seventy-two, seventy-three - ugh, you interrupted my counting!”

“I helped your counting. There are a hundred bones there.”

He glared at her. She smiled sweetly back at him.

He reminded her so much of her younger brother. She frowned, feeling a tear in her heart widen to a proper hole. She wondered how he reacted to her death. Was he sad? Depressed? Did he recover quickly and focus on his dumb Soundcloud career?

Momo sighed, remembering that this boy was dealing with a loss of his own - his mother, the late Olivia Magelegs. She decided to lay off of him a bit.

“So, are the bones for the new puppy?”

Trent’s expression went soft as soon as she mentioned him. He gazed at the dog like a mother might gaze upon a newborn.

“I - I summoned him by accident. I was going through my mom’s old things and I found this necklace,” he gestured to the amulet hung around his neck, “I didn’t know what I was doing! I put it on, and suddenly I had this - this cerberus.”

He squatted by the puppy, rubbing its belly. The three mouths grinned in delight, tail wagging.

“He’s a good boy, but he has a huge appetite. He went through three entire cows this week. Whole cows! I discovered that he mostly liked them for their bones - he’d spit out the meat. So I saw an advertisement for certain services,” his voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, “at Morgana’s Dawn.”

Momo nodded along, her sympathy for the boy growing. He obviously cared about the dog - er, cerberus, and wanted the best for it.

“It’s just, it’s not exactly easy to research how to take care of one of these!” he threw his hands up, “and if I ask people about it, they’ll think I was committing necromancy.” His face went white just saying it.

“I mean, you are on the Earl’s watchlist.”

He went even paler, “I am?!”

She patted his shoulder awkwardly - but reassuringly, feeling as though she was comforting her own little brother, “don’t worry, I won’t tattle.”

“Really?” he peered at her from behind his unkempt bangs, “thank you.”

“So do you live here… by yourself?”

Momo looked around. The place was oddly spotless, as if it had been cleaned by a professional, not an eighteen year old boy.

He looked down at the ground, petting the cerberus for comfort, “well… yes. Ever since my mom passed. She left me plenty of money, so the chef and the cleaners come through on the daily. But at night... I’m alone.”

He smiled slightly looking down at his dog, “except for him. Now I’m not.”

Momo’s heart nearly broke in two. There was no way in hell she was stealing this mutt. Luna had been her guiding light, her rock - back when her parents would fight, and her brother would do nothing but lock himself in his room and blast his so-called ‘beats.’

“I have an idea,” she hummed, tapping her foot. She’d probably regret this - but shit, he found her at a charitable time, “but I’m not sure you’re going to like it.”

I'm Not Paid Enough to Deal With This

“There is no way I am joining a Necromancer cult.”

“It’s a necromage cult, and - well, it’s not a cult,” Momo crossed her arms defiantly, “it’s a place for like-minded individuals to hang out and hone their craft.”

Momo was deeply aware that it sounded like she was campaigning for Scientology.

“Exactly!” he emphasized, “their necromancer craft!”

Momo huffed, “among other things!”

This was not going as planned. Not even her new charisma points could help her - this boy was a very tough sell. And she was not a salesman, despite what Valerica thought. She was a glorified delivery girl at best.

“I’m already on the Earl’s watchlist. I’m not about to risk my hide for a bunch of necros.”

Momo supposed that was rational. She wasn’t exactly sure why she was risking her hide for a bunch of necros either. They weren’t exactly doing much for her - a rancid stablehouse to sleep in, a few pieces of jewelry. A job, hypothetically. She’d decide the legitimacy of that when payday came.

If she dug deep down, there was only one real reason that Momo stayed faithful.

The way they - okay, Valerica - made her feel. Like she was capable of more. Believed in. Momo had spent long enough living without the feeling to know it was worth sticking around for.

Momo slumped onto the couch and perched her feet on the coffee table. Ugh. She’d have to do this the sentimental way.

“What are your goals, Trent?”

He ignored her, “you’re making yourself a bit too comfortable. I didn’t exactly invite you in for tea–”

Still, she insisted, “do you plan on staying in this house forever? What do you want from life?”

Trent went quiet, reflective. Yes! Momo’s new intellect had come in handy again - she was reciting the spiel her high school guidance counselor gave her purely from memory.

Of course, that conversation had ended with Momo spending 80,000 dollars on an art degree that she never completed. Not that it was her fault - she literally died.

He lowered himself into the seat slowly, heaving out a sigh.

“I don’t know.”

Momo frowned - she’d heard that one before. Out of her own mouth. He apparently had also gotten a word-for-word script of the conversation she had with her guidance counselor.

“So what? You want to live here forever, doing nothing but feeding your dog cow bones?”

He hugged his knees to his chest, “No, obviously not. I want to be a [Dark Thief], just like my mother. I’m good enough with her daggers, but I’m lousy at spellcasting. I want to learn from the most powerful mages in Alois.”

A light shone in his eyes. A speck of true inspiration.

Momo grinned, there we go - hook, line and sinker. She leaned forward, mirroring that same up-to-no-good smile Valerica always gave her.

“You know where there are plenty of powerful mages?”

He glared, “at a mage’s college?”

“No - I mean yes, but no - at Morgana’s Dawn,” she frowned, “it’s home to an excalibur mage. Now how many mage’s colleges have those?”

That piqued his attention properly.

“An excalibur mage? You’re lying. There’s only a few in all of Alois.”

“Yes, and one of them is my boss - Valerica, the [Necromage],” she grinned. She really got a lot of mileage out of the whole ‘I work for Valerica’ thing. It was probably going to blow up in her face one day, but today was not that day, so she’d continue milking it.

“Wow. That is pretty cool.”

“Sure is,” she nodded. Except when it’s terrifying, “and I would… mentor you. Teach you all my extremely cool skills.”

This enthused him less.

“What level are you? Like, 7?”

She sweated. Was seven supposed to be low?

“Um… thirty seven, actually.”

His eyes bulged, “no way. Cast [Summon Hellfire Beast] then.”

Momo laughed nervously, wiping sweat off of her brow. She forgot there were reasons she didn’t lie. She was terrible at it.

“Why would I – why would I summon that in here? It’ll scare cerberus.”

Trent frowned, looking down at the dog. The puppy was sleeping peacefully. One head was snoring, the other drooling, the last grinning, bearing a set of sharp teeth.

“That’s a good point,” he sighed. He pushed up his glasses again, thinking deeply about the proposal.

After a few long moments, he said, “I’m considering it, but there are a few conditions you must meet.”

Momo groaned. For a boy barely older than an infant, he sure was demanding.

“One, I get to bring cerberus,” he said, ruffling the dog’s belly. Momo internally cheered - he was playing right into her hands, “two, I remain living here, and only come into the Dawn for lessons. I will not be living in a smelly old fort.”

Momo grimaced. He wished that was where recruits lived.

Still, that was a double win for Momo. Valerica might yell at her again if she brought home any more ‘roommates.’

“That’s fine,” Momo nodded along to his ‘demands,’ “but you’re going to have to let us borrow cerberus. For the… um… doggy daycare program.”

“The… what?”

“The undead doggy daycare program,” she repeated, trying to emit confidence, “it’s something I run. It’s a program for undead and demonic animals who need a home. I uh - need a good role model dog, for the other dogs to look up to. Cerberus seems just like that kind of good boy.”

Trent looked at her blankly.

“That sounds ridiculous and fake.”

“It’s both extremely real and not ridiculous,” Momo glared, “you try telling that to the animals I look after. It’s their home away from Hell.”

He shook his head, but ultimately capitulated.

“Will I still get to see him?”

Momo softened, “yeah, of course. You can pick him up at the end of every day.”

He looked over to the giant pile of bones laying on the ground.

“I suppose it’d be nice if I didn’t have to deal with feeding him,” he sighed, “I wouldn’t mind making that your problem.”

Momo grimaced, “how kind.”

“Fine then. I’ll do it,” he threw his hands in the air, “how much will that be?”

Momo quirked her head, “what? What do you mean?”

“How much will it be to study there?” he said, like duh.

Momo’s face went red. She hadn’t even thought about asking him for money. Getting to take the dog off of his hands was victory enough. But she wasn’t exactly the type to pass up a Robinhood moment when she saw it.

She racked her mind. How much to charge him? Considering she had seen hats going for over 500 gold pieces…

“A thousand gold pieces per month for tuition, and three hundred per month paid directly to me, for the doggy daycare.”

“But I didn’t even ask for the doggy daycare --”

“The price is final!” Momo cut him off before he could point out the obvious.

He sighed and shrugged.

“Fine, whatever. That’s less than the cleaning lady charges.”

Momo’s smile fell. Naturally, she had played herself.

“That’s – okay, great, whatever,” Momo said, extending her hand, “it’s a deal?”

He stared at her hand through his glasses, obviously unused to the initiation of human contact. Not that Momo was some expert either, but this is how she saw them make deals in Mad Men.

After a moment, he shook it limply, “Deal.”

“Wonderful,” Momo smiled, “you can pay upfront in cash or credit.”

“Credit?”

“Oh - nevermind.”

You have received 1,430 gold pieces.

1,300 pieces + 130 pieces from [Interest]

Congratulations! For successively convincing two people to pay a monthly subscription fee to your workplace, you have earned the skill [Con Artist].

[Con Artist]: You’re one sly trickster with a knack for reading people. When attempting to make a deal with someone, you can cast [Con Artist] to become aware of one of their core fears or desires.

She left Trent’s house with the promise of lessons to begin next Wednesday. She wasn’t even sure that Morgana’s Dawn offered lessons, except for Valerica’s very specific genre of them. (Momo shuddered in memory.) Still, she was sure that she could get the High Necromage to experiment with the concept in exchange for a consistent 1,000 gold income every month.

Now there was just the matter of the Earl. She could just leave him high and dry - keep the gold, run for the hills. But something in her burgeoning little rational brain told her that was a bad idea. Yet again, so was lying to him and saying nothing was amiss. There was absolutely necromantic activity going on in Trent’s living room. But there was also necromantic activity going on wherever Momo went.

She groaned. This was too many decisions for a Momo.

She inspected the Earl’s map. There were two remaining locations to be investigated: the gravedigger’s house, and the manor of Duchess Lione Baumfreund. Gravedigger sounded boring - and very necromancy - so she decided to go with the Duchess. Maybe she’d have some money to part with, if nothing else.

Baumfreund Manor was located on the mountain’s edge. It was positioned at the outskirts of Bruda, barricaded by trees and fields. The Manor was in a Jacobean style - or at least an approximation of it. It was large with high, triangular peaks, wide window bays containing mullioned windows.

Momo walked the gravel path towards the manor, passing through the tall marble gates. Her hand itched for her charcoal - it was just the kind of landscape she loved to sketch.

Resisting the urge, she knocked twice on the door. A whole minute passed without an answer, so she gave in to her desire and got out her charcoal and sketchbook. She opted to sit adjacent to the manor, getting in the details of its profile. She made it about halfway through the drawing before she was rudely interrupted by a startling gurgling noise.

“Gllurrrgglurrg.”

Momo whipped her head around, quickly finding herself face to face with a zombie. The gurgling figure looked like a melted version of a human being, green skin drooping towards the ground, blue veins and cracked bone jutting outwards.

She promptly screamed.

“Get away from me!” she yelled, throwing a stick of charcoal at it. Much to her horror, the zombie absorbed it into its skin. Unaffected by her attempt to scare it off, the zombie lurched towards her. It had unprecedented speed, nearly tackling Momo. She leapt to the side, her pulse racketing in her throat.

She was suddenly very thankful for Valerica’s gifted jewelry.

She scanned her internal spellbook, thinking if she had any combat skills to use against it. She swallowed - there was just the one.

“Thank you Devola,” she whispered under her breath.

As the zombie rocked on its heels, ready to launch again, she shouted it out.

“[Bone Dance]!”

The zombie froze. Its limbs began to twitch. It resisted for a moment, growling louder and louder, until its body gave in - twisting and turning in a macabre waltz. Momo watched with gruesome curiosity as it danced itself in a circle. In absence of a partner, the monster spun endlessly until it collapsed.

Just as she was about to celebrate, she heard another sound from behind her.

The door of the manor had begun to swell, an unknown mass pushing against it. The sound of groans grew closer and closer until the door gave out under the weight - a giant clump of zombie flesh falling to the ground with a clunk. For a moment it was still, regaining its bearings, but then it began to move again. Dozens of limbs and eyes and feet, with Momo as their target.

Momo was wrong earlier - talking to irritable teenage boys was fine. Tolerable. Survivable, even.

This - a giant hunk of terrifying zombie, hobbling straight towards her - this was what she wasn’t getting paid enough to deal with.

The Haunted Manor

One thing about having several tiny legs spitting out of you in all directions: it is very difficult to maintain speed.

Momo had broken into a sprint as soon as she saw the zombified mass limp towards her, but she quickly slowed to a halt when she noticed that it had barely moved a yard from the doorway. It was as if someone had attached doll legs to a lump of dough. The limbs failed to integrate, and impeded motion more than aided it.

Momo watched as it rolled one of its many ankles with each step, groaning as it tried to right itself. It wasn’t going anywhere fast.

Still, she wasn’t going to take any chances. She quickly cast [Bone Dance] again, black magic shooting from her palm and piercing the flesh of the gelatinous monster. Its rolls of ghoulish skin and fat undulated, the bones inside it starting to spin.

There we go, she thought proudly. Thank God, because she was already out of Mana. [Bone Dance] seemed to be a higher level spell than the rest of her grimoire, and it sapped the entirety of her reserves in just two castings.

To Momo’s horror, the beast was completely undisturbed by the bones stirring like tornadoes within. The flesh glob seemed to be more gelatin than man, so its own bones moved through it like a chef’s hand through a bowl of dough.

Momo inhaled sharply, considering her options. Her mana was regenerating slowly, and even then she lacked any offensive skills outside of [Bone Dance]. She could task Dusk with attacking it, but she wouldn’t risk putting the cat in harm’s way.

She could just leave, and hope someone else would take care of the beast when they discovered it limping towards town.

Just as she was about to pack up her things and make it someone else’s problem, she saw a man’s head frantically pop out of one of the high bay windows.

“Kill it! Kill it with fire!” he screamed, “use every spell you know!”

Great. Momo sighed. A whole entire damsel in distress, just what she needed. He looked the part, too - fine clothes, a princely crown atop his head. Jewels lining his blouse and sleeves.

She cleared her throat, “I’m sorry sir, but I’m not powerful enough!”

“I can’t hear you!” he yelled. The glob of flesh turned its metaphorical head towards him, cringing as if listening to the squawk of a dying bird.

Momo cleared her throat again. She wasn’t used to speaking at a volume higher than an ‘I don’t actually want you to hear me’’ whisper. The last time she screamed was probably the day she was born, and even then her Mom had told her to be quiet - a hospital was no place for yelling.

She took a deep breath in, summoning the audacity she had as an infant.

“I cannot kill the blob!” she enunciated with all of her might.

Momo’s voice felt immediately hoarse. No more talking for two days, she decided.

Despite finding yourself in variety of uncomfortable social situations, you have faced your fears and talked your way through them. Your   [Burgeoning Confidence] skill has been upgraded to [Burgeoning Confidence II]. You have gained +3 CHA.

Momo smiled proudly down at the parchment. Well, that felt nice. Her moment was quickly interrupted by another screech.

“Well, you must! Or else it will devour you too!”

Momo ventured a look at the glob, which was currently having an internal argument on which direction to move in.

“Yeah, I think I’m okay,” Momo yelled back, “I’m going to go get someone else to help!”

“No! Don’t leave me here to die!” he cried out, putting on a show to rival Shakespeare.

Momo sighed. On the off chance that the blob gained supersonic speed, it would be the moral thing to do to save the man before that happened. Not that she was very practiced in morality recently. Her most recently acquired skill was quite literally called [Con Artist].

If nothing else, she could probably find some more enchanted clothing in the haunted manor. Or ask for some jewelry from the man as a reward for being his hero in shining blue robes. God - did she hear herself? She was becoming so unempathetic, so transactional. She could already feel her parents giving her a mouthful from a universe away.

“Fine,” she yelled back at him, “I’m on my way!”

She paced around the blob, giving it a wide berth. Its many mouths moaned at her as she passed, swiping at her uselessly with dislodged hands and knees.

Successfully avoiding the mass, she crossed through the crashed doorway. She stepped carefully over splintered wood and into the main hall. The interior of the manor was as decadent as she expected - marble stairs leading in several directions, oak tables, chairs decorated in loud patterns, a gigantic rug depicting the fierce, roaring maw of a lion.

She heard the screams of the man coming from the west wing of the house. As she walked towards them, the eyes of the tufted lion seemed to follow her. Textile shifted magically beneath her feet, tracking her every moment.

She stopped in her tracks, properly creeped out. Was the rug undead?

“Rug, curl into a ball,” she commanded.

The textile lion licked its lips disturbingly, but did not do as she said.

She sighed - her science experiment failing. Either it was simply an enchanted rug, or it was an undead [Mimic] of a higher level than Momo's. That is what she had gathered from Valerica's teachings, at least.

Ignoring the lion, she surveyed the room for something she could use as a weapon. [Bone Dance] was on cooldown, and she had very little else at her disposal. There had to be an armory somewhere in the building - she knew how attached rich people were to their weapons.

“Can you point me in the direction of the pointy things?” she asked the lion, thinking it couldn’t hurt.

After a moment of consideration, the lion’s synthetic pupils pointed upwards, towards the north wing. She thanked it and walked in the direction of its gaze. She passed through an archway and was greeted by a manhandled steel door. It was thrown wide open by some greater force, dented and sliced at the corners.

Her skin crawled. She might need a weapon to get a weapon, it seemed.

She peered around the doorway and into the room. As the lion’s eyes had suggested, it was littered with weapon racks. It was also littered with limbs - seemingly the limbs that failed to join the Mother Blob on its way out of the Manor door. Luckily, the limbs, unattached to anything, lay dormant.

From her place around Momo’s shoulders, Dusk meowed. Something was amiss. It was too quiet.

At the sound of her mewling, the limbs began to move. A dismembered arm rolled across the floor, flinging its fingers in every which direction. A knee hobbled into a wall, smashing mindlessly into brick.

Momo eyed a thin sword hanging from a rack in the center of the room. All of the weapons closer to the door’s entrance were much heavier - greataxes, scythes. Momo had gained some muscle mass, but mostly in her legs, not her arms. Anything heavier than a sword would flatten her.

“Dusk,” she whispered to the cat, getting its attention, “I want you to go into the room and distract the - um, limbs. As soon as they get sight of you, run the opposite direction and lead them out of there.”

Dusk meowed in understanding, her skeletal tail pointing upwards.

The cat sauntered into the room and let out a yowl. All at once, the limbs turned to her. Identifying the source of the sound, they began to surge in her direction. Hands dragged themselves across the carpet, feet hopped like bunnies. Dusk rapidly turned on her heel and skidded out of the room, the defunct limbs scrambling in tow behind her.

Taking the opportunity, Momo ran into the armory, heading right for the sword. As she reached for it, she felt something grab her ankle, tugging her down to the floor. She smacked into the tile, the sword clattering onto the ground.

Her ears ringing, she frantically reached for the hilt. She grabbed it and turned towards her ankle, where a muscled forearm had wrapped its fingers around it. Momo yelled in pain as the arm dug its fingers into her shin with unexpected strength.

She swung the sword desperately at it, trying her best not to cut off her own leg. Having no idea what she was doing, she missed. The movement only spurred the hand on more, digging its nails into her.

“Stupid piece of metal!”

She tried a different tactic. This time, she took the sword in two hands and used it like a lance - poking the hand straight on. The piercing blow landed, and the hand released its grasp, shuttering backwards in pain. Blood spilt out of it, and it keeled over.

Gritting her teeth as she stood, Momo steadied herself. She could already see the bruise forming near her ankle. At least it hadn’t drawn blood.

Limping out of the armory, she found Dusk perched on a tall beam, the limbs clamoring like drunk ants below her. She gave a motion for Dusk to come back, and the cat stealthily hopped from beam to beam, escaping the limbs limited senses.

As Dusk rejoined her by her side, several pieces of parchment fell to the floor in front of Momo. She grabbed them and hid behind the steel door. She wanted to make sure she was out of view before she looked at the correspondence.

Congratulations! For teaming up with your companion to outsmart a horde of undead, you have gained a level in [Beast Tamer].

Your companion has gained a level in [Companion].

Your undead companion, Dusk, has reached level five in [Companion]. You can now select a Speciality for her. This special class will replace Companion and all related skills. The available specialities are:

[Spellcaster]

[Fighter]

[Scout]

[Phantom *]

* This hidden Speciality is available because of your class [Necromage Initiate].

A ghostly quill, pre-inked, appeared in her hand. She supposed she had to mark whichever class she chose. Momo groaned internally. Why did she have to make her first actual class decision now, of all times?

Immediately ready to outsource this task, she looked at Dusk.

“What do you think?”

Dusk looked at her as if to say I can’t read.

Momo grimaced. That was fair enough.

Given Momo’s lack of offensive skills, it would be beneficial if Dusk could aid her with [Fighter] or [Spellcaster]. [Spellcaster] in specific sounded interesting, as Dusk could attack from a ranged distance, which comforted Momo. She would rather die than see the cat get hurt.

Then there was [Phantom], apparently a class that paired uniquely to [Necromage Initiate].

“What does Phantom do?” she whispered at the parchment. The parchment flipped around to the backside, revealing new text.

[Phantom]: The Necromancer’s perfect assistant. A companion creature with the [Phantom] class can make use of the schools of Black and Nether magic. This class synergizes well with a master who specializes in INT and CHA. Upon activation of the [Phantom] class, the companion creature receives the skill [Invisibility].

[Invisibility]: You can turn invisible on demand.

A cat that could go invisible? Momo was sold. She was sure that she’d find a use for that.

She drew a line with her quill around [Phantom]. The parchment reacted, rolling up before disappearing into the air.

Momo just had to try it, “Dusk, go invisible.”

Where there was a cat, there was a cat no more. Dusk meowed, the sound seeming to come from nowhere.

“That’s so cool,” Momo whispered with a giddy grin. Unfortunately, the meow had once again attracted attention, and she could hear the limbs stir from behind the door. Shit.

“Dusk, shoulder,” Momo commanded, feeling as the cat pawed its way up her back. Putting those dexterity points to use, Momo creeped away slowly from the door, quickly rounding the perimeter of the room to reach the west staircase.

Successfully evading the attention of the limb crusade, she tiptoed up the west staircase. The stairs led into a long hallway, where light streamed in from the windows. Looking through them at the open field below, Momo could see that the giant glob of flesh had progressed slowly but steadily towards the path to Bruda. It was only a matter of time before the guard caught on, Momo hoped.

At the end of the hallway, Momo could hear the sound of a figure rapping fervently at a closed door. As she stepped towards it, the figure’s shadow moved into the light. What she thought was human was in fact just another loose assortment of limbs.

This fiend was constructed of sewn-together arms, forming a morbid pinwheel. It was thankfully much smaller than the hunk of flesh outside, but it seemed quicker. In absence of feet, the fiend walked on its bloodied knuckles. It crawled briskly along the floor, surging towards Momo.

Momo held the sword above her shoulder, bracing to swing. The monster reached for her ankles to bring her down - but this time Momo was prepared. She swung the sword through the middle of them, slashing the pinwheel in two. The top half went flying while the bottom half remained glued to her legs.

Momo felt a pain radiate through her calf, the remaining hand going for the same weak spot. As Momo cried out in pain, the air shimmered. Invisible paws shot through the air, Dusk materializing behind the monstrosity. The undead cat clawed at their wrists desperately.

Shocked by the surprise attack, the hands let go, giving Momo the opportunity to swing again. She played whack a mole with them, slamming the sword down until they collapsed.

“Gods,” Momo sighed, “I never want to see a limb that’s not attached to a person ever again.”

With the hands unmoving in a pile to her right, Momo sped past them towards the door.

“You can open up!” Momo said hoarsely, her whole body sagging. She had used up what little physical conditioning she had gained. Even Dusk seemed exhausted - the cat's weight doubly heavy on Momo’s shoulders.

“No! I know you’re just a beast trying to trick me!”

Momo grimaced, “If you don’t let me in, I’m leaving you here.”

“Ah - no, no! I’m coming!”

The door swung open to reveal a fuller picture of the man that Momo had seen hanging out of the manor window. He was tall and regal, the jewels lining his person sparkling in the light. In great contrast to his clothes, his face was the definition of unsettled. He was terrified, his cheeks wet with tears.

“Oh, my great savior,” he immediately tackled her in an embrace.

“Please let go of me,” Momo mumbled.

“Not in a million years,” he said, his voice trembling, “I will never again leave your side, my knight.”

Momo sighed, but her eyes lit up as she looked past him into the room he had barricaded himself in. It was a large study, cluttered with hundreds of books and scripts. It seemed to also function as a bedroom, with two bunk beds hammered into the wall.

What caught Momo’s attention wasn’t the books - but the top bunk’s occupant. It was a woman, sitting cross-legged with an open book in her lap and a notebook balanced on her forearm. She had her eyes fixed out of the window, presumably staring at the field.

“Oh pipe down, Leo,” she called out from her perch, “I’m trying to monitor the experiment.”

Some Mothers Have Infants, Others Have Zombie Globs

Finally released from the man’s mad grip, Momo slithered past him and into the study. Had the woman been here the entire time? What did she mean by experiment?

“Sister, our savior has come at last!” the man exclaimed, throwing up both his hands.

“Gods, for the last time Leonardo, won’t you shut up–”

Finally noticing Momo, she scowled.

“Wait, savior? Has she injured the experiment?” she laid down her things and leaned over the edge of the bunk bed, “you - the small, tired one. How dare you barge in here and defile my glorious laboratory?”

Momo’s face fell. Why did she feel the need to differentiate between the man and her by calling her small and tired? She had to have other qualities of note.

“Experiment? I don’t know what you’re talking about, miss,” Momo said, increasingly less eager to find out.

The woman sighed dramatically and shoved her books aside. She slid down the bunk bed ladder and rolled whimsically on her heels, turning to tower in front of Momo. She looked equally as expensive as her counterpart - wearing a flowing dress, a jewel-encrusted belt, and two heeled leather boots.

She got very close to Momo’s face and wagged an accusatory finger.

“Have you slain any beautiful creatures on your way to this room?”

Momo swallowed. How should she put this…

“Nothing beautiful, no,” Momo said.

“Are you sure? You don’t look like an authority on what is beautiful,” she huffed, “that blue is certainly horrendous.”

Momo looked down at her robes and felt immediately incensed. Not really for herself - but for the sweet eldergoat lady that had sold them to her. If she had thought the blue flattered Momo, then it did. It could be the ugliest blue to ever shade the night sky, and Momo would say so.

That merchant had been kind to her - an experience Momo did not quickly forget in a universe often brimming with meaningless cruelty.

Case and point: this woman.

“It’s not horrendous,” Momo said defiantly, “it’s pretty.”

Her upgraded version of [Burgeoning Confidence] was certainly rearing its head quite quickly. She could never have dreamed of saying anything ‘defiantly’ in her past life. She was the type to frequent adverbs like meekly or miserably, but that was slowly changing.

Her brain chemistry was rerouting - and Momo couldn’t be happier about it. She planted her feet firmly on the floorboards, standing her ground on an arguably useless debate.

“Whatever you say,” the woman grimaced, “regardless, I will not tolerate you in my chambers. You are not an invited guest, and today is a very important day for me. Today marks the day I become a mother.”

Mother? She couldn’t possibly mean…

Momo searched the room, desperate for signs of a human child. There was nothing - no crib, no baby food. She looked up towards the top bunk, and it was notably infant-less.

This was a very bad sign. She looked back at the woman, who was staring out the window with a grin of utter affection. One filled with motherly love.

“I’m sorry, do you mean the giant zombie glob outside?”

“Why of course I mean the giant zombie glob,” she said with no hint of irony, clasping her hands together, “my precious magnum opus. He has been cooking in my manor for years now, once a tiny, senseless limb-child, and now a fully-grown glob, ready to take on the world.”

She went up to the window and pressed her nose to it.

“He’s still a little wobbly in the walking, but it’s just first day jitters, I know it.”

Momo was completely speechless. She craned her neck nearly 180 degrees to look at Leonardo in disbelief.

“Please ignore my sister’s ramblings, she is enamored with the… thing,” he said, contempt filling his voice, “I knew that Lione was a powerful sorcerer, but I didn’t know she had the power to concoct something so ugly.”

“Do not call it ugly!”

“I didn’t, Lione!” he jeered, “you misheard me!”

They had a silent stare-off. Momo was suddenly grateful for how normal her sibling relationship was - or had been, she supposed, with a pang of sadness.

Wait - Lione? Momo screwed her eyebrows in memory. The woman had to be Duchess Lione Baumfreund, owner of Baumfreund Manor and a notable member of the Earl’s ‘suspicious list.’

Staring at the glob inching ever closer to Bruda, Momo understood very clearly why she ended up there.

“Is it an undead?” Momo asked inquisitively. If this woman was a necromancer, then she had to be one on par with Valerica, or at least Devola.

The woman gave her a doubtful look, “what would you know about such things?”

“I’m a [Necromage Initiate].”

“A Necromage? That sounds like a made up word.”

Momo was already tired of explaining the difference, so she decided not to.

Lione huffed, “yes, it is undead. But I see past that. Before anything, it is mine,” she said gravely, with a motherly tone, “I’m sure you understand. That undead cat is yours, no?”

She pointed towards Dusk and Momo’s eyebrows shot up. She had forgotten to recast [Disguise] after [Invisibility] had worn off. Dusk was absentmindedly scratching at a wall in all of her skeletal glory.

“That’s different,” Momo mumbled.

“And how so? You come in here, judging me like my halfwit brother, but are no different than me. My creations are my pride and joy. I want nothing but to see them thrive.”

“It is different,” Momo asserted, louder now, “I would never send my cat to devour a city of innocents.”

She’d feel bad if she sent Dusk to steal a can of tuna, no less to raid an entire village.

“We all mother in our own ways,” Lione shrugged, “as a [Dark Conjurer], I view my conjurations both as my children, and as my life’s work. If you do not agree with that, then you can leave. Or I will make you.”

Lione’s pupils dilated to completion, filling the entire iris; simultaneously, a black glow formed around her open palm. Momo felt suddenly like she was being squeezed from the inside, her organs wound tightly by rope. She struggled to breathe, her throat constricted.

For the third time this month, she had the innate knowledge that she was about to die. Only this time, she’d go out like a lemon being pushed through a lemon squeezer. It was much less humiliating than the cheeseburger death, so she couldn’t be too mad.

“Lione, stop it now! That’s quite enough,” Leonardo interjected.

“Ugh, fine,” Lione waved her hand, dismissing the incantation. Momo inhaled sharply. The black rim around her eyesight began to clear.

As soon as she could catch her breath, Leonardo ushered her outside of the room. He closed the door with a hard click, and the pair of them stood silently in the hallway.

Having come down from his utter panic, Leonardo seemed much less frenetic now. Either that, or he just seemed a lot more sane now that Momo had met his sister.

“I’m sorry about her,” he said, bowing his head, “she wasn’t always like this.”

“Totally evil and mean?” Momo coughed, feeling her organs re-expand inside of her like inflatable balloons.

“Yes,” he grimaced, “she used to be a very talented [Sorcerer] back when we were kids. I remember she’d make snow fall in our room, light a campfire with the snap of her fingers…” he trailed off. He stared out the window nostalgically, only to be met with a zombie blob-shaped wake up call.

“We attended Kalendale College for Wizardry together,” he continued, “she was always - and I mean always - top of her class. The professors loved her. But there was a professor there - Sera. She was the Dark Magic professor, before Dark Magic was outlawed across the realm.”

For a realm where Dark Magic was outlawed, Momo sure made a practice of running into it on a daily basis, she thought miserably.

But Sera - that name rang a bell. Momo couldn’t for the life of her remember where she’d heard it. Had it been one of her coworkers at Mallmart? Agh, no - that was Sarah.

Leonardo babbled on, “Sera in particular favored Lione, and they spent nearly all of their time together working on a secret project. Whenever I asked them about it, they’d just giggle and tell me it was too big for me to understand,” he looked out the window at the enormous glob, “now I understand exactly what they meant.”

“That was the project?” Momo pointed towards the monstrosity.

“I think so,” he shuddered, “Sera was fired shortly after the Dark Calamity War began. She all but vanished. No one knows where she went, or if she’s alive. You can imagine that Lione was devastated. She’s been locked up in the Manor ever since, concocting these devilish experiments.”

“And no one has tried to stop her?” Momo said in disbelief.

“Well, none of her experiments have ever been this public,” he said harshly, “until now, she had kept everything contained to the inside of the house. Of course I’ve worried every single day that one would escape and kill one of the Earl’s men, and my sister would be whisked off to jail.”

“That seems… very likely, considering she’s already on his ‘highly suspicious’ list.”

Leonardo’s eyes widened, “she’s what? Suspicious? List? How?”

Momo looked at the glob, and then back to him, “really? How are you surprised right now?”

“Because she’s an absolute dear! Outside of the conjuring and the necromancy - a real pleasure. She even brings the Earl freshly baked goods every Sunday. Sure, sometimes the recipes are a bit out there, but no one should keep their sister from trying out new things…”

“I think this is a prime example of why you should sometimes keep your sister from trying out new things,” Momo glared, pointing to the glob.

“It’s… innovation.”

“Are you defending her now?”

“Gods, I am, aren’t I?” He buried his head in his hands, “I’m sorry - it’s just conditioned in me. You never quite lose that big brother impulse.”

Momo softened, thinking of her own smaller sibling. Although she's pretty sure she would have locked up Dae-hyun in prison herself if she caught him creating world-ending monster blobs.

But it’s always easy to judge from the outside looking in, she supposed.

“Look,” Momo spoke softly and put an apprehensive hand on the Duke’s shoulder, “the Earl sent me here to investigate her, and this is what I found…” she gestured to the limbs on the floor, “so I suppose I should go tell him, before that monster ravages all the cattle and the Eldergoat milk.”

Leonardo frowned, “I suppose you should. But can you do me a favor? Just one?”

I’ve already done you like eight favors, Momo grumbled internally.

“Sure,” she said aloud, because she was still too nice.

“Tell them my sister has been cursed. That this isn’t her. Anything to make them consider rehabilitating her over executing her,” he begged.

Momo reflected on the woman she had met in the room. Cursed - yes, absolutely, but only out of her own free will. Momo understood her in a way. She had knowingly put a curse on herself, too – 80k in college debt for an art degree, the ‘Dark Magic’ of public school education.

Sometimes a dream can lead you down a path of turmoil - like financial ruin leading you to purchase an undercooked, fatal cheeseburger. It’s an understandable fact of human nature.

“Okay,” she said begrudgingly, “I’ll see what I can do.”

He pulled her into another bone-crushing embrace, “thank you so much,” he cried.

He wiped a tear from his eye and asked, “what can I do for you? How can I repay you for all of your charitability?”

Ah yes, the good part, Momo thought greedily, and then chastised herself for it. Still, she had done quite enough to deserve some sort of reward. It’s the Cookie Jar principle - if you’ve been a good kid (i.e. get good grades), you get a cookie. It was pretty much the ethical guiding light in her mother’s household.

“I accept payment in enchanted items, gold, or spells,” Momo said quietly, still a bit shy in asking for something in return.

“Oh, wonderful, I have all three in abundance!” he clapped his hands, “one moment please.”

He slipped into the room, Momo waiting for him in the hallway. Momo could hear murmurs inside the room gradually build into yells, a verbal fight breaking out. While the contents of what was said was lost to the thick walls, Momo could guess it was pretty heated - seeing the state of Leonardo when he returned.

His hair was burnt to a crisp, his face matted with ash.

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting,” he said hoarsely. In his right hand, he was carrying a pair of black riding boots, “I am equally sorry to tell you that I failed in my mission to compensate you. Lione wouldn’t let us give anything away to the ‘experiment ruiner’. Still, I grabbed these…”

He handed the boots to Momo, who took them gratefully. They were a beautiful shade of black - as all shades of black were - and lined with golden threads. She quickly slipped them onto her feet to try them on. They were a bit snug, but Momo could still wiggle her toes well enough.

⟡ You have equipped [Lione’s Riding Boots (LVL 4)]. ⟡

An avid equestrian, Lione Baumfreund crafted these boots at the age of sixteen so she could glide across the fields with ease. Wearing them grants the user a   [Friendly Affinity] with horses, as well as +3 in DEX.

“Lione rides horses?” Momo asked, feeling immediately lighter on her feet.

Momo had never ridden a horse - but she was happy to replace her worn down clogs with just about anything, especially a nice pair of black boots.

“She did ride horses,” he sighed, “it was one of her many hobbies before Sera got her talons in her. What I wouldn’t do to give that necro woman a piece of my mind…”

Momo’s mind turned around the word necro, puzzle pieces suddenly clicking into place. She did know that name from somewhere. Sera was one of the other excalibur necromancers that Valerica had mentioned. The [Necropriest].

Momo immediately disliked her. What a twisted woman, to turn a naive young girl seeking motivation and mentorship into a wicked necromancer.

She was so glad she ended up with Valerica instead.

Earl Yadek vs. The Zombie Glob

By the time Momo had descended the manor, things had already gone awry.

The glob had swallowed an entire house.

Momo looked on in horror as she saw a toilet float through its semi-transparent flesh. In tow behind it were several chairs, a mirror, and a dining room table. And - no, it couldn’t be - a cat, still fully intact, pawing at the flesh prison like it was a too-small travel crate.

Momo balled her hands into fists. The introduction of the cat into the equation had made this very personal. This was no longer just a morbid annoyance - it was an animal rights issue.

Exhausted from the energy she spent inside, she staggered over pieces of plywood and other building remnants. It was as if ancient oaks had been torn from the ground - the houses leaving behind exposed piping sticking out like frayed roots.

Thank God for the new riding boots, she thought to herself. Her feet would not have survived this otherwise.

She rounded the side of the glob and nearly knocked heads with one of the Earl’s knights. The blob casted an enormous shadow on the field, transforming the lighting conditions from daybreak to nightfall; it was terribly hard to see a foot in front of her.

Nonetheless, an eager group of knights and peasants were hard at work accomplishing nothing. They had assembled at the foot of the beast, hopelessly poking at it with spears and axes.

“The flesh is impenetrable!” one cried out while tugging at the shaft of his spear, the remainder of it fully sucked into the mass. It was like prying something from quicksand. Many of the knights’ weapons seemed to share the same fate: every variation of enchanted spear, greataxe, and longsword under the sun had become fodder for the gelatin, floating amongst the cats and kitchenware.

“Get back!” another knight warned Momo, his foot lodged halfway into the beast, “it will suck you into its gluttonous depths!”

Momo stared blankly at him. What exactly did he think kicking it would do?

As the glob turned ever-slightly, a pinch of light entered Momo's vision. She could see the outline of Earl Yadek sitting a few paces behind the well-meaning war party. He was reclining in the same exact throne from the longhouse - except now it was firmly planted in the dirt ground. From the way his personnel were nursing their arms and backs, it was apparent that he had been carried to the scene while sitting on it.

Momo was starting to understand why people weren’t too fond of him.

Despite the god-sized blob looming over him, he still looked entirely apathetic. As if he was watching a movie that had gone on too long. He sighed in annoyance, mumbling something to the terrified guard next to him.

Seemingly following directions, the guard immediately charged the blob with dual-wielded daggers. He attempted to slice through the flesh, but he was slurped up all the same. The momentum of his strike only served to catapult him further into the goo.

The Earl cracked a small smile.

Momo’s jaw dropped - was he doing this intentionally?

Seeing Momo from the corner of his eye, his smile quickly fell. He raised his shoulders, resuming his apathetic posturing.

“My necromancer hunter, how convenient,” he tutted, “care to explain this?”

He pointed up towards the glob as if Momo had brought it here personally.

“I’m not sure what to say, sir," she said defensively, trying to pivot with the help of a pun, "it’s pretty, well, clear.”

The fully engulfed knight hammered against the monster's translucent skin. The Earl did not laugh at Momo’s double entendre.

“Don’t play sly with me. My scouts saw this thing inching its way from Baumfreund Manor, and they saw you inching with it. Why did you not send word faster?”

“I went as fast as I could, sir.”

“Impossible,” he glared, “this thing is moving at the pace of an injured snail. You were delaying. Tell me why, or risk being the target of my very elaborate imagination.”

The magical aura surrounding him began to flicker like a flame. What was once a shimmering trick of the light turned hot - as if Momo had just touched a pan fresh off the stovetop.

Momo worried her lip between her teeth. She had hoped to avoid this conversation altogether, but the Earl was shrewd.

“I was doing as you told me to, checking out the places marked suspicious on the map. When I arrived at the Manor I immediately saw the glob - obviously, as it is impossible to avoid seeing - and tried to turn back to warn you.”

“But you didn’t,” he drummed his fingers impatiently along his staff, “you took your sweet time.”

“Because, as I was turning away from it, I heard a yell from inside the Manor. It was the Duke of the house - Leonardo Baumfreund. He was calling for help.”

The Earl hummed, “and his sister? What of the Duchess?”

“She had… gone mad.”

His eyebrows lowered. Suspicion colored his face.

“Mad? People do not simply go mad.”

“I don't know how else to put it,” and she really didn't, she thought as she nervously tapped her heel, “apparently there had been a dark artifact in the house that summoned this thing - and in turn, drove Duchess Lione to insanity.”

Dark artifact. What a masterful lie, she quietly smiled. She was convincing even herself.

“I see," he hummed, "so if I hypothetically told you to go fetch this artifact and dispel this creature, could you?”

Shit. Never mind, charisma be damned, she was still a terrible liar.

“Er, um - no,” she dragged out the no, trying to summon her next thought, “it’s been destroyed.”

“Destroyed? Then why is this creature still with us?”

“Now that it’s here we can’t exactly unsummon it, I guess.”

Yadek grew frustrated, sitting back in his seat with a groan.

“I can’t believe I’m going to have to solve this myself,” he shook his head, gripping his staff tightly, “move out of the way.”

Momo darted to the side, watching as the Earl descended his throne. He walked with a limp towards the monster, favoring his left leg as he staggered forward. He put the majority of his weight on his staff, his face contorting with pain whenever he crossed an irregular piece of terrain.

Momo felt immediately bad for her earlier thoughts. He clearly couldn't have traveled the distance from the longhouse by himself.

As the knights took notice of him, they immediately fell back. The Earl's arrival to the fight resembled a torch coming alight inside a swarm of bats, his presence sending shockwaves throughout the crowd. Terror transformed to awe on their faces as he reached the front line, his staff readied.

From a mile above, the creature sloped its head down at him, taking notice of the rest of his army fleeing behind. It gurgled out a sound of displeasure, unhappy to see its food no longer running straight towards it.

With a sudden motion, Yadek jerked his arm up, hoisting his staff parallel to the sky above. The yellow orb at the head of it burned like a dying star, a river of sparks flying from it.

“[Holy Beam],” he said softly, clenching his fist.

A pillar of sparks shot from the staff and pierced the flesh of the beast, burning a cylindrical hole straight through it. The gelatin wailed loudly, wobbling in dismay. The glob quickly attempted to clog its hole by redistributing the wreckage it had inhaled - crushing chairs and tubes and stoves into putty, regenerating its flesh. After a few moments, it was as if nothing had ever hit it, the hole completely sealed.

“It can heal itself?” one of the nearby knights cried out. The village mob of knights and peasants chattered in panic, looking to the Earl for guidance.

Momo began to sweat. Was that the limit of the Earl’s power? If so, she should probably start running. Or walking. This thing still didn’t move very fast.

“So you can regenerate?” the Earl thought aloud, as if speaking directly to the beast, “interesting. But that will not save you.”

The Earl shifted his left foot backwards, the dirt melting to mud beneath it. He hauled the staff over his right shoulder so the tip of it faced the glob. He winced at the new weight, but nonetheless readied himself for a second casting.

“[Unchain Soul - Holy Flame]” he shouted as a cannonball of fire shot from the staff, enlarging to the size of a small sun as it soared upwards. It moved parabolically until it crashed down on the monster’s face, a carpet of flame unfurling down the length of its body.

The glob writhed like a fish out of water as its flesh was burnt to a crisp. Its extremities turned to ash, its insides spilling out like an avalanche.

The crowd was immediately drowned in a flood of objects - floorboards, tubs, stray cats. A kitchen table soared directly for the Earl’s head, which he quickly sent soaring in the opposite direction with a light hit of his staff.

Momo blinked. It was like something out of a cartoon.

⟡ For defeating the oversized minion of a powerful rival necromancer, you have gained 2 levels in [Necromage Initiate]. ⟡

You have gained the skill [Abysmal Burst].

[Abysmal Burst]: Fire a powerful beam of Death magic at your foe.

Momo looked at the paper quizzically. Two entire levels? But she had barely touched the thing.

Regardless - [Abysmal Burst] was just what she needed. She had been sorely lacking ways to defend herself.

She quickly tore the paper in two as one of the Earl’s knights looked over her shoulder excitedly.

“Get anything good?” he grinned, holding his own stack of parchment. He didn’t seem to notice her quickly disposing of her own.

“I’m confused,” she mumbled, noticing as half the crowd was busy studying the papers in their hands, “didn’t the Earl do all the work? Why is everyone getting levels?”

“Why do you think I was jamming my spear up that thing’s arse?” he laughed, “it’s the one-hit rule - as long as you get a single hit on an enemy, you’ll be rewarded with a good chunk of experience. ‘Course, the one who deals the fatal blow gets a bit more, but it ain’t too substantial a’ difference.”

He showed her his parchment. Momo noticed how different it looked from hers. While Momo’s was covered in Morgana’s skeletal koi fish - his was painted with an entirely different insignia: a shield, engraved with the face of a bear.

“Can I ask you another question?” Momo muttered.

“Shoot!” he said, too giddy to be bothered.

“What’s that shield about? The one with the bear face?”

He curled his eyebrows, “the symbol of Ursa?”

“Um, sure.”

“It’s just that,” he seemed dumbfounded, “symbol a’ Ursa. The symbol appearin’ on your page just shows what God has claimed you. I’m a [Nature Paladin], and Ursa’s the God of Nature and Wildlife, so he’s keen on me.”

“Claimed?” she squinted, “what does that mean?”

“It means like it sounds. Once you’ve demonstrated an amount of fealty to a certain God, usually by doing jobs they’d approve of, they can claim ya. It means they’ve got an eye on you, or whatever Gods got for eyes.”

“Oh,” Momo went a bit pale, “totally unrelated, and in no way pertaining to me, but what is Morgana the God of?”

His face twisted into disgust, his eyes squinting in suspicion.

“What business have ya got with her?”

“None! I’m just a… necromancer hunter,” technically not false, “and I thought I could use some knowledge on her. To help with the hunting. That’s all.”

This satisfied him, and he blew out a long breath, “well, she’s a bad one, that you should know. The Goddess a’ Death, Decay, and Pestilence. Those used to be Ursa’s domains - but she stole them from him.”

“Stole?”

“You heard me. Thieved them from him. At least that’s how the stories go,” he shrugged, “now, enough of this. Now is a time for celebration - I’m headin’ to the pub.”

He bid her goodbye with a hard pat to the back, nearly toppling her tiny frame. She thanked him weakly, the information he gave her running amok in her mind.

She couldn’t act surprised that Morgana had marked her. She had quite literally been the definition of a dutiful servant - delivering bugs and bones, catfishing customers, bringing in coin to her decrepit sanctuary - all kinds of diabolical witchery.

But Momo, forgetful as she was, had sort of neglected Morgana's attachment to the whole ‘Morgana’s Dawn’ thing. Momo had really just been serving Valerica, who was admittedly one of Morgana’s closest henchmen. So… whoops. yeah. Two plus two is four, and all that.

Still, it was hard for her to square how she felt about being under the 'eye' of the Goddess of Death and Decay. On one hand, she certainly held a more optimistic opinion of necromancy than the general population. She saw the power for pure good in it: the ability to reanimate a soul, to give things a second chance at life.

When practiced morally, or at least not completely totally immorally (cough cough: Lione), she saw it as no worse than a class like [Knight] or [Paladin]. They still paraded around their weapons of war like it was nothing. Those weapons killed, Momo’s hands could revive. If anything, it seemed that the Good vs. Evil spectrum had been dropped on its head. Since when was killing better than healing?

Momo groaned, her skull burning with these terribly intellectual thoughts. There was a reason she dropped her Philosophy minor after a single class. She wasn’t meant to think. She was meant to draw, and to binge television series while petting her cat occasionally.

Gratefully, the Earl tore her from her thoughts.

“Well, that was a small inconvenience,” he remarked, staring out at the vast wreckage before him, “an inconvenience I would like not to repeat again.”

He leaned forward menacingly, catching Momo’s eyes.

“And I think that starts with you, little Necromage.”

The Wrongful Imprisonment of Momo the Totally-Not-Necromage

“Can I talk to my lawyer?”

The Earl rolled his eyes. With a wave of his hand, he instructed his guards to shut the containment room door. The heavy door closed with a slam, making Momo jump in her seat.

“So that’s a no…”

With the knights posted outside, her and the Earl were the only ones remaining in the tiny interrogation chamber. For the second time that week, Momo had been hauled to the longhouse prison. She was getting to be on a first-name basis with the prison guards.

“Law-yer? Is that some sort of dialect word?” he asked dryly, reclining in his chair.

Right. Momo stiffened. Medieval world, medieval laws, and all that jazz.

“Er - legal representation? How about that?”

“A legal presentation about what?” he squinted.

Momo wanted to slam her head on the table, but the Earl’s beady, expectant eyes were staring straight through her. After yesterday, she had no intentions of getting on his bad side - or, reflecting on current circumstances - badder side.

She was not keen on ending up another pile of exploded goo.

“In my, um, previous land, a lawyer was a person who would typically defend another person who has been wrongfully imprisoned,” Momo spelled out quietly, “like right now.”

The Earl ignored her, instead zoning in on the first part, “your land. You mean the necromancer’s den you belong to?”

She tried to manage her most apathetic expression, and even then she still managed to look upset and constipated, “I told you, I’m not a necromancer.”

“Ah, please forgive me, a necromage,” he sneered.

Momo deflated.

“How would you know that?” she whispered.

“I had my suspicions. I am able to sense the presence of Death Magic on others. It’s a skill of my class, [Holy Mage]. It’s also how I concocted my original list of suspicious citizens. And when you came in, it was simply wafting off of you,” he pinched his nose with his fingers.

Momo frowned. She hadn’t heard of that class before - but it sounded powerful. She recalled Valerica teaching her about the [Holy Knight] expert class. Maybe this was the mage’s equivalent?

“And then I saw you receive your class scroll. It was covered in snakes and koi fish, a dead giveaway,” he laughed, and Momo frowned at the pun, “what was even more curious was your class title, however. Necromage Initiate. That is unusual. So tell me, where did you come to earn such a title?”

Momo nervously shifted her feet. The last thing she wanted was to give away Valerica’s location. To everyone else who ventured through the forest, the Dawn looked like an abandoned fort, unlived in for centuries.

Momo grimaced. The living conditions also mirrored this illusion.

Still, Valerica was her fearless leader, and she would expect Momo to weather such a storm of accusations. She needed to get out of here, but she also couldn’t give too much away.

She considered her options - the two most relevant skills in her grimoire would be [Con Artist] and, yuck… [Pitied].

That was a last resort.

She coughed loudly, feigning like something was stuck in her throat.

“[Con Artist],” she whispered as quietly as she could manage.

He glared at her, “what was that?”

“Nothing,” she squealed as her brain came alive with new information. It was as if someone had imported a thought into her head with a USB stick. A memory flashed in front of her subconscious, that of the Earl sending his resident thief into the blob, only to grin as he got slobbered up by it.

It dawned on her: he didn’t care about the life of his men, nor the village of Bruda. He cared singularly about alleviating his own terminal boredom.

“You’re going to release me,” Momo said in realization.

He sneered, showing off a previously concealed array of rotting teeth.

“What a funny little thing to say. And why would I do that?”

“Because putting the necromancer in jail is dull,” she said, “letting her go is much more interesting. It opens up a whole new realm of eventual chaotic possibilities.”

Momo shivered. [Con Artist] made her brain feel possessed. As if she had a brief one-way window into someone’s thoughts and emotions.

Still - it worked. His smile fell.

“You are not completely incorrect. This role, Earl,” he spat, “it bores me. The King wastes me here hunting small-time necros. Do you think that’s the first zombie glomboid I’ve slayed this year? Hardly. Let me show you something.”

He twirled his fingers through the air, summoning a halo of light. As he dragged his hand upwards, the light began to deform and stretch, forming terrain-like shapes: tiny golden houses, a slope of mountain, a shimmering waterfall. As it solidified, Momo realized it was a flickering map of the region, with Kalendale at the bottom, and Bruda at the top.

With a snap of his fingers, dark blots of ink appeared on the map. A large blob in Bruda, a smaller blob in Kalendale, and an overwhelmingly large pool of ink in the woods near the Dawn. Momo swallowed.

“Bruda is a boring town, and monitoring intermediate necromancers is boring work,” he pushed his finger into the black splotch in Bruda, “they are so… predictable. I took you for one of them. But that tricky little class title - Necromage Initiate.”

He took Momo’s hand, posing her finger to the ink splotch in the woods.

“I sense a great mass of Death Magic in these woods. I thought it might be from a wandering Nether Beast - but now I have other ideas. There is an expert-level necromancer in these woods. Maybe even several.”

His grin widened, his pearly yellow teeth shining.

“You’re right - keeping you here would be tedious. Using you as a tool to eviscerate your own brethren? Very amusing,” he laughed maniacally, his head thrown back, “they’ll never expect the likes of a lowly initiate to turn on them, now will they?”

Momo’s skin crawled, but the terror was overshadowed by annoyance. Did everyone in this universe think the only thing she was good for was being incapable and unassuming?

She supposed it was true, fine, but they didn’t have to bring it up so much.

He rose from his chair, cringing with pain as he stood.

“Your mission is simple,” he took a vial of black liquid out of his cloak pockets and handed it to Momo, “simply add a teaspoon of this to their dinner, and then be on your merry way. It will quickly become a real corpse feast.”

Imagining Valerica keeled over a supper of dead-rat stew, Momo could feel tears pricking her eyes. Gods, no - not now.

[Pitied] has been activated.

The Earl’s eyes suddenly softened. Ugh. Gross.

Worst of all, she was crying over nothing - his plan was already a bust. The Dawn’s necromancers didn’t even eat dinner, or breakfast, or lunch, or food. She’d have to pour posion over every snack-sized bug in the sanctuary.

And even then, they used poison like seasoning. Their immune system was trained on a diet on things that belong in a radioactive landfill, not a dinner plate.

But she’d keep that to herself.

“Oh, poor thing, don’t you worry,” he took her cheek in his hand, brushing away a tear, “if you do well, you will be very well compensated. Gold. Jewels. A job working in my court. Why stay a recluse from society, serving a dying breed, when you could serve the King?”

Momo paused. She had to admit that he had a very fair point.

She felt suddenly like she was at a college career fair, except with a lot more death and imprisonment, and a lot less free laptop stickers.

“And if I don’t follow your orders?” she mumbled.

“Then it’s your death sentence,” he shrugged, “but I know you’re smarter than that, dear Momo. You’ll choose what’s right.”

-

“Valerica,” Momo looked at the High Necromage with doe eyes, tears already wetting her cheeks, “The Earl of Bruda wants me to kill you.”

Momo didn’t last five minutes as a double agent.

She held out the black vial in front of the Necromage. Valerica took it eagerly, examining the slim tube. Without a thought, she unscrewed the top, pouring a tablespoon of the contents into her open palm.

It burned straight through her hand.

“That is indeed poison,” she remarked, unphased. She summoned a nearby skeleton, and then [Bone Infusioned] it with a flick to the head. Her palm healed in a hurry.

Momo balked. Did this woman feel pain?

“This will make a good replacement for my balsamic vinegar,” Valerica said, pocketing the vial.

“Will it not… kill you?”

Valerica laughed, “oh, Momo, you're a riot.”

She turned on her heel, beckoning Momo to follow her to the main hall.

They entered the hall to find it in its usual state: teeming with necromages. Almost all thirty-five of the sanctuary’s members were present, as it was noon time, when they collected to pray to Morgana and gossip around the shrine.

Momo realized that despite living amongst them for weeks, she could hardly recognize a single face. She had become quite skilled at slinking in and out of the sanctuary in a hurry, stopping only to be accosted by Valerica. While the mages always smiled warmly at her when she passed, she kept her eyes glued to the ground, marching on like an infantry soldier.

The only memorable face present was Devola, whose legs were swinging merrily from her seat on the main table. Valerica grimaced as she spotted her.

“Hi darling,” Devola waved.

“Devola,” Valerica responded, her face a flat, apathetic line.

Regardless, she quickly recovered, and clapped to get the attention of the room.

“Everyone, you should remember Momo, our newest recruit, and first ever Sales Lead,” Valerica looked at her proudly, eyes full of adoration, and Momo blushed, “she comes to us with quite dire news. We’ve caught the attention of the King, or rather one of his servants, the Earl of Bruda.”

The room became still with silence, a worried chatter quickly following.

“But not to worry, I see this as yet another opportunity that Momo has gifted us with. As you may know, we now control the fort of Morgana’s Dawn, West–”

Devola piped up, “formerly known as Morgana’s Respite–”

“Did someone hear something?” Valerica quirked her head, and then continued her speech, “as I was saying, Morgana’s Dawn - West is conveniently located on a cliff above Bruda. We will use it as our watchtower, and new rat-disposal location. Make sure to aim for the Earl's Longhouse.”

The room nodded in understanding.

“Now, for the actual plan - in the coming days, our dear Momo will lead the Earl through the woods and to our humble fort, with us watching and assisting from up above. Once they have arrived, we will break out the cutlery and host him and his men for dinner,” Valerica grinned, “or should I say, we will invite them to be dinner!”

The room came alive like a pack of hyenas, shrill laughs echoing through the chamber.

Momo’s face went white. Were they planning to eat him?

“Kidding, we’re not cannibals,” she waved her hand through the air, “but his skeleton will make a pleasant addition to the reserves.”

The room settled, nodding in agreement.

“Wait,” Momo interjected, replaying the speech in her head, “I’m leading him here?”

“Why of course!” Valerica pulled the vial out of her pocket, “he kindly gifted us a sauce for our potluck. I would have no manners at all if I failed to invite him.”

She turned towards the room, raising her hands up to the ceiling.

“Necromages, let us prepare for our first dinner guest!”

Meal Prep

The Dawn apparently did have a kitchen, although Momo had to dig through a density of spiderwebs that rivaled an Egyptian catacomb just to see the stovetop.

Valerica had bragged about the fort’s “extensive and vast pantry,” which Momo had very naively believed to be true.

Translating from Valerica-speak to reality, what she meant was that they had several tiny knives, an array of mortar and pestles, one mixing bowl, and a centuries-old cookbook called Eating Undead Things is Good For You: A Necromancer’s Guide to A Nutritious Lifestyle.

The cookbook contained seven recipes in total. The majority of them involved only three instructions: find <insert bug>, optionally chop <insert bug>, and eat <insert bug> before it eats you. Momo had never seen a cookbook where the directions to find the thing and eat the thing took up 66% of the page.

The two other recipes were holiday-themed dishes. The holiday dishes each boasted an unprecedented two additional linesin their instructions—the first instruction being to locate a plate, which the recipe helpfully defined, in case the hopeful chef was wondering what that was.

A PLATE

An ultimately unnecessary but occasionally amusing table that one puts bugs on.

The second additional step was to acquire seasoning.

The seasoning list seemed relatively normal, and it included a variety of conventional herbs and spices: thyme, oregano. Of course, the list ended with “mortal tears” and “skeletal remains,” but that didn’t phase Momo. She had seen Valerica consume weirder and worse.

Speaking of the devil, Valerica’s red-painted fingernails climbed over the page that Momo was inspecting.

“Ah, you’ve discovered thebook,” she said as if it was a holy religious text, “I ate terribly before I discovered that work of genius. Now, look at me!”

Momo looked up to see the High Necromage outfitted in a proper chef’s hat. Like, a genuine chef’s hat, the white, pleated, muffin-like thing. It sat awkwardly over her skull, compressing her head so she looked like a flower bulb with black roots of hair splayed over her shoulders.

It was totally adorable.

It was also abundantly clear that Valerica had never worn it before, or probably ever stepped foot in a kitchen, or prepared a hot meal.

“Bugs On A Plate,” Valerica read off the recipe’s title, “one of my personal favorites, although it’s a bit more involved than the rest. Who has a plate lying around?”

“No one in this universe,” Momo grumbled.

“Exactly!” Valerica exclaimed, missing the sarcasm.

“Valerica,” Momo mumbled, pivoting, “can I ask you something?”

“My esteemed Sales Lead? Why, of course you can.”

Momo blushed, then cleared her throat, “if you bring the Earl here and kill him, won’t the King want to, I don’t know, kill you?”

Valerica’s eyes widened, “kill the Earl? And why would I do that? I’m no villain, Momo.”

Momo blinked. The High Necromage’s previous speech had heavily implied, if not clearly specified, that she was about to make him a backroom skeleton. But maybe Momo’s hearing had simply faltered.

“So you’re not going to kill him?”

“Of course not!” Valerica laughed, pinching a bug between her nails and setting it in the mortar and pestle, “I want to expand Morgana’s domain, but I must do so in a calculated manner. Our ranks have grown - as have our pockets - but certainly not enough to challenge that devil King Jarva.”

She squashed the bug into a sauce. Momo stopped herself from dry-heaving.

“As much as I’d like to make every [Holy Knight] into a sunny little stew, the time is not right. We will just have to come to an agreement, him and I.”

Momo swallowed, her stomach grumbling at the imagery, “may I make a suggestion? About the dinner menu?”

“Naturally. You need not ‘ask to ask’ so often. I always value your input, dear Momo,” Valerica responded as she used her talon-like nails as makeshift skewers, catching two more bugs.

Momo blushed, looking down. She did make an awful habit of asking permission to exist. It just seemed rude not to.

“I think we should probably feed him something edible,” Momo suggested, “if we don’t want him to, well, die.”

Valerica furrowed her eyebrows. She combined the squashed bugs into a single bowl, and then poured a bit of the Earl’s poison on top of it for a bit of added flavor.

Momo’s jaw dropped as she watched Valerica down the fatal concoction in one bite, giving a satisfied smile as she swallowed it down.

“Delicious,” she sighed pleasantly, “I can’t even dream of depriving the Earl of it.”

“I just think maybe he doesn’t have the same resistance to poison as you?” Momo said, sweat dripping down her brow. She watched Valerica for any signs of imminent death, but nothing came. If anything, she looked more alive than usual.

Still, Momo’s words gave the High Necromage pause. She nodded.

“A very fair point. Not everyone is a child of Morgana. I doubt Kyros’ blessings include something as practical as [Poison Resistance VI]. He only awards his disciples with useless skills, like [Dispel Undead].”

Momo nodded agreeably. She was sure Valerica would have dealt with the zombie glomboid in a much more compassionate, peaceful way than the Earl had.

“So then, another promotion is in order,” Valerica hummed, much to Momo’s dismay. She wasn’t a fan of the last promotion, and she couldn’t imagine this one would be much better, “I am appointing you Head Chef. I can summon a variety of sous chefs to do the cooking - but I will need you to acquire the ingredients. How does that sound?”

Momo considered it. It actually didn’t sound terrible. Momo would be happy to accept every promotion that allowed her to spend the Dawn’s money on edible food meant for normal human consumption.

“Of course,” Momo said with a slight bow. Valerica laughed.

“Fabulous,” Valerica squeezed Momo’s shoulders, “oh, and before you’re off - one last thing. The new robes are lovely, but you are in desperate need of a necromancer’s cowl. Some gloves, too. You just look a bit too Kyrosian in all those bright blues and browns. It unnerves me.”

She smiled goodnaturedly at Momo, and began walking towards the kitchen’s exit.

“Talk to Lorvis. He’s our tailor. He’ll fit you with something to match your whole - how do you Earthlings say it - vibe.”

Seeing as Momo had done an expert job of introducing herself to a total of zero of the Dawn’s necromages, finding a ‘Lorvis’ in a jungle of people with equally off-putting names was a true quest.

“Nope, I’m Rorlick,” the most recent victim of her investigation confessed, “Lorvis is the one with the black robes and the hunched back.”

Black robes, hunched back. Momo surveyed the Main Hall.

So that narrowed it down to 33 out of 35 of the members, not counting Rorlick. Progress.

Eventually, after meeting and greeting about 31 more of the members, she discovered the infamous tailor. He had been hiding in a southern corridor of the Dawn, in the sanctuary’s modest smithery. The room contained a small forge, an anvil, a tanning rack, and a large table, where a hunched over man sat, threading a design into a pair of leather gloves.

“Lorvis?” Momo attempted for the hundredth time as she approached the table.

His head moved like a turtle’s - crawling slowly upwards as if emerging from a shell.

“Momo,” he said, greeting her quietly. Momo couldn’t believe everyone here actually knew her name. Then again, Valerica had made a habit of making grand speeches about her every other day.

“Would you happen to have a spare cowl and gloves?” Momo inquired.

Lorvis nodded in slow, sloth-like motions. He reached into a wooden drawer behind him, pulling it open to reveal an assortment of identical clothing - the Dawn’s traditional garb. It was what all of the sanctuary’s members, save her, Valerica, and Devola, wore.

She supposed she was never given them because the colors and designs would give her away during deliveries. Either that, or Valerica forgot. One option was immediately more likely than the other.

“These are no good,” he said, closing the drawer with a push, “you need Momo clothes. Clothes for a Momo.”

Momo couldn’t agree more. This was a man who understood her.

“Momo,” he seemed to love repeating her name, “what is color of your heart?”

“Color of my - um, what?”

He pointed to her chest.

Right, yes.

“Red, I hope?” she laughed.

He squinted. This did not seem to be the correct answer. He tried a different strategy.

“What is color of your soul?”

This stupefied her. Luckily, as an art major, she was mildly used to people in positions of authority asking her insane questions and expecting insane answers. So she looked inward.

And by inward, she meant that she looked around the room. Everything was black - the anvil, the walls, the forge. The only thing with a pop of color in the entire room was a cloak sown with purple thread.

“It’s purple,” she answered definitively.

“Wrong. It is pale wilted green, like dead grass,” he said with a small smile.

Wonderful. Momo immediately deflated.

“Well, that’s – okay,” she said, unsure if she should be offended or flattered, considering her present company.

“Come back in a day. I will have clothing meant for a Momo. For now, you get this.”

Tying a last thread, he handed her the leather gloves he was working on. They were beautiful, embroidered with undead horses riding across a never ending, bountiful field. She made quick work of slipping them on.

⟡ You have equipped   [Leather Gloves of Death Essence (LVL 7)] ⟡

Made by a [Dark Tailor], these gloves are imbued with Death Magic. While equipped, all of your Death Magic attacks will be 10% more effective, and all Death Magic healing skills will be 20% more effective.

Nice. That would pair nicely with [Abysmal Burst] and [Bone Infusion].

She smiled and thanked Lorvis, who simply repeated her name back to her. For the first time since she entered Bruda, Momo was feeling sure of herself. She had a concrete, simple mission: buy groceries.

Nothing complicated. Totally doable. Not a single necromantic thing about it.

As she headed for the sanctuary’s back entrance, pockets full of gold ready to be spent on Kalendale venison, Devola unexpectedly slithered up to her side, curtsying as she blocked her exit.

“Hello, sweet Momo,” Devola grinned, “why don’t I accompany you?”

Momo sighed. So much for simple.

A note from villa1ny

What dish do you think Head Chef Momo should serve the Earl? ;)

Never Bring Your Necrodancer Grocery Shopping

A note from villa1ny

This is Chapter 2 of 3 in what I am now dubbing the "Cooking Mama Mini-Arc."

Enjoy!

When Momo and Devola arrived in Kalendale, they were greeted by the smiling face of a taxidermied deer, its eyes stuffed with tea candles. The winter holidays were soon to arrive in Alois, and Kalendale was celebrating in the only way they knew how.

Deer (and bad puns) were practically an invasive species in the village. Every single market stall was named something like Deerly Beloved.

“Momo,” Devola snapped her fingers in front of Momo’s eyes, “what did the deer say when she met her favorite celebrity?”

Momo sighed. This was Devola’s hundredth ‘joke’ today.

“What?”

“I’m a big fawn of your work,” she grinned, taking Momo by the hand to drag her over to one of the stalls. Pointing to the sign, Momo read its name: Big Fawn.

Unlike most of the other signs, this one didn’t seem to be false advertising. Huge, nearly menacing chunks of meat were hanging from the stall’s ceiling. At the storefront, a giant, nearly sword-sized knife sat on a chopping board. A bear of a man was scavenging for something in the back.

“Hello there!” Devola chirped, waving at the back of him.

He turned his head with a snap, and Momo immediately wanted to melt into the ground. Of all of the stalls, Devola had dragged her here.

“Could it be so?” the man’s eyes enlarged as he strided to the front, “if it ain’t the girl with tha wild odor.”

Devola frowned, “that’s a very rude way to address a lady.”

“Ah not you, miss, you smell just lovely,” he defended, and then pointed to Momo, “I mean the small one.”

Momo sighed. She didn’t bother defending herself - she already knew this was a fight she wouldn’t win. Her dignity would once again continue to be a daily sacrifice.

“Ye smell much better now, thank Ursa,” he waved his hand in front of his nose, “so, what can I get you two? I’m hoping I can part with the rest of my deer.”

“Yes, that’s precisely right,” Devola nodded, before Momo could even speak, “how does hm, thirty gold pieces sound? That sounds reasonable, doesn’t it Momo?”

Momo balked. It sounded like she was about to get her ass handed to her. She could already see John’s face turning tomato red.

“You better be joking with me, miss. The rest of my venison will cost ye at least three hundred gold coins, and that’s at a steep end-of-day discount.”

“Three hundred? Do you think I’m some princess with a castle and a dowry?”

Momo stifled a laugh. Devola actually was, quite literally, that - she had provided the Dawn with a castle and a vault brimming with coin. Except instead of getting married, she had shoved her way into the Dawn, making Valerica her unwilling prince.

“An uppity princess? You sure got the look for it,” John said coldly.

The pair of them had their faces pressed close, steam blowing out of their ears. It reminded Momo of the nature documentaries she’d watch as a kid, where stags would butt heads in an antler-on-antler stalemate.

This was going to go sideways quickly.

“We’ll take it for three hundred,” Momo said quickly, wanting to avoid any further confrontation.

“We surely will not, Momo, not after this disrespectful attitude–”

“You’re right,” Momo mumbled, “John, we’ll take it for four hundred. Sorry about her.”

Devola balked at her, speechless. Before she could summon her next words, Momo quickly slipped a pile of gold out of her pocket and shoved it over the market stall counter.

John harrumphed, but seemed happy with the conclusion.

“Fine then. Ye got a cart for all this deer?”

Momo had brought more than a cart - she had brought all three of the stablehouse cows, outfitted in their usual [Disguise] and matching tote bags. Spotting her cow lackeys, John nodded and began to load up the venison.

A receipt materialized before Momo.

You have acquired [Venison (40 Pounds)] in exchange for 400 Gold.

You currently possess 4230 gold.

“Momo, I am appalled,” Devola said after finally regaining her ability to speak, “do you really let people talk to you like that? Call you smelly and small?”

“No. Well - yes. I mean, that wasn’t exactly the main problem with what just happened…”

“It surely was. You let him step all over you.”

“But you offered him an incredibly low price!”

“As punishment for his comments!” Devola crossed her arms, unrelenting.

Momo fell silent. Devola’s heart was in the right place, she supposed. It was just a place that was likely to get them thrown out of Kalendale in under thirty minutes.

“I appreciate that,” Momo said earnestly after a moment, “but I just don’t want to start any fights.”

“Oh Momo, no one ever changed the world without starting a fight,” Devola declared righteously, sticking her chin to the sky. The way she spoke, you wouldn’t think she was talking about haggling for deer hides.

Momo nodded in agreement, more to placate her than anything.

Satisfied, Devola retired her power-pose.

“So then, what’s next on the list?” she grinned.

"Vegetables. I'm thinking of making beef and cabbage mandu," Momo babbled, and then eyed the 40 pounds of roped venison she had just loaded onto her cows, "venison and cabbage mandu, I mean." Momo grimaced. That was definitely an original recipe.

"Mandu?"

"Ah - sorry. Dumplings."

Devola quirked her head, "is that a kind of bird?"

Momo sighed.

"Nevermind."

As it turned out, Kalendale was not a vegetable town.

After another half hour of searching, the closest resemblance to a vegetable that Momo could locate was a green toilet brush that she had mistaken for broccoli. She was sorely disappointed when the vendor exhibited it by tossing it around a toilet bowl.

It was becoming evident that these people were easily 80% deer. Momo would wonder how they were still standing, but a deer-only diet was only the third weirdest diet she’d encountered this month.

The goats who drank their own milk were still reigning in first place.

“Hello little lady, can I interest you in some home-brewed cherry beer?”

A cheery woman with broad, muscled arms offered her a pale ale. Never one to turn down a free sample, Momo moved to take it, but Devola quickly intercepted, downing the brew.

“Oh wow, punchy,” Devola commented, her lips in a twist. She offered the remaining two sips to Momo, who reluctantly tried it. Punchy was an apt description, as it felt like getting punched in the stomach; the cherry taste was as sour as a lemon.

Momo swallowed it and felt her organs screaming for help.

"Health check," she whispered hoarsely.

Health Points

30/70

Valerica would love this, she thought. It tasted like slow death.

“We’ll take two,” Momo said, the High Necromage in mind, “do you have anything less... intense, in stock?”

The woman nodded fervently, shoveling the cherry beers aside to reveal a much wider selection. There were pear beers, apple beers, even cabbage beers, which Momo was intensely skeptical of - there was no way anyone in this village had tasted a cabbage.

They sampled the rest, and Momo surprisingly enjoyed the pear beer. It didn’t taste like pear, but it did taste like something, and that something wasn’t deathly or gross. So they took a crate of fifty.

"I'll have twenty of the cabbage beers too," Momo added with a shrug. This was as close she was going to come to finding a cabbage for the dumplings.

You have acquired [Pear Beer (50 Bottles)] and [Cabbage Beer (20 Bottles)] in exchange for 150 Gold.

You currently possess 4080 gold.

The sun was setting by the time Momo and Devola finished their shopping, having loaded the cows to the point of exhaustion with various meats, beers, and toilet brushes. As Momo passed by her last stall of the day, she noticed a strange looking building, with a strange looking pinboard sitting outside of it.

The Adventurer’s Guild For Adventuring Peoples, Momo read, her confusion growing.

What was a guild? The closest thing Momo could imagine was the Mallmart union she was always being heckled to join. They had confused her with someone who cared about her working conditions.

If this was a union, it was certainly a more interesting one. The guild’s pinboard held various letters, each having a different subject line screaming in black, bold ink. Some were assignments to find lost pets. Others were requests to defeat various wild animals, or search for family heirlooms lost in caves and burrows.

“Devola, what’s all this about?” she pointed to the board. Devola laughed.

“Can’t you read, darling? It’s an Adventurer’s Guild. A guild for adventurers. This is their quest board,” she spelled out, then added with a tone of concern, “I hope you’re not thinking of joining.”

Momo could laugh. There was no way she was willingly signing up for an adventure. She was already tasked with too many ones she hadn’t asked for.

“What’s a guild?”

“Oh, seriously? Well, it’s a sort of… association, with a leader, much like our esteemed Valerica. It has members and ranks and quests.”

Momo squinted. This all sounded exactly like Morgana’s Dawn, but with a fancier house and a much fancier pinboard.

“Quests?” she ventured, her curiosity once again getting the best of her.

“Yes, like little missions, each providing rewards of experience, gold, and equipment. These missions are a part of Alois’ [Quest System], which is the main way that people level up in their classes,” Devola informed her, animating with glee at an opportunity to teach.

“Back when necromancy was legal, my previous sanctuary had a quest board of its own. It’s a much more efficient way to level. Without quests, you’re stuck procuring experience and gold in your own futile ways… it must be hard for a novice like you.”

Momo’s eyebrows furled, “you mean this whole time I could have been getting rewarded for these missions Valerica has given me?”

“Yes, exactly,” Devola said, “what level are you again?”

“...8.”

“Oh Gods! With all the work you’ve done, you would have easily been level 20 by now if you had access to quests. That’s why they were implemented by the Court of the Gods - to allow for faster and equal leveling amongst all of the specialties. It’s much harder to gain experience that is specific to your class by just doing things in such a free-nilly way.”

Momo sagged in her boots. She could have already been level 20. She could have skele-baristas making her coffee; skele-masseuses giving her personal massages. Even Dusk would have minions of her own. She could promote her to Chief of her own Undead Cat Army.

Momo sighed. How did the saying go? Gods give their hardest battles to their strongest soldiers.

It was a phrase Momo proved false every day.

“So there’s no way Morgana’s Dawn could become a guild?”

Devola perched her hand to her chin, thinking it over.

“Well, guild registrations are approved by the office of the King. So, take that as you will.”

Momo sighed, but she resolved to find a way.

A note from villa1ny

A shoutout to a fellow author: Trickster Cleric is a LitRPG Isekai:

Amara has spent the last few years caring for her ailing father. And with medical bills mounting quickly, she does whatever it takes to keep a roof over their heads. After his passing, she awakens in a strange world, where she learns that sometimes death doesn’t wipe away your past deeds.

She is reborn as a trickster cleric, a class only given to thieves and troublemakers. But as she struggles to find a place for herself in a world where she’s shunned and rejected, she discovers powerful enemies bent on her destruction are gathering on all sides.

Corpse Party

The only videogame Momo had ever played religiously was Extreme Dining Dashers on her Nintendo DS. Her mom had gotten it from the GameStop bargain bin for $2.99, and it was quite possibly one of the worst feats of game design in modern history, but Momo adored it.

Ever since then she had always dreamed of working in a restaurant. Not as a chef, obviously, but as the person who yelled at the chefs while providing very little value of their own. The Gordon Ramsey of her own quaint, toxic kitchen.

With a fleet of a hundred skeletons in hats and aprons standing before her, Momo felt a childhood dream come true.

The skeletons had helpfully hauled in all of the ingredients, spreading them out amongst the kitchen’s many countertops. In the most demanding voice that Momo could manage, she commanded her fleet to separate into three sections: one to chop the venison, another to dice the toilet brush broccoli, and the third to create the dumpling skins.

Gifted to her by Valerica, the high-level skeletons were bright and quick. They got to work immediately, divvying up the tasks like worker bees. As they chopped, Momo strutted around her kitchen like an army sergeant, peering over skeletal shoulders to inspect their work. The dumplings had to be folded just so. The toilet brush had to be cut in a way that made it legitimately resemble a vegetable.

There were precise details to the work, and Momo would settle for nothing below perfection.

[Focus] was one hell of a drug.

Coming down from the spell, Momo found herself in a far corner of the kitchen with her hands wrapped around her knees, her head beating like a drum. A hundred skeletal eyes looked at her in obedient, expectant fear.

Watching their fearless leader awaken, they quickly raised their hands in a military salute.

“Uh.. down, boys,” she murmured, and they relaxed, but only by a little.

She heaved herself off of the floor and inspected the results. Focused-Momo was a ruthless commander; all the ingredients had been chopped, seasoned, and stuffed into perfectly-folded dumplings. All that was left was to pan fry them in the cabbage beer and then they’d be ready for consumption.

She smiled proudly at her work. Part of her wished her parents could witness her now, how fanatically dedicated she was to achieving the perfect dumpling; another part of her wished for nothing less. Her mother would have given her one of those you certainly tried looks, and then dumped the entire pan in the trash bin.

With the food prepared, she ambled down to Valerica’s office. As she strolled through the Main Hall on her way, she was suddenly stopped in her tracks. The familiar stench of rotting rat was absent. Morgana’s statue was scrubbed and dusted. The table was set with a tablecloth, napkins, and silverware.

Momo had to do a double-take to certify that she was still in the same Morgana’s Dawn. The space was liveable in a way she had never seen, like it might genuinely be inhabited by self-respecting human beings, and not cave-dwelling goblin people.

She should try threatening the sanctuary with annihilation more often. It was quite the motivator.

“The dumplings are ready.”

“Still not sure what those are, but wonderful!” Valerica grinned, “in other good news, the Earl has gracefully accepted our invitation. He’ll be in attendance at tomorrow’s potluck.”

Two letters were lying on Valerica’s desk. The first was sent by Momo, cordially inviting the Earl and his court to a celebratory dinner at the Dawn. She had lied that the murderous deed was done, and the blight of necromancy had been cleared from the woods.

Next to it lay the Earl’s reply, stamped with the King’s seal.

Momo,

You have done well. I will arrive after noon tomorrow with your rewards.

I trust you have not betrayed me.

Momo’s stomach turned.

“But I did betray him,” she mumbled, suddenly unsure of herself. The adrenaline from [Focus] had now properly worn off, and the reality of the situation began to dawn on her. Not only had she misled a very powerful mage, but she was leading him right to her house. It was like rule number one in what not to do when a random man threatens you.

“Yes, you did, and beautifully so,” Valerica added, “you are coming along well in your training.”

Even Valerica’s assurance couldn’t assuage her worries. She had seen his might in person. If he could flatten a blob the size of a tower with one casting, he could surely turn Momo into a pile of pudding with much less.

“What if he doesn’t agree to our demands?” Momo continued worryingly, “what if he’s more powerful than us?”

“You injure me,” Valerica’s eyes turned fire-bright, her ego bruised, “do you not think I can take on a measly Earl?”

“What if he’s not so measly?”

“A [Holy Mage] is but a scrawny mouse to me, Momo. And we have set the finest trap for him. All he has to do is crawl his way in and sniff the cheese.”

“The cheese being my dumplings?”

“Exactly.”

Momo nodded in understanding. Valerica always put things in terms that made sense to her. They were just a symbiotic pair, the two of them. Except one of them was preparing to threaten an expert level Mage, and the other was worried she might be getting a stress rash.

The Earl, ever punctual, arrived a minute after Noon. She observed his arrival from her nook under the roof of the sanctuary’s eastern tower. Her fingertips anxiously tapped at the window sill as she watched his party disembark from their horse-drawn carriage.

Him and his court gathered by the stablehouse, parking their steeds there per Momo’s instructions. He had brought six lackeys with him. She recognized one of them as his second in command, the dual-wielding assassin from before. The other five were foreign to her, but they were menacing all the same. Two looked to be spellcasters - holding long wooden staffs and dressed in white robes. The other three were dressed in plate metal and wielded greatswords.

Back on Earth, they would have been extras gathering around the watercooler on a medieval movie set. In this world, they inspired fear so deep in her stomach that she lost a health point.

She breathed in deeply, centering herself. It was fine. Everything was fine. She’d follow Valerica’s instructions and not give a single thing away. All she had to do was lead them to the Main Hall without pissing herself. Greater tasks had been done by lesser people.

“I’m so glad you all could make it,” she greeted them at the door.

“We thank you for the invitation,” Yadek returned, “I trust that we will find what we’re looking for inside.”

His paladins tilted their swords at her. The assassin did not move, but pointed an equally menacing smirk. Momo shivered.

“Of course. Follow me.”

She led them through the back entrance and up the eastern tower’s staircase. The Earl’s men eyed every dust particle with suspicion, surrounding Yadek with protection on all sides in case of an ambush. They were clearly prepared to be duped.

Soon enough they arrived at the arched entrance to the Main Hall. As she had trained the feline to do, Dusk waddled pleasantly by. The cat stopped at the doorway, and then scratched at it, her claws replicating the sound of nails on a chalkboard.

Hoping they got the signal, Momo pushed the door softly open.

The Earl’s frown turned rapidly into a serpentile grin.

“Oh, Momo,” he said, emotion coloring his voice, “you have truly outdone yourself.”

The open doors revealed a scene of utter carnage. All around the dining table, the Necromages lay with their heads flat and unmoving, their cowls buried in their plates. Knives sat limply in dead hands, half-devoured dumpling skins hung from forks. The only sound in the entire room was the pitter-patter of blood dripping into Morgana’s ever-flowing fountain.

The three paladins entered the room first, swords pointed forward. From behind, the duo of spellcasters twirled their staffs in unison, casting [Death Magic Barrier] around the group of them. The Earl entered last, powerfully inhaling the air.

He stood silent for a moment before his eyes fluttered open, his nose wrinkling.

He stared deadcenter, at the woman occupying the head of the table. Valerica.

“This one stinks like nothing I’ve smelled before.”

He stalked up to her, placing his fingers to her limp wrist.

“Dead as a door knob,” he said with an unbelieving shake of his head. He turned to Momo, “you have destroyed a truly apocalyptical evil. I have smelled the Death Magic of an expert Necromancer before, but this scent - it’s beyond vile. It’s aura in its most corrupted form.”

Even obfuscated by the hair shading Valerica’s fallen face, Momo could still see the hint of a smirk paint her lips.

“Yadek, it moved!”

One of the paladins pointed in terror at one of the many skeletons bordering the room. Much to Momo’s chagrin, the accused skeleton was indeed moving, its knee bobbing nervously up and down. It was not the only one. The entire row of skeletons was suffering from some sort of nervous tick; some sucked invisible thumbs, others clawed at the back of their hairless skulls.

Oh dammit, Momo frowned. She really had given the whole fleet of them an anxiety disorder.

“How is that possible?” the Earl scowled.

“Skeletons, please stop moving,” Momo said, and the skeletons immediately came to a halt, the voice of their traumatizer rattling through their skulls.

“Ah, this is your army, then?”

“Yup. All mine,” Momo said, projecting confidence, “that there’s Jeffrey, and Steven—”

“You name your minions?” the Earl laughed coldly.

“Easier to… order them around, that way.”

“Ah, right. I should expect such tact and expertise from you by now.”

“Exactly. Now, skeletons, please clear a few seats for the Earl and his guests.”

The skeletons obediently followed suit, dragging six of the necromages from their seats. They hung them over their shoulders like ragdolls. Momo found herself in awe of the necromages ability to play dead - the sanctuary might have a secret future as an acting troupe.

“Please, sit,” she instructed. With the Earl’s go ahead, his lackeys sat. They moved uncomfortably in their seats, the ‘dead’ necromages accompanying them on all sides.

“Skeletons, bring on the second course.”

At Momo’s command, the skeletons wheeled out two carts full of steaming hot dumplings. Like a true hostess, Momo gracefully plated five for each of her guests. She watched with glee as they devoured the food, momentarily forgetting that she was not in fact a Michelin star chef, but a necromancer concocting an increasingly ridiculous scheme.

“Is this a toilet brush?” one of the paladins asked, cleaning a bristle out of his teeth.

“Of course not. That’s broccoli.”

“Brocowhat?”

“An exotic vegetable.”

“Oh,” he nodded, “it’s crunchy.”

“That’s normal.”

The only one who had yet to dig in was the Earl. He watched with interest as his companions chowed down, still suspicious of their enjoyment.

“And you’re sure that this batch was untouched by the poison?” he asked.

“Positive,” Momo smiled.

“I think I’d like to see you eat one, just to be sure.”

“Happy to,” Momo scooped one of the dumplings off the plate, cutting it in half before spooning it into her mouth. She chewed slowly, savoring the cabbage beer aftertaste.

It went down like fine wine. Momo swallowed, making a whole show of it.

A piece of parchment materialized before her, dropping into her plate.

[Potion of Poison Resistance V] blocked [Moderate Poison Affliction]

The Earl squinted, noticing the paper.

“Show me that,” he beckoned with his hand, “what does it say?”

Sweat trickled down her brow, “oh, nothing. Just gained a level in [Chef]...”

“I doubt that. Show me.”

Momo had already begun to rip it up.

“Why did you just rip that up?”

“Oh? I did?” the tattered paper sat in her palm, “sorry, impulse.”

“Liar. There is something amiss here. Guards, apprehend her.”

His command fell on deaf ears. His companions had gone blue in the face, their hands grappled around their necks in anguish.

“I think - I think the broccoli is stuck in my throat,” one babbled.

“I don’t feel so well,” another added before his face fell flat on the table, shattering the glassware.

“What have you done to them?” the Earl shot out of his chair, face red with iration.

Before Momo could respond, a slow, building laugh began to echo around the chamber. From the center of the table, Valerica’s head gradually lifted, her hair parting to reveal her face-splitting grin.

“Bravo,” she clapped, applauding Momo, “let me see a bow, please.”

Momo looked down shyly.

“Please.”

She reluctantly bowed. Valerica hooted.

“Not just a chef, but an expert actress, isn’t she?” she said, looking at the gobsmacked Earl.

“Really, you are the actress here, Valerica.”

“Don’t be so humble. That was just a delight to watch.”

“How are you alive?” the Earl’s expression was somewhere between fury and delight. He looked at her with glazed over eyes, irises blooming with interest.

“Now, my dear Earl,” Valerica leaned forward, eyeing the man like she was the snake in the Garden of Eden, “are you really in a position to be asking questions?”

The Dumpling Guild & Class Evolution

“[Necrotic Subjugation].”

As the words left Valerica’s mouth, the Earl began to turn a shade of purple. Lilac spread throughout his skin, climbing up his fingers and painting his nails. If his new coloring wasn’t the product of suffocation, he’d look kind of pretty.

“[Veil of Light],” he mumbled through staccato breaths. An orb of light shielded him, momentarily alleviating his coloration. Unfortunately for him, the respite was fleeting. Valerica giggled and snapped her fingers, and the orb burst like a feeble soap bubble.

He groaned audibly, the curse once again falling upon him.

“Interesting, that should have worked,” he choked out, his neutral, inquisitive nature persisting even during an increasingly fatal experience, “would you please stop it? I - I’d prefer not to die today.”

Valerica inspected her nails, paying no mind to the Earl squirming next to her.

“Are you going to patiently listen to my initiate’s demands?”

Pretentious even as he approached death, the Earl mumbled, “I do not care for the demands of a low-life necromancer. I will listen to you, not her.”

“Bad answer.”

His lilac shade rapidly darkened to black. He wrapped his fingers around his neck in agony, but it was too late. His head collapsed onto the table.

“Is he dead?” Momo shrieked.

“Not quite. Just having a very bad nap.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Momo mumbled, “it’s fine if he doesn’t respect me, as long as he respects you.”

Valerica frowned, “that is nonsense, Momo. You are an extension of me. If you think so lowly of yourself, how does that reflect on me? On my leadership?”

Momo’s eyebrows shot up, “but that’s different, isn’t it? You’ve earned all of your prestige…”

“So have you, my dear! Now act like it.”

With a sway of her hand, the Earl’s head snapped back up. The coloration in his face drained back to pale white, and he gasped for breath.

“Momo, please give the Earl a list of our demands.”

Momo’s heartbeat racketed in her neck. Even despite Valerica’s orders, her mouth was unwilling to open. The image of being turned to pudding by the Earl’s staff was stuck like glue to her mind.

Inhaling sharply, Momo changed tact. She began repeating positive affirmations in her head:

This man is not so scary.

This man is just some guy.

This man might have killed a giant zombie glomboid.

But I ripped off a powerful wizard.

And scammed a teenage boy into a monthly subscription plan.

I am cool. I am collected. I am Momo. Momo the Dealmaker.

Momo the Ripper-Offer.

She got a little carried away, starting to hum a tune to her own theme song. Her therapist was right, positive affirmations were the shit. She had to try them more often.

“Are you quite done singing?” the Earl interjected. After a few moments of sputtering and drooling, he was finally able to breathe again.

“Oh, sorry,” she said, blushing, “yes, yes I am. I have a list of demands for you, Earl.”

“Get on with it then,” he rolled his bloodshot eyes.

Momo cleared her throat, summoning her [Burgeoning Confidence II]. Here goes nothing.

“On the condition that we let you live, we will install one of our necromages in your court so they can monitor things, and make sure Morgana’s Dawn stays out of the King’s purview. Secondly, we will require that 15 percent of Bruda’s taxes be paid directly to Morgana’s Dawn.”

“15 percent? Please, that is ridiculous–”

“Yes, 15 percent. And as we are not money-grubbing landlords, we will pay this back by opening up a new School of Dance.”

The Earl looked at her in bewilderment, “a… School of Dance?”

Devola raised her dead head by just a little, letting out an excited affirmation before flopping her skull back down. Momo admired her commitment to the role.

Momo had proposed the School of Dance idea to Devola yesterday on their walk back. By opening a dance school in Bruda, they could recruit from Bruda’s student population through innocuous means. The children may arrive as dancers, but if they began to develop other ‘interests’ while enrolled, who was to blame them?

It also solved the problem of getting Devola out of Valerica’s hair, which Valerica very quickly and happily agreed to. She had even spun Momo around the room a few times out of sheer gratitude.

“Finally, uh…” Momo racked her head for any more demands, “we would like you to approve Morgana’s Dawn request for guild membership.”

“You must be joking,” he sighed, “the King’s Guild Office would not only immediately reject that request, but send an army of knights to your door.”

“That’s why we’ll be calling it something innocent and respectable,” Momo said, proud of her quick thinking, “like… the Knitter’s Guild for Accomplished Knitters.”

“Already taken.”

Momo frowned, “how about the Soupmaker’s Guild for Broth Lovers?”

“Nope. They celebrated their sixtieth guild anniversary just last weekend. I attended. It was a lovely dinner.”

Momo groaned. Then an idea came to her.

“The Dumpling Maker’s Guild… for esteemed makers of dumplings.”

“What in the fresh nether is a dumpling?”

Momo pointed to the food on the plate in front of him, “it’s pure deliciousness, is what it is.”

“Fine. I can’t promise it won’t be rejected. They will be similarly confused.”

“We will include a full description of what a dumpling is, and the dumpling making process,” Momo put her hands on her hips, “I will leave no question unanswered.”

“Gods, fine,” he relented, throwing his hands up. He sighed, looking at his fallen, slumped over comrades, “I suppose you leave me no choice. You have slain the remainder of my court, so I will be needing new employees.”

He turned to Valerica, “if I agree to your demands, I ask just one thing in return.”

“You are making a terrible habit of asking when you should be listening,” Valerica tilted her head, raising her fingers in a veiled threat to purple him again.

The threat didn’t stop him, and he fervently asked, “you must tell me what you are. My curiosity burns to know it. Are you using a power enhancement potion? A special blessing from Morgana? If you were simply an expert necromancer, my [Resistance to Death Magic] would have allowed me to cancel your [Necrotic Subjugation].”

“Can you not guess?” she yawned, “does my name not haunt the dreams of the [Holy Mages]?”

He froze. For the first time, fear seemed to creep into his disposition. A fear that didn’t even appear while being necrotically waterboarded.

“No, it couldn’t be. Your kind was wiped out.”

“That’s what daddy Jarva likes to tell you all at bedtime, isn’t it?” Valerica grinned.

“Show me,” he said, eyes filling with hungry curiosity, “show me the limits of your excalibur power. I must see it. I crave to see it.”

“Stop slobbering all over Momo’s perfectly nice dumplings,” Valerica dismissed him, and then turned to her skeletons, “minions, I believe the Earl was just leaving. You can escort him out impolitely.”

“No! I must witness your power! I must!” he cried out, his usual neutrality transforming into pure madness. He shot a [Holy Beam] out of his staff, attempting to provoke her. The beam hit Valerica with the force of a horsefly, bouncing off her chest and cratering through the wall.

“Ugh, and Rorlik just got done with the renovations,” Valerica grumbled, light streaming into the room. All around the table, the necromages began to lose focus on their acting, hissing and groaning at the presence of sunlight.

“It was a pleasure doing business with you,” Momo hurriedly added, watching as the skeletons heaved him upwards by the shoulders. He wriggled in their grasp, but another casting of Valerica’s [Necrotic Subjugation] held him down.

“I will be back for you!” he yelled out as he was taken to the eastern tower.

“We’ll be in touch!” Momo yelled back.

As the Earl’s cries faded into the background, a stack of parchment papers shot through the hole in the wall, landing perfectly in Momo’s hands.

Congratulations! For successfully orchestrating an elaborate plan to trick a [Holy Mage] and his allies, you have gained 2 levels in [Necromage Initiate].

You are now level 10 in [Necromage Initiate]. This is the [Novice] level cap. While you can continue earning skills outside this class, you cannot learn anymore skills from [Necromage Initiate].

Based on your attributes and previous actions, you can choose to evolve this class into one of the following [Intermediate] classes:

Momo’s eyes widened. Laying in her hands was a tangible result of her progress. Maybe Valerica and Devola were right - she was actually getting somewhere.

Based on your attributes and actions, these classes are most suggested:

[Adept Necromage]: As an adept Necromage, you can begin to harness the elements and intertwine them with your Death and Nether magics. You will manipulate fire, earth, poison, and water while focusing on pure INT. Skills affected: Friend of the Dead, Bone Infusion, Raise Undead, Abysmal Burst.

[Adept Corrupted Druid]: Similar to the [Druid] class under the domain of Ursa, the [Corrupted Druid] is a lover of plants, animals, and nature that has been corrupted by Morgana’s touch. You will focus on INT and DEX. Skills affected: Friend of the Dead, Bone Infusion, Raise Undead, Abysmal Burst.

These classes are also available:

[Adept Necrodancer]: A necrotic summoner who is always on the move. You will focus on INT, DEX, and CHA to fly around the battlefield and charm your foes. Skills affected: Friend of the Dead, Bone Infusion, Raise Undead, Abysmal Burst, Bone Dance.

[Adept Harbinger]: A necromancer at the front of the battlefield. Specializing in both STR and INT, this Spellsword class can eviscerate the enemy from close and afar. Skills affected: Friend of the Dead, Bone Infusion, Raise Undead, Abysmal Burst.

Overwhelmed by the sheer number of decisions, Momo tucked the parchment and accompanying quill into her robe pocket. She was going to make this decision like she made all other decisions, by first stuffing her face with dumplings.

Even Gods Get Manicures

Momo and Valerica sat, alone and cross-legged, on the floor by Morgana’s statue. Everyone else had long retired to their chambers; the introverted Necromages had a very limited ceiling for social activity, and playing dead amongst the Earl had been quite enough contact for the week. Momo was sure it would be many days before they reared their anti-social heads outside their rooms again.

Momo smiled. She had really found her people.

“You did exceptionally well out there," Valerica said, laying praise on her for the hundredth time that day.

“Oh, I didn’t do much,” Momo’s smile fell, and she bowed her head. She really was unpracticed at handling compliments.

“Stop it with that. Didn’t you listen to what I said?”

“I - I did,” Momo defended weakly, “I’m sorry. It’s just a habit.”

“Speaking ill of yourself?”

“Uh, yes,” Momo said, embarrassed.

Momo’s deep-seated insecurity was more than just a habit, it was a life-long passion project. It wasn’t exactly easy for her to just wake up one day and decide to think of herself as cool and confident, even if Valerica was ordering her to.

Still, Valerica smiled at her with patient, emerald eyes.

“You will get there.”

“Maybe,” Momo said with a shrug.

“You already are. I saw you received your [Intermediate] evolution papers. That is a great achievement, not to be undermined! Few recruits come this far before they’re tossed back into the abyss."

“How reassuring,” Momo said quietly. The ‘abyss’ was Valerica’s affectionate nickname for the caverns that sat below the sanctuary. Being there once was already enough times.

“Very. Now pray tell, which class did you pick?”

Momo sighed, “I haven’t. It’s too many decisions.”

“Oh, but that’s the fun of it!” Valerica said gleefully, and pulled the pieces of parchment out of Momo’s robe pockets. She scanned them with her eyes, humming with interest as she reviewed Momo’s available choices.

“Can’t you just pick one for me?” Momo asked hopefully.

“Of course not! This is your moment, Momo. You must follow your rodent-run heart.”

Momo’s skin crawled. Valerica brought up the whole "rat pacemaker" thing way too often for it to be a joke, but Momo refused to believe there were anything but totally human arteries inside her chest. Ignorance was bliss, even if she did occasionally hear a squeak in there when she slept on her side.

“Fine,” Momo sighed, “can I ask you some questions at least?”

“Of course, that’s what I’m here for!”

Momo could laugh. Most questions posed at Valerica were rewarded with half-answers, or if Momo was lucky, an amused laugh.

Momo reviewed the class list again. Never good at just choosing, she decided to go at it by means of elimination. First up, there was [Necrodancer]. She certainly wasn’t interested in dancing her way across a battlefield. She wanted less eyes on her, not more, so that was out.

[Harbinger] was interesting. She liked the idea of focusing on STR, as her job required a lot of legwork. But ‘eviscerating the enemy from close up’ was very much not her vibe. She’d prefer to not be eviscerating anything. Maybe eviscerating a bread roll with some hot tomato soup, at the most.

She crossed out [Harbinger].

That left [Necromage] and [Corrupted Druid]. Looking closer at the two, she noticed for the first time that [Corrupted Druid] was a subtly different color than the others - it glowed a faint white.

Remembering that the parchment was partially sentient, she inquired, “why does [Corrupted Druid] look like that?”

The stack of paper easily obliged her question. It twirled in the air, re-sorting itself until it landed on the relevant page.

[Adept Corrupted Druid] is a [Combination Evolution] class. Due to your levels in both [Necromage Initiate] and [Beast Tamer], you have unlocked the ability to evolve both into this class. If you choose to do so, you will no longer be able to gain any more skills from [Beast Tamer].

“It says that [Corrupted Druid] is a combination class. Is that good? I've heard they're supposed to be more powerful than other classes.”

Valerica leaned over the page to inspect it, “ah, yes, you are correct! Like [Necromage], [Corrupted Druid] borrows from two different domains. I suspect you got it due to your levels in [Beast Tamer]?”

Momo nodded, and Valerica grinned, clapping her on the back.

“Excellent! As you said, a combination class is often best, when it is something that matches your skillset. Of course, there is the downside that you will lose the ability to further level and evolve your secondary class.”

“Does that matter? Won’t the combined class be better anyways?” Momo squinted.

“Not always. The path of class evolution is an uncertain one. Maybe your individual classes would have been better separately, or maybe there is an even better evolution waiting down the line… Many people dedicate years to understanding the many possible evolutions so they can avoid making a costly mistake.”

Her first instinct was to find that level of studiousness extremely boring, but her new intellect points had altered her brain chemistry for the worse; she had begun to develop this insatiable craving for knowledge. She could see a tree graph beginning to form in her brain, nodes of expertise connecting like roots of a burgeoning oak.

She didn’t want to be this universe’s equivalent of an unfocused humanities major. Not this time. She wanted to - ew - do her homework first.

“I don’t want to pick just yet,” she mumbled, “I want to find out more.”

“Are you sure you’re not just procrastinating?”

“No, actually,” Momo affirmed, “I can't believe I'm saying this, but I, ugh, genuinely want to do my research.”

“You really are breaking out of your cocoon, dear Momo,” she grinned, and then looked out the window, checking the sun's position over the horizon, “now, I have a bit of a scheduled meeting with a friend coming up, but I think she’d like to meet you as well. Care to join us?”

Momo was quite done with conversation for today, dreaming instead of a relaxing nap with Dusk in their cozy hay pile outside. The weather had gotten a bit chillier as of late, but Valerica had loaned her a Firebright Candle, which kept things nice and warm in the stables.

She was practically drooling at the thought. Oh, God, she was exhausted.

“You know what, I think I’m good, actually–” Momo began.

“Wonderful! I’m so glad you could join us,” Valerica interjected, pulling Momo into an embrace.

Momo deflated. She had never met someone with this level of selective hearing.

After a few moments, the air in the sanctuary seemed to stiffen. The usual bugs buzzing in the air dropped dead, plopping to the ground unceremoniously. As she inhaled, Momo found it harder to breathe, as if she had been pulled deep underwater, or left to fester at the summit of a mountain.

“Ah, she must be calling,” Valerica smiled, “why don’t you answer this time?”

“What?”

She took Momo’s hand and gently placed it on the rim of Morgana’s fountain. Spurred by the contact, the fountain’s dormant waters began to bubble, and a stream of apple-colored blood shot up in a cone, dousing Momo’s hand.

Momo reflexively yelped and tore it back. Valerica laughed.

“Don’t be rude!” she teased, “Morgana is only saying hello.”

“Like… the Goddess Morgana?” Momo said, turning mildly pale.

“No, the traveling circus performer. Of course, the Goddess. Have you and her not had time to chat yet?”

“Me and the Goddess? Chat?”

“Oh stop it with the Goddess, it’s too formal,” Valerica rolled her eyes, “she’s a heavenly deity, not a school teacher. You can call her Morgie.”

The pool of blood stirred at the nickname, and not in a pleasant way. Valerica smirked.

Momo gawked, unsure what to do or say. She couldn’t even schedule an appointment with her dentist over her phone, no less chat with an all-powerful God.

“Go on. Say hello,” Valerica egged her on with a dastardly smile.

“How do I even greet her?”

“Well, a handshake is usually polite.”

Momo blinked, staring at the fountain. How did she give a statue a handshake?

She reached out to one of the statue’s open hands and limply shook it. Of course, it didn’t move, as it was made of stone, but instead a cylinder of blood rose from the pool, taking on the shape of an open hand.

Nice to meet you, Momo. I have heard much about you.

The voice resounded throughout the chamber. Momo jumped, taken off guard, and her hand slid right through the fountain’s blood-formed one, splattering blood all over Momo’s face and robes.

“Oh, god…” she groaned. She had just purchased those…

I prefer Goddess. The male term is not universal.

“Oh! I’m so sorry - I didn’t mean it like that,” she sucked in a breath. Great, she was one word into conversation with the Goddess, and she had already offended her.

I am just teasing you.

“Oh.”

So the Goddess had a sense of humor. Momo certainly hadn’t expected that. Her voice was also low and pleasant, comforting like a long embrace. Momo supposed it felt on brand - death was kind of like a warm, never-ending hug.

One that she would like to avoid for as long as possible. She cleared her throat.

“Sorry, it’s, uh, nice to meet you, too,” she said, awkwardly bowing.

No need to bow. It’s not like there is anything to bow to. I am currently getting my nails painted, somewhere far away from your puny universe, at a location completely imperceivable to the mortal mind. You are bowing to nothing but an imitation of me.

Momo blinked, focusing on the first part, “you’re… getting a manicure?”

Yes! I frequent this one shop in the southern quarters of the Nether. They have a great color selection. Every shade of blood red that you could dream of.

“Right,” Momo nodded, completely incapable of processing what she was being told.

Valerica frowned, “Morgie is always telling me about that place, but she refuses to take me. She knows all of the nail polish in Alois is piss-poor.”

Valerica, for the last time, you would die. Also, stop it with that nickname. It’s childish.

“I would very well die for a well-done manicure,” Valerica crossed her arms.

Momo felt like she was going insane. It was like listening to a pair of sisters argue.

Oh, quiet down. Regardless, we stray off topic. Momo, I will admit I was initially skeptical of your talent, but you have proven yourself quite useful. I believe it is time you received a gift.

Momo’s stomach turned. A memory popped into her head from when she took introductory German in high school, how the word gift meant poison. She had the urge to ask her if she meant the German gift or the English gift, but she thought better of it.

“That’s nice of you,” Momo said quietly, stress evident in her voice, “but really, no pressure…”

“What did I say about selling yourself short?” Valerica frowned.

Momo swallowed. For once, she wasn’t selling herself short - she just wasn’t insanely keen on receiving a gift from the Goddess of Death and Pestilence.

“Really, I just think you should receive the gift,” Momo pivoted.

“Morgana’s given me this one many times over. I’m fine without.”

Momo sighed. Okay, well, Valerica seemed alive, at the very least. Or was she? The Earl had certainly seemed convinced against it. Unable to resist her curiosity, she reached for Valerica’s wrist the way the Earl did, letting out a grateful sigh when she felt the familiar thump of a heartbeat jumping against her skin.

“Are you okay?” Valerica said, genuinely concerned, “why are you holding my arm like that?”

“Oh gosh, I’m -” she held herself back from repeating sorry for the millionth time, “how did you make your pulse go away? When the Earl checked it?”

“Ah, that’s why you’re all touchy,” Valerica laughed, and Momo felt that was hardly fair. Valerica was constantly the one in her personal space, “I just used [Play Dead].”

Of course that was a spell.

“Right.”

I’m still here, you know. Ah - can you paint the other hand again? It’s a bit uneven, and I have a date later.

Gods could go on dates? Momo’s head was beyond spinning at this point, it was a broken Beyblade.

“Yes, yes, we haven’t forgotten about you. Now, Momo, please assume the blood ritual position.”

Momo blinked at her, beads of sweat forming on her forehead.

“Just kidding. There’s no blood ritual position,” Valerica giggled, “but your face was very amusing.”

Hah. Good one.

Momo was extremely ready for that nap.

Even so, it would be wonderful if you could sit still for a moment.

Before Momo could protest any further, pins and needles pricked up and down her skin. It felt like an army of red ants had climbed inside of her, jogging up and down her veins like they were running track and field.

The sensation only worsened as the seconds ticked on. The feeling crept up her body, leaving a numb weightlessness in her limbs as it continued its trek. She tried to speak, but found that her lips were slack, motionless; her fingers, her toes, her legs - they were all the same, weightless and nonfunctioning.

Her mobility had been stolen from her, as if she was sleeping with her eyes open.

“Hang on tight, now’s time for the fun part,” Valerica said. Momo could no longer see her, but she could hear her lips turning into that familiar mischievous grin.

A Blessing and a Curse

In the darkness, there was a beat. A rhythm, playing like a metronome. Momo immediately recognized it - that familiar thrumming gong. It was the same noise she had heard weeks ago, when she first awoke in the caverns below the Dawn.

Mortal ‘memory’ is so fascinating. Yes, that’s right, fire those mirror neurons, you funny little creature.

Morgana’s voice echoed in her head, and she jumped. She was surprised to find her body floating, weightless as it weaved through the dark liminal space. She waved her hands around, and it felt like pushing through an ocean current – every movement meeting equal and opposite resistance.

Her thoughts were jumbled, and where she would usually make time for a snappy internal monologue, she found only empty space.

As she floated, she found that the current was beginning to pull her in a certain direction. She swam with it, picking up speed, and was met unexpectedly by a hard wall. She pressed her fingers against it, feeling the brick-like texture.

That wall isn’t very interesting. I wouldn’t worry about it.

Momo’s fingers continued their downward journey regardless, eventually coming upon a soft spot. Caressing her fingers around it, it felt feeble, breakable: a crack in the brick.

Don’t touch that. Touching that would be a very bad idea.

In the normal world, getting ordered around by a God would give her pause. But here, she couldn’t hear her own self doubts. She felt only the exhilaration of movement.

Pushing against the crack, it began to give. She shoved harder, and it split wide open, suctioning her and the entirety of spacetime through it.

Ugh, are you serious? I just had that hole plugged.

As if she were garbage in a spacetime trash chute, Momo rolled through an endless corridor until she was spat out the other end. She landed on her face, her limbs in a knot. Had the normal rules of physics applied, Momo was very confident she’d be dead. Or at least, permanently pretzel shaped.

“Ouch,” she said, craning her neck as she stood. She still couldn’t actually feel pain, but Momo’s innate drive to complain persisted.

Unlike the gooey black nothingness from before, this room was brimming with blinding light. Once her eyes had adjusted, she was surprised to find herself in a restaurant. Not some medieval tavern, either, but a proper Plaza Hotel type shebang. Waiters in tuxedos bustled past her carrying gleaming gold plates, brilliant glass chandeliers hung above every table, and leisurely jazz music was performed by a live band.

Momo gaped. Did she somehow slip and fall back onto Earth?

With a cursory glance around, she quickly answered her own question. A goat-headed man was slurping down tomato soup, bleating with joy as he ate. His sheep-headed companion looked at him with disgust, patting his tomato-covered chin with a napkin.

“Over here, darling!”

A voice broke through the overpowering chatter. Momo looked towards the source of it, finding a woman’s hand beckoning her over. Was it Morgana? It was hard to tell. Her head was obscured by a hundred other frenzied waiters and babbling patrons.

After a full minute of struggling through the dense landscape of tables, chairs, and waiters, she found the correct table. Sitting at it was a tall, red-scaled reptilian man, and a woman who Momo could only assume to be the Goddess. She looked nearly like the Dawn’s statue, but much better dressed. In place of her nightgown, she wore a shimmering black dress, jeweled with obsidian. Her nails were painted red, her pale skin glimmered, and unruly black locks slithered down her shoulders.

“Oh, phenomenal. Two gods can’t even go on a date these days without some rowdy intrusion,” the reptilian man complained, side-eyeing Momo. At a closer distance, she could see his scales gleaning with sweat. He looked like he’d just run a half-marathon. He kept nervously darting his eyes at Morgana, and then away. His foot bobbed anxiously under the table.

I’d be nervous to be on a date with the Goddess of Death, too, buddy, she thought, and then promptly remembered herself. Did she just refer to a god as buddy?

This place made her head feel all swimmy.

“You just had to try that crack in the wall, didn’t you?” Morgana sighed, “It’s fine. I can’t blame a girl for her voracious curiosity. Come, sit.”

“But Morgana, aren’t we—” the scaled man interjected.

“We have all the time in the world, Salazar. Sizzle down. Waiter, a chair, please!”

A waiter materialized next to them on command, fulfilling the request.

“Here, try a frogshell,” Morgana stabbed an appetizer with her fork, offering it to Momo as she sat. Momo eyed it in silent horror. It looked like a typical escargot, except there was a tiny, ribbeting face peeking out of it.

Momo discovered a new personal rule: if the food was still speaking, she would not be eating it.

“I’m okay,” Momo said hoarsely, “where am I?”

“Crashing our date,” the reptile grumbled.

“Oh be nice, Sal. It’s her first time in the Nether.”

“Ah, a first timer? I hope your death wasn’t too unpleasant,” he said apathetically, picking at his food.

“Excuse me, death?” Momo began to sweat. She had already died once. She wasn’t trying to make a habit of it.

“She’s not dead,” Morgana laughed, and Momo visibly relaxed, “she’s just visiting.”

“Shouldn’t that kill her, regardless?”

Momo un-relaxed.

“Typically, yes, but this isn’t Momo’s first go-around on the life and death carousel. It appears her soul thread has developed some thick skin,” Morgana said, gesturing behind Momo’s head. She tugged on an invisible string, and Momo felt her entire body seize.

“Please don’t do that,” Momo said weakly. It felt like she had experienced the world’s most short-lived heart attack. It was painless, but suffocating. Momo immediately despised the new sensation.

“Sorry, just checking,” Morgana laughed, “but luckily for you, it appears your soul took to my blessing. Congratulations.”

Blessing? Is that what this was supposed to be?

“And what if it hadn’t… taken?” Momo inquired tiredly.

“Then you’d be stuck here. But the Nether isn’t so bad,” she flashed her freshly painted nails, “aren’t they just spectacular? Sometimes I wonder why mortals don’t try and die earlier. The afterlife is all the pleasure with none of the pain.”

Right, Momo thought. She’d like to ask the ladies working at the Nether Nail Salon if they shared that opinion.

“Enough of this interruption. Morgana and I have much greater matters to discuss than your so-called ‘life’, mortal,” Salazar scowled.

Morgana’s amused smile faltered, and she put down her fork.

“Actually, the lives of my mortal subjects matter greatly to me,” she said, pushing her arm through one of the sleeves of her oversized feather coat, “and I am about finished with your disrespectful attitude. We can consider this date concluded.”

The lizard’s eyes bulged, “Morgana, no, I didn’t mean–”

“I will be on my way.”

The lizard’s fear turned hastily to anger, “don’t be ridiculous. You need me. You cannot wage this war alone, Morgana.”

War? Momo wanted to sink into the floorboards. She felt very out of her depth, like a chess pawn that had been confused for a Queen.

Morgana shrugged on the rest of her coat, lifting herself from her seat.

“If this is how you act over such a petty disturbance, then I would've never wanted you as my ally to begin with,” she said icily.

She turned to Momo, her frozen glare transforming into one of kind warmth. Her and Valerica seemed to share this mercurial quality. They could compartmentalize a mood within seconds.

“I’m sure we’ll see each other again soon,” she said, and then lowered her tone to a conspiratorial whisper, “until then, beware of false friends, won’t you?”

Momo gasped for breath, waking in a fit. Her entire body was vibrating, her skin feeling more like a worn garment than a bodily organ. Pressing her fingers into the warm hay beneath her, she realized she could finally move again.

“Holy shit.”

She didn’t even want to begin to process what had just occurred inside her skull.

Dusk was meowing worriedly at her feet. As Momo raised her throbbing head to check on the cat, she noticed a pile of parchment had landed in her lap.

You have received the blessing of the Goddess Morgana. One of your blessing slots is now full.

Morgana’s Blessings

I: [Primordial Knowledge]

II: ???

III: ???

IV: ???

V: ???

You have gained [Primordial Knowledge]

[Primordial Knowledge]: You have been given a glimpse into the Nether, making you privy to the symbiotic yet incomprehensible connectedness of life and death. As a result, your resistance to Nether Magic has increased by 30%.

That was nice, Momo supposed. She enjoyed resisting things that could kill her. She flipped to the next page.

You have done something to upset the God of Flame and Forge, Salazar.

He has cursed you with the temporary debuff [Curse of Netherfire].

[Curse of Netherfire]: All flame-based attacks are 100% more effective against you.

The boon she got from Morgana felt immediately lackluster. It was hard to care about resisting Nether magic if she could be slain by a candle from Bath & Body Works.

“How long does the debuff last?” she asked weakly.

[Curse of Netherfire] is active for 10 days.

Momo slumped further into her hay pile. Great. So all she had to do was accidentally mishandle a matchbox, and she’d be packing her bags back to the Nether.

The harder she thought, the more her brain ached. She had already been exhausted by everything with the Earl, and this ‘blessing’ was just insult to injury. She was developing a permanent migraine.

She couldn’t remember the last time her skull hurt this much. Nearly nothing compared, but the thing that came the closest was her Anatomy II final back in art school. She had practiced the arm bones so many times that she had started to hallucinate a man named Humerus.

Sensing her malaise, Dusk climbed on top of her stomach, nuzzling into the fabric of her blood-soaked robes. Momo softened, reaching out to pet the cat’s vertebrae.

“Dusk, I have a new task for you.”

The cat’s ears perked up, and it looked at her expectantly.

“I’m going to sleep for the next forty-eight hours. If anyone tries to talk to me before then, you have my full permission to claw them.”

The cat meowed in agreement, and Momo turned to her side, determined to sleep off everything that had ever happened to her.

—

Momo made it about six hours.

She awoke violently, to the feeling of three wet, slobbering tongues dousing her face.

“Is this the undead doggy daycare?”

Old Friends, New Beginnings

Momo blinked, the fuzzy outline of Trent Magelegs forming in front of her. The boy had his heels dug into the dirt, breathing heavily as he fruitlessly pulled at Cerberus’s leash. The three-headed beast had to be triple the beanstalk boy’s weight, and it showed.

“Stop it, Cerby! What did I tell you about uninvited licking–”

After a few moments, he finally got a hold of the dog’s collar. He corralled it, commanding him to sit and wait in place. Cerberus obliged in exchange for a cow bone, and Trent let out a breath of relief.

“Sorry about that, he’s a stubborn one,” he said, and then his expression turned to concern, “are you… okay? Oh gods, are you allergic to dogs?”

“No. Why woulb you say dat?”

Momo’s hand leapt to her lips, which had inflated two times their original size. Not only that, but they burned like the depths of hell. Her whole face did, now that she thought about it.

“Oh gawd,” Momo sputtered. She jerked up from her hay bed, head still hazy with sleep. She could see in the shimmering reflection of her puddle-mirror that her face had begun to turn tomato red. She heaved herself over to the puddle, frantically splashing water on her cheeks. The water evaporated the moment it touched her face, providing no relief.

She was on fire. Or, rather, she had become as hot as it. It wasn’t the type of fire she could just stop, drop, and roll out of, either. It was insidious and bone-deep.

She wasn’t allergic to dogs - so it had to be something about that specific fiend of a puppy. She snapped her eyes towards it, watching it tear the cow bone to shreds. Its saliva was burning baseball-sized holes in the dirt below it.

"Oh, dis is bad," she mumbled desperately, "what putz out fire magick?"

“Oh! Do you have low fire resistance?” he said, eyes wide like he had just come to some grand realization.

“Clearwly, yes,” she nodded impatiently, cheeks inflating like balloons, “helwp.”

He nodded, and suddenly invaded Momo’s personal space, pressing his hands to both of her cheeks, “[Healing Wave].”

Blue light radiated out of his palms and into her skin, and Momo immediately sighed in relief. It felt like spreading aloe vera on a particularly bad sunburn—stinging, but euphoric. After a few moments, the pain was entirely gone. He released her chipmunk cheeks, and stepped away awkwardly.

“Do you feel better?” he said guiltily.

“Much,” she sighed, testing her face to be sure. It was still mildly puffy, but no longer burning like a nuclear plant, “thank you. Well, I guess you are also partially responsible, but still.”

“I had no idea you were so weak to fire," he frowned, "I know necromancers are pretty weak to most elemental magics, but Cerberus’s kisses are of such low-grade magic, I didn't think they'd do any harm. He could barely hurt a fly.”

Momo looked at the ditch that had formed in the ground below Cerberus's snack.

“Right,” she said, thinking that one lick from the dog could turn an entire army of flies into an insect graveyard, “and what do you mean, necromancers are weak to elemental magics? Aren’t necromancers like, super strong?”

Trent laughed, pushing up his glasses, “are you kidding? Necromancers are one of the weakest magic wielders. They have very little innate resistance to any magic besides their own, and they have basically no offensive spells.”

Momo frowned. That couldn’t be true. Valerica was an absolute beast, not to mention the entirety of Alois came kicking and screaming when they so much as thought about anything with the ‘necro’ prefix.

On the other hand, she had only gained a single offensive spell in her entire time as a [Necromage Initiate], so that did explain some things.

“I’m so lost,” Momo groaned, “if they’re so weak, why is everyone so scared of them?”

“Because of their summoning potential, duh. They don’t need to be powerful or resistant, they just need their minions to be,” he explained, and then frowned, “aren’t you supposed to be the one teaching me these things? I didn’t hike all the way here to be instructing a level thirty-seven necromancer on the basics of the magic system, did I?”

Momo tensed. She really needed to get lessons from an actual teacher, or read a dreaded book, or whatever people did to put original thoughts in their brains. The only knowledge Momo had acquired was via YouTube videos, but that option was sadly out.

“R–right. Um, that was just a pop quiz, actually,” she swallowed, “congratulations, you passed.”

“A pop quiz?” he perked up, practically salivating with excitement, “oh, that is clever. Was that my entry exam? If I had failed, would I have been sent home?”

“Uh, yep. Exactly. I would have told you to turn right around, but luckily, you passed.”

“Of course I did,” he said proudly, “I am a Magelegs, after all.”

Momo held back a laugh. Had he really never been bullied for that last name? Clearly, he did not attend a San Francisco public school.

“Come on then,” she said, beckoning him through the back-entrance, “but keep that dog as far away from me as humanly possible.”

Momo wasn’t even going to bother with getting Valerica in on this scheme. Considering the amount of worldly knowledge she had imparted on Momo in her first month—which was to say, almost nothing—she probably wouldn’t be able to teach Trent much more than he already knew, except perhaps how to best season bugs.

She wasn’t so sure the eighteen year old boy with the personal chef would find that too enlightening.

She led Trent instead to the Necromages’ living chambers. The chambers were separated into three hallways, with twelve doors each, almost like a college dormitory. On the front of each door was a name placard, and occasionally a small decoration. With the Winter Holidays fast approaching, many of the Necromages adorned their usual hanging skulls with acorns through the eye sockets.

Momo stopped at the door with the wooden sign attached to it, the letters 'D.W.' embossed on the birch plank. She knocked three times.

“Ah, visitors!”

Devola whisked open the door, a small gust blowing back Momo as the Necrodancer materialized in the entranceway. Her hair was unusually disheveled, and thick under eye bags colored her face.

“Devola, are you alright?” Momo asked, slightly concerned. She had never seen the woman look anything less than ready to perform in front of a live audience.

“Of course I am,” she said, her hoarse voice betraying her, “come in, come in! Don’t be strangers.”

Trent and Momo obliged, slinking into the room. Momo’s eyebrows rose. The place was in utter chaos. Books were strewn about the floor, crumpled paper balls littered her writing desk. It was the office of a mad scientist, not a dance instructor.

Momo stood there and blinked in awe. Devola would have made a great episode of Hoarders.

“Ah, I’d say have a seat, but…” Devola said, voice faltering. She gestured to the two stools in her room, which were both layered in spellbooks, “my room is a bit occupied at the moment.”

“A little bit?” Trent guffawed, “this is beyond insane. Do you not have cleaners?”

“Cleaners? What do you think this place is?” Devola huffed back.

Momo swallowed. As much as she’d love to hear Devola give the entitled boy a piece of her mind, she had an image to maintain. Momo had a vested interest in keeping Trent's money safely stored in her pocket.

“This place is where you’re going to receive your first lessons from an expert Necrodancer,” Momo interjected softly, hoping that fueling Devola’s ego would distract her, “Devola, this is Trent Magelegs. He’s going to be your first student.”

This did, indeed, distract her. Devola’s eyes widened, and she clapped her hands together in excitement.

“Magelegs? Could you be Olivia’s boy?” Devola's tired eyes shined in a way Momo had never seen them shine – with a brilliant, inspired light, “oh, what an honor it is to finally meet you.”

“You knew my mother?” Trent said, softening at the mention of her.

“Well of course! Olivia and I… we go far back. She and I both studied in Drachenheim in our Intermediate years. We were the founding members of the city’s one and only Guild for Dance & Thievery.”

She frowned, thinking back, “we were also the only members.”

“I can’t imagine why,” Momo deadpanned.

“Still, it was an exhilarating experience. I’ve never been much of a rogue, but together with Olivia, we performed a heist on the Dragon of Drachenheim’s very own treasure vault,” she glowed with nostalgia, “of course, we were caught, and promptly jailed, but a good thief never leaves without a souvenir.”

Devola lifted her wrist, which was covered in an abundance of bracelets. She peeled one off, dangling it in front of Trent. He took it into his hands, intensely inspecting it.

“These are wraith teeth,” he said in awe. The bracelet was indeed constructed of sharp, angular canines, and connected with fine, black string. If Momo had been back on Earth, she would have mistaken it for a bracelet you’d get at Spirit Halloween.

But going by the reverent way Trent looked at it, it had to be impressive.

“Good eye,” Devola winked, “Olivia was actually the one to steal it, the beautiful thief she was, but she told me it suited me more. I refused it, of course, as its value could easily pay for her remaining university tuition. But she insisted.”

Devola paused, her smile faltering.

“She was the reason I chose that name—Wraith,” she smiled sadly, “I always despised my family name, and eventually I got so used to Olivia’s nickname for me, I started going by it.”

“Wait, you’re Devola Wraith?” Trent exclaimed, “my mother talked about you incessantly, like you were some god of Alois, walking amongst peasants. It was terribly annoying.”

Devola’s grin nearly broke her face, “did she? That’s... that’s nice to hear.”

“You bet,” he sighed, but then looked up at her with vulnerable eyes, “even so, she really admired you, and there’s nothing I trust more in this world than my mother's opinion of people. She liked very few, and trusted even fewer.”

He straightened his back, puffing his chest out.

“I would very much like to be your student, Devola Wraith, if you’d have me.”

Devola nearly broke the boy in the embrace that followed. He yelped in pain, but Devola was too overjoyed to hear it, hugging him until Momo could hear one of his bones begin to splinter.

“I’d love nothing more!” she exclaimed, pressing her hand to the back of his head and ruffling his hair. Despite the cracks forming in his glasses, Momo could see a hint of a smile paint his lips.

Momo couldn’t help but grin at the pair of them, a bittersweet mix of joy and jealousy stirring in her chest. She was beginning to slowly understand the sorrow of missing a mother, just as she was slowly learning the joy of being believed in by someone. It was a terribly uncomfortable concoction of emotions, and she desperately missed the numbness of her life-long depressive episode.

God - did she hear herself? A month ago, her best attempt at a poetic sentence was finding a creative new way to phrase her McDonalds order. Intellect points were truly hell on Earth - or Nether on Alois. Valerica should have warned her that they awakened emotional intelligence, too. Momo had spent a solid twenty-two years avoiding the concept entirely, and now here she was, empathizing.

She wanted to throw up.

There’s a System to this Magic?!

A note from villa1ny

Big news! I have officially launched a PATREON page for Momo The Ripper! If you want access to advanced chapters, lore, short stories, art, Discord roles and much more to come (or you just want to kindly support me so I can someday do this full-time) you can head over there now!

https://www.patreon.com/villa1ny

“Momo, why don’t you stay for lessons? While I’m sure Valerica has done an excellent job, I am just dying to practice with more students before the Dance School opens.”

Momo considered the idea. While she was not eager to part with her bones - as she very nearly did during their previous 'lesson' - Devola was an expert necromancer, and Momo was badly in need of instruction. She was eager to lock in her class choice, and it didn't seem like anyone else in the sanctuary was a natural-born teacher.

“I’ll join," Momo complied, agreeing begrudgingly.

“Wonderful!” Devola celebrated, clapping Momo on the shoulder, “now, let’s find somewhere else to host class. While my room is cozy, it’s hardly the environment for learning. I need some space to spread my wings.”

Momo looked around at the claustrophobic nightmare, agreeing with a nod.

Devola led them through the living chambers, out of the Main Hall, down the eastern tower’s staircase and past the stables, to a small clearing.

“What’s a better place to learn than life’s classroom - the outdoors!”

Momo shivered, bringing her robes up to her chin. It was utterly freezing. While Momo wasn’t overly fond of Devola’s psychological problem of a dorm room, she’d favor it over losing her toes to frostbite.

“Dusk, go get the Firebright candle,” she whispered to her feline companion. The cat stared back at her, blinking slowly.

I don’t have opposable thumbs, so it would light me on fire, was the message the blinks conveyed. Momo hummed. Right. She’d just have to get a new set of toes later. She was confident the sanctuary’s caverns probably had a few to spare.

“Alright, welcome class!” Devola announced, as if they hadn’t just followed her here from her bedroom, “I’m so glad you could join us today.”

The Necrodancer frowned, clearing her throat loudly.

“Welcome class! I’m so glad you could join us today. Ugh, it still feels off. Welcome!”

She repeated the line a third time, and then a fourth. Trent scratched his head, looking to Momo for an explanation. Momo shrugged, unable to explain away insanity.

“Are you... good?” she asked instead, momentarily halting Devola’s endless loop.

“Good? I’m great!” she reassured them, sleep deprivation written into her features, “I’m simply rehearsing, as any good actress does before a performance. Ah - and in there lies the first lesson!"

Devola raised a single finger, signifying that there would be several of these lessons.

“One: greatness is achieved by doing the same thing over and over, as eventually you will get better results.”

Momo squinted. That was definitely not how the saying went.

“Second lesson,” she said with a twirl, “confusion is key. Keep your enemies on their toes. Never let them know your next move, unless your next move is going to be really cool, then you should inform them up front, so they are prepared to clap.”

Trent took out a notebook, feverishly writing down every word out of her mouth. Momo felt his time might have better been spent memorizing Pitbull lyrics.

“Third lesson,” she came to a halt, and then conjured a ball of sizzling dark energy between her hands, “the broader family of Dark Magic includes the schools of Death and Nether magic. These magics fall under the domain of Morgana, so all class types that make use of Dark magic inherit their power from her.”

Momo’s head spun. The woman had gone from pointless idioms to overwhelming factual information in under thirty seconds. Momo searched her pockets frantically for a piece of parchment, but produced only a chunk of leftover toilet brush.

Whatever. She never took notes in class anyway. She’d just cheat off Trent during the exam.

Wait. There was no exam. Momo exhaled, stress falling off of her. To think that university was more stressful than the idea of something called Death Magic. America really needed to rethink its educational system.

Unbeknownst to Momo’s inner monologue, Devola continued, “now you might be sitting there wondering - what distinction is there between these two schools of Dark magic?”

“No, I’m not wondering, actually,” Trent informed her, "I already know this."

Devola froze.

“That was a rhetorical question,” she said, unhappy to be interrupted.

“Oh,” he said with a frown, genuinely unfamiliar with the concept, “but why ask a question I already know the answer to?”

“That is sometimes a fact of life, my dear student. Sometimes others,” she eyed Momo, who was hungrily studying the leftover brush-broccoli, “have not quite reached your level of understanding.”

“Ah, I see,” he nodded, “you may proceed.”

Devola frowned, “are you giving me permission to continue teaching you?”

“Yes, obviously?” he squinted in confusion.

Devola opened her mouth, and then closed it. Momo had never seen her use that level of restraint. She rarely let anything come between her and scolding someone.

“Anything for Olivia…” she mumbled under breath.

Regaining her composure, Devola repeated the question.

“So, what is the difference between Death and Nether magic? Well, Death Magic siphons soul energy, while Nether Magic gets its power by directly tapping into the Nether, as one would assume from the name.”

Trent nodded in agreement, but raised his hand.

“Yes?”

“One clarification,” he said, “they are also different in that Death Magic can siphon your own soul energy, which can deplete your health points and possibly kill you, while Nether Magic can never be self-destructive. It can be world-ending and plane-destroying, sure, but it is less masochistic…”

Devola’s mouth twitched.

“Trent, why don’t you get on up here?”

He froze.

“What?”

“Why don’t you teach this lesson?”

“Uh - I’m not sure,” he began to sweat, “I was only clarifying…”

“Right. That’s what I thought,” she said, a deranged grin on her face, “now, let’s introduce a new class rule. Questions and clarifications come after every lesson. Unless they are really, really urgent, or bathroom related.”

Trent remained silent, nodding obediently.

Momo swallowed. She was suddenly very glad she was a guest student in this non-existent classroom. She’d much rather ask Valerica a series of very stupid questions and receive ineffective answers than stare down Professor Crazy Eyes.

“Any last questions before this rule goes into effect?”

Both Trent and Momo’s hands shot up. Momo hadn’t meant hers to go up too, but she was so used to following other people’s lead that it just involuntarily launched itself.

Devola raised an eyebrow at Momo’s hand, “yes, Momo, please.”

“Uh,” she paused, racking her brain for something intellectual to ask, “is Death Magic… good? Is one… gooder than the other?”

Gooder. She internally facepalmed. Those intellect points really only showed up when it was convenient for them.

“A fine question! Many scholars debate this, but I, Devola Wraith, have come to a conclusion.”

This got Trent's attention. He poised his pen to write.

“Neither school is gooder,” Devola said, unironically stealing Momo’s phrasing, “in fact, both schools are pretty ineffective on their own. That’s why they must be supplemented by other specialties. When you combine Dark magics with other schools - that is when Necromancy really comes alive. Pun intended."

Immediately going against Devola’s rule, Momo interjected, “so, a combination class is always best, then?”

“You get one infraction for interrupting, but I will allow it,” Devola informed her, and Momo wondered what the infraction limit was, and what would happen when she inevitably hit it, “the answer is: it depends. Which combination class do you speak of?”

Momo squinted, trying to remember the name.

“[Corrupted Dude]?”

Devola stared at her in confusion. Momo’s face went red. No, that wasn’t right —

“[Corrupted Druid],” she said, clearing her throat. That was totally what she meant the first time.

“Ah!” Devola smiled, “that is a great case study, Momo. Thank you for bringing it up. The [Corrupted Druid] class is an offshoot of the [Druid] class, which specializes in Wildlife and Nature magic. With the introduction of Morgana’s influence, the [Corrupted Druid] takes all the skills of the [Druid], and adds a Death and Nether magic flair.”

“Gaining the ability to use Death and Nether magic in combination with Nature magic is a very powerful combo. However, it comes with a price. You will open yourself up to a severe weakness to Fire, as flame is very effective against Nature magic classes, not to mention that you will have very little innate Strength or Charisma.”

Oh good. So not only would she continue to be tiny, feeble, and easily knocked over by the wind, but her curse would synergize with her class to let her be killed by touching a hot stovetop. Ideal.

“So what if I don’t pick it, or any other Intermediate class,” Momo hypothesized, “and just keep leveling up in [Beast Tamer]?”

“A valid question. Completionist class scholars usually do advise maxing out both classes first, to get every possible skill, but the Devola Wraith Method believes that the advantages of this are negligible. You must seize the day! And by that I mean, you will most likely just gain even stronger versions of those skills by going with the combination class.”

“Also, skills from [Beast Tamer] mostly apply to living animals,” Trent couldn’t help but add, much to Devola’s chagrin, “so I don’t think your little undead feline will profit much.”

“Ah,” Momo hummed, “that does make sense…”

“Alright, now, no more detours!” Devola announced, ignoring Trent’s hand, which had remained raised for the entirety of the tangent, “we will instead be proceeding to your first actual lesson… Trent, have you learned [Bone Dance]?”

“Oh, I actually haven’t,” he said, brightening, “can you teach me?”

Momo swallowed. It was about time for her swift exit.

Having entered hour three of her ‘bathroom break’ in the stables, Momo decided it was time to make a decision.

She pulled the class evolution papers out of her robe pockets. Luckily, they were still legible, despite the absolute wrecked and bloodied state of her robes. She picked up the attached quill, and nervously inched her hand closer to the parchment.

She internally reviewed her decisions. Harbinger was out. Necrodancer was out. Necromage was - well. It was still in, she supposed. Manipulating the elements like the Avatar would be pretty neat, and Valerica made it look flawless, but she felt it lacked something. Her heart didn’t soar to think about throwing undead meteors at people.

If she were to fantasize about a future for herself in these foreign lands, it would be a quiet one. She’d have a barn just like this, with a hay bed just like this one. She’d live amongst an army of undead - all cats, preferably - in a wide, endless forest. She’d still talk to Valerica, obviously, so maybe she’d live close by to the Dawn.

Momo stopped herself. She was describing her current living situation.

Many intellect points later, and her imagination was still deeply lacking.

Still, she wouldn’t mind a few more animals. All that desire for class maximalization, and all she really cared about was if she could revive more cats with less cooldowns between each casting. That sounded like a pretty sweet deal. Momo smiled.

Then it was settled.

She circled her answer, and the paper accepted it. The scroll exploded into thin air, and a new piece of parchment soared into her open palms.

You have chosen the [Adept Corrupted Druid] class. Your [Necromage Initiate] and [Beast Tamer] classes have combined, opening up your 2nd class slot. You have gained the following stat boosts:

+6 INT, +6 DEX

You have also gained the following skills:

[Summon Lesser Familiar]: You can summon an animal familiar from the Nether. At the first level of this skill, you will randomly summon a lesser beast.

[Polymorph - Tree Stump]: Transform into a tree stump at will.

The following skills have been altered by this class choice:

[Friend of the Dead I] has been upgraded to [Friend of the Dead II]: Undead up to level 15 will do as you command. You can also command the undead of others, if their master is absent and they are of a lower level than your own.

[Bone Infusion] has been replaced with [Life Steal]: You can steal soul energy from any soul-containing being, alive or undead. This spell can be cast in either [Slow Siphon], or [Quick Steal] modes. In [Slow Siphon], you will steal 1 Health Point per 15 seconds. In [Quick Steal] mode, you will immediately steal 20 Health Points, with a 60 minute cooldown.

[Raise Undead I] has been upgraded to [Raise Undead II]: Undead that you revive will have +50 Health, +50 Mana, and +5 more across all attributes than the previous tier of this spell.

[Abysmal Burst I] has been upgraded to [Abysmal Burst II]: 30% more power than the previous tier of the spell.

A waterfall of sparks descended from the page like magical confetti, and Momo sharply inhaled. Everything was suddenly louder, sharper, as if she had just taken off her headphones in the midst of a crackling storm. Her ears could make out the faintest of bird chirps, the barely audible crush of Fall leaves under heavy boots. Nature was closer, now; the woods sang to her at a previously inaudible pitch.

It was shockingly beautiful.

And it immediately gave Momo a migraine.

[Brain Fog]:   After obtaining a great degree of power too quickly, you are overwhelmed by your newly attuned senses. It's impossible to think properly. Your intelligence is reduced by 10 points for the next 12 hours.

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Momo's First Quest

“Oh, my poor, poor Momo,” Valerica said with a sympathetic frown, holding a hand to Momo’s forehead, “is it indigestion? I told you a non-bug-based diet was dangerous.”

Valerica squatted by Momo’s curled up body. Minutes after choosing her class, the overwhelming migraine had set in, and she’d been rocking in the fetal position on the stablehouse floor ever since.

“I came down here to tell you about the new Quest Board that the earl’s men installed, but…” she frowned, “I don’t think you’re in any position to be questing. Here, have a vomit bucket.”

Slipping in and out of consciousness, Momo held onto the honeyed sound of Valerica’s voice. She turned, opening one eye to see the High Necromage warmly holding a bucket out to her. Momo’s hands shook too aggressively to grab it.

Valerica tutted, “oh, this is no good at all. Let me grab you a potion.”

After what could have been minutes, hours, or days, Valerica returned with a full potion bottle. She brought the tip of it to Momo’s face, and instructed her to swallow it. Momo opened her mouth, nearly choking as it awkwardly went down her throat.

But, God, it worked. After only five minutes, the overwhelming ache had settled into a dull throb. Her thoughts were still scrambled eggs, but at least she could have thoughts. That was an improvement.

“Thank you so much,” she whispered hoarsely, grabbing Valerica’s arm out of sheer gratitude, “what did you just give me?”

“A potent potion of pain resistance,” Valerica grinned, “in your world, I think it’s known as more-fiend? An odd name, given the intended effect.”

Momo’s face went even paler than before, “do you mean morphine?”

“Ah, yes!” she laughed, “that’s the one.”

While Momo wasn’t particularly interested in going down a path of repeated drug use, she was thankful nonetheless. She made a mental note to not take too many of those potent potions in succession.

“So, what was that about a quest board?” she mumbled.

Momo’s grin nearly broke her face. She had done it. Morgana’s Dawn - under a slightly amended name - had been recognized by the King’s Guild Office, and they now had a Quest Board to prove it. Standing in all of its wooden glory at the center of the Main Hall, the Board proudly displayed their guild name:

The Dumpling Maker’s Guild for Esteemed Makers of Dumplings.

It was perfect.

“How wonderful,” Valerica clapped, sharing in Momo’s excitement, “why don’t you start with picking out your first quest?”

Momo nodded in agreement, surveying the board. There were three quests in total, which wasn’t much, but also not bad for a burgeoning guild. One of them came from a salesman in Bruda, entitled Dumpling Making. It was a request for an esteemed member of the Dumpling Maker’s Guild to lead a class on the making of this exotic food at their culinary school.

Another was simply called Dumping, which was given by a merchant in Kalendale. He had apparently misread the Guild's name, mistaking them for a Guild involved with the trash pickup business. He wanted Momo to come collect a hundred pounds of rotted deer.

Momo grimaced. Well at least that was… sort of necromancy related.

Momo was proud that she was spreading dumpling knowledge amongst the populace, but she was also concerned the Dumpling Guild might be shoehorned into… dumpling-related quests, as well as quests pertaining to the various misspellings of dumpling.

The last one seemed promising, at the very least. Momo read the title aloud.

“Wanted: Vampire,” she read. That sounded… dangerous. As hot and cool as vampires were to read about, Momo wasn’t overly keen on becoming a real-life Edward Cullen hunter.

“That one is from our dear friend Viktor Mole,” Valerica said, plucking the posting from Momo’s grip, “by his account, there is a vampire who has taken a home in a nearby cave. I can confirm this. She lives just west of the Dawn, a new villainous neighbor.”

Momo’s eyebrows shot up in fear. Someone had faced Valerica and… lived?

“You’ve met her?” Momo mumbled.

“Why of course! We did a bit of knitting together, raided a few castles on the weekends. She’s pleasant enough,” Valerica smiled, “but kidnapping one of our repeat customers is of course a big no-no. So she will have to be dealt with.”

A shiver crawled up Momo’s back. “Dealt with?”

“Shivved, shanked, however you’d like to phrase it,” Valerica said with a shrug.

“Isn’t there a more reasonable way to resolve whatever problem Mr. Mole has with her? Aren’t you two… friends?”

Valerica laughed, “friends? Hardly. One can never completely trust a vampire. They are loyal only to the God of Bloodlust, Neculai, who is a sworn enemy of Morgana. While I am a pacifist by nature, I will not keep the peace with any enemy of Morgana if they choose to step over the line.”

Valerica considered herself… a pacifist? Momo learned something new everyday, especially about someone whose main hobby was fantasizing about overturning a kingdom and creating a necromantic empire.

“I understand,” Momo said, doing anything but, “so you’re going to go after her, then?”

“Me?” Valerica laughed, “why, Momo, I couldn’t take all of that experience for myself. You’re the one who needs it. Regardless, between my empire planning and scheduled naptime, I hardly have a minute to myself.”

Momo frowned, immense jealousy filling her chest. There was nothing she wanted more in life than scheduled naptime.

“But isn’t she too powerful?” Momo pleaded, “like, won’t I probably die?”

“Oh, she’s nothing you can’t handle,” Valerica dismissed her, “just be all sneaky, as you do, get a good staking in, and she’s good as dust.”

Momo frowned. Right, because a vampire would never see that coming.

“I really, really don’t think this is a good idea–”

“If you succeed with this quest, I think I can throw in a nice week of vacation,” Valerica grinned, cutting her off, “how does that sound?”

That shut Momo up in an instant.

“Seriously?”

“I’d never lie,” Valerica grinned.

“Okay,” Momo said, believing nothing less, “deal.”

Momo would happily get killed by a vampire, as long as it meant she got a week off to nap. Or an eternity.

Following Valerica's directions, Momo trailed westward through the forest. While the pounding in her head had quieted, her thoughts - and directional skills - were still worse for wear. Looking at her map for the hundredth time, she realized that she was at least three miles off from the vampire’s supposed hideout.

“Great,” she mumbled.

A bloodcurdling scream interrupted her thoughts, snapping her attention towards a tree hanging a few yards in front of her. Stuck in a cage, dangling off an oak branch, was none other than the esteemed Viktor Mole, Wizard of Kalendale.

“Mr. Mole!” Momo exclaimed, “how did you get up there?

“How do you think I got stuffed in a birdcage?” he grumbled, “dimwit - I was captured!”

“I’d prefer you not call me that,” Momo said, crossing her arms.

“Ugh, I am sorry, my dear friend,” he said, “my temper gets away from me. I am just so hungry. Could you perhaps throw me some bread from my pouch?”

She forgave him, knowing how she got when unfed. She spotted a knapsack caught in a lump of fallen branches at the base of the tree. Rummaging through it, she found an apple and loaf of cedar bread. Her own stomach grumbled intensively at the sight.

An evil thought bubbled into her consciousness. She could eat his apple and his bread, and leave the capable wizard to find his own way out of the cage, but that would probably be an ethical mess - not to mention she’d probably fail the quest.

Momo frowned, shoving down her own hunger. She wished Valerica would poison her brain a bit more with her flimsy moral system. She was tired of still having her own principles. It was exhausting.

Still, she wasn’t quite sure how to uncage the feral wizard, so she threw him up the bread to placate him in the meantime. He nibbled on it like a little bird, sitting comfortably in his den. Momo felt oddly jealous. A cage in a tree was no hay bed, but it was a quaint little abode nonetheless. Free of responsibility, just a happy little place to nap.

“So who captured you?” Momo ventured, putting on her Sherlock Holmes cap.

“That dastardly vampire, of course,” he said, bites of bread falling from his mouth, “I came to give her a piece of my mind for all those nightmares she was giving me, but before I could get my hands on her, she teleported me up into this tree!”

Momo’s eyes widened. Teleportation? That seemed like a very handy skill. She could teleport food into her lap, a warm blanket over her shoulders, or a TV remote into her hand. Er, right. Wrong dimension. But still cool.

“Wait, can’t you just use your powers to get out?” Momo wondered aloud. Her brain was still as foggy as a car windshield. She wasn’t even sure if she could cast a spell.

“Clearly not!” Viktor huffed, “she put a mana curse on me, and now I’m stuck regenerating a single mana point every hour. I barely have enough to cast a new set of whiskers on a balding cat.”

That was surely a specific choice of metaphor.

“What can I do?” Momo said, hoping the answer was nothing.

Viktor threw his hands up, “I don’t know, something! Use your noggin, child!”

Momo sighed, and tried her best to analyze the situation. The cage seemed to be made of steel, and it was dangling quite high in the air - about the height of two and a half Momos. It was attached to the sturdy branch by a thick rope, but not an uncuttable one. If she had a pair of scissors, and a good thrower’s arm, she could probably slice it with one hefty throw.

Momo smiled, impressed by her own plan. Morphine who? She still got it. Except that… she didn’t have scissors, and she still wouldn’t be able to pry open the bars of the cage. Actually - it was a terrible plan. Viktor would probably break a bone on the descent.

Ugh. With [Brain Fog] active, her analytical skills had shrunken to that of an infant struggling with object permanence.

“If I managed to cut the rope attached to your cage and let you free fall, would that hurt?” she asked. In return, the wizard’s eyes bulged out of their sockets, and he waved his hands defensively in front of him.

“Of course it would! I am not immune to gravity!”

“That’s inconvenient,” Momo mumbled.

Maybe she could try that new skill of hers - [Summon Lesser Familiar]? It was worth a shot. She could possibly summon something strong; something with talons, so it could cut the rope and carry the cage to the ground. Maybe even bend the bars, too.

Momo inhaled a breath, closing her eyes. She focused intensively, thinking bird-related thoughts. A big, huge, powerful bird. Ugh, no - not Big Bird from Sesame Street. Although that would be funny - imagine Big Bird fighting a vampire? Momo laughed, the morphine only enhancing the fantastic image.

“[Summon Lesser Familiar].”

The ball of Nether that had formed in her hands began to expand, twisting form and shape. It grew two long, pointed legs, a hefty middle, and then a snake-like neck. Oh no. Too amused by the image of a fight to the death between a Sesame Street character and an all-powerful vampire, Momo had successfully summoned…

An ostrich.

A terrifying, yellow ostrich.

It stretched its legs, adjusting to the new plane it had landed in. Craning its neck towards its new master, it stared at Momo with beady eyes, its demon-like mouth chirping obediently.

“What in the Nether is that thing supposed to help us with?” Viktor complained loudly, looking down at Momo and her ostrich from his cage.

“I meant to summon something else!” Momo groaned.

“Obviously! And yet this useless Nether-demon stares back at me!”

The ostrich was indeed staring daggers at the wizard. It had identified its enemy, squawking at him and flapping its useless wings. It raised its head as far as it could manage, snapping at the bottom of the cage and causing it to swing back and forth.

Momo’s eyes widened. With its neck completely stretched, it could nearly reach the middle of the cage. It had to be a bit bigger than an Earthly ostrich, with a much more powerful jaw. Viktor wailed as he soared back and forth, holding onto the cage’s bars for dear life.

“It’s going to eat me! Oh gods, what a terrible fate for poor Viktor Mole!”

“It won’t eat you,” Momo comforted, “it’s just playing.”

The ‘playing’ grew more aggressive, and the ostrich began to stick its head through the bars, pecking at the terrified wizard. Okay, so maybe it was going to eat him.

Before Momo could redirect her new minion, a nearby voice echoed through the woods. The voice was high, and female, and accompanied by slow, annoyed footsteps.

“Gods, for a so-called powerful mage, you cry on end like a baby without a pacifier!”

Momo froze. She could see a figure in the woods heading straight towards them, long, red and black robes flowing through the brush. Seeing what she had already done to a much higher-level mage, Momo was not about to mindlessly pick a fight. She had to hide.

Despite the broad forest around them, most of the trees were skinny and leafless. Fall was a terrible season for hiding behind a tree. Her eyes widened, an idea coming to her despite the mind fog clogging her brain’s idea passages.

She didn’t have to hide behind a tree. She could be a tree.

“[Polymorph - Tree Stump]” she whispered hastily.

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Traitorous Ostrich

“[Polymorph - Tree Stump]”

Experiencing a completely new and terrible sensation, Momo felt her arms and legs recede into her stomach. She grew plump and rectangular, and her head felt like a hollow block of wood - but that part was nothing new.

Once the transformation was complete, she attempted to move. No go. She wobbled ever so slightly, but that was about the limit of her range of motion. She was, indeed, a hunk of wood.

“Can I still speak?” she whispered to herself. Thankfully, the answer was yes. In absence of a mouth, her words seemed to emerge from the shimmering air around her.

“The fiend is returning!” Viktor screamed, equally scared of the ostrich as the vampire, “Momo, do something!”

“Shh! Don’t tell her I’m here!”

“What? No, don’t hide - save me!”

“I won’t be much help if I’m up in that cage too!” the stump hissed.

“I - ugh. Fine!” he said, throwing his hands down in a fit.

“By Neculai, will you stop talking to yourself, you looney goon!”

The vampire strolled into the clearing, exhaustion etched in her face. Her eyebrows lifted as she laid eyes on the pecking ostrich.

“Is this… your pet? Gods, it’s ugly.”

“That’s not mine!” Viktor quickly defended, “that’s… well, I don’t know! It just showed up here.”

The vampire squinted, obviously not buying it.

“I put you up here for a few measly hours while I went to go feed, and my pleasant walk through the woods was so rudely colored by your screams,” she chastised him, leaning to touch the ostrich. The bird, smelling the high-level rot of her aura, quickly nestled into her palm.

“That traitorous bird,” Momo grumbled angrily to herself.

“What a pleasant pet you have. Notice its lack of screaming? You call yourself a fearless wizard, and yet you've been babbling like a baby…”

“I never said I was fearless!” Viktor disagreed, “I am quite full of fear!”

“That is apparent,” the vampire said with a groan, “I was expecting to feed on you for an after-lunch snack, but I am much too full. The deer-hunters were juicy enough.”

She grinned, licking blood off her lips. The stump shivered in fear, and the vampire eyed it out of curiosity. Luckily for Momo, she was too annoyed with the wizard to investigate.

“Regardless, I’ll be taking you back to the lair,” the vampire said, lifting her arm up. A tentacle lashed out of it, cutting the cage down in an instant. It crashed to the ground, Viktor wailing in pain as it tumbled through the grass.

“[Charm],” the vampire casted, pointing at the ostrich. With little complaint, the ostrich began to follow the vampire’s lead, picking up the cage with its teeth.

She stole my ostrich! The stump thought defiantly. Now it was personal.

Momo casted [Demorph], and the sensation of exiting the form was arguably worse than entering it. Her limbs popped back out of her like an inflatable doll.

Even with the adrenaline of ostrich-kidnapping pumping through her veins, Momo still paused. This vampire was powerful. She could teleport, [Charm]... Not to mention all the usual vampire things, like being scary and sexy all at once, and drain your whole body in an instant.

But nevertheless, Momo had gained a considerable amount of power herself. Once the mind fog wore off, she’d be sharper than a fork, she was sure of it.

Momo frowned. That was definitely not how the saying went. Urgh..

“Debuff check,” she mumbled. How much more of this hell did she have to endure?

[Curse of Netherfire]: 8 days and 12 hours remaining

[Brain Fog]: 1 hour and 30 minutes remaining.

She blew out a relieved breath. An hour was nothing at all. As long as the vampiress didn’t have any fire-based tricks up her sleeve, she’d be fine.

Momo followed their footsteps through the woods until she came upon the entrance to a cave. She frowned. She didn’t have the most pleasant memories of caverns. What if there were extremely tall ladders in there? She’d start having traumatic flashbacks.

She straightened her shoulders and swallowed. No. Valerica wanted this dealt with, so she’d deal with it. Repeating the personal theme song she had made for herself back at the Earl’s feast, she calmed her nerves.

There was only one problem: there were heavy boulders blocking the cave entrance. It seemed that the vampire could not just teleport, but also use telekinesis to move objects, seamlessly sealing the exit behind her with the small avalanche.

Momo pushed against them, heaving upwards, but her flabby arms gave out within seconds.

Maybe she could summon another familiar?

“[Summon Lesser Familiar]”

[Summon Lesser Familiar]   is currently on cooldown. You can cast again in 1 hour and 10 minutes.

Great. She was very quickly paying the price for her STR-less class choice.

Dusk meowed, scaring Momo nearly out of her skin. With the cat’s new phantom form, she often forgot she was even there.

“Please unphantomize yourself,” Momo commanded weakly.

The cat did as asked, and Momo found Dusk scratching at a patch of dirt a few meters away. She ventured close to it, and saw that the cat had uncovered a tiny lever peeking out of the hill.

“Dusk! All that hide and seek sure paid off,” Momo said proudly, hoisting the cat in the air by the arms and jiggling her around like a coin purse. Dusk purred into her palm, happy to be praised.

Momo pushed the lever upwards, and she could hear several clicks echo from behind the hollow hill. A rock wall began to recede into the hillside, revealing a secret entrance.

Momo squatted on the ground, beaming at Dusk as she gave her one more rub around the collar.

“You probably have more intelligence points than I do right now, you little feline genius.”

Congratulations! For uncovering a secret passageway into the lair of your enemy, your Undead Cat has gained a level in [Phantom].

+2 DEX

Well earned, Momo thought, sliding into the crevice of a second entrance. At least her points in dexterity aided her here, allowing her to nimbly slide through the narrow passageway.

The secret passageway seemed to run parallel to the main one. The two passages were separated by a thin, crumbling wall, and while the second passageway had no lighting of its own, a series of torches from the main way dimly lit both corridors. As she walked, she used her hands to navigate, feeling her way deeper into the chasm.

As she encroached further into the cave, she felt something underfoot. It was sticky, and smelled of death. Momo looked down, her face draining of color. The path was splattered with blood, a badly beaten body slumped on the wall.

Momo shivered. Skeletons were fine, she was used to them now – but a fresh, barely-dead body… the sight made her blood run cold. From what Momo could discern from his heavily beaten torso, he had been a buff guy - a deer hunter, in all likeliness. He had died with hands balled into fists, ready to strike.

The sight angered her. She understood that vampires needed to eat, but they had to have some sort of vegan option. This was a world full of extraordinary magic, where people subsisted off of goat milk and bugs, and Momo was supposed to believe they couldn’t concoct a vegetarian blood alternative?

She thought about reanimating him - giving him one last try to complete that sucker punch. While she didn’t want to be disrespectful to the recently demised, she was also in great need of a strong ally.

“[Raise Undead II].”

The hunter slowly groaned back to life. While clearly damaged, he still looked so… human. No bones jutting out. No displaced body parts. Just a pale, plain guy, staring at her with empty eyes.

Was this the same soul of the man who died? Or had that soul vanished, fleeing to the Nether? She still had so much to learn about the innerworkings of Death and Nether magic, but she had no intention of learning about it from Devola.

“Sir, do you have a name?” Momo asked meekly, staring up at the man. Now standing at his full height, he was nearly the size of the ostrich.

“Aaarrghhaaboog,” he mumbled, meaning every single syllable.

“Argaboog, alright,” Momo said with a slight bow, “do you want to help me stop the vampire?”

The mention of the vampire did not seem to light any specific fire in the man. He just stood there, scratching his back absentmindedly. Hm. Probably not the same soul, then. Hopefully Argaboog’s former inhabitant was busy dining at the Nether Hotel Restaurant.

Still, his physical form would be of help. His muscles rippled with strength, and he still carried his hunter’s axe. With her new lackey in tow, Momo continued sneakily down the passageway.

Eventually, the walls between the main passage and the side passage began to thin even further, adjoining the vampire’s central lair. She kneeled where there was still cover, peeking out over the rubble. Thankfully, Viktor Mole was still in one, breathing piece.

“What do you think I should pair you with?” the vampire asked, sitting thoughtfully by Viktor’s cage, “bread? A cabbage soup?”

“Preferably nothing, miss,” he said, teeth chattering.

Momo gaped. So they did have cabbage here! If this vampire wasn’t so vampirical, she’d immediately start grilling her on the availability of local vegetables. Clearly this was a woman of high cuisine, unlike the other citizens of the region.

“You’re right, better to savor your raw taste without anything to color the flavor,” she nodded.

“That’s not what I meant!” he yelped.

A piece of parchment materialized in Momo’s lap.

[Brain Fog]   has worn off.

Momo sighed gratefully, the clouds of her mind beginning to clear. She had to do something, and fast.

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A Hero in the Dusk

As the mind fog cleared, the dire reality of the situation set in. Momo began to panic. How did she let Valerica talk her into this? She was mere feet away from what seemed to be an expert-level vampire, and worse, a stolen, feral, ostrich, and she had no plan at all. Just a tiny wooden stake and a very tall, drooling man.

Momo grumbled. Assuming she survived this, she’d be updating her list of demands: two weeks of vacation, not one, and new stuffing for her bed. The blood from her robes had soaked through the hay, and it was getting pretty… gross. Even for Morgana’s Dawn standards.

“You know, people will be very mad if you eat me!” Viktor protested, pushing his button nose through the bars of the cage, “I’m a very important member of Kalendale society, I’ll have you know!”

“Oh yeah? And what are the people of Kalendale going to do about it, exactly?”

“Stake you! Stake you.. a hundred times!”

The vampire threw her head back in laughter.

“I encourage them to try,” she grinned, shaking the top of his cage as if she was petting a rambunctious dog, “I usually have to pay such steep delivery fees for human takeout. It would be a dream for the food to deliver itself to my door free of charge.”

Viktor went pale, receding into his cage. Momo shuddered. The vampire wasn’t wrong. Kalendale wasn’t exactly brimming with wit and intelligence. They’d be the equivalent of a five-minute microwave meal for the vamp.

If Momo wanted to avoid the same fate, she’d have to get creative. Very creative.

She surveyed her tiny army of small cat and large man, and an idea came to her. She fetched the stake from her pack, and squatted in front of Dusk.

“Take this,” she whispered, and the cat took the weapon between its teeth, pointing the tip outwards, “I’m going to send Argaboog in as a diversion. While she’s distracted, you pounce at her, grab onto her with your claws, and stick her with the stake. Got it?”

Dusk nodded, disappearing into thin air. Momo watched the stake float silently around the perimeter of the room, successfully avoiding the vampire’s gaze. The woman was too concerned with tormenting her food before dinnertime.

“Argabloogey,” Momo turned to the hunter, “you can have the second one.”

She handed him the second of the three stakes in her pack. She had been confused at first why Valerica gave her so many, but she was grateful in retrospect. She must have known she’d be handing them out like Halloween candy.

With both her lackeys in position, Momo readied herself to give the command. Just as she was about to, the words died in her mouth. Viktor had begun wailing again, pleading even louder than before. He certainly was not concerned about retaining his dignity in his last minutes.

“What about this!” he proposed, his voice cracking under the stress, “if you let me out, I can arrange a very good deal for you. A very good deal indeed.”

The vampire perked up, her pointy ears standing on edge, “while I doubt you have anything of value to offer me, I am happy to entertain you with one final try.”

“The Necromage, Valerica,” he said, holding the bars of his cage so tight his knuckles had gone white, “I know her greatest weakness. A weakness not a single soul is privy to, even her fellow necromancers.”

Momo clenched her fists. That dirty trickster of a wizard. First her ostrich, now Viktor Mole. Could no one be trusted? Still, the wizard had to be bluffing. Valerica had no weaknesses.

Okay, maybe a few - but none of note. Her greatest fault that Momo could think of was a mild shopping habit. She’d come back from her ‘business trips’ with a hundred more golden baubles to decorate Morgana's shrine with than before, insisting they were ‘enchanted with luck.'

Having grown skeptical, Momo brought one of them to the sanctuary’s resident enchantress. She quickly informed Momo that the baubles were indeed enchanted—except not with Luck, but with the [Overpriced] augmentation, causing their buyer to constantly insist they were worth the coin.

Momo was grateful that this was a society without credit card debt. Still, that was neither here nor there. She doubted the vampire could defeat Valerica with the power of an overpriced bauble.

Momo furrowed her brow worriedly. Unless it was really shiny…

“And why would I be interested in knowing that? I have no intentions of eating Valerica,” the vampire grimaced at the thought, “she smells of pungent death, and I’m sure her blood would taste the same.”

Momo frowned. She wouldn’t go as far to call it pungent. Just death would do.

“Not eat her, no! But if you controlled her mighty fort, and her large cult of necromancers, you would never have to hunt again. They could do all the work for you - clean, cook, prepare peasants for consumption. That’s layman's work, why are you doing it all yourself?”

This gave the vampire pause. Momo could see the gears churning in her mind. She couldn’t blame her - that life did sound nice, minus the peasant-eating.

“I can’t believe I am saying this, but you are quite correct,” she said, “a vampire of my Intermediate level should be living in a sea of blood and gold, not hunting cattle. Enlighten me, wizard. Tell me the High Necromage’s weakness.”

Intermediate? Momo took a small, relieved breath. Maybe they weren't too outmatched. In charisma and charm, absolutely, but in sheer Class power...

Realizing he had gained the upper hand, Viktor crossed his arms. “Not yet. First, you must promise to release me.”

The vampire sighed, “oh you humans and your sorry little drive for self-preservation. Fine, fine. I will release you, and give you a six minute head start on running.”

Viktor trembled, “six minutes? To outrun you?”

“It’s a very charitable head start. I usually only allow three minutes.”

Realizing he was losing ground, Viktor pivoted. “What about ten?”

“You are losing time by the second. Now you’re down to five,” the vampire frowned.

“Oh, oh Gods,” he said, going pale, “okay, alright. Valerica’s weakness is her... protectiveness. She cares deeply for one of her new recruits, a meek and frail initiate who goes by 'Momo.' If you can capture Momo, she is your most powerful bargaining piece. You could turn Valerica against every single one of her allies with a single threat towards the girl.”

What? Momo’s heart dropped. That couldn’t be true. In her shock, she dropped the stake in her hand. It noisily rolled across the cavern floor, stopping at the tip of the vampire’s shoe. The vampire’s eyes widened at the sight of it, and she kneeled to pick it up.

“What is this?” she said, anger building in her voice, “a… stake?”

Oh crap. She had to do something --

“Argabloog, charge!” Momo commanded. The hunter immediately surged forward, stake in hand. He lurched towards the vampire at breakneck speed, letting out a wild, animalistic scream as he thrust the stake at her chest.

The vampire curved the attack in an instant, teleporting herself to his side. His momentum launched him forward, and he stumbled, landing face-flat on the wall behind her. The wooden stake clamored to the ground.

“Didn’t I drink you already?” the vampire glowered, her eyes glowing with malice. She approached him from the back, clamping her fingers around his neck. With the feeblest of movements, a loud crack echoed around the room, and his head sagged limply in place.

Momo watched in horror as he keeled over, falling to the ground. Viktor screamed, and the ostrich cleaned its feathers, uninterested in involving itself in the fray.

Killed twice in one day, Momo thought, frozen in terror. Poor guy. That had to be some sort of record. Momo wanted to pity him, but she didn’t quite have the time. The vampire’s eyes had already found her, licking her lips as she stared daggers at her next victim.

“Well, aren’t you cute,” she grinned, stepping forward, “[Shade Step].”

The vampire vanished into the darkness. Momo stumbled backwards, nervously surveying for the vampire's location. The outline of the creature’s form slithered around the room, its position given away by a subtle shimmering outline. She was slipping between the shadows cast by the torchlight, encroaching closer and closer.

“[Life Steal - Quick Steal]!” Momo shouted, focusing the skill on the vampire’s silhouette. A burst of red and green light shot from her hand, encircling the shadowy figure. The vampire let out an annoyed moan, stumbling out of the shadow. She emerged with a hand covering her chest, breathing heavily.

“That actually worked?” Momo said in disbelief. She felt her body surge with borrowed strength. She actually landed a hit. Her, Momo! She wished someone was here to witness such a moment—well, someone besides an ostrich, and a crouched over wizard who was about to piss himself out of fear.

“How dare you,” the vampire glowered, rage flashing in her red eyes, “little peasant girl, you think you’re a match for an immortal being? A daughter of Neculai?”

Uninterested in her villainous monologue, Momo yelled out another spell.

“[Abysmal Burst II]!”

Caught in the middle of her speech, the vampire failed to dodge the ball of dark energy. It landed smack dab in the middle of her chest, sending her flying backwards into the wall. She groaned in agony, slumping next to the fallen hunter.

“Stupid cooldowns,” the vampire said with a shaky breath. Momo gritted her teeth. Even after two spells, she was still standing - well, sitting. But sitting in an annoyingly alive sort of way.

“Cooldowns are the worst,” Momo agreed, momentarily forgetting herself. She was unused to being the one with the upper hand. Should she be preparing a villainous monologue? What would she even monologue about? She didn’t even have a cool name. She couldn't imagine herself saying something like ye peasants, shiver in front of the.. Momo! Terrifying, dominating, Momo The–

The thought died in her brain, as she had run out of oxygen to power the daydream. Two tentacled hands were wound tightly around her neck, extending from the vampire’s slumped shoulders.

“That’s right, darling, go into that sweet night,” the vampire whispered, eyes glinting with deliriousness as she tightened the grip even further. Momo’s head pounded, her neck a second away from snapping. She tried to cast another spell, but she couldn’t summon the required air. The pain was excruciating - an unbearable tightness.

Not like this. Momo thought, tears forming in her eyes. She needed to show Valerica that she could take down an enemy on her own. She was a necromancer in her own right - a capable one. A competent, fearless warrior who would never lose her life because she was distracted by an internal monologue.

Just as the darkness was about to fully envelop her, she sharply inhaled. A bloodcurdling scream echoed throughout the chamber, and the pressure around her neck released. The tentacles limped into her lap.

Momo looked up to find the vampire staring back at her with dead, unmoving eyes. A stake was rammed through her chest with perfect precision. Momo blinked, unbelieving - how?

“Meow.”

A note from villa1ny

Elaborate Trappings

“Dusk!” Momo exclaimed, eyes wide in awe, “my hero!”

The worst enemy that her old cat, Luna, had ever staved off was Momo’s crippling depression - an equally foul foe, but a less immediate threat than a tentacle-wielding vampire. To say Momo was grateful was a vast understatement. Limping her way to the feline, she nearly shook the cat to its second death.

“That was amazing,” she said, grinning madly, “you get all the treats, and a promotion, too.”

She turned to the ostrich, who blinked at her expectantly. In absence of the vampire, it was back to following Momo’s orders. Momo was still slightly pissed - but she decided to forgive it for its betrayal. It didn’t know any better.

“Dusk, I now declare you [Mob Boss Cat]. Your first underling will be this ostrich, who you can order around as you please,” Momo instructed. Dusk’s tail went up in a line, and she purred, eager to take on the new responsibilities.

After the promotion was complete, Momo turned to the last remaining problem: the betraying wizard, who was busy staring at her with rueful, scared eyes from his birdcage. She glowered at him - or rather slightly frowned, as Momo's face was not built for glowering.

“Dearest Momo,” Viktor’s weak voice uttered, “I am so humbled by your show of force today. You are truly coming into your own. A true, glorious necrom–”

“I have no business with you,” Momo said, turning her nose up quietly but definitively, “I heard you try to betray Valerica very clearly from over there.”

“You must understand, I feared for my life!” Viktor said, his cheeks wet with tears, “I knew that if I set the wicked vampire up against Valerica, she’d have no chance of succeeding. Valerica’s power far exceeded her own. Obviously, since even the likes of you were able to defeat her.”

Momo’s jaw dropped.

“Is that supposed to be an apology?”

“Ah - I meant it as a compliment!” he blinked, unused to having to turn off his pretentious manners, “please, dear Momo, you must understand my predicament. I'm sure you would have done the same.”

Momo frowned, placing her hands on her hips. He was partially right - that vampire stood no chance against Valerica. Valerica took down an expert level Holy Mage with ease, an Intermediate vampire would be like squishing a bug.

Still, she never would have said any of those things. She had honor, and dignity, or at least the first one. She would never ruin Valerica's reputation over mere threats of imminent murder. There would have to be a much stronger problem at hand.

“I’ll … think about it,” Momo mumbled, “you wait here.”

“Right, because I have any other choice,” the wizard grumbled.

Momo ignored him, turning to the vampire. As she did, several pieces of parchment whisked into the room. The paper on top was a different color than she was used to. It was blue, and littered with drawings of dumplings, instead of dead koi fish and skeleton bones.

QUEST COMPLETE!

By defeating the vampire and saving the life of the wizard Viktor Mole, you have completed the Quest [Wanted: Vampire].

Rewards:

- 1,100 EXP in [Corrupted Druid]

- Vampire’s Garb (Loot body to receive)

- Vampire’s Chest Key (attached)

- 1,000 Gold (Talk to quest giver to receive)

There was a small, black key attached with sticky tape to the back of the parchment. They had sticky tape in this universe? She frowned. She supposed it wasn’t too unusual, given that the parchment wasn't quite 'of' Alois. Things that emerged from the Nether didn’t seem to follow the same rules of common sense.

She tore the tape off and stored the key in her pocket. Reading the second part, her face flushed. She wasn’t too keen on undressing any woman without their permission - even a dead vampire. The contents of the chest would have to be reward enough.

“It says here I’m supposed to collect a thousand gold from you,” Momo said, craning her neck towards the wizard.

He crossed his arms indignantly, “yes, after you release me!”

“But I already completed the quest,” Momo frowned.

“Yes, and I am stuck in the cage. Sometimes life is unfair.”

Momo sighed. She wasn’t ready to let him go yet – but she was perpetually in need of coin. Especially now that Valerica had introduced a ‘members tax’ to go along with the Dawn’s new guild.

Seeing as there were no added administrative costs or infrastructure needed outside the hunk of wood that was the Guild Board, Momo was certain this ‘tax’ was going to her golden bauble fund, as all other accumulated funds seemed to do.

“Fine,” Momo said with a glare, “but I’m going to find this chest first.”

“No! Don’t leave me here with that!” Viktor cried, shaking as he pointed towards the ostrich.

“He’s like a dinosaur. If you don’t move, he can’t see you,” Momo shrugged, “try that.”

Viktor wailed, but eventually took the advice, curling up in an unmoving ball.

Leaving her zoo behind her, Momo began to search the cave. There was still other parchment attached to the stack, but she decided she’d look at it later. The idea of treasure was just too compelling.

“Dusk,” she called, dangling the chest key in the air so the cat could see it, “you search that side of the room, I’ll get this one.”

The newly promoted cat hopped up in an instant, prowling around the west side of the lair.

Removing one of the torches from the wall, Momo carried it around like a lantern, inspecting the north side of the cave. It was a modest lair, constructed like an open-plan office. There was no separation between the bedroom, bathroom, and ‘scheming quarters’, a term that Momo had learned from Valerica, who defined it as any room that seemed perfectly fit for creating evil plans.

Momo stumbled into exactly that sort of room. It was a study, with several bookshelves lining the walls, and cobwebs covering every surface like purposeful decoration. There was an old, wooden desk in the west corner, overflowing with paper, and a framed painting on the wall.

If she was a hidden treasure chest, she’d certainly be in this room. It was unassuming, yet curious. Brimming, yet spacious. The perfect place to lay a puzzle. Momo screwed on her invisible Nancy Drew hat, held up a faux-magnifying glass, and got to work. First stop: suspicious desk.

She pushed away the paper cluttering the desk, spotting something bulging beneath it. Her fingers discovered the spine of a book, and she pulled it out of the pile. Oh, wow. It was a giant spellbook, nearly the size of two earthly hardcovers. On the cover was a face, draped equally in light and shadow. Momo assumed it was the face of the God Neculai – with gaunt cheekbones, and chapped, blood-stricken lips.

Most prominently, the pupils of his eyes were replaced with genuine garnets. The gems stuck out of the hardcover, rough to the touch. Her Momo-Drew senses tingled, sensing they were important. Either that, or she could sell them for gold later. As Valerica always said, "shiny things can buy shiny things." Momo wasn't sure how well that held up as a general economic principle, but she let it guide her.

She plucked the bad boys out of the book, slipping them into her pocket.

To Momo’s horror, the eye-less face began to move, its lips speaking.

“Does a new child of Neculai approach?” the book hissed, “are you looking to be enlightened towards the path of blood immortality?”

Momo shrieked, throwing the book to the floor.

“No thank you, sir,” she yelped, in case the physical rejection wasn’t clear enough. Luckily, the book didn’t question her further, its lips stilling back into place. It seemed to be some sort of scripted response to her interacting with it - like a phone call answering machine.

Calming down, she wiped the sweat from her brow, and continued her search. The novelty of the detective roleplay was beginning to wear off, and now she was desperate to return to the safety and security of her own necromancer sanctuary. This lair reeked of death and bones - but not in the same cozy, homely way.

Going off her knowledge of mystery movies, she reasoned that the natural place for a hidden compartment would be in the bookcase. The only problem was the bookcases were all completely full - no convenient ‘one book is suspiciously missing’ holes to be found. She frowned. So much for that.

There was one other odd thing in the room, though: a framed painting. It was a portrait of the late vampire. The late narcissistic vampire, Momo thought, as the painting had her depicted royally, in a jeweled crown, and an ornate cape. Her tentacled hands wrapped around herself, like an octopus hug. Gross.

Momo approached it, feeling around the edges. It was light enough, so she removed it, revealing a single brick stuck into the wall. Aha! A brick in a stone wall? It had to be hiding a secret. Momo tried prying it with her fingers, but that quickly backfired. She yelped, her fingers burning. The brick was warm, not hot - but warm. And Momo was currently allergic to all things heated.

“Big Bird!” Momo called, decidedly naming the ostrich, “I have a task for you!”

With no response from the ostrich, Momo sighed. She’d have to go to upper management.

“Dusk! Fetch your lazy ostrich!”

Within moments, both of her pets had arrived by her side. Dusk was laying on the back of the ostrich, splayed out like a horse's saddle.

“Big Bird, please remove this brick,” she commanded, pointing to it. The bird complied easily, eager as always to catch something in its demonic jowls. It pecked at the side of it like a woodpecker until it came loose, and then it grabbed it, tossing it like a bullet across the lair.

The wizard screamed. Momo watched as the brick flew perfectly over his caged head, missing it by a single hair. Momo’s eyes widened. This ostrich had impeccable aim. He could have a promising career in baseball, or rifle assassination.

Fixing her eyes back onto the hole in the wall, Momo grinned. She was a genius. A bonafide Sherlock Nancy Bones. Behind the painting were two rhombus shaped holes - a perfect mirror of the garnets she’d stolen from Neculaui’s eye sockets.

She lodged them into place carefully. With a pleasant click, they locked into their holes.

“Yes!” Momo celebrated, fist-pumping the air. Maybe she had a future as a detective, if the whole necromancer thing ended up a bust.

Overcome by achievement, she turned to Dusk, “Dusk, you can be my Watson. Big Bird can be… Moriarity, but if he was a bird, and didn't have beef with Sherlock.”

Absorbed by her imagination, she failed to notice that the garnets had begun to heat up. That was an understatement - they had begun to burn like firewood. A small, blue flame began to grow from the center of them.

“Oh god,” Momo went pale, “that’ll stop, right? That’s like a normal, I’m-about-to-release-a-chest kind of response.”

The blue flame formed into a circle, and then with a sudden barrage of energy, it shot out a cylinder of pure fire. Momo ducked, nearly getting skewered by the rod of heat. She planked on the floor, her arms wobbling until she fell flat.

“I miss when riddles weren’t deadly,” Momo muttered, grateful for the icy chill of the rock floor, "actually, I miss when everything wasn't deadly."

Dusk meowed urgently, and Momo craned her neck to the sound. The cat’s eyes were fixed to the end of the beam of fire. The beam had shot directly towards one of the books in the bookcase, and yet nothing had caught fire. How? Scooting on her knees to avoid the warmth wafting off the flame, Momo approached the bookcase.

“Big Bird, please inspect the area,” Momo said, crouching in cowardice beneath the bookcase.

The bird obliged, avoiding the persisting beam as he pecked around the middle of the bookcase. He squawked as his beak flew through the book, his feet stumbling. Momo’s eyebrows rose - it was a mirage.

“Is there something behind it?” Momo yelled up, watching as the bird’s head disappeared in and out of view, pecking at something. Dusk meowed in affirmation.

Taking her chances, Momo wobbled slightly upwards. The heat from the beam scalded her shoulders, burning through her like an instant sunburn. She winced, but remained resolute. She shoved her hand through the phantom book, and grabbed hold of what was behind it.

She yanked it hard, fleeing back to the ground once it was in hand. Screaming in pain as the cold floor hit her sunburned back, she rolled as far away from the beam as possible, cradling the object in her hands.

Taking a deep breath, she willed the pain away.

“You better be so worth it,” Momo said with a wince, “I don’t think they have aloe vera gel in this universe.”

She un-cupped her hands, revealing the treasure.

It was a large, human skull. But there was something off about it. The texture was all wrong. Unfortunately, she had gotten quite accustomed to petting skeletons - and this didn't feel like one. It felt hard, like steel. Its jaw was locked, so the inner skull was impenetrable. One of its eyes wore an eye-patch, like a pirate, and the other was a keyhole.

A keyhole.

Momo shook it, and something rattled inside.

"This is the treasure chest?!"

A note from villa1ny

Eager to find out what's in that skull? You can find advanced chapters on my Patreon.

The Trial of Viktor Mole

Momo took the key from her pocket and stuffed it into the skull’s eye-lock. With a wriggle of her wrist, she turned it, and the jaw of the skeleton fell open with a pop. A locket necklace slid out of it, dropping to the floor.

Momo’s face dropped. A locket, really? The supposed ‘treasure’ kept getting smaller. It was like she was playing with those Russian nesting dolls, except instead of harmless fun, one of them gave her a bone-deep sunburn.

She grumbled to herself, picking up the locket. She’d be so pissed if she just endured all that for some photo of the vampire’s undead grandma.

When she took the heart-shaped pendant between her fingers, a dark energy radiated from its center. Black magic flared around the heart, radiating a bone chilling cold into the tips of her fingers. Simultaneously, a demanding voice began to echo through her skull.

Yes, a wearer! Finally, a glorious wearer! Put me on. Put me on. Put me on.

Oh, great. Momo sighed. She thought she could go a single day without a new intrusive thought.

“I don’t listen to voices in my head, sorry,” Momo responded with a suspicious squint, “schizophrenia runs in my family, so it’s a personal policy.”

I am not a voice in your head, I am a necklace! A necklace who offers you unlimited power. Immortality. Charisma. Charm. Other cool things. All yours. Put me on.

Momo frowned. Those were cool things, but she remained suspicious. A few intellect points ago, her impulsive nature would have immediately forced her to equip it - but with the [Brain Fog] gone, her last two brain cells advised otherwise.

“I think I’m going to put you back in the skull and get back to you on that, alright?”

No! Do not cage me again, please! The necklace changed tone, its low, demanding voice turning high-pitched and whiny as it began to beg, I am but a simple necklace. All I ask is to perform my singular function - to be worn around a beautiful neck. Can you not do me that one favor?

Momo frowned sympathetically. That did sound like a terrible plight.

“Do you promise you’re not evil?”

Evil? Me? I could not be evil - I am nothing but a little necklace!

Momo considered the plea. It was awfully convincing, but it still wasn’t enough. She didn’t feel like becoming the bodily host for a demon today. Maybe some other Tuesday, when she was more well rested.

“I’m sorry necklace, but that’s something an evil necklace would say,” she sighed, and stuffed the necklace back into the skull for safe-keeping, ignoring its screams as she twisted the key, the jaw snapping back in place.

Stuffing the skull into her knapsack, a piece of parchment greeted her.

You have gained an [Unbreakable Skull].   This treasure container can only be unlocked with its corresponding key. It is immune to all other means of opening it, including [Skeleton Key].

Hm, that was kind of neat. Maybe she could store something else in there too, like her art sketchbook. Right now it was way too vulnerable - just sitting out in the open where anyone could see her Halle Berry drawings. Momo shivered. The thought of Valerica touring through her terrible sketches kept her up at night.

She sighed. Regardless, it was time to get out of this cave. She had another dark and dim chamber calling her name.

“You know, it is rather humiliating to be carried around like this.”

“You should have thought of that before betraying me.”

"I didn't betray you, I betrayed the person who kidnapped you! Shouldn't you, I don't know, be grateful?" Viktor huffed.

"Grateful? Please. Valerica was very upfront and honest about kidnapping me, unlike you," Momo rolled her eyes. It was hardly comparable, "plus, she'd totally let me leave the Dawn, if I wanted to."

"Right," the wizard grumbled.

They approached the back entrance of the sanctuary, the wizard’s cage wobbling back and forth as the ostrich carried it. He pouted and groaned, but Momo was staunch in her decision. She would be letting a higher power decide the wizard’s fate. It was only fair, and also, Momo hated making decisions.

The Necromages eyed the party with curiosity as Momo strolled into the Main Hall.

“Oh, how fun, a traveling circus!” Devola grinned, her face falling under further inspection, “oh, it is only you, Momo.”

Momo frowned. She didn’t have to sound so disappointed.

“My dear Momo has returned?”

Valerica sauntered into the hall, smiling broadly. She looked even happier than usual, which unnerved Momo. Valerica typically had the disposition of a fanatical optimist, but to see a grin that big usually meant something bad was coming for Momo. Something that involved talking, or walking, or doing, or worse, all three.

Momo considered fleeing, but it was already too late. Valerica had grabbed her by the middle, lifted her in the air, and begun swinging her around in celebratory circles. Momo made a mental note to stop doing the same thing to Dusk. It felt like her brain was hitting her skull like a tennis ball.

“Please put me dow–”

“Oh, Momo, you survived! How wonderful!” Valerica cheered, and the rest of the room clapped.

Were they expecting otherwise? Momo paled.

Finally placing her down, Valerica’s attention moved to the wizard, “and you’ve brought our dear customer with you! What an ingenious form of transportation. Why let our clients do the walking themselves when we can do it for them?”

“Actually, I’d very much like to do the walking myself–”

“Oh Mr. Mole, don’t act so tough,” Valerica said, leaning down to boop his nose through the cage, “I know we all enjoy an opportunity to put our feet up and get carried around. And in such a cute little cage, too…”

“You terribly misunderstand me,” he pleaded, but Valerica just continued grinning.

“Valerica,” Momo cleared her throat, her voice wobbling. Her head was still spinning in circles. She was seeing double-Valericas in front of her, “I have some unfortunate news to share.”

Valerica quirked her head, “unfortunate? Coming from you? Impossible.”

“I… I fear that Mr. Mole has betrayed us.”

The room stilled, the Necromages stopping their chit-chat. Every eye in the chamber settled on the wizard, who had lost all color in his face.

“Betray? That is a strong accusation,” Valerica said, lifting an eyebrow, “please elaborate.”

“A strong, false accusation!” Viktor interjected. Valerica frowned.

“You will let Momo finish,” she informed him, “or I will allow the bird to escort you to the abyss.”

He quieted immediately, “oh, yes ma’am. Never said a word, ma’am.”

Valerica gave Momo a warm smile to continue, so Momo did.

“So, just as I was about to slay the vampire, Mr. Mole interrupted my plans,” Momo explained nervously, stuttering as she spoke, “and tried to broker a deal with the vampire, so he wouldn’t be eaten.”

“Reasonable,” Valerica nodded, “being eaten by a vampire is most unpleasant, if it’s one you don’t know.”

She said it in such a way where it sounded like she frequented the activity. Momo decided to follow up on that another time. Such as: never.

“Right… it was reasonable, that was until he explained his end of the deal was to expose your supposed greatest weakness, so that she could exploit it to turn your people against you, and take over the Dawn.”

The room gasped in horror. Valerica for her part, didn’t even blink.

“Fast thinking,” she nodded, seeming impressed by the idea.

“Yes…” Momo nodded, “wait, what?”

Valerica turned to the wizard, squatting by his cage, “Mr. Mole.”

He stared at her with the utmost fear in his eyes.

“Yes?”

“While you have committed treason against me, I am contemplating letting you live,” she said, scratching her chin as she thought, “are you interested in hearing my proposal?”

“Um, yes,” he squeaked, “obviously!”

“Great,” she smiled, “so in exchange for your continued life, you will become an official member of the Dawn. All the profits from your business in Kalendale will go to us.”

Viktor inhaled sharply, going red in the face. “You want me to become your unpaid lackey? Are you dim?”

Valerica smiled goodnaturedly, ignoring his protests, “as much as we appreciate you as a customer, we cannot have you offering competitive necromantic services in Kalendale. It disagrees with my empire planning.”

“Empire planning?” he mumbled.

“Of course! Morgana needs to be sitting atop the highest crest of Alois, not in some silly little cave,” she laughed, “but as all great empires do, we must begin small and unassuming. Appeal to the people. You will continue in your esteemed position of High Wizard at the Kalendale College for Wizardry, and use your influence to argue for the Dawn’s interests.”

She got up from the floor, rising to meet her fellow Necromages. She turned towards Momo, smiling that bright, terrifying grin. Oh no, Momo shivered. She sensed a speech.

“Necromages of the Dawn, today marks the day that we begin to conquer this humble home-region of ours. Like any good poison, we have slowly infiltrated the high society of both Bruda and Kalendale until they keeled over in defeat, mere pawns in our chess game.”

She raised Momo’s hand victoriously and Momo yelped, feeling her shoulder dislocate itself.

“And who is responsible for this? Our dear, dear, unassuming, small, helpless, wonderful creature of a recruit, Momo. Let her name resound off the walls, so that even the bones of our enemies rattle in terror. Momo, Momo!”

The entire room began to chant her name, and while at first she felt like receding into the farthest corner of the planet, a smile slowly crept up her face. The adoration in their crooked, bloodshot eyes was real. They really believed she did all this, despite her doing nothing at all.

“I have agreed to nothing of the sort!” Viktor piped up, interrupting the chants.

Valerica laughed, and pointed her finger towards the abyss. “Bird, you have my permission to add to the rat pile!”

The ostrich picked up the cage, and Viktor screeched.

“I take it back! I take it all back!” he cried, “I’ll do it. I’ll be your stupid little pawn!”

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Momo The Ripper

With the business agreement settled, Valerica released Viktor Mole, and Momo watched with amusement from her tower nook as he ran all the way back to Kalendale, not stopping once to catch his breath.

Momo smiled. She could do nothing but admire the impression Valerica had on people.

Retiring from the window, she settled into her nook. The small chamber in the attic of the eastern tower was quickly becoming her new favorite place to be. It was warm, and unlike the stablehouse, no random man or three-headed dog could disturb her.

While she did miss her cows, the family of undead rats who inhabited the nook were more than good company. She had revived them a few days ago, and once she trained Dusk to stop re-killing them, they settled into a happy little rhythm. She would feed them gutter cheese, and they would deliver her knickknacks they found around the sanctuary.

Most of these knickknacks turned out to be Valerica’s beloved golden baubles, which Momo was very happy about receiving. She figured eventually she’d collect enough that she could sell them back to the smiths in Kalendale. Valerica would make Momo run more quests to restock her supply anyway, so it was basically just a round-about, inadvertent way of Momo paying herself her promised salary. Be your own girlboss, and all that.

“Goodnight Vengeance, Retribution, and Frog,” she said with a small smile, draping a leaf over each of the rats as they nestled into her side. The names had just felt like a natural fit. Vengeance and Retribution were a pair of naughty twins, always fighting and playing tricks on each other. Frog, the runt of the litter, had frequent indigestion, and regularly produced a ribbit-like sound from deep inside his stomach.

Dusk meowed jealously, squinting at the rats with a murderous glint. Momo tutted, beckoning her over.

“I would never leave you out,” Momo insisted, and instructed Dusk to lay on her stomach. The cat obliged, and Momo laid a tiny leaf on her as well. The cat purred, satisfied.

“The never-ending life of a mother,” Momo sighed. With the undead animals snoring peacefully, she slipped into the corner of the nook, taking a look at the remains of yesterday’s parchment. There was quite a stack under the [Quest Complete] notice that she had yet to attend to.

Congratulations! You have gained a level in [Adept Corrupted Druid].You have gained the skill [Bestiary]

[Bestiary]: At will, you can now summon a bestiary from the Nether. The bestiary contains entries for every creature you have encountered.

Only the entries of companion creatures will come with full descriptions. Simply chant [Summon Bestiary]   to summon it.

“Bestiary? So like, a book?” Momo squinted at the page, “okay. [Summon Bestiary].”

She should have seen the next part coming, given previous experience.

With all the force of an angered God, a heavy book smashed through her nook window, letting in a gust of cold air into the small chamber. Frog violently ribbited, Vengeance and Retribution went running for the gutters, Dusk continued sleeping, and Momo mourned her brief, brief sanctuary of peace.

“Are you kidding me?” she groaned, “can’t you stupid pieces of Nether paper ever just appear casually?”

The book did not respond. Momo stared daggers at it, but eventually she realized it was not going to dignify her with an answer, so she begrudgingly picked it up.

“When I figure out how to communicate with these dumb cut up trees…” she grumbled, flipping through the pages, “if that’s even what you’re made of.”

Welcome to your BESTIARY

- Page 1 : Companion Creatures

- Page 7-1,000 : All Other Creatures

Momo squinted. One thousand pages? The book was hardly that big, or that heavy. It seemed this universe had funny rules for the density of things. Books that looked heavy were surprisingly light, light books were heavy, and gold coins weighed less than pennies.

Momo frowned. Her mother’s scale must have been enchanted with the same magic, because she was always complaining about Momo’s weight despite it never changing.

While there were a lot of earthly things she did miss - namely cell phones, running water, microwaves, underwear, plates, and a society which frowned upon casual murder - there were others that she did not. She could grow as plump and round as she liked here, and no one could tell her otherwise.

Of course, that would require her finding real food - and not beer that was advertised as food. But she continued to cherish the small victories.

She flipped to the first page.

The companion animals listed below meet the following requirements: 1) they are in your immediate vicinity, and 2) they are more loyal to you than they are to the average potato, or relevant food group of species interest.

Momo found that criteria reasonable. She was more loyal to a burger and fries five dollar combo than she was to most people. She frowned, thinking back to her unfortunate demise. Burgers apparently did not reciprocate that loyalty.

Companion Creatures

- Dusk (Undead Cat) | Level 2 Phantom

- Vengeance (Undead Rat) | Level 1 Companion

- Retribution (Undead Rat) | Level 1 Companion

- Frog (Undead Rat) | Level 1 Companion

- Unnamed (Unclaimed Unknown Rodent) | Level 4 Companion

She furrowed her eyebrows. Unclaimed Unknown Rodent? Level FOUR?

Her eyes widened, and she put her hand to her chest. She could feel the low thump of her heartbeat, accompanied by a spinning wheel, and a tiny, hiccuping breath that she had willfully ignored previously.

Her heart was indeed being run by a rodent. An unknown one, at that.

“Why did this have to be the one time Valerica wasn’t lying?” Momo sighed miserably. “Book, please tell me about this unknown rodent.”

The book flipped to another page.

Type: Unknown Rodent. Name: Unnamed. Level 4.

Would you like to claim this companion?   If so, you will be informed of its future evolutions, and it will now follow you around in your party.

Momo sighed. She supposed the rodent would be following her around, claimed or unclaimed, for the foreseeable time she spent alive. It would only be right to acknowledge its existence. Not to mention that she relied quite heavily on its continued loyalty—what if one day it got tired of spinning that wheel? What if it staged some sort of labor strike, formed a rat-sized union, and gave Momo a heart attack?

Many questions. Few answers. Momo blamed Valerica for all of it.

She wrote ‘yes’ on the page with the attached quill.

Please give the claimed creature a name.

“Um…” she looked around the room, lacking inspiration. She had run out of her daily allotted original thoughts. They were all spent on naming the other rats.

What was a fitting name for a rodent with so much responsibility?

She scribbled down the first thing that came to mind.

“I deem you, Biscuit.”

She smiled. Yes, that one would do fine. The book turned to another page.

Name accepted. Now that you have claimed the companion animal, you can see its full entry.

Type: Undead Gerbil-Rat. Name: Biscuit. Level 4.

Part Gerbil, part Rat, this species is an amalgamation of all things rodent. It is tiny in size, but mighty in determination. A loyal, fearless companion, it will follow you into the heat of battle, and nibble on the remains of your enemies.

Your current relationship with this companion is POSITIVE. It is happy to finally be acknowledged for its tireless work to support you.

Momo tenderly held her heart, “I’m sorry for ignoring you, Biscuit.”

Your current relationship with this companion is VERY POSITIVE. Thankful for your apology, it will continue to operate the arteries of your heart without fail. It is very dedicated to your continued survival.

“Well, that’s a relief,” Momo chuckled nervously, and set down the book. She was starting to feel frostbite creep up her toes, the cracked window letting in the worst of the winter chill. Without her Firebright candle, currently on timeout due to her fire allergy, she wouldn’t survive a night exposed to the elements.

She sighed, poking at Dusk, “it looks like we’re bunk-bedding with Devola again.”

“Valerica, I’m ready to take my vacation days.”

After a sleepless night listening to Devola ‘rehearse’ in her dreams, Momo decided it was time to cash in. She wasn’t just thinking for herself now, after all. She needed to slow down the speed on the permanent treadmill her heart-rodent was running on. That kind of uptime just wasn’t sustainable.

Valerica nodded, smiling just a bit too wide. “That’s such a great coincidence, because I need you to go on a trip.”

Momo sighed. “See, that’s not exactly what I meant–”

“Oh but it is!” Valerica clapped her hands together, “Nam’dal is a tourist city, brimming with landmarks to see and spas to relax in. Not to mention I’ve already paid for your carriage ride.”

“You’ve – what?” Momo sighed, nearly ready to cry.

So much for deciding her own destiny. Self-determination seemed to be a skill that was several class levels above her own.

“No need to thank me, I took only a measly sum from your monthly salary as the upfront payment. You can use the rest of the gold you’ve accumulated to pay for food and housing in the city,” Valerica smiled, as if she were doing Momo a favor.

As Momo suspected, she was never seeing that salary. She was officially living in indentured servitude.

She sighed, but caved, as she always did. She couldn’t say no to Valerica's indomitable cheeriness. Not to mention that Nam’Dal sounded like the perfect city for her to sell a few golden baubles where Valerica wouldn’t miss them.

“Okay then,” Momo said after a long, defeated pause, “why are you sending me there?”

“Why else? For the future of Morgana’s Dawn!” Valerica grinned, “You see, Nam’dal is a real city. So far, you’ve only seen a very small portion of Alois, in our humble region of Brulane. Brulane’s only major city is Kalendale, which is barely a city, and more of a village of deer worshipers. We cannot build a necromantic empire while presiding over a mere village.”

Build a necromantic empire? Momo gulped. So Valerica’s speech had been serious. She knew Valerica was into ‘nefarious planning’ and an assortment of other alarming hobbies, but that one sounded like a lot of work.

“But don’t we preside over two villages? Bruda and Kalendale? We have the Earl in our pocket now, too,” Momo interjected, hoping that would allow her to sit out the whole empire planning thing. She had gotten very accustomed to her whole ‘local bone and bug delivery girl’ shtick.

“Bruda isn’t a village,” Valerica explained, “it’s just a retirement home for the wealthy, but instead of playing board games, they just play with their tenants’ rent prices. And either way, two villages does not an empire make. If we hope to challenge the King’s anti-necromancer agenda, we must accrue a level of dominion that he cannot ignore.”

“That all makes sense,” Momo nodded along, “I just think I might be better suited for more sedentary jobs in the empire. Like, perhaps, propaganda magazine editor? Royal catsitter?”

Valerica tutted, “as always, you underestimate yourself, my dear Momo. I alone cannot run an empire. We will need a charismatic, sociable face to lure in the public. Just as you’ve been doing so flawlessly now.”

“You think I’m charismatic and social?” Momo balked, wondering if Valerica actually perceived reality, or just played a separate, custom-made movie in her head at all times.

“Of course! You’re the best of us. Morgana’s future. Momo the Martyr.”

Momo shifted uncomfortably in her seat, “don’t martyrs have to die first? Before they become the face of a movement?”

“And that’s exactly what you did! Just not on this planet,” Valerica grinned.

“That’s… true. I still think I’d prefer a different codename.”

“That’s fine. You’ll think of something. But make sure it’s menacing, fear-imbuing,” Valerica whispered, leaning in for emphasis, “you’ll want your foes to tremble as you walk in the room.”

“Do I really need a nickname for all that?” Momo frowned, “you just go by ‘Valerica’.”

“Ah yes, but I simply reek of menace!” Valerica laughed, “you, my dear, are no more menacing than a gerbil. On the surface, of course. So you will have to choose a moniker which lets people know what they’re dealing with.”

“That makes sense,” Momo admitted, blushing. She went back to the theme song she had concocted for herself. Momo the Ripper-Offer didn’t really have that menacing ring to it… but Momo the Ripper? That did sound pretty dangerous. The only thing she was actually involved with ripping were coupons from her coupon booklet, but her so-called foes didn’t have to know that.

“Momo the Ripper,” she declared, straightening her back, “that’s my … cool, menacing name.”

Valerica’s eyes glowed bright red, and the table below fumed under the touch of her fingers.

“Oh, I just love it.”

Momo blushed under the attention.

“Well then, it’s settled. You have a name, a destination, all that’s left is a quest,” Valerica grinned, her eyes stilling to a calm blue, “the quest comes from yours truly, so no running off to live a happy little life in Nam’Dal, or you’ll never receive your reward.”

Valerica pulled out an envelope. She slid it across the table from Momo, and then grabbed two wine glasses off the shelf. She retrieved a bottle of uncorked wine from underneath her table, and then poured a hefty amount in each glass.

Valerica’s eyes once again burned ruby red. She took Momo’s hand, and grinned.

“Cheers to the start of a new revolution.”

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The Nam’Dal Terror

A note from villa1ny

ACT 2 BEGINS! Dun dun dun...

Momo arrived in Nam’Dal at dawn. The rickety carriage had carried her through the night, but Momo hadn’t slept a wink of it. Her head bumped the top of the wagon an uncountable number of times, several red welts now emerging on the top of her skull. All in all, it was still slightly better than public transportation in California.

Sunlight drew a pretty outline of the city emerging in front of her. As Valerica had suggested, it was a true city, not a village or a town. Behind its giant gates, forts with tall, red spires dotted the horizon. A large arch marked the entrance, a bell hanging from its center. The words, Nam’Dal, City of The Setting Sun, were engraved into the arch.

“Feels like an odd choice to pigeonhole your city into one time of day,” Momo murmured to herself as the carriage crawled to a final stop, “why not City of All Day Long?”

Her head rammed into the ceiling one final time as they parked themselves on the dirt road.

“Here ye are,” the carriage driver announced.

“Huh? Already?” Momo’s eyes widened.

A deep valley sat between the carriage and the city gates. Support pillars emerged from the valley like the hands of giants, reaching up to form a long bridge connecting the two pieces of land. The bridge could be walked or driven across, with a long line of traffic splayed across it.

Momo’s carriage was still quite a distance to the bridge, and even farther from the gates. It looked like a horror to walk across, with the sidewalks even more congested than the streets. Momo was already allergic to human interaction, but this was pushing it. She never entered a situation where she knew in advance that her personal bubble would be continually disrespected.

“Can you take me up to the gate? I can pay more,” Momo said quickly.

“Sorry lass, I don’t go more than half-ways to the gate.”

“Why?” Momo frowned, “I see other carriages going over it.”

“Ye, naive carriages riding to their deaths. I’ve already been burglarized at least five times this month on my way to Nam’Dal. You’ll be my last passenger ‘ere, I swear I’m retiring when I get back home.”

“...Burglarized?” Momo said, feeling sick, “you mean there are thieves around?”

He laughed, “around? This city isn’t built of bricks, it’s built of rogues! If you got any coin on you, might as well give it to me, or throw it in a river, because it’s not making it over that bridge.”

Momo began to sweat, looking into her purse where thousands of her precious coins and stolen baubles sat. They were her life’s savings—the only connection between her and a real, certified cabbage, or other food with non-toilet-brush nutrients.

She had no intention of being burglarized today. Perhaps on a full stomach, but not now.

“I don’t want my things stolen,” she mumbled sadly, “how do I avoid the thieves?”

“You don’t,” he laughed, “you either scare ‘em off and send them scrambling, or you give up your possessions. There’s only two ways about it.”

Momo processed the information. She wasn’t about to give up her hard-earned cash, so scaring them off was the only option. The problem was, she was still very much herself. Five foot four, thinly framed, and with a voice that was often described as “mouse-like in delivery.”

But, she reminded herself, she wasn’t just Momo anymore. She was Momo the Ripper. She raised her shoulders, steeling herself. Momo the Ripper wouldn’t let some thief take her baubles. She’d stuff a bauble down their thieving throat first.

She raised her eyebrows. Where had that thought come from? The inner roleplay was getting a bit much. If only she had the foresight to die holding something useful, like a year’s supply of her ADHD medication, instead of a stupid sketchbook.

After a few more minutes of internal bickering, the driver coughed.

“Sorry lass, but yer kind of holding me hostage from the nap I’m plannin’ on taking.”

“Ah, sorry!” she said, blushing. “Thank you for the heads up about inevitably being mugged. It’s nice to know about those kind of things in advance.”

“Aye, no worries. And there’s still time to turn back, if you want,” he offered with a shrug. “It don’t feel right letting a wee girl walk the Nam’Dal Terror by herself.”

Momo frowned. The Nam’Dal Terror. That was an inspiring nickname.

“I’ll be fine,” she stuttered, studying the bridge’s inhabitants. Beggars lined the sidewalks, cloaked figures patrolled it in tight patterns. It looked like a whole criminal operation operating on one thin strip of concrete.

It warmed her heart with nostalgia. It was just like her fondest memories of San Francisco.

“Alright,” he said with a defeated sigh, and then saluted her, “my advice, take all your belongings, leave ‘em in a bush somewhere outside town, and come back for them later. That way, when they turn you upside down and nothing falls out of your pockets, they’ll let you go on yer way.”

With that, he climbed back into his carriage, and gave Momo a final, pitying wave before heading off.

So, Momo thought, sitting in the dirt. This sucked.

She closed her eyes, attempting to focus herself towards a plan. Maybe she could hide the coin somehow? She unbuckled her knapsack and stuffed it under her shirt. With her robes covering it, she looked like she had a huge beer-belly, but it was convincing enough. Sure, most women didn’t carry their weight in a giant, overgrown tumor of a stomach, but she could pull it off.

She was Momo the Ripper, after all. Courageous. Powerful. Temporarily overweight.

She looked over at the bridge just in time for her to watch someone get flung right over the side, their screams echoing all the way down into the chasm below.

Oh, God. Who was she kidding? She was terrified. Her legs wobbled, shaking like a nervous chihuahua. Why did Valerica think she was ready for this? One Momo versus one vampire was one thing, but one Momo versus an entire crime syndicate all living on one bridge?

Unable to hold on through her tremors, the knapsack slid out in an instant, baubles pooling at her feet.

“Great,” she groaned, moving to pick them up.

“That was quite the speedy weight loss journey.”

Momo’s whole body snapped, reacting like a gun. She put her hands out in a kung-fu pose, mimicking a bootleg Jacky Chan impersonator. Her victim? A… reptile. A male reptile, maybe, judging by the voice. He looked like a miniature version of Salazar, with red scales and beady eyes. He looked almost cuddly, and certainly not dangerous, but Momo wasn’t ready to relax the combat pose.

“Back away from the baubles,” she said weakly, pushing a tiny golden elephant behind her with her foot.

“Baubles?” he said, incredulous, “you mean those… things, by your feet?”

“Yes, exactly those,” she narrowed her eyes, “keep your cute little hands off of them.”

“What, you think I would steal those?” he laughed, “I’d probably be paying other people to get those [Overpriced] charms off my hands. I’m more of a heist man myself. Millionaire money. Not a thrift shop burglar.”

Momo’s eyes widened, “how did you know they were [Overpriced]?”

“[Counterfeit Detector]. It’s a skill most merchants in the city will have, so I’d advise you to drop the bauble selling operation,” he grinned, “join up with the Con Artist’s Guild instead.”

Momo wanted to act appalled at the proposition, but quickly realized she owned the skill of the same name. One more shady act, and she’d probably pick up [Con Artist] as her secondary class. She frowned. So much for her supposed moral compass.

“I’m good,” she said, holding the knapsack to her chest protectively, “please go on with your day, Mr. Grifter.”

“Your loss,” he shrugged, “but out of curiosity, how do you intend to get over the Terror? Stuffing your shirt with gold pieces was certainly inventive, but I can promise you the bridge thieves will not be shy about investigating.”

“Of course that wasn’t my plan,” she insisted, failing to think of any other one, “I.. um… I’m going to…”

Run across the tops of the carriages like a medieval version of Temple Run? Drug the gerbil running her heart and give herself momentary superpowers? Summon a giant bird to fly her into town?

The third idea wasn’t bad, but the whole “big bird” solution never seemed to go the way she wanted it to. She didn’t doubt that the creature would find a way to fly straight into the gate bell, and the entire city would be alerted to Momo’s ineptitude. A ringing embarrassment. She would also probably fall to her death, but the bell part was worse.

“I’m going to sit here and think about it,” Momo said decisively, “and then think of a really good plan. A plan you would have never thought to think of.”

“Those surely are words,” he laughed, his scales shining under the morning light, “look, I’m feeling generous. Why don’t you give me two hundred coins, and in return, I’ll show you how to get across the bridge with no one bothering you?”

The phrase ‘with no one bothering you’ was practically crack to Momo’s brain, but she stopped herself. Remain skeptical, she ordered her brain. Do not immediately accept deal.

It was a mantra she taught herself after clicking on too many ‘you’ve just won a shitload of money!’ web browser pop ups. She never did receive any of those promised checks, but she did successfully brick about three college-issued laptops. She had begun to earn the equivalent of frequent flyer miles at her university’s IT department.

“Aren’t you a member of the Con Artist's Guild?” she said, narrowing her eyes.

“Yes,” he said, smiling broadly, “but I don’t think you have any other choice. Plus, I’m headed the same way. Either you get robbed by the lizard you know, or robbed by the one you don't. Your choice.”

Momo had seen enough Shark Tank to know a flimsy deal when she saw it. She pretended momentarily that she had been born with generational wealth, and straightened her shoulders. She thought rich people thoughts: Money. Investments. Retirement. Savings.

She deepened her voice, puffing out her chest.

“You can collect your pay when we’re inside the gates. If you have rendered the services requested, I will even include a small tip.”

He looked at her quizzically.

“Render the services requested? You are a strange girl,” he murmured, “but you’ve come to the right place. Nam’Dal is a city of strange people.”

Her chest deflated, and she frowned, “I’m not strange–”

“Anyway, I accept your deal,” he said, reaching out with a red-scaled hand, “I’m Radu. Radu the Red Riptide. And you are?”

She shook his hand weakly. To her surprise, she liked the texture of it. It felt like rubbing her hand on an exfoliating brush, the scales providing a pleasant bristle.

“Are you going to introduce yourself? Or just keep doing whatever it is you’re doing?”

“Oh, um,” she blushed, “I’m Momo… Momo The Ripper.”

He grinned. “Strange girl. Strange name. Even stranger title. What is it you rip, if I am brave enough to ask?”

She frowned weakly, attempting to look scary.

“Er, people?”

“I absolutely don’t believe you,” he laughed, shaking her hand heartily.

Momo grimaced. She'd have to work on her delivery.

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The Slippery Warbler

“If you plan on robbing me, please give me a five minute heads up warning,” Momo said as Radu led her through a thicket of trees, “the rat in my heart scares easily.”

“Oh, I would never want to scare someone’s heart-rat,” he laughed.

“Yes, exactly,” she frowned, a branch thwacking her in the forehead as she passed. Ouch. Why did all secret passageways have to be so hidden? Momo was starting to regret not going with her ride-bird-into-city idea.

“And for the last time, I’m not going to rob you. If I wanted to, I could have just done it the moment we met.”

Momo huffed, “that’s – that’s not true. I would have flattened you.”

“Yes, of course. The same way a cloud flattens a mountain when it passes over it.”

Momo frowned. She was growing tired of this little lizard man and his funny words.

“Not to worry, we’ve arrived.”

The thick trees had finally thinned, giving way to a clearing in the woods. Momo’s eyes widened. She had been expecting a door, or a cave, or at least an entrance. What she was not expecting was a wooden bench with a raven-headed man sitting atop of it, smoking a cigarette.

“Alexi,” Radu greeted, “Momo, this is Alexi. He’s our ticket across.”

I knew the bird strategy had some merit to it, Momo grumbled internally.

The bench stood in front of a particularly fat tree. Looking up, she could see that the tree branches had been engineered to point in an unnatural way, creating a shaded enclosure around the trunk. The enclosure had glass-paned windows, was decorated with strings of candles, and looking inside, Momo could see a small bed, and a side table.

Now that was a house. Completely isolated in the woods, with a proper bed, and a nice bench for drawing. Momo held her coin purse even tighter to her chest. It was decided, she would need to be rich. Only so she could buy this nest from the resident bird.

“It’s nice to meet you, Alexi,” Momo said shyly, after a moment of mourning that she could not immediately move in, “you have a very nice treehouse.”

The raven man did not look up at them, or dignify Momo’s compliment with a response. Instead, he reached for the newspaper laying next to him. Continuing to smoke his cigarette, he paged through the Nam’Dal Infrequent Gazette.

“Did you know that mating season was pushed off a whole three months this year?” he complained, pointing to an article on the page, “the Head Birds decreed that ‘babies couldn’t survive the current political climate.’ Bunch a’ crazy nuts, those fowls are. What do baby chicks care about Nam’Dal politics?”

“That’s a real shame,” Radu said, “I know you were looking forward to it.”

“Looking forward to it?” the raven squawked, “it’s the only thing I got on my calendar.”

Were these animal-people or people-animals? Momo thought, staring at the bird intensely as he spoke. If the legs are people-legs, but the head is a bird, is it a bird with human legs or a human with a bird head?

“Maybe you could mate outside the season?” Radu suggested, as Momo squinted her eyes in continued bewilderment. She was beginning to give herself a migraine.

“Blasphemy!” Alexi said, slapping Radu’s arm with the newspaper, “what do you take me for, a common bird of the streets? I can wait my pretty little three months, and then meet with the fowls as I always do; dressed nicely in a suit, at the Nam’Dal Third Street Inn. If anything, the extra time lets me hone my dancing.”

The last line pulled Momo out of her thought tunnel. She had decided for the time being that they were animal-people, seeing as they walked and talked as humans did.

“Your dancing?” she chimed in.

“Of course. As one of the highest pedigree birds in attendance, I must make sure my shimmy is perfect. If I do so much as miss a single step, I will be the laughing squawk of the whole flock.”

“Oh, I see,” Momo nodded, stuffing down a laugh.

“Humans have no appreciation for what we go through,” he sighed, “anyways, you two are in luck. Since mating season has been postponed, I have the extra time on my hands.”

He flung his cigarette into the dirt, and then stamped it out with clawed feet. Oh no - clawed feet. Momo hadn’t factored them into her animal-human evaluation. She’d have to return to step one. She frowned.

“You are ever gracious, Alexi,” Radu said, passing the raven a few coins.

“Please,” he said, shooing the coin away, “do not bother me with tips. I do not carry coin, anyhow, I only travel with banknotes.”

“Banknotes?” Momo furrowed her eyebrows.

He gave her a pitying look, “oh, you sorry thing. Have you only ever dealt in coin? You must be terribly impoverished. Even more reason for me to perform this act of charity.”

Momo sputtered, “why does everyone always assume that—”

His wing jutted out at her, cutting her off. He spread them to their full wingspan, and clasped his hands together. He looked nearly like a heavenly angel, like the type you’d see hanging around churches. Except this one had a beak.

“Grab my arm,” Radu said, offering it to Momo. She stared at it.

“No, thank you.”

He frowned, “I am happy to leave you to get ransacked on the bridge, then.”

Momo grimaced. She’d just have to violate her own rules on personal space one last time. For the sake of the Dawn. She grabbed his arm weakly.

“Is he going to fly us there?” Momo said, legs pre-trembling at the idea.

“Fly?” Alexi guffawed, “you think I would risk these freshly manicured wings with a chore such as flight? Please do not insult me.”

Alexi closed his eyes, and began to hum. After a few seconds, blue light emanated from his fingertips. He pointed his talon-like nails at the pair of them.

“[Teleportation III].”

–

Momo did not enjoy teleportation.

She had experienced quite a few out of body experiences lately–swimming through the Nether, transforming in and out of a tree stump–but this one took the cake on her personal ranking of most terrible sensations ever.

It was as if she was stuffed into a tiny box, tied with a ribbon, and then kicked by a linebacker all the way across three interdimensional football fields. And then spit on, for good measure.

“First time teleporting, I’ll take it?”

Slowly peeling her hands from her eyes, unbearable light poured onto her pupils. Radu stood above her, offering a helping hand as Momo squatted in terror on the floor. Refusing the hand, she wobbled upwards herself.

Using the wall to balance, she slowly adjusted to the dim torchlight. She could smell whiskey and vodka, and heard the clink of colliding ale mugs.

“Cheers to another year of stealin’ from the rich, and givin’ to the bartender!”

A short distance from Momo, a man slapped a bag of coins on the table, sliding them over to a reptilian man in black trousers. The man traded their beer-stained coins for filled mugs. Kegs full of every alcohol imaginable were assorted behind him in wooden barrels, labeled with worrying titles like ‘Fatal Fizzle’ and ‘Bird Tail Cocktail.”

“Welcome to the Slippery Warbler,” Radu grinned, doing a small curtsy, “what can I get for you?”

“Out of here, and as soon as possible,” she mumbled.

“Oh, come on,” he clapped her on the back. “The best way to drink off teleportation jitters is with a Nether Gimlet.”

Radu pointed to a poster behind the bar. It was an illustrated depiction of glass of ale filled with dark, shimmering liquid.

Loan payments got you down? Just die! *

The Nether Gimlet - Best Served Alive

* Interest payments can still be collected by Nether debt sharks

“I’m… good,” she reaffirmed, “also, isn’t it morning? Why are people already drinking?”

“That’s a fun-killer attitude,” a drunk man interjected, overhearing their conversation from a nearby table, “this is the Warbler! The juice doesn’t stop flowing ‘till the King’s men have their staves up our arses!”

“Oh,” Momo said, slinking away from his vodka-infused breath, “thank you for that information.”

“Ka problem,” he said, waving his mug at her, and then taking a hefty swig from it, “Lordas! It’s time for round four!”

The bartender sighed, filling up another keg.

“Is there a reason the bird teleported us to this… fine establishment?” Momo asked, pinching her nose. She felt like she was getting drunk just wafting in the scent of the place.

“The Warbler is the unofficial headquarters of the Con Artist’s Guild,” Radu informed her, pointing to a board on the wall. It was a Quest Board just like the one in the Dawn, but hidden in a dark, unassuming corner of the room.

Momo furrowed her eyebrows. “Why don’t you guys have a real headquarters?”

“The [Knights of the Sun],” Radu spat, “apparently, ‘crime’ is a bad word these days. First it was the necros, and now us petty criminals are getting a bad rap. Con Artists have a long-standing, appreciated place in Nam’Dal society. After all, the city’s biggest industry is weight loss pills.”

“It’s… what?”

“I’m jokin’,” he grinned, “even we don’t dabble into that level of criminal activity. The Nam’Dal guild only does the basics: investment scams, romance scams.”

“Romance scams?” she said, her eyes comically wide.

“Sure, it’s the biggest con business there is!” Radu said with a nod, “Teddy right here is the best of ‘em. I mean look at that face, what’s not to fall in love with? I really can empathize with our targets - it would only take me a few minutes before I was leaving my family’s estate to this handsome fuzzball.”

Radu shook the drunk man by the shoulders. Momo gaped. He surely had to be confused. Teddy had the face of a battle-bruised frog, with puffed out cheeks sewn together with scar tissue. His lips were inflamed, and his tongue slipped out of his mouth like a dog.

“That’s Teddy?” Momo said, face paling. “Are you sure?”

“‘Course I am. High society women just fall over themselves for a night with this charmer.”

“Heh,” Teddy grinned, and Momo stared in horror as his face twisted into a new shape entirely. His cheekbones lifted, his nose grew. He looked like a whole new man. A beautiful man.

“Polymorphism is wasted on the goody-two-shoes druids and mages,” Radu groaned, “our vaults would be brimming with coin if we only had a few more Teddys lying around.”

Momo’s head spun. Some polymorphs could beautify themselves into Alois’ Next Top Model, and Momo was stuck with being a tree stump? This had to be the cruelest fate she’d yet to be dealt.

She couldn’t even imagine how different the world would be if she could transform into a young, medieval Angelina Jolie. No longer would she be plagued by the words tiny, sleepy, confused, poor, orphan-like.

Even better, if she could transform into the world’s most mediocre looking woman. A complete nobody, totally unremarkable. Unnoticeable. Un-gossiped about. Not a single feature about her worth disturbing her nap for.

Momo sighed happily at the fantasy, and then looked at Teddy.

“How’d you learn how to do that?” She grilled him, her eyes full of jealous fury.

“Do what?” he said with a childish laugh, his face morphing back into its froggish reality.

“The thing,” she said, gesturing to his face, “that thing.”

“Oh, just a little class skill is all,” he shrugged, jutting his mug out to the bartender as he refilled it, “I’m a [Dark Cleric]. I can heal the body, but I can also make it heal in weird n’ wondrous ways. ‘Course, my actual skin takes a beating whenever I do it, but I’ve gotten used to that.”

Momo’s interest diminished.

“Want me to show you how?” he offered.

“I’m fine with my regular-looking human skin, actually,” she said, deflated.

“Your loss,” he rolled his eyes, throwing down another mug.

As he washed down a fourth serving, the bar’s doors flew off the hinges, crash-landing on either side of the entrance. Sunlight streamed in, and several knights surged into the small tavern.

“Oh, wonderful, this again,” Radu groaned.

Two heeled boots dented the feeble flooring, wood planks splintering in pain as a woman sauntered in. She entered last, and the lesser knights flanked around her. She was small, maybe even shorter than Momo’s height, and yet commanded the space with an aura of dictatorship.

Momo gaped. She didn’t know who this pocket-sized knight was, but she was immediately in awe of her. Tiny yet terrifying. This was exactly who Momo strived to be.

“Criminals, con artists and necromancers,” she said, addressing the room with a bow, “I hope you’re having a pleasant morning. We will, of course, be taking you to jail.”

A note from villa1ny

Criminals, con artists and necromancers. Aw - does Momo fall into all three categories? A triple threat.

Cellmates

This jail cell is even cozier than the one in Bruda, Momo thought, smiling gleefully as she spread out like a handcuffed starfish on the cold, steel floor. It was spacious, smelled only mildly of death, and included a small pillow. She’d be giving it five stars.

“Are you… enjoying this?”

Radu peered over her from above, interrupting what could have been a nice doze. She frowned, turning up to face him. She retracted her five star rating - as this cell included a cellmate. She considered bribing one of the guards for a single room, but she didn’t want to hurt the lizard’s feelings.

“Of course I’m enjoying it,” she said, “I don’t even have to pay for lodging. It’s a money saver.”

He laughed, shaking his head “You have the world’s most optimistic view on prison.”

He sunk down onto the floor beside her, poking at the cuffs around his wrists. Unlike Momo’s, they were glowing with a magical aura. They seemed to have an enchanted property to them, only awarded to the most wanted offenders: the red Radu, the frog-like Teddy, and a few other unfamiliar con artists in the surrounding cages.

The knights seemed to use the same magic at the pub, casting a wave of mana curses to instantly disable the revolting Con Artists. A few evaded arrest with the old-fashioned 'outrun the cops' strategy, but Momo had gone easy. She wasn't interested in running or paying for a hotel. A win-win.

“They finally gave me the mana-depleters,” Radu grumbled, pulling at the handcuffs unsuccessfully. “This is going to make escape more difficult than usual.”

Escape? Momo couldn’t understand why anyone would want to leave. Prison on Alois was nothing but free accommodation to her. It wasn’t like back on Earth, where prison guards would scare you with notions of torture or hell. Momo had already slept next to Devola, which covered the torture part, and she’d gone to the Nether, and it was tolerable enough. It had takeout, and nail salons.

“I think I’ll stay here for a bit, actually,” Momo said, massaging her temples, “I haven’t slept well in months.”

“Gods, I know living on the streets is bad, but I didn’t know prison was much better,” Radu said, wearing a pitying expression.

“What? I don’t live on the streets,” Momo frowned, “I’m part of a — guild.”

His eyebrows shot up. “You’re part of a guild and you live like that? What is it, the Sufferers Guild For Tortured and Masochistic People?”

Valerica would probably have preferred that name, Momo thought begrudgingly. She decided to not reflect on that thought, or what it might imply about her living situation.

“No,” Momo shook her head, “we’re a law-abiding and prestigious dumpling society.”

“Dumping society?”

“Dumpling,” she corrected him, narrowing her eyes, “it is a simple yet delicious food, ubiquitous across many cultures, manifesting in different shapes and delicious forms.”

His smile grew, “oh I am very sorry, my dear lady. I didn’t mean to offend your dumpling sensibilities.”

Momo groaned, closing her eyes again. This is why she chose not to interact with strangers.

Still, there was something about the lizard-boy that put her at ease. She didn’t usually spare more words than “yes,” “no,” “Momo,” or “I’ll be leaving now,” with people outside of Valerica, but he had a disarmingly charismatic presence. Too charismatic.

Momo opened her eyes again, her suspicions renewed.

“Are you conning me right now?” she said, pointing an accusatory finger.

His eyes widened, and he laughed, taken off guard.

“It would be a pretty terrible con, if this was the outcome.”

That was true. Momo frowned.

“Then why do I not find you terrible to talk to?” Momo mumbled.

“Are you calling me charming?” Radu grinned, his pearly-white teeth flashing, “well, thank you.”

Momo’s frown deepened. That couldn’t be it. Momo was not so easily and so quickly charmed.

Except by most beautiful women, in which she was usually taking orders embarrassingly immediately. See: Momo’s entire life since she had been resuscitated on this planet.

But a conniving lizard man? That was a different equation entirely.

“I know what it is,” Momo said, coming to a realization as she studied him, “it’s your cute little gecko face.”

“My - what?”

“It reminds me of something tiny and defenseless, like a baby reptile. But it is a front.”

“Yes, well, obviously, seeing as I am a gecko-man and not a man-shaped-gecko.”

Momo’s eyes widened. Ah!

“So I was right about the order of those things,” she grinned.

He blinked at her, bewildered. “I must reaffirm that you are a very strange person.”

Momo shrugged, “and you’re part lizard. That isn’t very normal either.”

“I must disagree with you. Halflings are a very common species on Alois. Gods, you must really be a sheltered one,” he said, scooching closer to her on the prison cell floor. His beady eyes studied her.

“Are you a Nether demon?” he asked innocently.

Momo's jaw dropped, affronted. “Of course I’m not. I am a one-hundred-percent regular person.”

“You told me earlier that you have a rat running your heart.”

“It’s an assistive device,” Momo pouted, “plenty of people have them.”

“Touché,” he said, and sighed, “I’m just making conversation. It’ll be forever until we get an audience with the Head Knight. Could be hours, days, weeks. There’s a long list of criminals on her cutting block.”

“Sounds perfect,” Momo said, curling into a fetal position, “I’ll be asleep. Please only wake me in the case of extreme danger.”

Radu crossed his arms, an unbelieving expression on his face. “Are you really not going to try and escape? Do you even know what happens to people who get sentenced?”

This caught Momo’s attention, and she turned reluctantly to face him.

“They get sentenced to multiple years of hotel-jail?”

He chuckled. “No. There’s a reason they call a meeting with Head Knight Vivienne, ‘Final Judgment.’ Death by executioner’s blade is the lucky way out with her.”

Momo’s skin crawled. And necromancers were supposed to be the evil ones? Valerica was basically a walking Mother Teresa next to your average Holy Knight.

“That doesn’t seem… fun,” Momo sighed. She saw her pleasant future of sleeping on this wonderfully hard floor crumble in front of her. Instead, she would have to do something about it. The worst fate of all.

“A very apt deduction,” he joked, “are you sure you’re not part of a Detective’s Guild for Expert Sleuths?”

“They wouldn’t know how to handle my level of intellect,” Momo muttered, not taking kindly to his sarcasm. His cute little gecko face would only get him so far with her.

She peered through the bars of the cell, analyzing the room. Theirs was just one cell in a long hallway, cages barricading the walkway on each side. Knights patrolled up and down the way, carefully glaring at anyone with too much hope in their eyes. Momo noted the keyrings hanging out of their belts. If she just had extremely long, invisible hands…

Oh - wait. She kind of did.

She retreated to the back of the cage, trying to put a distance between herself and the knights’ prying ears. Once she was sufficiently un-hearable, she made a clicking sound.

An invisible, furry head nudged into her hand.

“So you did make it past the guards!” Momo whispered excitedly, nuzzling the invisible cat, “who’s the most devious, sneakiest little kitty? You are.”

“I’m sorry, are you insane? Or is someone in the room with us that I don’t know about?”

“Keep your voice down,” Momo insisted, “Dusk, this is Radu. Radu, Dusk.”

Radu’s entire body tensed as the cat pawed at his ankles.

“What in the Gods’ many names just touched me?” he yelped quietly, goosebumps running up and down his scales, “was that a floating paw?”

“It’s just a cat,” Momo shrugged, “no need for all the drama.”

“An invisible cat,” he argued, glaring. “A little warning would have helped.”

“Sorry,” she said, not really meaning it. She reached out, tugging Dusk away from Radu’s legs. She had begun to play with them like a scratching post, much to his evident displeasure.

“I know Dusky, the scales have such a good texture,” Momo sympathized, cradling the invisible feline, “but we have to respect people’s personal space regardless of how fun it is to pet them.”

“I’m sorry - pet me?”

Momo ignored him, and scratched behind Dusk’s ears.

“I have an assignment for you. I know you’re used to being upper management now, but since we left your lackeys back at home, you’re going to have to get your paws dirty for a bit. Is that okay?”

The cat purred quietly in agreement. Momo grinned.

“Good, then,” Momo pointed discreetly at the keys hanging from the guards’ belts, “I’m going to need you to sneak that keyring off of him. He can’t see or hear you, okay? I know the seeing part is easy, but we can’t have those keys flying around the place.”

The cat’s head nodded against her palm.

“That’s not a half bad idea,” Radu interjected, eyes glowing with mischief, “if I can get these mana-suckers off, I can get us out of here with ease.”

Momo nodded. She was happy to let the cat and lizard carry the bulk of this escape plan. It allowed time for maybe a 2 or 3 minute in-between nap.

“Alright Dusky,” Momo leaned in, whispering into the cat’s translucent ear, “it’s go time.”

A note from villa1ny

Want to know what happens next? You can find out right now on Patreon!

The Escape

A note from villa1ny

A story shoutout to fellow author 5un, who's writing a very cool dark fantasy isekai / progression fantasy called Imprimis Son. Check out the blurb below to see if it might be up your alley:

Logan's life has not been pleasant; in fact, he was even looking forwards to the "endless dream" that Mikey, his guide to the afterlife (and now resident of his mind), promised was awaiting him. Logan learned early on not to get his hopes up though; nothing good ever comes easy or free. His peaceful afterlife sabotaged; Logan now finds himself stranded in an unfamiliar world of monsters, myths, and malevolence.

Struggling to cope with his past and desperately clinging to life and an uncertain future, Logan must make new allies and grow strong enough to survive in a world full of gods, monsters, and mortals of many varieties.

For Logan though, good things never last. And when the other shoe drops, the Central Realms will know his name.

Dusk slinked between the bars of the cage, prowling towards the knight. Momo had learned that if she concentrated hard enough on the cat’s movements, she could see the slightest outline in its form. Just as the vampire had stepped between shadows, Dusk reflected light back at the viewer, leaving small visual artifacts in the space between.

Momo furrowed her eyebrows. She had no idea how she knew all of that. It sounded like something she might have learned in a Materials class back in art school, but she was asleep for like 90% of that course. It seemed these intellect points even worked in retrospect - dredging up memories that had been long covered in neuron cobwebs.

As the patrol guard turned on his heel, an invisible paw reached up and swatted the key ring. It emitted a faint jingle, and Momo’s hands went to her mouth, eyes bulging in horror. Luckily, the room was a cacophony of noise and conversation. The guards didn’t seem to notice.

“Come on, Dusk, we didn’t do those hamstring stretches for nothing,” Momo muttered nervously through her fingers, anxiously watching the cat make a second attempt, “put your back paws into it.”

Dusk jumped, catching the key in her mouth. The keyring gave way, unhooking from the belt on Dusk's descent. With the keys in her jaws, she pranced back towards the cage, sliding through the bars.

“That’s my little hero,” Momo cheered quietly, taking the keys from her and shoving them in her robe pocket. Some prisoners in other cages had caught on - watching the keyring float itself into their cage, but luckily they knew better than to speak up. Teddy gave the pair of them an impressed thumbs up.

“I might have to borrow her for some heists I’m planning,” Radu said, sitting in awe. “She’s sneakier than my best Rogue.”

“She doesn’t do freelance work, sorry,” Momo said, scratching behind the cat’s ears. “She likes to keep it in-house.”

“Right,” Radu laughed. “But seriously, what kind of cat can go invisible? I’ve never seen an animal companion with that power before. It must have some unique class.”

Momo’s pulse quickened. “Special class? Oh, no, it’s just an um, enchanted… collar.”

“Wouldn’t I see the collar, if she was wearing one?”

“Um.. No, obviously not,” Momo coughed, “because it’s also invisible.”

“You somehow came across an [Invisible Collar of Invisibility]?”

“...Yes,” she affirmed, deadpan. “I was cleaning my room and then, boom, I was like – what is this thing? An invisible object? Maybe I should try putting it on my cat.”

He stared at her blankly.

Momo’s cheeks flushed. She was a terrible liar.

“My keys are gone!”

The guard slapped his hand around his belt, feeling for his key ring. When he couldn’t locate it, his face grew as red as a cherry tomato.

“One of those dirty sleuthing criminals took my keys!”

The other patrolling knight turned to him. “What? There’s no way. Not a single soul has moved from the cages.”

“They must have! My keys were here a second ago, and now they’re gone.”

“Hand them to me,” Radu whispered harshly as the knights began to go cell to cell, throwing open the doors and performing full searches on each prisoner.

Momo fished them nervously from her pocket, covertly handing them to the lizard. He hid behind Momo’s back, beginning to fiddle with his cuffs.

“There’s like seventy keys on this thing,” he groaned, “you’ll need to keep lookout while I try them.”

Momo nodded, beginning to sweat. She couldn’t believe she was trading the comfort of her cell for a one-way ticket to the judgment chamber. This is what happened when she let people talk her into things.

She kept her eyes trained on the knights, who were only a few cells away now. They left bruised bodies in their wake, the lesser con artists trembling with fear as they approached their cell.

“Please hurry up,” Momo whined, bobbing her knee nervously, “I do not want to get poked with one of those longswords today. I don’t think my malnourished body even has the capability to heal wounds anymore.”

“Shh, stop complaining,” he whispered. “I only have a few keys left, so one of them has to be –”

Momo heard something click, and the cuffs rattled to the ground.

“What was that?” a knight shouted, snapping his head in their direction. “Septim, I think I heard one of these slippery slimes get out of their chains.”

“You guys give the weirdest nicknames,” Radu groaned, flexing his arms. “Anyhow, prepared to die?”

Momo yelped, stepping backwards. She didn’t want to get in the way of anything that started with that opening line. Dusk scurried back with her, and the reptilian man stepped forward, jutting his palms out.

“Septim, it’s one of the dangerous ones! Take cover!”

The knights scrambled, losing their footing in their panic. They tripped over themselves as they headed towards the entrance, falling in a clump of heavy metal.

Radu laughed, lowering his hands. “Gods, I was just going to [Charm] you into fighting each other, but this is just embarrassing. Momo, why don’t you take care of them? I’ll conserve my powers for later.”

Momo blushed, feeling like she had just been called up to the whiteboard in class. Take care of them? She barely knew how to say her own name out loud.

“I - uh, I’m —”

Recovering from their shock, the knight's fear turned to fury. They pulled away from each other, and once again regained their stance, pointing their swords outwards.

“That small one? Please. She is nothing more than a street orphan! I could tap her with my finger and she’d fall to pieces.”

“I could spit on her and she’d turn to dust!”

“I could so much as blow in her direction and she’d fly away like a feeble kite!”

The insults fell heavier than usual on her shoulders, and Momo’s lip quivered. Something inside her writhed. It was a feeling entirely new to her - like emotional indigestion. She knew they were right, but she… didn’t want them to be. She felt possessed to move towards them. To arch her shoulders back, and employ her new guiding principle:

WWVD. What Would Valerica Do.

“My name is not ‘the small one’,” she demanded, trying with all her might to sound like she wasn't five seconds away from curling up into a ball.

“Oh yeah, what is it then?” Septim jeered, bearing his teeth.

“My name is Momo,” she inhaled, and then stepped towards them, “Momo The Ripper.”

She projected every confident cell in her body towards that single line. To her great surprise, their confident expressions faltered. It wasn’t quite a James Bond level of intimidation, but the knights’ faces went as white as sheet paper.

“...The Ripper?”

“Did we misjudge her?” Septim said, voice wavering. “Is she one of them?”

They began to slowly retreat, their eyes glowing with fear. Momo couldn’t believe it, taken aback by their reaction. She had actually scared someone! Admittedly, these two knights seemed to panic faster than the world’s smallest prey animal, but it was a start. It was something.

One small step for Momo, one huge feat for Momokind.

“She has to be bluffing.”

I absolutely am, she thought, resisting the call of the fetal position.But she had defeated a vampire. She could deal with a couple mousey knights, too.

She shifted her feet, thrusting her hands out towards them.

“Momo The Ripper specialty move,” she shouted, “[Abysmal Burst II]!”

The knights shrieked as the sizzling ball of dark energy surged at them. Their faces went from white to ashen gray, their hair standing straight up, electrified. They were splayed in a mass of limbs, looking like they had just been leveled by a cannonball.

“Oh, gosh,” Momo whispered to herself, worrying her lip, “did I too much? I didn’t mean to kill them.”

Septim’s eyes snapped open, and he managed a last trembling plea.

“Please! We surrender, oh great Ripper! Let us live!”

The knights got down on their knees, laying their hands down in a praying pose. Momo’s eyes widened. This was new. Her temporary confidence faltered, unsure how to respond.

“I - um, I’ll think about it,” Momo mumbled.

“Thank you, merciful Ripper!”

“Um, anytime.”

“Alright, Ripper, let’s get going,” Radu laughed, tugging her sleeve. He threw the keyring through one of the cages, and yelled back towards Teddy. “You can deal with the rest of the slimes, me and the Ripper will excavate a path out of here!”

“Thanks boss,” Teddy waved, his froggy lips turning into an eerie smile.

As Momo and Radu headed up the stairs out of the jailhouse, Radu abruptly lurched to the side, taking Momo with him. She yelped, but he covered her mouth, holding a finger to his lips. With wide eyes, she watched as a patrol of guards passed in front of them.

Peering around the corner, Momo took in their new surroundings. The stairs to the jailhouse gave way to the central hallway of the larger knight hall. The guards walked along a long, red carpet, a chained, handcuffed boy in tow behind them.

“They’re headed to the Head Knight’s Judgement Room,” Radu said, once they were out of earshot. The one leading the pack is one of Vivienne’s personal knights - Bagan. We don’t want to mess with him if we can avoid it.”

“I would like to avoid messing with anything and everyone, forever, actually."

Radu smirked. “That’s not what it seemed like back there. You didn’t even need my help.”

“Well, I warned you,” Momo stuttered, “I rip people.”

“I still don’t believe that.”

“Fine,” Momo mumbled, and slid against the wall she was leaning on. As she entered a sitting position, a piece of parchment flew with supersonic speed down the hallway, parking itself in Momo’s hands.

Radu’s eyes widened. “Is that always how your parchment comes in?”

“Uh, yes?” Momo quirked her head. “Isn’t that normal?”

“Um, absolutely not,” Radu said. “Mine just… materializes in my hands. That’s how it is for most people. I’ve heard of some people whose Couriers have a special personality, but that’s… very rare.”

He looked at her strangely. Momo looked away, not fond of being gawked at. She opted to inspect the paper in her hand instead.

Oh - wow. She grinned, wide as a whale. She did it.

A note from villa1ny

Hey there! A quick update on my posting schedule. For the rest of December and early January, I'm going to primarily post new chapters on Mo/Wed/Fri, instead of every single day. This is due to the holidays - have family commitments and all that. Thanks for your understanding! <3

Knight Momo

Congratulations! For finally overcoming your small and powerless persona, your [Burgeoning Confidence II] has upgraded to [Self Assurance I].

[Self Assurance I]: Your old insecurities no longer torment you. While you’re not quite ready to captain an army, flagging down a waiter to ask for the check no longer plagues you with deep seated anxiety.

+ 9 CHA to base Charisma.

Momo couldn’t believe it. She visualized ordering upfront at McDonalds, and felt only a twinge of pain. A twinge! Not a seismic tsunami of cringe like she was used to suffering from. When she arrived in Alois, just daydreaming about that encounter would inflict her with day-long nausea.

“What’s a ‘check’?” Radu asked, peering over her shoulder. Momo held the scroll to her chest, annoyed by the intrusion. The last time someone spied on her parchment, it didn’t end so well for her. Or, rather, for him.

“You know, like the bill you get at a restaurant?”

“Restaurant?”

“Nevermind.”

“You really aren’t from around here, are you?” Radu said, nudging her in the side.

“Definitely not,” Momo sighed, peering down at the ghostly parchment as it wriggled in her palms. “A fact I am reminded of regularly.”

Radu hummed, not interrogating further. The footsteps of another set of oncoming knights drew their attention once again to their situation.

“So, are you ready to escape? Or are you still considering sleeping outside the Judgment Room like Vivienne’s loyal lap dog?” Radu whispered.

She glared at him, and he smirked.

“We have two options,” he said, gesturing to opposite ends of the hallways, “certain death, or mildly certain death.”

“I would prefer certain survival, actually,” Momo mumbled. “Can we choose that instead?”

“Unfortunately, no. If we interrupt the Judgment proceeding, we’ll be trapped in a room with Vivienne and her executioner, two Expert level casters. If we go the other way, we strut right into the Knight’s Barracks. You can guess how that would go.”

Momo did not like those choices. She was suddenly immensely jealous of Dusk’s class choice. Why couldn’t she turn invisible every time a dangerous situation arose?

Radu snapped his fingers in front of her.

“You have a truly terrible attention span," he remarked dryly.

“It’s an attention deficit, actually,” she mumbled.

“I don’t care what kind of attention it is, as long as it’s focused on finding us a plan. Personally, I think we have a better bet intervening with Judgement Day.”

“Yeah, no way,” Momo choked. “That’s where the small, scary woman is.”

“She’s not that scary. Sure, she’s an expert level Holy Knight - but I’ve dealt with a handful of them. They’re only truly scary if you’re a necromancer.”

Momo blinked, desperately willing her skin to stop profusely stress-sweating.

“Why would it be scary for necromancers? Out of mere curiosity,” she stuttered.

He squinted at her oddly. “Because all Dark classes are weak to Light magics, like the ones Holy classes wield. Didn’t you learn that in school?”

Momo had been busy learning how to read, but looking back, class synergies seemed much more relevant.

“Right, yes, of course,” she mumbled, “in that case - I mean completely unrelatedly - we’ll be going through the Knight Quarters. They don’t have any light magic there, right?”

“Regular knights? No, they’re just physical builds. But I still don’t see your point, unless you’re…”

“Don’t even insinuate such a terrible accusation,” Momo whispered, her robes growing damp with sweat, “I’ve simply thought of a better plan, is all. A pacifist route through all of this.”

He chuckled. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yep,” she said, trying to project confidence. Her betraying teeth chattered nervously as she watched the knights amble back down the hallway. From the screams coming from the Execution - er - Judgement Chamber, Momo could guess that the accused didn’t exactly get a slap on the wrist.

“I’m sorry if I ask too much,” Radu said, pulling her attention again, “but do you think you could enlighten me onto this plan before we go running to our deaths?”

“Oh, um. Yeah,” her voice wavered, “how many times can you cast [Charm]?”

“I have one more in me before it goes on cooldown,” he said, narrowing his eyes, “what are you thinking?”

“Do that thing you talked about down in the jail,” Momo instructed, punching the air to demonstrate the attack combo. “[Charm] one of them, have him attack the other, and then we steal both of their clothes.”

He laughed, incredulous. “Steal their clothes?”

Momo nodded. She saw no problem with this plan.

“Momo, I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but you’re very small.”

Momo grimaced. “I’ve never been told that before, no.”

“How do you expect to fit in that armor?”

She hadn’t thought of that part.

“I’ll make it work,” she grumbled, “if I puff out my chest enough…”

“And double your body weight.”

That’d be easy, she’d just shove – oh no. Her eyes widened. Her knapsack.

“Wait, where did they put our stuff?” she said, suddenly miserable. “Where’s all of my gold?”

“That’ll be in the Knight’s Quarters as well. They usually have it in a storage room.”

“Okay, then we’re definitely going there. That coin was my life’s work,” Momo meekly insisted, on the brink of tears.

The guards were only a matter of feet from them now. Radu sighed.

“Fine. On your ready, then, Ripper.”

As the knights approached the small barrier, Radu shot upwards, slinging his hands out.

“[Charm]!”

Pink and white light flashed from Radu’s palms, encircling the knight. The knight swatted his gauntlets at it, desperately attempting to dismiss the magical fog.

“What is this flamingo-colored witchery?” he panicked.

Momo blinked. So they had flamingos here, too? They insisted on having every species of bird, but no one had ever heard of a dumpling? Whoever designed this universe was truly tasteless.

The other knight unsheathed his blade, pointing it at Radu’s throat.

“An escaped slime,” the knight seethed. “Bow to the floor, or I will cut you down.”

“That sword is a bit close for comfort,” Radu remarked, looking down at the blade hovering closely to his jugular. “Knight number one, would you mind taking care of it?”

The attacking knight’s eyes widened as his counterpart hurtled at him, knocking him to the ground. The charmed knight’s eyes had gone bloodshot pink. His mouth was slack, drooling like a thoughtless zombie.

“That is so gross,” Momo commented. “Please never [Charm] me.”

“Stay on my good side, and you have nothing to worry about,” Radu laughed. The pair of them watched the knights tussle like a televised bull fight. With their weapons knocked to the floor, the two swung at each other desperately.

After a few minutes of watching them helplessly smack each other in the face, Momo began to feel guilty.

“I think maybe we should intervene,” Momo worried. “This feels like animal cruelty.”

Radu laughed, but turning to Momo, he realized she was serious.

“You do realize knights are people, right?”

“Barely,” she said, biting her lip. “They seem to produce less thoughts per second than your average dog.”

“Fair.”

“Go on,” Momo said, waving her hand at Radu. “Stop them.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m not your lackey,” Radu laughed. “Why don’t you do something?”

“I’m out of offensive skills,” Momo confessed, looking towards the floor. Well, offensive skills that won’t make bones fling out of their skeletons.

“Ah, a defensive class, hm?” Radu said, nodding in acceptance. Momo had no idea what he was talking about, but she nodded back. Her class didn’t feel very defensive. Unless you counted [Polymorph - Tree Stump], which she did not. It increased her vulnerability to [Lumberjacks] by 100%.

The image of a man in a cardigan being the last thing she saw before being chopped into firewood terrified her in a way no other death scenario did. She’d rather be strangled by an octopus than be culled by a man who insisted on calling a ‘bun’ a ‘man bun’.

The uncharmed knight landed a substantial punch, and his opponent’s helm went flying.

“Okay, I’ve seen enough,” Radu sighed, annoyed. “[Daze].”

The uncharmed knight’s eyes settled into a blank stare, and he let out a gurgling sound. In his confusion, his opponent swung again, knocking his head into the wall in front of them. He clattered to the ground, knocked out.

Momo worriedly turned the corner, squatting to press her fingers to his pulse point.

“Thank God,” she sighed.

“You do realize they would have happily killed us, right?” Radu said, looking at her disapprovingly.

“I don’t blame dogs for how they were raised,” she frowned. “They can always be rehabilitated.”

“They are knights, not –,” he sighed, “you know what, nevermind. We need to get this armor on before someone comes to investigate all the yelling.”

Momo nodded, tugging the helmet off of the knight. She then popped off the shoes, and undid the straps attaching the legs to the chestplate. The suit’s engineering was quite impressive - modular, yet secure. She made a mental note to do a sketch of it later.

With the knights undressed, she had Radu drag their bodies behind the wall. He initially complained, but Momo told him her strength stat, and he quickly got to work.

"You need to start lifting," he said, stretching his arms after dropping the second knight, "and eating. With a strength stat like that, your soul might accidentally trip and fall out of your body one of these days."

Momo frowned. She was working on it.

Regardless - she had bigger things to worry about. With the slumbering bodies successfully stowed away, Momo slipped on the armor.

“You look absolutely ridiculous.”

“I feel absolutely ridiculous,” Momo muttered, drowning in her boots. The helmet felt like wearing a steel basketball, and the chestplate went all the way down to her knees. She looked like a child who had broken into her mother’s closet.

“Can you even walk?” Radu asked, looking at her in disbelief.

Momo lifted one of the boots, and her foot nearly slipped out of it. She tumbled forward, catching herself on the wall.

“A little,” she said, her lips squished to the stone surface.

“This is hopeless,” Radu groaned. He had fit into his armor nicely enough. The knights were a bit bigger than him, but not by too much. Momo, on the other hand…

“I can manage,” she insisted. She wanted this plan to work. Not just from an obvious survival perspective, but on the much more important being right perspective. She didn’t know why, but she wanted Radu to respect her. To see her as an equal in their impromptu partnership.

“Can you?” He narrowed his eyes.

She lifted herself from the wall, and took a larger step towards the Knight’s Barracks. Her balance wavered, but she caught herself. She arched her back downwards, walking like a scoliotic grandmother.

“Try and catch up!” she called back, wobbling towards their destination. If she kept herself low enough to the ground, she could get by without falling.

He sighed, but reluctantly paced behind her. Within a matter of seconds, he had lapped her - strolling far in front. Momo frowned. It was fine. This was like the Turtle and the Hare; she’d be victorious eventually.

“Just stay behind me. I’ll do the talking,” Radu said, “if anyone asks why you look like that… you just say you were injured in battle, and someone took your legs.”

“But I still have legs –”

“Okay, then say they took half of your legs,” Radu sighed, “I don’t know. Find an explanation for losing half your body mass.”

She nodded. She’d have to put on her best performance. She inhaled, forming the story in her mind. “My name is Knight Momo. I was in a freak accident involving a bird,” she said, embodying the role, “I’m still very sensitive about it.”

“That’s… sure,” Radu winced. “Again, I’ll do the talking. But please do pick a fake name that isn’t just your name with ‘knight’ in front of it.”

Momo frowned. But Knight Momo had such a ring to it.

A note from villa1ny

EXTRA (FREE) MOMO CONTENT ALERT!

I couldn't sleep the other night, and the following manic thought crossed my mind at 2am:

What if instead of Valerica isekai-ing Momo to Alois, she accidentally isekai-d herself to Earth?

I, of course, had to write it. So if you'd like to read the answer to this question, you can do so right here. It's a free short story on my Patreon. If you find this premise as amusing as I do, let me know, and I'll continue writing it.

Nia Nightsbane

Momo clunkily hopped down the stairs into the Knight’s Barracks, gripping the railings for dear life. Radu laughed quietly under his helmet, hearing the girl wobble on each step.

“You think you’ll make it to the storage room?” he whispered.

“I don’t know if I’ll make it down this staircase,” Momo whined, heaving her overburdened feet down yet another step. Her legs were aching, her knees cramping. She felt like a baby duckling in an oil spill.

“We’re almost there,” Radu warned, “so act… dignified.”

“I lost my dignity like eight steps ago.”

Radu looked back at her, a seriousness in his gaze.

“Don't worry. I’ll be very dignified,” she assured him, rolling her eyes. It was only three more steps until they reached the bottom, and Momo thanked every God she was aware of when they did. She let out a heavy sigh, balancing herself on the post of a bed.

The entry room was luckily empty. Most of the knights seemed to either be on patrol, or posted at other places in the larger government building. Looking forward into the main room, Momo could only see a few knights sitting around - mostly resting, or drinking an ale.

“The storage room should be just past the main room. Come on.”

Momo obediently followed Radu towards the room, trying to control her wobble as much as possible. She was just thankful to be on an even surface.

As they reached the main room, they were greeted with a few nods from their fellow knights, who acknowledged them with reactions ranging from mild curiosity to unconscious drunkenness.

“Howdy do?” one of the drunken knights said, stopping the pair in their tracks. “You need a’ visit to the smithy? Because you look like you’re drowning in your boots.”

“She got roughed up by a couple slimes,” Radu said, giving Momo the do not speak signal. She was happy not to. While Radu drew the knight’s attention elsewhere, Momo’s eyes wandered to a nearby pinboard.

Upon further inspection, Momo realized it was the Knight’s Quest board. Her eyes widened as she took in the sheer volume of quests pinned there. It had to be in the hundreds – with each pin holding dozens of pieces of parchment behind it. No wonder a prisoner could wait days to get sentenced. The bridge to Nam’Dal had only been a tasting of the crime that plagued this city.

Standing out amongst the rest was a forensic portrait that was drawn and printed dozens of times – a detailed portrait of a woman. She had long blonde hair, gaunt cheeks, and an ice-cold stare that transcended the page. Momo felt like she knew her from somewhere, but had no clue where. It wasn’t like she regularly associated with wanted criminals.

She frowned. Did Valerica count?

Momo yelped as the tip of a sword struck the woman’s face, stabbing straight through the middle of the parchment. Her eyes followed the sword to its hilt, finding a hulking knight staring at her through his faceplate. Blood splattered his metal helm.

“That woman is a curse,” he grunted, and while Momo couldn’t see any injuries, she could hear them in his tone. “Do you value your life? Then don’t even think about pursuing her. Don’t fall for Vivienne’s promised rewards, neither - you’ll never see them if you’re swimming around the Nether.”

“Thanks for the heads up,” Momo squeaked, stepping away from the blade. He nearly made her into a Momo kebab with that sword thrust.

Hearing the commotion, Radu returned to her side.

“You went toe to toe with Nia Nightsbane and survived?” The lizard inquired, disbelief coloring his voice.

Nia. So that was her name. It didn’t really fit the menacing image, but Momo supposed that ‘Momo’ didn’t fit her menacing image, either. She puffed out her chest, wobbling around in her boots.

“Barely,” the knight answered, wincing as he lowered himself into a nearby stool. “I intercepted her while she was running off with another artifact from the Treasury, but she plowed me down before I could even unsheath my blade. I went running for the hills after that. Didn’t stop until I made it here. I’m not dying for no ‘special reward’.”

Momo’s ears perked up. Special reward?

“What kind of reward are we talking about?” Momo said, deepening her voice.

“Why does your friend here sound like she’s doing a terrible Orc impression?” the knight narrowed his eyes. “Not to mention that gear…”

“Ah, sorry, she got hit badly on the head,” Radu said, glaring at Momo. “And the rest of the body.”

“Bird attack,” Momo coughed, looking at the floor.

“Right,” the knight shook his head, too exhausted to investigate any further. “I can’t imagine you haven’t heard of the reward. Twenty thousand coins, and an enchanted weapon from the Treasury. It’s all these metal-headed blabbermouths can talk about. We’ve already lost ten of our men in the last month to its allure.”

Momo ignored the deadly part, her eyes enlarging at the price tag. Twenty thousand coins. She could swim in a constantly-refilled pool of cabbage soup for that kind of coin. She could pay off some sort of Nether universe-smuggler to get her genuine, earthly dumplings. Oh, the possibilities were endless.

“Thank you for the warning,” Radu said, giving a knightly nod. “We have to go get some things from storage.”

The injured knight grunted, and Radu tore Momo away from the board by the elbow, taking her out of earshot.

“I don’t like that glint in your eye,” Radu shook his head. “Nia’s an expert level [Dark Thief] with a body count in the hundreds. You? I could barely motivate you to move off the jail cell floor.”

“I would have moved faster, if twenty thousand coins were waiting for me,” she muttered.

Regardless, he did have a point. An expert level [Dark Thief]? That was the same class as Olivia Magelegs - the infamous King-killer. Of course, that crime paled in comparison to the annoying know-it-all that was her son, but Momo digressed.

She didn’t want to kill anybody, even if they were worth a cabbage soup bath. She did still have some semblance of a moral compass, even after a month under Valerica’s mentorship.

“I was just thinking about it,” she mumbled, “that’s all.”

“Thinking is a dangerous thing to do.”

Tell me about it, she thought wistfully. Thinking was what got her here, stuffed into an oversized knight suit knee-deep in enemy territory. She could be asleep, peacefully awaiting certain death. Not running straight towards it in too-big boots.

“Anyway, we have to move,” Radu whispered, watching as more knights filled the main chambers. They had avoided suspicion so far, but Momo’s odd, ill-fitting shape had attracted more than a few glances. “The storage rooms are right down the hall, past the sleeping quarters.”

Momo looked at him suspiciously. “How do you know so much about how things work down here?”

“I’ve had to find my way out quite a few times. I told you, they hunt [Con Artists] and [Thieves] for sport these days. It’s a preliminary measure by the King, since Kyros is having a spat with the God of Thievery. The underlings always pay for the mess of the Gods.”

Momo nodded. Hearing about all the other godly beef going around, Morgana seemed rather relaxed in contrast. Sure, there was the whole ‘necromantic empire building’ thing, but Momo didn’t concern herself with that. It was above her paygrade.

Radu led Momo through the sleeping quarters, past a series of napping knights. Nia’s face haunted every corner of the building - her wanted posters plastered on every wall. The injured knight hadn’t lied. The knight brigade was basically a club of her groupies.

“Have you ever met her?” Momo whispered, pointing to one of the posters as they breezed past another set of cots.

“A few times,” Radu said, a shadow crossing his face. “She’s a freelancer, so she takes on some of the more rewarding quests on our guild board, when she chooses.”

“Is she as pretty in person?”

Radu gaped.

“Is that seriously what you’re wondering about, of all things?”

“Um, no,” Momo blushed. “But for a bunch of people who apparently hate her, the forensic sketch they drew up could easily be confused with a magazine cover.”

He chuckled. “Fair enough. It’s weirdly flattering. But yes - she is pretty. She’s also terrifying. Not much makes me shiver like a lizard, but her mere presence sends chills down my spine.”

Momo grinned. She liked her already.

After passing by the last set of beds, they came upon a heavy wooden door. Radu tried the handle, but it just rattled against its latch.

“Damn it,” he grumbled, “locked from the inside.”

“Hey,” a voice boomed. “What are you two trying at?”

They whipped around, face-to-face with a huge bear. Er, knight. Bear in a knight costume? Momo’s brain ran into a computing error. Whatever it was, it was certifiably adorable.

“Oh my god. You are so cute,” Momo said, her hands itching to reach out and squish his furry cheeks. This knight was the largest they’d seen yet - standing at least three feet higher than Momo, even in her oversized boots.

“Momo, stop it,” Radu whispered. “You can’t talk to halflings like that.”

“Halflings, right,” she said, restraining herself. They were people, with personal boundaries, even if they looked like cuddly medieval stuffed animals. “I’m sorry, Mr. Bear, I’ve just never seen so many of you before.”

“My name is Lord Gunther,” he gritted his teeth, snarling. “I am your superior, and you will address me as such.”

Momo noticed the intricate designs on his armor. Unlike the generic steel plates that the other knights wore, a tapestry of sewn material was draped over his chestplate. It had an artistically rendered sun, with a human-like face drawn in the center. The background of the tapestry was blue and brown, while the sun was gleaming yellow.

It reminded her of what Valerica told her once—you look too Kyrosian. Blue and brown, those had to be the colors of Kyros. Momo had still yet to ask what Kyros’ domains were, but the [Holy Knights] seemed to bear his insignias with great pride.

Momo nodded furiously. “My apologies, Lord Bea- Gunther.”

He huffed. “I ask again, with less patience, what are you trying with that door? Do you wish to break the handle?”

“We forgot the keys, my Lord,” Radu said pleadingly, putting on a convincing show. “Do you happen to have some?”

“Gods, no wonder King Jarva sent me here. The ineptitude is simply alarming,” Gunther bemoaned, crossing his furry arms. “Of course I have the keys. Step aside.”

Radu and Momo gladly obliged, and Radu grinned at Momo as the bear fumbled a keyring out of his pocket.

“If these are the knights that Vivienne commands, then she is unfit to rule even a pig farm,” Gunther muttered to himself as he tried several keys in the ring, each clanging unsuccessfully against the lock. “Damn it!”

“Would you like some help, sir?” Radu ventured, and the bear’s head whipped around to glare at him.

“Be quiet, you rabble, before I heave you off to the King myself,” he gritted his teeth, and tried a final key in the lock. It clicked, and the door slid open. “There we go. Didn’t need any help, now did I…”

“Thank you so much, sir,” Radu bowed, and Momo followed suit, nearly toppling over in her gear.

“Don’t thank me, just don’t forget your keys next…” the knight trailed off. His wide nose wrinkled, and he inhaled sharply, sniffing the air around him. His eyes traveled from Radu to Momo, and then they narrowed, gleaming with contempt.

Oh no. Momo began to tremble. If she was right, and he was a [Holy Knight]...

“Something doesn’t smell right about you.”

He leaned in, his nose scrunching as it sat an inch from her face.

“You smell downright diabolical.”

A note from villa1ny

Want to know what happens next? You can access 2 advanced chapters right now on Patreon!

Also - thoughts on the new cover art? Yay / nay?

Con Artist II

The bear licked his lips. Oh God. He was looking at her like she was about to be his next piece of supper.

“I just fought with a necromancer,” she stuttered, laughing nervously, “if you’re smelling the general scent of death, rot, decay, pestilence, et cetera.”

He squinted his eyes. “Is that so? And who was this necromancer?”

“Sarah,” Momo blurted out, thinking of the first name that came to mind. From behind Gunther, Radu looked like he might have an aneurism. “Sarah the Necromancer.”

“I’m not familiar with a Sarah,” Gunther tilted his head, growing ever closer to Momo. “Seems a bit too average a name. Those necros always call themselves something audacious.”

“Not me,” Momo shook her head furiously. “I have the least audacious name in the books.”

“And what would that be?”

“Momo. Just four letters, no crazy nickname. Except if you count Knight Momo. That’s what the boys in the brigand call me,” she blabbered on, nodding her head up and down for emphasis. “No one loves Kyros more than me. I’m basically his - his biggest fan. I have like three shrines.”

Radu’s face was buried in his hands now, not even able to look up at her. Momo took this as a good sign.

“Well, Knight Momo…” the bear leaned in ever closer. His fur tickled Momo’s face, and she held back a terrified sneeze. “You better get yourself to a bath, because the next knight won’t be as clever as me. Praise Kyros.”

“Praise Kyros,” Momo squeaked, and her hands flew to her stomach. It flared with pain, as if she had been smacked by an invisible hand - or much more likely - a peeved Morgana.

Luckily, the bear took it as a bow.

“Good, well then. I will leave you incapable knights to it.” He straightened his back, and turned on his heel back towards the main room. “If you manage to lock yourself in there, I’m not coming back with a key.”

When he was finally out of earshot, Momo let out the longest breath of her life. She had nearly gone white with the degree of oxygen she was withholding.

“There is no way that worked,” Radu said, standing before her in shock. “I guess my suspicions about you were true, then. Hard to believe you’re a necromancer.”

“Hard to believe you’re a talking lizard,” she grumbled back, crossing her arms.

“Halfling,” he stared, but quickly relaxed. Momo was scared he’d have a bad reaction to her occupation, but if anything, he looked impressed. “I’ve got to hand it to you, that was some terrible acting.”

“I’m a born performer,” Momo mumbled. Those fresh charisma points had definitely done all the work. She was just lucky he didn’t interrogate her any further; if he had asked her a single detail about Kyros, she would have curled up into a ball on the floor and yelled mercy.

“You surely are. That was quite possibly the worst con I’ve ever seen,” Radu said, “but it worked, and we avoided getting our asses handed to us by an expert Holy Knight. I’ve got to say, Momo, you are truly a [Con Artist].”

“Oh no, please don’t say that —”

Before she knew it, she was being smacked in the face by parchment.

“Can I refuse a class?” Momo mumbled miserably, not even looking at the paper. “Please tell me I can refuse it.”

“Can’t refuse fate, my friend,” Radu grinned wolfishly. “One of us, then?”

Steeling herself, she unfurled the piece of paper.

Congratulations! For weaseling your way out of many deadly situations with honeyed words, you have gained a level in the class [Con Artist]  . [Con Artist] now occupies your second major class slot.

“I blame you for this,” she glared at Radu. “You’ve cursed me.”

“With the infinite powers of persuasion?” He grinned. “It’s a blessing, my friend.”

He slunk over her shoulder to inspect the page, and this time she let him.

[Con Artist] is a novice class under the domain of Mordecai, God of Thievery and Deception. For taking a first level in this class, you have gained the skills [Nimble Fingers] and [Sweet Deal].

[Nimble Fingers]: Ooh, shiny! You like it? You take it. Swipe things in the blink of an eye. Makes Pickpocketing 30% easier, Stealing (in broad daylight) 10% easier, and Stealing (dim, dark, or obfuscated lighting) 30% easier.

[Sweet Deal]: Sweeten things up to loosen up your target’s inhibitions. If you give your target a sugary snack before initiating negotiations, persuasion will be 15% easier.

“A sugary snack?” Momo gaped. “Is this seriously a skill?”

“One of my favorites. It’s why I always carry candy,” Radu said, picking a piece of wrapped chocolate out of his pocket. “Want some?”

“What do you take me for? Of course I want some,” she grumbled, popping the triangular chocolate out of its wrapper. She was just about to put it in her mouth before she realized. “You’re not allowed to use the skill on me if I eat this.”

“It’s a passive skill,” he snorted. “If you eat that, it’ll activate regardless.”

She stared at the betraying piece of chocolate. Never in her life had a sweet put her in this kind of position. It was an act of utter treason.

She ate it anyway.

“Whatever, do your deal,” she frowned as she chewed. “Whatever it is, I’ll say no.”

“Uh huh,” he nodded, endlessly amused. “Would you like to come get your gold?”

“Of course I do - wait,” her mind reeled. “Do I?”

Her frown deepened.

“Seeing as the knights you blew up are now informing the entire barracks of our existence, I think you better chew on that question faster.”

Momo whipped around, her face draining of color. Radu was right; the knights from the jailhouse were mere yards away, giving a speech in the main hall. The drunken tavern knights listened intently, growing increasingly angry as the seconds passed.

This was about to go from bad to worse.

The pair of them shuffled into the storage room. It was a large, sprawling room, dim and filled with dust. Armor jutted out of chests, confiscated goods abound. With the amount of criminals stuffed in the cellars below, the room was simply brimming with contraband.

“Oh god, this is hopeless,” Momo cried. “But my cabbage money.”

“Your stupid baubles with all their fake sheen are probably the shiniest thing in there. Look for those.”

True. Momo nodded. Thank God for Valerica’s strange addiction. She feverishly searched the room, digging through confiscated goods like a rabid animal. She’d rather leave this place dead than gold-less.

One problem: she was still wearing this horrendous armor. She’d be crawling for her life instead of running if the knights found them. She needed to take it off and find her stuff, simultaneously. If only she could clone herself -

Ah. Right.

“Dusk, please find all of my stuff,” Momo decreed, hoping the cat was still somehow nearby.

To her luck, the cat chimed in with an obedient meow. Dusk materialized by her feet, her claws red with blood.

Momo looked at her in horror. “Dusk, what did I say about hunting? You don’t even need food! Leave the poor mice alone.”

The cat glowered at her.

“We have so many dead rats at home,” Momo sighed, removing her helmet. “Why pick on the living ones? And don’t tell me it’s because they taste better. I know your taste buds died with you.”

The cat looked up defiantly, not moving an inch.

“I’m not one to tell a mother how to parent, but seeing as we’re about to get skewered by an angry mob of knights, perhaps this discussion can wait?”

“No. She keeps getting out of this conversation by the imminent threat of murder, it can’t just wa—”

Oh god. The knights had spotted them.

“Nevermind. It can wait. Dusk, I’ll find you ten fresh mice on the street outside, please get my coins,” Momo whimpered, holding two praying hands up towards the cat. Placated, Dusk got to work immediately, catching on to Momo’s scent.

Momo began to frantically disrobe. Luckily, she fell out of the bulking, oversized armor just as quickly as she had fallen inside of it. As she removed the last boot, she heard a bag tear open, dozens of clanging baubles tumbling out.

“Not my knapsack,” Momo cried out. “How am I supposed to–”

“Leave the baubles behind and grab the money!”

Radu grabbed his confiscated goods, which sat conveniently next to Momo’s. With the impending knight mob mobilizing towards them, Momo stifled her complaints. She gathered what she could of her coin and stuffed it into her robe pockets.

My precious hoard, she thought sadly, looking at the discarded baubles.

She offered one last, wistful look towards the tiny, faux-gold trinkets.

“You can have your funeral later,” Radu demanded, grabbing her wrist and tearing her out of the room. As they emerged from the doorway, they were met by a tsunami of armored resistance.

“Halt, slimes! You are guilty of treason, murder, and grave inconveniencing!”

Septim, with his hair still burnt to a crisp, led the pack. Behind him were at least eight other knights, in various states of inebriation, their swords pointed towards Momo. They had them surrounded on all sides.

“Shit, we weren’t fast enough,” Radu gritted. “You just had to talk to the cat about vegetarianism–”

“I couldn’t just let her maintain the ‘invasive species’ stereotype,” Momo returned.

“What say you, murderer!” Septim emphasized, cutting off their discussion. He looked even more crazed than before, his eyes nearly lurching out of his head.

“Murderer?” Momo furrowed her brow. “Now that’s just a lie. I didn’t murder anything.”

“Murderer of my dignity!” Septim yelled, raising his sword higher. Despite the obvious advantage they had in numbers, the knightly pack refrained from attacking them, or even getting too close. There was genuine fear in their eyes, all directed towards Momo.

Towards her? Momo’s face reddened. They had to be confused. Sure, she fried Septim’s hair a little bit, but it was no crime worse than a blow dryer could commit.

Still, her heart glowed with pride. Valerica would be so pleased. Not only that, but their fear was to her advantage. She had the sense that they wouldn’t attack her unless she struck first.

Okay, escape plan.

There was a staircase on her right, leading up to a door. On her left, there was… a wall.

That made the decision easy enough.

“Do you know where that goes?” she whispered to Radu, pointing with her elbow towards the staircase. She didn’t want to give away her plan. Not that she had much to worry about - Septim’s face was crawling with sweat. He probably couldn’t even see under that waterfall.

“Oh, now you want my input?” Radu said bitterly.

“What were you just saying about the right time for a discussion?” Momo deadpanned.

He glared. “Fine. It goes to the mage’s tower. We can –”

“Stop your whispering!” Septim shouted. “Or I’ll - I’ll. We’ll –”

“Haul you off to jail!” another knight jeered.

“Oh wait, Septim already tried that,” another interjected. “It didn’t work much.”

Septim turned red, and snapped his head towards the defiant knight. “What did you say?”

“I said it didn’t work much.”

The two knights entered a stare-off, and the entire guard party looked towards the brewing fight. In their momentary distraction, Radu took the opportunity. He reached for Momo’s arm.

“One word,” he whispered, tightening his grip, “run.”

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Biscuit the Bulky

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Hey! Giving a shout out to my fellow author sqeesqad, author of The Dragon without a System. Here's the blurb, check it out!

All he needs to do is unlock his System, but luckily that's not a matter of chance. Right?

Felix is a dragon. “What is a dragon”, you ask? Excellent question! We have no idea, but if you have any credible information, please contact Administration as there is a substantial reward.

As the only dragon, Felix has always had trouble making friends. But now, with his coming of age ceremony, Felix will unlock his system and join the Academy. There his talons and dagger-sharp teeth should be an asset, instead of an obstacle, and he'll hopefully finally make some new friends. He desperately needs some. But things hardly ever go as expected, so what will he do when he gets a crush on one of his new friends? And how will he deal with that while also figuring out what to do without a system? Because if he doesn’t figure something out soon, all his peers will leave him in the dust.

With the guards sufficiently distracted, Momo and Radu made a run for the door. It took the knights several seconds to notice, too wrapped up in their infighting.

“Looks like Septim’s going to lose the tiny one twice one day!”

Septim grew furious, snapping his head back just as Momo slipped through the doorway.

“Sorry for all the trouble!” she squeaked, before closing the door shut with a thud. She frantically searched for a lock, but found none. Radu couldn’t find one either, his red scales shining with sweat. The door’s only mechanism was its tiny, square knob.

“We’re dead,” Radu gritted his teeth, holding the door knob with all his might. Momo joined in, grasping at it desperately.

“I don’t want to die again,” she cried, nearly weeping. “Last time I tried it, I ended up recruited into a coven of bug-eating goths.”

The guards slammed on the door, but the doorknob didn’t budge. The knights buried their fists in the wood of the door, yelling every variety of profanity available to their limited minds, but made no progress in crossing the threshold.

“It’s a magical lock,” Radu said, eyebrows lifting in realization. He let out a relieved breath. “I bet Gunther left it open for that reason, so he wouldn’t need the magical incantation to get back in. Unless one of those meatheads knows a lock dispelling spell, we should be safe for the time being.”

Momo sighed and crumpled onto the floor, emotionally and physically exhausted. She buried her head in the soft, red carpet, letting her hair surround her like a mop. With the threat of imminent danger momentarily relieved, the adrenaline rushed from her.

“I said safe for the time being,” Radu clarified, narrowing his eyes. “Not that we can just live here now.”

“Just five minutes,” she mumbled, her eyes already closed. “If I’m not awake in five minutes, you can just leave me here.”

Radu huffed, but came to sit beside her.

“Whatever. It’s not like we have a way out, anyway.”

Momo frowned, her eyes slowly opening. The lizard man was looking upwards contemplatively, studying the ceiling. She followed his gaze, and found that the tower’s bookshelves soared so high that a family of birds had nested on top of them, perching like mountain pigeons. A spiral staircase hugged the walls of the circular room, twisting ever upwards towards the tower’s spire.

“What do you mean, no way out?” she muttered. She was one escape attempt away from giving up and walking herself back down to the jailhouse.

“Do you see any exits?” Radu asked, gesturing to the walls. Momo turned her head, surveying the walls. No, she did not. Besides the singular door they came through, there was no other exit - save the tippity toppity point of the tower. Which, she supposed, was only an exit for birds, and other winged animal people.

She groaned, using all of her remaining strength to enter a sitting position. As she did, a piece of parchment whisked in from the ceiling, plummeting below.

“Great,” Momo muttered. “Just what I need.”

“Most people are very excited to see their Courier, you know.”

“Courier? Is that what this flimsy piece of paper is called?” she muttered, inspecting the scroll. It was once again a package of several conjoined papers.

“Yes, although flimsy is a disservice. It is actually completely indestructible. It’s made of pure, undiluted Nether magic,” his brow creased. “Shouldn’t you know this, as a necromancer?”

“You should meet my teacher,” Momo shook her head. “Then you’d get why the answer to that question is no.”

Radu gave her a bewildered look. She chose not to elaborate, instead opting to inspect the package of scrolls.

Your escape from prison has been very stressful. As such, your undead Gerbil-Rat companion, Biscuit, has been working overtime to keep your heart pumping. Biscuit has reached level five in [Companion].

You can now select a Speciality for him. This special class will replace Companion and all related skills. The available specialities are:

[Spellcaster]

[Fighter]

[Tank]

A gerbil spellcaster? Momo couldn’t help but laugh, the sound erupting out of her. This world was truly insane. And yet, these were real choices she was tasked with making. Choices with consequences.

If Biscuit cast a spell, would it be contained to her chest cavity? If she ordered him to cast [Fireball], would it just be gerbil-assisted suicide?

The class choices were equal parts amusing and terrifying. What if the gerbil got too powerful, and decided it could do better than be her heart-spinning lackey? Momo didn’t know how any of this worked. All she knew is she didn’t want a rodent bursting out of her chest anytime soon.

Reluctantly, she turned to Radu.

“I need your help.”

“That’s a new one,” he chuckled, and Momo glared. He leaned over to look at the paper, and nearly choked on his own laughter. There were tears forming in his eyes by the time he was able to speak again.

“So you weren’t kidding about the gerbil?” he coughed, regaining his breath.

“Why would I joke about something like that?”

“I - good question,” he wiped his under eye, shaking his head. “I don’t know. I’m honestly not sure what I would do if I was in your position.”

“Thanks for the help,” she muttered, looking at the paper. “I need to be in less complicated positions.”

“Calm down. Just let me think.” He frowned, studying the paper. “Spells might be nice, if he could cast boons to increase your health and mana. Fighter would be good for his stamina, given he is tasked with the fulltime job of keeping you alive. And then tank…”

His lip quivered again, a suppressed laugh bobbing in his throat.

“I’m just imagining a gigantic, armor-plated gerbil.”

“Biscuit the Bulky. It’d be so cute.” Momo sighed. “But what if he outgrows my heart?”

“Fair. But he must be pretty miniscule, seeing as he can fit in there already. Plus, he’s undead. They’re not known to gain much muscle mass.”

That was a good point. He had to have been the runt of the litter, the tiniest of the gerbil-rat bunch. Momo’s affection for him only grew, imagining the life he led before he was given the task of being her rat pacemaker. Did he have family? Was he a gerbil on his mother’s side, and a rat on his father’s?

“I have to pick the right class for him,” she murmured, eyebrows furrowing in concentration. Dusk was her best friend, but Biscuit was her heart and soul. She had to give the utmost care to this decision.

“Courier thing, please give me a detailed rundown of the [Spellcaster] class.”

The parchment obliged, flipping to a new page with a mountain of text.

[Spellcaster]: Your companion can tap into the power of mana, assisting you by casting spells and cantrips. Upon activation of the [Spellcaster] class, the companion creature receives the skill [Fire Touch].

[Fire Touch]: A close proximity skill that allows you to apply fire magic to any surface you touch.

+5 INT

Momo’s jaw dropped. Absolutely the hell not. She was already a walking fire hazard as it was, she didn’t need Biscuit to light a candle inside of her arteries.

“So that’s a no,” she sighed. “How about [Fighter]?”

[Fighter]: A natural-born champion of the arena. Your companion creature is first to the fight, ready to throw a punch and then dodge out of the way. Upon activation of the [Fighter] class, the companion creature receives the skill [Fast Punch].

[Fast Punch]: Throw a punch for double your usual unarmed damage.

+ 3 STR, + 3 DEX

“Can gerbils even punch? Do they have the facilities for that?” Momo wondered aloud.

“You’re really taking your time with this decision,” Radu said, tone dripping with sarcasm. “I really admire your ability to ignore the knights chanting slurs at us from across the way.”

Momo perked her head up. She actually had completely tuned them out. Another perk of [ADHD], she supposed.

“This is so hard,” she sighed. “Tell me about [Tank], then.”

[Tank]: A brave, battle-hardened warrior who can take a punch. When the flames of battle grow hot, you’ll always be there to take the heat off your teammates.

Upon activation of the [Tank] class, the companion creature receives the skill [Taunt].

[  Taunt]: Draw the attention of an enemy, forcing them to attack you instead of other party members.+ 10 Health Points

“Assuming Biscuit doesn’t get too bulky… this might be the best choice,” Momo hummed. “The extra health points would be reassuring. I need my rat-gerbil on his best performance.”

“You could also use his [Taunt] as if it was your own skill, since drawing attention towards the rodent in your heart is pretty much the same as attracting attention to you.”

“Why would I ever want to attract attention to myself?” Momo asked, horrified.

Radu opened his mouth, then closed it.

“Nevermind. Just please pick the class then, so we can blow this joint before they bring a mage to take down that magical lock.” Radu insisted, sighing with anxiety. “I’m surprised they haven’t done it already. We’re lucky that they’d rather scream at us then actually go fix their problem.”

With a begrudging nod, Momo took the attached quill and circled [Tank].

The parchment accepted her answer, and dissipated. Momo swore she could feel her pulse beat just a bit faster, tiny feet running with renewed purpose.

“Good work, Biscuit,” Momo smiled, touching her hand to her chest. “We make a good team.”

“Oh gods, they’re getting quiet,” Radu interrupted her moment, eyes filling with fear. “They must have had the idea to call for a mage.”

“Count your minutes, Ripper!” Septim shouted from behind the door. “Because they’re all you have left now, when Vivienne gets here!”

“They called her?” Momo went white, and she scattered to her feet. “We have to go.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying –”

Momo looked frantically around the room. Right, no exits. Just a steep spiral staircase, and a whole lot of dusty tomes.

“You can give me the speech later. Up it is,” she sighed, and started up the staircase. Radu sighed, but followed close behind. They jogged up the staircase, Momo suddenly very thankful for the leg muscle she’d accumulated being Valerica’s delivery girl. She didn’t even have to catch her breath until halfway up the staircase, when the door to the library flew open.

“This is the all-powerful criminal you let get away?” a distinct female voice shouted. “She’s no bigger than a hedgehog, and even less menacing!”

Momo frowned. So much for the leaps and bounds she made with her self-confidence.

“Pick up the pace!” Radu yelled, and grabbed Momo’s arm, dragging her up the staircase. Momo risked a look downwards, and saw the imposing figure of Vivienne standing at the base of the tower.

“She’s literally the same height as me,” Momo muttered between labored breaths. “What right does she have to call me hedgehog sized?”

“More running, less arguing with the air, Momo!”

They were nearly at the top of the stairs, the light of the outside world peering through the circular, glass ceiling. A trapdoor sat right above the platform.

“They’re getting away!” Septim blabbered, pointing his finger up towards the escaping pair.

“They surely aren't,” Vivienne laughed, and raised her sword to the sky. Momo looked down to see the tip of it glowing with golden energy, an orb radiating heat.

Oh no.

“[Holy Enclosure]!”

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[Holy] Sh*t

A note from villa1ny

Happy Holidays to all who celebrate!

“What is that?” Momo mumbled bleakly.

A slowly expanding forcefield of light emanated from Vivienne’s sword. As it expanded, the Holy Knight headed for the stairwell. The guards followed suit behind her, an army of steel metal chasing after them.

“If that thing reaches us, we’ll be trapped in here,” Radu informed her, swiping at the trapdoor. It shook, but didn’t give way. It seemed to be locked from above. “Damn it!”

Horror roiled Momo’s stomach as Vivienne looked at her with furious eyes. Momo wasn’t overly afraid of dying, but the Head Knight looked like she would make the experience as unpleasant as physically possible.

“Scoot!” Momo shouted hastily, shoving into the lizard and throwing her hands up towards the trap door. Some problems could only be resolved by the biggest, stupidest solution you had. “[Abysmal Burst II]!”

Frenzied dark energy leapt out of her hands. With only a millisecond to prepare before casting, the dark ball was erratic and disoriented. The majority of it crashed through the trapdoor, with the remnants of its energy bouncing off the ceiling and raining onto the stairwell.

“Look out!” Septim cried as shards of black plummeted into the staircase, tearing through the wood. Steps crumbled into debris around them, and Vivienne nearly tumbled off the side before regaining her balance.

“Fast thinking,” Radu complimented, his eyes wide in surprise.

“That was a complete accident,” Momo mumbled, watching as the staircase’s foundation began to crumble.

As the pillars that supported the stairs began to shake beneath them, Radu desperately reached for the edge of the observation platform above. With the trapdoor blown clean off, the final echelon of the tower was accessible. It was a small outdoor deck, barricaded only by a railing, and overlooked the entirety of Nam’Dal.

It was 400 meters in the air, with no ladder or way down.

It was also their only available exit.

Momo jumped and grabbed the platform, but her skinny arms shook, unable to raise her even an inch. Radu made easy work of it, pulling himself up to the platform with a single heave.

Momo glared, cursing herself for only ever exercising her arms by using them to pick up eating utensils.

From below, the knights cried out as the staircase crumbled below them. Vivienne had left them behind, rapidly climbing the staircase faster than it could collapse. She was only seconds away from Momo, her bulky armor barely slowing her down.

"Oh god, I'm going to get killed by a tiny blonde lady with a sword," Momo cried out. There were worse ways to go, she supposed, but she had so much left to achieve.

Momo strained every ligament in her arm, every inch of muscle in her body, but her arms were like two pieces of uncooked pasta. They couldn't bend.

“I’m not strong enough,” she whimpered, struggling to even keep her hands attached to the platform. “I regret every choice that led me here. Why did I become a [Con Artist] and not a [Martial Artist]?”

“Now’s not the time, come on!” Radu said, reaching his hand down. The glowing barrier was almost at her ankles, and Vivienne was closing in, her sword pointed straight at Momo's rodent-wheel/heart.

“[Focus]!” Momo shouted, and grabbed Radu’s hand. Her mind melded into a singularity, and the limits of her body no longer bothered her. She yanked his hand, nearly tearing him off the platform, and used him as a counterweight to hoist herself up on top of it.

She smacked into the cold stone, laying flat on the pinnacle of the tower. The Enclosure reached its maximum width, stopping just below them.

“No!” Vivienne screamed as the last stair gave out beneath her, “[Holy Beam]!”

With her [Focus] enhanced reflexes, Momo rolled out of the way at the last second, barreling her and Radu to the side as a column of light skewered through the observation platform.

In an explosion of stone, the platform was cut clean in half. Her and Radu clung desperately to the single remaining railing, attached to a mere sliver of rock. The wind spit at them from every direction.

Momo risked a look below, and heard Vivienne before she saw her. The woman’s screams echoed throughout the chamber as she fell, landing in a pile of armor on the floor of the tower. The entire staircase had collapsed, debris covering the bookshelves.

Color draining from her face, Momo stared at the limp armor. “Oh no, is she…?”

The pile of armor slowly turned, Vivienne splaying out her limbs and laying on the ground like a starfish. She was clearly exhausted, but alive.

“Oh good,” Momo said, exhaling. “I didn’t want to hurt her.”

Radu gawked at her.

“She’s trapped us on a crumbling, 400 meter stake, and you don’t want to hurt her?”

Momo shrugged. “A nice side effect of [Focus] is that it dampens all of my emotions. The obvious frostbite crawling up my leg doesn’t even bother me.” Her robes, which had already been worse for wear before the arrest and the hours-long chase scene, were practically torn to shreds. Her knees were exposed to the biting winter air, and were beginning to turn as red as tomatoes.

“Well, that’s great for you, but unfortunately I still have all of my senses intact,” he frowned gravely. His red scales were turning white around his face, and his knuckles shook uncontrollably as he held onto the single remaining railing.

“Yeah, you don’t look great,” Momo agreed, nodding solemnly.

A soft meow came from next to them, and Dusk’s invisibility wore off to reveal the cat laying on the platform, claws embedded in the stone. She was visibly shaking, despite having no muscles or nerves.

“Oh, you poor thing,” Momo frowned.

“You have sympathy for the already-dead cat, but not me?” Radu gaped.

“But she’s cold,” Momo bit her lip, a flicker of emotion lighting in her stomach.

As much as she would rather just sit and enjoy the view, it was clear she needed to do something about their situation.

“Hm,” she hummed aloud. “How do we solve this?”

“Do you have any skills that can stop us from dying from a 400 meter drop? Because I don’t,” Radu glared, his teeth chattering. Momo frowned.

“The attitude isn’t needed,” Momo narrowed her eyes. “I’m trying to help.”

“I’m so glad you’ve decided to do that.”

Momo rolled her eyes, and closed them in concentration. [Focus] took over, and her usual hum of useless thoughts settled into a neat array of solutions.

Her eyes snapped open.

“The big bird solution,” she murmured.

“The what?”

The tower’s infrastructure creaked loudly below them, and Radu yelped. Momo, for her part, didn’t even blink.

“It’s our only hope,” she said with a shrug. “I hope I have enough mana…”

She closed her eyes once more, and imagined a huge, gigantic, airplane of a bird.

“[Summon Lesser Familiar].”

A glob of dark energy appeared before her, slowly but surely morphing its silhouette. Momo grinned as two long wings shot out of the sides of it. She felt like Doctor Frankenstein, but instead of stapling corpses, she simply imagined birds into existence.

With its shape complete, the mass of energy began to materialize into a real animal. Dark blue feathers grew out of the darkness, coating the beast in ultramarine. To finish it off, a yellow beak poked out of its head, beady eyes staring back at them.

“Holy shit,” Radu blinked. “You summoned a Nether Argentavis?”

“A what?” Momo laughed, grinning at her creation. She didn’t care what it was. It was perfect. It was a bird of an ungodly size; not quite an airplane, but as close as it would get. A whole freight train of a fowl.

“The biggest bird in all of Alois,” he said, face white with either awe or frostbite. “And this one is even bigger.”

And this was still a Lesser Familiar? Momo’s brain itched with curiosity for what a Greater familiar might be. She was picturing a cross between a raven and Godzilla.

The bird squawked at them, gusts of winds rolling off of its wings as it flapped them. The stone creaked even more desperately in response, and the feeble foundation beneath them began to shake.

“Okay, rescue time,” she muttered frantically, the peak of [Focus] beginning to wear off. She had begun to feel the cold on her legs, and it was not enjoyable. “Argeventie, get us out of here.”

The bird complied. Opening its giant claws, it grabbed hold of Momo’s torso, gripping her midsection like she was a hotdog fresh off the grill. She yelped as she lost her footing on the platform, grabbing Dusk at the last moment.

“This is quite possibly the worst day of my life,” Radu remarked as he braced himself for the bird to pick him up.

With the two criminals – and criminal cat – wrapped in its talons, the bird flew from the building, the stone collapsing in its wake. Momo watched as the tower bent in on itself, collapsing slowly like a castle that had been leveled by a giant catapult.

“Do you think they regret arresting us?” she wondered.

“I’m sure those knights are currently regretting ever being born,” Radu shook his head.

By Radu’s instructions, the bird guided them to a northern section of Nam’Dal. It was the tip of the Raven’s Market district – one of the busiest, but least guarded areas of the city. The argentavis planted them on the roof of an inn, shaking its feathers like a dog who had spent too long in the mud.

Passersby barely looked up.

“Are they not… disturbed by the giant bird?” Momo asked.

“This is the raven district,” Radu laughed, gesturing to the citizen population. As he described, most of them were bird-headed, just like Alexi. “They’d assume it’s someone’s oversized uncle. They wouldn’t want to be impolite by staring.”

Momo nodded. That made sense.

“So,” Radu turned to her. “I think a tall, warm drink is in order. Emphasis on the warm.”

Momo’s ears perked. “Somewhere with hot chocolate?”

“All the hot chocolate.”

“And blankets?” Momo continued, smiling ear to ear.

“And even a place to nap,” Radu threw in with a smirk.

“Let’s go there and never leave,” Momo sighed wistfully.

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The Cracked Egg

After descending from the rooftop, Momo and Radu found themselves conveniently in front of The Third Street Inn. Momo recognized the name from Alexi’s ramblings about mating season. It was a large, sprawling inn, with a sizable dining area. Well-dressed bird people wandered about the place; some were tuxedo-wearing guests, others were stressed staff carrying nests and twigs.

“Preparations for mating season,” Radu said, explaining away the obvious confusion on Momo’s face. The place was littered with makeshift nests, each adorned with faux, gold-painted eggs. “The golden eggs are supposed to bring about good fertility.”

Momo grimaced. “Gross.”

“Don’t let them hear that." He shushed her. "The birds are a family oriented people. They take these fertility rituals very seriously.”

“I can see that,” she nodded, still frowning. “I just can’t think of something I’m less interested in than good fertility.”

Radu grinned, and stealthily plucked one of the eggs from the nest. He wagged it in front of Momo’s face, and she jumped, stumbling backwards.

“Get that thing away from me!” she shrieked.

He snorted, and placed the egg back down on the counter.

“I promise the egg won’t get you pregnant.”

“One can never be sure,” she said in complete seriousness, narrowing her eyes at it. “I don’t want to be Alois’ next Virgin Mary.”

“Who?”

“Right, different universe,” Momo muttered. “I don’t want to pop out immaculately concepted raven babies, alright?”

“Sounds like a fun time to me."

They meandered through the twigs and into the attached tavern, The Cracked Egg. As it was late in the day, the place was packed with guests. Momo felt an immediate sense of claustrophobia, feathery tails slapping her from every angle. It was like being stuffed inside a vodka-smelling feather pillow.

“This is not the cozy fantasy I was imagining,” she mumbled.

“Oh come on,” he laughed, tugging her through the crowd and towards the bar. “If you can tune out the squawking, it’s the best saloon in the whole city.”

She sputtered and sneezed, bird dandruff attacking her every sense. By the time they reached the bartender, her eyes were red and inflamed.

“What can I – oh,” the flamboyant, purple-tailed bartender looked at her in horror. “You look very unwell.”

“I feel very unwell,” Momo mumbled. She turned to Radu, eyes too inflamed to glare. “I think I might need genuine medical attention.”

“Nonsense,” he said, waving his hand. “Nothing an anti-cock cocktail can’t fix. Bartender, please give us two Rooster Repellents.”

The bartender gave a worried nod, and fetched two glasses, filling them up with a glittery red liquid from the tap. He shook a canister, and decorated the top of the glasses with yellow whipped cream, giving it the appearance of a liquified rooster.

He slapped two googly eyes on top for good measure, and slid the glasses over the countertop. Momo gaped at the drink.

“This is a work of art,” she whispered, genuinely impressed.

“I told you,” Radu teased, gratefully accepting the drinks. “Momo, give the good man a tip.”

“Me?” she said, blinking her marshmallow eyes. “You’re the one who dragged me here.”

“And you’re the one who promised me 200 gold to get you in the city.”

Momo frowned. That was… correct. She had made that promise, under much duress.

“Fine,” she sighed, and fished her hands into her tattered pockets. To her surprise, she found that her fingers slid right through them, the bottoms ripped to pieces. Luckily, a few stray strings held most of the coins in place, but many of them had fled for their lives during the flight there.

“My precious gold,” she said miserably, “how much do I even have left? Gold check.”

Parchment materialized, almost pityingly, into her hands.

You currently possess 1,630 gold.

Tears pricked in her tomato-rimmed eyes. That was three thousand less than she had entered the city with. If only she knew the fly-bird-into-city strategy was so viable, she could have avoided the entire arrest.

“I’m poor again,” she said, burying her head into her hands.

“That’s not poor,” Radu laughed, taking a look at her paper. “That’s enough for… a week.”

“A week?” she sighed. “How much is a hotel here?”

“In the raven district? Probably about 300 pieces a night for somewhere you won’t get kidnapped,” he shrugged. “400 if you want the Thieves’ Guild insurance.”

“The Thieves Guild insurance?”

“Sure. It’s quite the steal, actually,” he grinned. “In light of a heist or a robbery at the hotel you’re staying at, the guild will leave your stuff alone. Well, mostly.”

Momo blinked in disbelief. “How often does that happen that it requires its own insurance?”

“Oh, every night or two. Most good hotels have their own insurance policy, so none of their stuff gets robbed - only the belongings of their uninsured clientele.”

“Hotels here have insurance policies that protect them from robbery, but not their guests?”

“Precisely,” Radu said, clapping Momo on the back.

Momo grimaced. So no matter how she played her cards, she’d be getting robbed.

She’d have to finish Valerica’s quest quickly. It had been a simple enough task on paper – deliver an envelope to a woman named Komodo. Valerica had naturally omitted a few details about Nam’Dal, but Momo couldn’t blame her. It was simply Valerica’s nature to give Momo impossible tasks and expect perfect results.

“Is there anywhere cheaper I can stay?” she said, getting nauseous at the idea of all of her remaining hard-earned coin evaporating into the city’s underground.

“Well, I’d invite you to stay at the Guildhouse, but you’d still need to purchase a policy.”

“I’d even get robbed there?” Momo said weakly, giving up all hope.

“Sure. It’s a Con Artist’s Guild. Half our time is spent practicing how to swindle each other. It's only courtesy.”

“And how much would it cost me to stay there?” she mumbled.

“Well, typically just a hundred coins a night for the insurance,” he said, swallowing the last swig of his rooster. “But I won't head back there just yet. We did just perform a Mage tower-crushing escape from prison. Worst of all, we embarrassed Vivienne. There will be wanted posters of us in every tavern in Nam'Dal by the end of the week.”

"Fabulous."

“You’ll want to keep a low profile,” he emphasized. “The Raven’s District is good for that. The guards don’t usually run through here. It’s a bit of an independent city inside of the city.”

Momo nodded. She could do low-profile. In fact, it's the only profile she wanted to do.

“Can I just climb into the sewers and stay there?”

“Nah, that’s Big Rat’s territory. You’ll find yourself in a much stickier jail cell.”

Momo shook her head. That did seem like a downgrade.

She brought the rooster reluctantly to her lips, sipping below the whipped cream. It was surprisingly delicious – the red syrup was sweet, but not overly so. It tasted a bit fruity. It was the closest thing she’d come to a fruit yet, so she sipped it gratefully.

“Wanna split a hotel room?” she sighed, clearly unenthused by the idea. She normally prized her personal space over everything, but she figured it’d be safer to be around a Con Artist’s Guild member should any robbers come round. Also, it’d be cheaper.

“Are you inviting me to sleep with you?” he wiggled his eyebrows.

Momo feigned puking. The bartender narrowed his eyes at her, swooping a wing to cradle her back.

“Please don’t throw up on the counter top,” the bartender pleaded. “We have yack buckets in the back.”

Momo blushed. “No problem. Sorry.”

She turned to Radu, glaring.

“I will have Dusk posted at my bedside all night, and she will be instructed to kill you if you try to get near me,” Momo said plainly. “This is a strictly business arrangement.”

“Sorry friend, but no can-do,” he laughed, politely rejecting her proposal. “Assuming Teddy made an escape, he’ll be waiting for me at our meetup point. I can’t let the guys think I abandoned them.”

Momo was stunned by his loyalty. For people who required insurance policies not to steal from each other, they had quite the mutual respect.

She supposed the saying ‘as thick as thieves’ had to come from somewhere.

“I see. Well, a hotel it is,” she sighed. “Can I stay here?”

“No non-birds allowed at Third Street, I’m afraid,” the bartender informed her, filling another glass. “We don’t want any human pheromones stinking up the rooms. I hope you can understand.”

Momo nodded. She certainly didn’t want to infringe on their cultural boundaries, no matter how gross or odd she found them. Not to mention that she’d scream if she found a golden egg hidden somewhere under the hotel mattress.

“Any advice on where I can stay?” she asked, taking another long sip of her drink.

“The Hummingbird,” he suggested with a hint of disgust. “They just let anyone in there. No respect for tradition.”

Momo opened her mouth, but then closed it. She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear anything more about their traditions.

“You can find that establishment a few yards away, just take a left when you leave,” the bartender continued. “And please, if you do choose to come back to our esteemed inn, I recommend showering profusely beforehand.”

“Great,” she mumbled. She yearned to get to a place in life where strangers stopped commenting on her smell. “Thank you.”

The bartender nodded, and turned to another patron.

Settled on the Hummingbird, Momo turned to Radu once again. The lizard was brushing off his clothes, and wrapping a scarf around his leathery neck. He checked the grandfather clock in the corner of the room, and stood.

“It’s been a pleasure, Ripper,” he said, extending a hand. “I wish you well in your continued ripping. I fear I must be on my way.”

Momo frowned. She had just gotten used to his presence. She didn’t often find people that she could tolerate existing with for hours at a time.

“I, um, yes,” Momo stuttered. As he tried to leave, she grabbed his arm. “Can I ask you one question before you go?”

He stopped and turned around, flashing a grin.

“Make it a good one.”

“Do you know who Komodo is?”

Radu’s scales went pale, and a glass shattered behind the bar.

“Oh gods,” he said. “You really are a good luck charm, aren’t you?”

A note from villa1ny

I hope you guys had a nice holiday weekend! I am now 90% cookie dough and never want to taste sugar again. It was pretty nice.

A reminder that the Momo schedule is still going to be M/W/F for December and the first week of January, then will switch back to M-F, so thank you all dearly for your patience! I want to get as much Momo to you as possible.

Of course, if you want to read two chapters ahead, you can right now on Patreon!

Mistaken Identity

“Out,” the bartender hissed. “I will not have you discussing that vile reptile in here.”

“Well, that feels a bit…” Momo frowned. How could she classify that insult? Racism? Speciesism? A biased bird with a bad attitude?

She turned to Radu, who she assumed would be offended by the dig at his brethren. Instead of staring down the bartender, he was staring down Momo, giving her his all-too-familiar ‘you are making this harder than it needs to be’ glare.

Momo felt quite proud of herself, to be viewed that way. She had never had enough of the confidence to be a nuisance before.

“Come on, let’s not ruffle any more feathers,” he gritted his teeth. “I’ll never forgive you if you get me banned from the Egg.”

“I don’t know why you’d want to be around a bunch of bigoted birds anyway…” Momo muttered under her breath as Radu dragged her by the sleeve out of the restaurant. She had never been prone to standing up against injustice, but listening to this interspecies bickering felt a lot like settling an argument between her stuffed animals.

Momo had plenty of expertise in that domain. Her childhood plushies endured constant conflict. Leo the Lion always had major beef with Anna the Alpaca, Anna was cheating on Bethany the Bear, Bethany killed Leo’s sister (allegedly). The disputes were long and overwrought—requiring several weeks of mediation until they were all allowed to be on the same side of the bed again.

Momo’s elementary school teachers had referred to her habit of humanizing her stuffies as “a worrying overabundance of empathy for inanimate objects.” Momo thought back fondly to it now. She had simply been preparing for her inevitable future as an arbitrator of halfling squabbles. Or should she say squackles.

She grinned to herself as Radu tore her out of the inn entirely, the pair of them bumbling down the cobblestone streets of the Raven’s District. It was only when the inn was no longer in sight that Radu spoke.

“How do you know about Komodo?” he said quietly, continuing to pull her towards an unknown destination.

“Better question, where are you dragging me?”

Radu rolled his eyes, releasing her hand.

“I’m not going to be late to my meeting on account of you,” he tutted, and kept walking. Momo reluctantly followed, finding it hard to keep the pace. Her body had the remaining stamina of a wet mop. Tank Biscuit was the only thing keeping her upright.

“Valer – err, my mentor…” Momo trailed off.

Referencing Valerica was an unending resource of clout, but she wasn’t sure it was the wisest move to reveal her identity in a city of conniving blackmailers. Momo was the only conniving blackmailer back in Brulane, but here? She was completely out of her depth. “My mentor told me to deliver something to this Komodo.”

Radu stopped in his tracks, eyebrows lifting. “Deliver something? To Komodo?”

It seemed Valerica wasn’t the only one with a reputation that preceded her. Every utterance of this woman’s name was layered with fear and contempt.

Momo could see how they were friends.

“Yes, and I’d like to do it as soon as possible. Do you know where I’d find her?”

"Here, there, everywhere."

"Please provide instructions and not riddles," Momo frowned.

In place of a response, Radu just laughed. He kept walking, and they rounded a corner into a small, unlit alleyway. It was narrow and nearly unwalkable – littered with discarded bird nests and cracked egg shells.

Her Momo Holmes senses tingled, and not in a good way. It was the perfect setting for a crime.

“I feel like I’m walking into my own mugging,” Momo muttered.

“I mean, you’re the one who keeps following the Con Artist around.”

As they neared the end of the corridor, a street lamp materialized, glowing a dim, yellow light. The alleyway was otherwise a dead end, barricaded on all sides by tall apartment buildings.

Radu wound his hand around the streetlamp, swinging around it in a circle. He softly whistled a chime, his breath a white cloud in the brisk air.

The chime echoed down the corridor, bouncing off the walls. Momo’s eyes enlarged as the shadows drawn on the walls of the surrounding buildings began to peel off of them, as if scraped by a razor.

Momo yelped, backpedaling as the shadows formed figures. People-shaped figures. She had the immediate urge to turn into a tree stump, but figured it was futile. There were no trees in the area - she’d inevitably be questioned. Or worse, sat on.

“Took you long enough."

Radu groaned. “Don’t start with me, lest I remind you who freed you in the first place?”

"Certainly not you. You know better than that, Radu, you must always credit a valuable accomplice."

Momo uncovered her eyes at the sound of a familiar voice - Teddy’s. The drunken shapeshifter slash pick up artist. He stood by Radu in front of the street lamp, surrounded by a circle of other silhouettes. Momo recognized some of them from the prison cells: fellow escapees.

“Don’t be so shy, white-hair,” Teddy said, beckoning Momo towards them with a wagging finger.

Momo pointed to herself, confused by the nickname. It was the first time she had been addressed by a physical characteristic that wasn’t her height or frame. She didn’t know how to act.

“Yes, you,” he laughed, hiccupping as he did. He was nursing a flask by his belt. “I’d be remiss to not give a moment to honor our savior, the Little Ripper.”

"Ah, it's actually just Ripper -"

"Can't hear ya, girl," he waved a hand, gesturing towards his ear. "Join us in the circle."

Momo took apprehensive steps towards the street lamp. Once she was underneath its light, she could see all the illuminated faces beside her. Half-reptiles, half-birds. Even an Eldergoat thief.

She applauded the Con Artists’ Guild’s commitment to diversity. The Third Street Inn could learn a thing or two from them.

“We’re sure this is the one?” one of them whispered, looking down at Momo with disbelieving eyes.

“I can’t imagine her ripping much of anything…”

“She seems a bit light in the frame, small in the brain…”

Momo sighed. Manners seemed to be a universally lacking principle in Nam’Dal.

“Silence!” Teddy shouted. “Have ye all learned nothing of deception? We are a clan of Con Artists, and yet you have fallen for the commonest of all cons: visual deception. Standing before us is a very powerful polymorph. A woman of small stature, but mighty prowess.”

Momo blinked, feeling a little sick at all the attention. It was like her introduction to the Dawn all over again, except no very tall, very scary woman was comfortingly rubbing her shoulders. All she had now was an increasingly tattered robe, and six anthropomorphic thieves eyeing her up and down.

Clearing her throat, she addressed the allegations.

“That’s me," she agreed quietly.

“That’s definitely her,” Radu re-iterated, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Her power would terrify you.”

Momo nodded quickly, ignoring his sarcasm. She didn’t care if they actually believed she was some intimidating shapeshifting poly-whatever, but it would be very convenient if they did. She figured that their fear would be as good as any thievery insurance.

And she wouldn’t have to pay for it either. How cost-effective. She grinned.

“I don’t want to scare you, but…” she leaned in towards the center of the lamp, and it illuminated her face like a flashlight over a halloween campfire. “I have only revealed a very small, tiny, miniscule droplet of my power.”

Unlike with the knights, this group seemed less inclined to believe every word out of her mouth. They remained stoic, unmoved. She frowned.

“Words are just words,” the Eldergoat thief chimed in. “I’d like to see some action.”

“Ye questioning my judgment?” Teddy pulled him in by the collar, staring him down.

“No, boss!” he shuddered, his hooves peddling on the pavement. “I just don’t know if we want someone unproven here when she arrives…”

“Then I will kindly leave,” Momo bowed, immediately changing tack. She did not want to be around to meet anyone who had to be referred to as she in the third person.

“Not so fast,” Teddy said, releasing the goat. He turned to Momo. “We’ll need all the manpower we can get. If white-hair is as good as she says she is, then we don’t just want this little lady to listen in, we need her to join our ranks.”

Momo shrunk into herself, immediately regretting her confident performance. The last thing she wanted was to be drafted into any more schemes. Valerica had given her a very simple directive: locate woman, deliver letter, return home for promised reward (Valerica’s approval, and possibly, nap).

“Sorry, while I am honored, I am already in a guild,” she said, trying another bow.

“Why do you keep tipping yourself over like that? Are you okay?” one of the thieves asked.

Momo righted herself. Right. Bows weren’t exactly criminal courtesy.

“Doesn’t matter what allegiances you got,” Teddy shook his head. “What matters is you’re a victim of Vivienne’s tyranny, just like we all are. Con Artists used to be able to make a real living in this city. We even had our own department in the Knight Hall – the Office of Necessary Evil.”

“I miss my government pension!”

“And the free healthcare…”

“Can’t even get a stabbing wound fixed up at the hospital anymore without all these invasive questions. What government official were ye trying to kill this time? Why were you involved in a knife fight? I thought there were laws about doctor patient confidentiality, but no more…”

Teddy shushed them again, jutting his knife around.

“Exactly, you fools! This is why we need her.”

He pointed to Momo, who had shrunken so far into her tattered robes that he had to squint to see her.

One of the thieves opened his mouth to speak again, but his voice faltered. The lamp light flickered – the small flame turning from bright yellow to low blue, and then finally to nothing at all. The group stood silently, enveloped in shadow.

“Oh gods,” the eldergoat trembled, “she’s here.”

“Is it too late for me to ask who she is?” Momo wondered aloud, speaking into the darkness.

A shriek died in Momo’s throat as a gloved hand covered her lips, and another over her eyes. She tried to speak or move, but found herself incapable of either. A cold breath landed on her shoulder, and a low, honeyed voice spoke in her ear.

“Long time no see, Valerica.”

A note from villa1ny

Who do you think it is mugging Momo? Any guesses?

My guess is Big Bird with gloves on. You can never trust an ostrich.

You can read two advanced chapters right now on Patreon (with more to come soon).

Join the Discord here.

Also, you might notice new cover art. I've separated Momo into two volumes now, one for Book / Arc 1, and the other for Arc 2. Hence the different artwork for Arc 2 :)

I Guess I'm Overthrowing the Government

“I think you might be confused,” Momo stammered, voice muffled behind gloved hands.

Great. She had successfully walked herself into yet another hostage situation. She relaxed her body, too exhausted to exist in perpetual fear anymore. Maybe this kidnapper would take her somewhere else quiet and cold, like a cellar, or a morgue.

God - that sounded just perfect. Momo wasn’t a praying woman, but she was close to getting down on two knees and asking Morgana to send her to solitary confinement.

“Impossible,” the female voice retorted. “You smell just like her.”

The gloved hands slid from her mouth, and Momo saw a blonde lock of hair in her peripheral vision. Her mind immediately went back to the poster in the Knight’s Barracks. Could it be…? Momo swallowed.

The woman turned to the front of her, revealing herself in entirety. Momo’s throat went dry. It was her. Momo immediately understood the thieves’ obsessive usage of the third person. Nia Nightsbane was not the kind of woman you were on a real-name basis with. She was the kind of woman that you saw coming and immediately started digging your own grave.

“[Dark Shroud],” Nia cast, flicking her finger up. A dark plume shot from it, fully enveloping her and Momo. It created an impenetrable cylinder of black around them. The others could not see in, and Momo and Nia could not see out.

“Oh, that is a wonderful skill,” Momo murmured, looking around in awe. It was like standing in the eye of the tornado, except pleasant, and much less noisy. She could sleep fantastically here—with no one to bother her, or ask her for favors, or quests, or to join secret societies or necromancer cults.

Except the infamously dangerous thief looking her up and down.

“Neat trick, hm?” Nia said, and then creased her brows. “Valerica wouldn’t be impressed by such a skill. Either you’re just some girl who smells deeply [Overpriced], or Valerica’s acting has improved by leaps and bounds.”

“You can smell [Overpriced]?”

Nia laughed, and the way her mouth moved was uncannily familiar. Momo couldn’t rid herself of this sensation that she had seen the other woman before.

“Of course. It smells like fresh paint, and you smell like a house that has just been thoroughly renovated.”

Momo blinked. That was an improvement from smelling like a dead rat, at least.

“Thank you,” Momo said. “But again, huge misunderstanding. I’m just her delivery girl.”

Nia’s eyebrows rose. “Her delivery girl?”

“She’s a busy woman. I just drop off her packages.”

“You’re telling me Valerica’s delivery girl escaped prison, evaded Vivienne, and blew a seismic hole through the Mage’s tower?”

Momo blushed. “I wouldn’t call the hole seismic.”

“The entire thing is laying in shambles in the city center. It looks like an earthquake and a tsunami joined forces to level the thing,” Nia laughed, disbelieving. “I thought a dragon had shown up while I was sleeping.”

Momo shook her head humbly, looking down towards her shoes.

“I can’t take much credit. Vivienne’s [Holy Beam] shot the roof off.”

“Oh please, that was simply the cherry on top of the cataclysmic sundae. It was so masterful of you, really – turning the witch against her own castle.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say masterful… I kind of just tripped and fell into the whole thing, really.”

“You tripped and fell into total destruction of the King’s property?”

“I tend to do that, yes,” she sighed.

“Unbelievable. You undersell yourself,” Nia shook her head. “Angering that woman and surviving is a more impressive feat than most knights accomplish in their lifetimes.”

Nia looked at Momo with fierce respect, taking her by the shoulders.

“Blowing Vivienne’s glorified playpen to pieces by sheer mistake? I not only admire you, Gods, I love you.”

Momo blushed intensely. She felt like a hot potato being passed amongst beautiful, deluded criminals.

Not a terrible fate for a potato, she supposed.

“That’s kind of you to say, but I would have rather not angered the most powerful woman in Nam’Dal, personally,” Momo said. “It’s a bit disruptive to my plans.”

“And those plans are?”

Momo straightened her back. “Speaking to no one, and then leaving.”

“Right,” Nia shook her head. “That seems to be working out for you so far.”

“It never does,” Momo said begrudgingly. “But I plan on staying under the radar from here on out.”

“Says the girl whose face is plastered over Wanted posters all throughout Nam’Dal.”

She grinned widely at Momo, releasing her shoulders finally.

“You remind me of a young me.”

Momo’s eyes widened. Nia had an angular face, and well-manicured lips. She wore light armor, painted black, with intricate dagger hilts sticking out of every open pocket. She looked like a walking weapon.

Momo was composed of two frostbitten knees and a few threads of fabric. Her skin was so dry it was starting to peel off, and she hadn’t conditioned her hair since she was torn across the universe and revived from the dead.

She failed to see the similarities.

“Oh, don’t give me that face,” Nia tutted. “You just need a bowl of soup and a little training.”

Momo nodded. She completely agreed on the bowl of soup front.

“Wait,” Momo rewinded a few sentences. “What was that about wanted posters?”

“Oh, you haven’t seen them yet? Vivienne’s artist works fast. I will say, the poster really did you no favors…” she grimaced. “You’re much more impressive in person.”

Momo paled in horror. How unflattering did it have to be to make her look more impressive in person? Being arrested, jailed, hunted – all of it paled in comparison to this. She was practically going viral with an ugly photo on the metaphorical Nam’Dal internet.

She’d have to get plastic surgery.

Or whatever the Alois equivalent was. Probably getting stabbed in the face.

“Don’t look so sad. Being underestimated is a valuable tool.”

“That’s what Valerica always says,” Momo murmured. “It’s probably the only reason I’m alive right now…”

“Nah. You’ve got chutzpah,” she said, patting her on the shoulder. She gave Momo a storied look, eyes narrowing. “Morgana has a very valuable weapon at her disposal.”

Momo shrugged. Morgana had exposed her very valuable weapon to a deadly fire allergy.

“Regardless,” Nia clapped her hands together. “I trust you will set aside your delivery for a day, and join me in addressing the Vivienne problem.”

Oh God - here it was. The scheme. She knew she wasn’t even safe in this beautiful bubble.

“I fear I must be getting back to Brulane…”

“Look, I know Valerica’s game. Everyone thinks she’s dead, but she’s far too stubborn for that. The woman wants nothing more than to see the King stripped of his kingdom and turned into a skeletal jester in her court,” Nia said. “In fact, she told me that herself. Those were her exact words.”

“Sounds like her.”

“Quite. So then you could see how overthrowing the knights of Nam’Dal would be a perfect foundation for that kind of revolution, would it not?”

Momo frowned. Ugh. The woman had a point. Valerica would be totally delighted.

Returning from Nam’Dal with a completed quest would be one thing, but with the border city in utter chaos? Ripe for necromantic takeover?

Momo felt butterflies in her stomach imagining the absolute glee on Valerica’s face.

“I don’t like that you’re right,” Momo said, defeated.

“I do,” Nia grinned. “So you’ll join our humble crusade?”

Momo considered it. She wasn’t overly keen on going back inside the fort she had just loudly escaped from. She had a target on her back as is. Also, if she rejected Nia’s offer, there was a high chance that she and the Artists would succeed on their own – without Momo having to lift a finger.

On the other hand, they could fail, and the King’s control over Nam’Dal would only tighten. The fiercest rebellion in the city would be stamped out, leaving few allies for them in the area.

Momo blinked. What were these thoughts? The most strategic thinking she’d ever performed was about which hours to go dumpster diving outside the dining hall. Now she was weighing the benefits of overthrowing a city government.

If college Momo could only see her now…

“Do you know a Komodo?” Momo ventured.

Nia laughed. “Komodo? Looks like Valerica hasn’t strayed from her keep friends far away, and enemies as close as possible doctrine.”

“Are Komodo and her on… bad terms?”

“Murderous terms would probably be more apt,” Nia smirked.

Momo palmed her face. She knew the quest had sounded too straightforward. It’s basically a vacation, she had said. A city full of spas…

“I’m supposed to deliver this letter for her.”

Momo dug through her pockets, but her fingers only found stray pieces of gold. She went white. No. In her haste to protect her hoard, she had forgotten her very assignment. She must have left the letter somewhere in the Knight Barracks.

“Lose something?”

“Only my dignity and pride,” Momo sighed miserably. “And the letter. I forgot it inside the Knight’s Hall.”

“Well well,” Nia grinned. “Looks like you have more than enough reason to join. Oh, how fun. Now it will be a revolution, and a heist!”

Momo couldn’t think of a worse group of activities.

“I guess that settles it, then” she said. “I’m overthrowing the government.”

A note from villa1ny

You can read two advanced chapters right now on Patreon (with more to come soon).

Join the Discord here.

Hum Hum Hummingbird

A note from villa1ny

If you like Momo, I think you'll like this new fiction shooting up the Rising Stars charts. Give Saintess Summons Skeletons a try!

Upon entering The Hummingbird, Momo fully understood what the Third Street Inn bartender had meant about a lack of tradition.

The whole place was painted a bright pink, like a medieval Barbie mobile. The employees wore pink tracksuits to match, looking like bird-headed race car drivers. Apparently the hum in Hummingbird was taken to mean a mechanical sort of hum—with metal gears moving in unison around the place, powered by unseen magic.

It was an ungodly mishmash of aesthetics. Momo was completely infatuated by it.

“Welcome to the Hum Hum Hummingbird!”

The woman at the reception desk had the head of a pigeon, and red lipstick drawn all over her beak like a toddler with a crayon. She stood straight and poised, and spoke with a weirdly southern drawl. Momo felt like she was in Bird Texas.

“We’ll need ten beds,” Teddy said, slapping down several unfamiliar bills on the countertop. They were small and colored red, somewhat resembling a Euro.

She narrowed her eyes. Maybe those were the banknotes that Alexi spoke of? They seemed way less cumbersome to carry than thousands of – very tiny and magically weightless, but still – gold coins.

“Ten beds?” the woman’s eyes enlarged. “Separate, or all in one?”

Momo’s jaw dropped. Was she implying there was one mega-bed that could fit ten people? And if so, why? She looked over to Radu for an explanation.

“Mating season,” he winked.

Momo felt a shiver go down her spine. She suddenly itched for the subtlety of the Third Street Inn.

“What’s cheaper?” Teddy gruffed.

Please say the separate beds.

“Separate beds are cheaper, sir,” she nodded, and Momo loudly exhaled. “The ten bird suite is quite popular this time of year, so most parties will reserve it in advance.”

“Separate, then,” he said. “This should be more than enough to cover it. Oh, and make sure you apply the Thieves’ Discount.”

“Of course, sir. How many thieves are in your party today?”

Teddy turned around, counting everyone. He stopped at Momo and narrowed his eyes, looking unsure.

“Eh, nine.”

Momo felt weirdly hurt. She was a Con Artist. Unfortunately.

“Quite the gathering,” the woman smiled. “A reminder that we have pre-ordered six years of Thieves’ Insurance, so if you are itching to rob the place blind, please go next door. I hear that the Third Street Inn’s insurance is running dry soon…”

Momo could only imagine the bartender’s face hearing that. She was starting to sympathize with him more and more.

“So thieves get a discount and make you buy their ‘I won't steal from you’ insurance?” Momo whispered to Radu.

“Of course,” Radu said. “Double security.”

“Shouldn’t you guys be, like, insanely rich?”

“We used to be,” Radu frowned. “Vivienne has confiscated most of our wealth. Now it’s wasting away in the Treasury. But we hope to liberate it very soon.”

“Any chance I get to liberate a cut of it?” Momo smiled, batting her eyelashes.

“Of course. You’re a tenth of our team, so you get a tenth of the winnings. After Thieves’ tax, of course.”

Momo frowned.

“You lot are all set,” the front desk woman said, splaying ten tiny keys in front of her on the desk. Each key had a room number embossed in the metal. “Each room has two beds, so we recommend that you keep it to two people. But there’s no hard rules about that.”

“Thank you dearly,” Teddy said, collecting his change. Despite the place’s odd ambiance, Momo was overjoyed with her decision to go along with the plan. She had free room and board, and the promise of more gold should they succeed. She’d be back to riches by no time.

Assuming they didn’t immediately die by Vivienne’s [Holy] Fire.

The Artists in front of Momo quickly snatched up the keys. They were keen about their roommate choice, leaving Momo with no choice at all. She picked up the one remaining key, and read the inscribed number aloud.

“Room 126,” she mumbled, surveying the members for reactions.

From behind a dark cowl, face and hair wrapped in bandages, Nia Nightsbane smirked.

“I guess that makes us roommates.”

The rooms were luxuriously big, at least compared to the cheap hotels Momo was used to staying at. There was a few feet of space between the beds, a window, an attached bathroom, even a small automatic kettle.

Wait, what? Dropping her nonexistent bags, Momo rushed to inspect the device. From what she had seen so far, this world had no concept of electricity. They barely had a concept of plumbing.

“I take it you’ve never seen a firebrand kettle before?”

“My employer doesn’t exactly believe in drinking non-poisonous liquids,” Momo muttered.

Nia laughed as Momo lifted the glass kettle, revealing a small stone tablet beneath it. She yelped, backing away from it hastily. It radiated heat, hot as a bonfire. She could already feel the tips of her fingertips melting off.

“Don’t worry, it’s not that hot.”

“Everything is hot when you’re cursed by Salazar,” Momo sighed.

“Cursed by Salazar?” Nia laughed again, wildly amused. “Gods, you are an interesting one. I see why Valerica keeps you around.”

Momo blushed, setting down the kettle a few inches from the stone tablet. She wasn’t risking anything.

She turned to the beds. Luckily, Nia had already claimed one as her own, unloading about 30 daggers onto it.

“Are you intending to sleep on top of those?” Momo murmured, genuinely curious.

“Not tonight,” she shrugged. “My shoulders have been bad recently. Too much stabbing. See, it’s a repetitive motion.” She mimed stabbing something, and Momo tried not to crumple into a ball. “Shoulder and arm cramps are a hazard of the profession.”

“Makes sense,” Momo nodded weakly.

“So, roomie,” Nia flopped down onto her bed, somehow maneuvering in a way where she didn’t slice and dice herself. “How are you liking Nam’Dal?”

Momo blinked. She didn’t expect the other woman to be so… talkative. From the posters, she looked like she’d cut you in half just for looking at her. But, as Momo knew well, looks could be deceiving.

“Everybody wants to scam you out of your money,” Momo shrugged. “Pretty typical city where I’m from.”

“You must be from a very charming place,” Nia sighed wistfully. “I was blown away when I first arrived. I was mugged three separate times – well, they attempted to mug me. I turned it into a reverse mugging on the poor amateurs. By the time I got to the city center, I had more money than I started with. Where else can you say that?”

Momo hummed, laying herself onto her bed. She nearly went into shock. She hadn’t laid on a comfortable surface – no less a bed – since she died. It took everything within her not to scream in euphoria.

Her eyes immediately closed, exhaustion falling over like a tidal wave.

“Oh, I am so…” she could barely speak, sleep clawing at her. “I am so tired.”

“I can imagine. You rest, I have some preparations to do. Knives to shine. Stabbing form to practice…” Nia’s voice trailed off, and the great black depths of The Nap took Momo.

Momo felt like she had been rebirthed.

Low sunlight crept through the open window, drawing streaks of yellow on the floorboards. When Momo laid down on the bed, it had been a quarter after 8:00pm. Judging from the light now…

She had slept over 14 hours.

Aghast, her fight or flight kicked in and she frantically looked around her. Did she miss an exam? She’d have to drop out. Her GPA was already bordering on 0.0 –

Looking at the assassin sleeping peacefully next to her, Momo’s thoughts stalled. Right.

A piece of parchment lay on her lap.

Congratulations! For accidentally slaying several knights, evading and injuring a Holy Knight, causing utter destruction to Morgana’s enemies and their property, and above all, finally securing a place to sleep undisturbed, you have gained a level in [Corrupted Druid].

+3 DEX

[Summon Lesser Familiar] has been upgraded to [Summon Lesser Familiar II].

[Summon Lesser Familiar II]: You can now re-summon familiars from the Nether that you have summoned previously with ease, precision, and at less of a mana cost.

Momo smiled. That was definitely an upgrade. She could re-summon the argentavis or the ostrich at will, without worrying that her subconscious would randomly generate a weird Other Bird, or waste mana on something useless.

Ideally she could practice summoning when she had a day off, so she could have a few go-to familiars that she’d be able to summon precisely later on. Not that she ever had access to something as mystical as a ‘day off’.

The class parchment evaporated, and another scroll lay in her lap.

You have gained the temporary boon [Well Rested].

[Well Rested]: Your mind has finally been able to free itself of toxins. (And whoa, there were a lot of them!) You gain +3 INT for 24 hours.

Momo sighed happily. She didn’t even care about the INT increase. For the first time in months, she felt alive – not just a collection of tired limbs powered by pure adrenaline.

“You look like you just slept through the entire Dark Calamity.”

Momo jerked to the side to see that Nia had already risen from bed, immaculately dressed. She slept in her armor, daggers included. The only sign that she had slept at all was her hair – slightly disheveled. She tied the blonde locks into a tight overhead bun, and Momo’s eyes widened.

She saw Vivienne’s face flash before her.

With her hair tied back, the resemblance was uncanny. Nia usually let it drape over her shoulders, obscuring the shape of her face. Newly rested, Momo could finally identify the ghost she’d seen in Nia’s features – it was the Head Knight herself.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Nia frowned. “I just woke up. Give me some slack.”

Momo blushed. “Oh, I didn’t mean –”

“The message was clear,” Nia rolled her eyes, grabbing her hair brush. She released the bun and combed through her hair. “You don’t look like a picture-perfect princess when you wake up, either.”

Momo grimaced. She was sure she looked like a picture-perfect zombie ghoul, actually. Nia was far kinder than the knights gave her credit for.

Momo rubbed her eyes. The resemblance to Vivienne had to be a fluke. The two had nothing in common. In fact, they were diametrically opposed. A banana and a chainsaw would have more to talk about.

“You look really nice,” Momo mumbled, turning an even darker shade of red. “I mean – you always look nice. Not that we’ve known each other long. But. Well.”

Nia smiled mercifully. Momo regretted ever coming to this city.

“Your wanted posters were a severe mischaracterization,” Momo finished, burning crimson, “is all I was trying to say.”

“So were yours.”

A note from villa1ny

Happy new year everyone! Hope you had a great New Year's Eve. :D

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Like A Game of Chess

“So here’s the plan,” Teddy said, pointing with a pudgy finger towards a large board. “We win.”

Every member of the guild clapped obediently. Nia sighed.

Momo wasn’t sure how she found herself here.

“What the man in charge means to say,” Nia lifted herself off her chair gracefully, stepping like an elk towards the board. Everyone watched on in silence, even Teddy himself, “is that there can be no mistakes.”

“Precisely, lass,” Teddy said, with a boyish smile.

This version of Nia was what Momo had expected when she saw the posters – sharp, exact, graceful. Not the woman who would laugh giddily and fight her hair brush in front of a hotel mirror. Everyone had masks, but Momo hadn’t expected to peer under hers so quickly.

She frowned. It just didn’t seem right. She knew that people got easily comfortable around her; she was told that she had ‘one of those faces,’ but Nia was more clever than that. She was what Valerica would call a schemer at heart. And in a city full of conniving blackmailers, she was apparently their queen.

But she was also pretty, and nice to talk to, and she had a brilliant smile when she laughed, so Momo put her worries aside. She was only here as an accessory to the crime, anyway. She’d get the letter, and get out, and maybe take back a few gold coins on the way.

Her eyes widened. Her gold. She’d need a way to carry it all out. She could barely keep any of it in her pockets anymore. She’d have to acquire some sort of fantasy tote bag. One of those ‘appears to have a fixed size but is magically endless’ variety.

Nia rustled something out of her bag and plastered it onto the board. It was a map, a set of architectural plans for the Knight’s Hall.

“I stole this from the treasury during one of my visits,” she grinned, earning a chorus of praise. “It is an original blueprint of the Hall, including all the secret passageways, trap doors, exits and entrances. It will be our key.”

“And this is why we love working with you, Ms. Nightsbane,” Teddy said, clasping his hands together in glee. The small crowd agreed, even Radu looked impressed.

“Don’t get all sappy just yet,” Nia chuckled. “I haven’t given you your assignments yet.”

“Well naturally I will be heading towards the inner sanctum,” Teddy shot in, flexing his shapeshifting by turning his head from man to pig, and pig to handsome frog.

“Funny,” Nia corrected. “No, you will be in charge of distracting the knights. You can shapeshift into their new leader – Lord Gunther. The real one will be busy in the Banquet Hall.”

“Is there going to be a banquet?” Momo chimed in enthusiastically. If so, she wanted to be in charge of that. She could keep an eye on the cute bear man, and stuff her face with free snacks.

Nia frowned, looking slightly uncomfortable at the question.

“Yes, there will be. But it is of no consequence to our plan.”

“I disagree,” Radu piped up. “A banquet in Nam’Dal means someone important is in town. And considering I haven’t heard of this banquet until now, it must be someone of importance. A person they want to keep under wraps.”

Nia let out a breath. “You’re correct – but only about the last part. It’s a prisoner exchange.”

“Of which prisoners?” Radu pressed. “And why would two cities underneath the King’s rule want to exchange prisoners? It’s not like we’re at political odds.”

“I don’t know,” Nia shrugged. “Cities in other regions lack expertise in criminal classes. Nam’Dal is practically drowning in it. My best guess is we’re outsourcing a locked up criminal to another city so they can use him as free labor – an unpaid teacher for their own [Lockpickers] and the like.”

“Isn’t that illegal?” Momo squeaked. “Like… borderline slavery?”

“Borderline?” Nia laughed. “It is. But that’s King Jarva for you. He’s a malignant pawn of Kyros, twisting morality whichever way suits him.”

Momo nodded. She’d heard as much from Valerica, in more murderous words.

“And who are we receiving in exchange for the criminal?” Radu wondered aloud.

“No idea, but I doubt it’s anyone powerful,” Nia said. “Regardless, we should not let this distract us. Back to planning.”

Radu didn’t seem to want to let it go, his eyebrows screwed up in worry. Momo did note Nia’s lack of enthusiasm in discussing it, but she could chalk that up to impatience. The woman clearly had a plan, and every stray question distracted from it.

“As the lass said, let’s stop interrupting her and hear out the rest,” Teddy echoed, his face stuck somewhere between bird and cow. “And maybe at the end, we can discuss my assignment…”

“Thank you, Teddy,” Nia said swiftly, pushing him out of the way. His cow-nose wrinkled up in surprise, but he obliged, slinking into the background. Momo grinned. She loved the confidence.

Nia took out a quill, freshly dipped in magical ink, and circled a room on the map.

“This is the Head Knight’s Judgment Room,” she explained, and Momo nodded in memory.

“This is what Teddy refers to as the inner sanctum. This room will ever only contain Vivienne and her Executioner. If we time it right, this is the best place to confront – and subdue – her.”

“But she’s so scary,” one of the Con Artists yelped.

“I heard she can skewer you in two with a light beam,” another murmured.

“She’s not so bad,” Momo murmured, and every eye turned to her. “I mean, she did try to kill me, but she had good reason to.”

“Did she?” Radu said, blinking in disbelief.

“Sure,” Momo nodded. “I really messed with her castle. If someone barged into my room wreaking havoc, I might have bounced a few light beams around…”

“Are you saying you’re on Vivienne’s side?” Nia asked, her placid expression morphing into an ice cold stare. Momo gulped, instantly backtracking.

“Of course not!” Momo waved her hands. “After all, she did put me in jail. It was a cozy jail, but still, she should have asked for my permission beforehand.”

“That’s… good to hear,” Nia nodded. “So you won’t complain when I kidnap her against her will and throw her into my cozy dungeon?”

“Uh, that’s different,” Momo stuttered. “You have your reasons.”

She had no idea what Nia’s reasons were, but Momo didn’t want to argue. She liked being on Nia’s good side, and preferred to stay there.

“I certainly do,” Nia said, and pressed her quill to the parchment again. “So, let’s not delay any further. Our goal is simple, like a game of chess – we capture Vivienne, we win. Her army of doofs is useless without her, and we’ll have an invaluable bargaining chip.”

She drew a rudimentary smiley face in the Judgement Room and then gave it X’s for eyes. Momo applauded her artistic ability.

“As I said before, Teddy will be in charge of keeping the knights busy, posing as Lord Gunther. He will take two of you as his lackeys, posing as other members of the King’s guard. You will enter through the Knight’s Barracks entrance. The rest of us will not be so lucky.”

Nia drew a line in ink between a sewer grate and an entrance to the jailhouse. Momo frowned. She did not like what that line was suggesting.

“Due to Radu and Momo’s little escapade,” Nia smirked, “the guards will be on high alert. They will have all the regular entrances guarded. That leaves us with only one entry point: the plumbing repair tunnel.”

“But I just got rid of my dead rat smell,” Momo mumbled.

“I promise you’ll be able to afford a shower once this is all done.”

“Don’t you think Big Rat will have a problem with that?” Radu interrupted.

“Big Rat is in my pocket. We should have no problems with him.”

Radu didn’t look convinced, but he dropped the topic. Momo couldn’t imagine how big this rat could be that he posed such a threat. She was sure Nia could win against an oversized rodent.

“So what do we do once we’re inside? Just run up to Vivienne and yell boo?” the Eldergoat thief piped up. He seemed perpetually agitated.

From the look Nia gave him, he also seemed perpetually asking for an ass kicking.

“Not quite. Once we’re inside, we’ll split up. Radu, you’ll take the remaining con artists and guard the Banquet Hall. Make sure no one comes in or out. Momo and I will head to the Judgment Room.”

“You plan to take on Vivienne and the Executioner alone?” Teddy gaped.

“That’s a death sentence!”

“She did say Momo and I,” Momo muttered, but then remembered herself. Vivienne would probably want to murder her on sight. “But I agree, isn’t that a little, um, risky?”

“Nonsense. Momo proved to us with her escape that she’s more than capable. It will be a well-balanced fight – two against two. Plus, you all will be doing the hard part. Keeping everyone else at bay.”

Momo began to sweat. A well-balanced fight? A well-balanced fight would be between Momo and a possessed teddy bear, not two expert-level government officials who just watched her blow up their library. This plan had several holes.

“Really, I don’t know if I’ll be that much of a help –”

“Enough,” Nia stopped her, smiling placidly. “You will. Or you die trying. Whichever you prefer.”

A note from villa1ny

The story just surpassed 4,000 followers. I can't believe this milestone - thank you all so much for your support and readership, and for loving Momo and Dusk (and Valerica and...) as much as I love writing them <3

The first week of January is almost over, and I'm excited to get back to my regular posting schedule on the 9th.

(Also, I love reading your conspiracy theories about Nia and Vivienne haha keep 'em coming)

Rat City Business

As Nia had promised, they entered the sewers through a grate outside. Each of the party members filed down the ladder, one after the other, as if they were obedient school children on a field trip. The grates were embossed with the King’s emblem, and a very clear direction was plastered into the front.

PROPERTY OF THE KING

DO NOT ENTER UNLESS ALLOWED

* ESPECIALLY FOR CRIMINAL PURPOSES

Momo had wondered if their obvious criminal activity would attract attention, but it did not. True to their nature, most of the birdly citizens minded their birdly business. Only the vultures proved curious, squatting outside the grate to wait and see if any of them fell to their death.

“What would they do if we did fall and die?” Momo asked Radu, her stomach turning.

“Eat our remains.”

“What?”

“Kidding,” he grinned. “They’d probably just try and sell our corpses on the underground market for some extra coin. You’d be safe, though,” Radu looked her small frame up and down, “not much for them to sell.”

Momo glared at him.

“I’m sure I’d be worth something.”

“A hundred coins, maybe,” Radu shrugged.

“At least two hundred,” she huffed. “I’ve been working out more.”

She couldn’t believe she was arguing about how much she’d go for on the bird black-market, but here she was. This was one ego battle she wouldn’t let go of.

“Well, better not to find out, eh?” Radu said, abruptly ending the argument. It was his turn on the grate. He sidled down the ladder with ease, and gave her a wink before going out of view. The ladder was long, and the depths were dark.

It was not the kind of cozy hole Momo was used to curling up into.

She swallowed. She was the only one left.

“Good day,” one of the vultures greeted Momo as she lined up for her turn. He wore overalls and spectacles. He didn’t look the part of a corpse-seller.

“Good day,” Momo greeted in return. “Can I ask what you’re doing by this grate?”

“Oh, just watching,” he squawked.

“Nothing else?”

“Is it a crime to watch people commit crimes these days?” he frowned. “If you are worried about me selling your corpse, you can worry elsewhere. I’m retired.”

Momo laughed nervously.

“That’s nice to hear,” she said, and swallowed. She had to stop dallying and face the ladder.

“Oh, don’t worry about your little human head. It’s a pretty painless drop,” the vulture comforted. “I never hear any of their screams.”

“Oh, great.”

—

Big Rat’s Sewer System somehow smelled better than the city above it.

Once she was a safe distance from the ground, she jumped, collapsing into a lump. Her legs were wobbling, weak at the knees. She had spent every ounce of strength on the strenuous climb.

“Why are the sewer systems so far underground,” she groaned. “This does not seem convenient.”

“Because rats are notoriously bad at climbing ladders.”

Momo looked up to find Radu standing above her, a hand reached out.

“I don’t like how often we find ourselves in this position,” Momo muttered.

“It’s not my fault you love to be a lump on the ground.”

“I really do,” she confessed, and then took his hand, getting dragged upwards.

The rest of the party were a few steps ahead, already venturing forth through the well-lit tunnels. It smelled pleasantly, like cheese and jam. The piping ran through the walls, and the paths below it were well-manicured. An array of torches lit the path ahead.

They walked for several minutes before they were met by a large door. A skeleton was sitting in front of it, holding what looked like a takeout pizza box. It was covered in dust and cobwebs, a great departure from the rest of the cleanly aesthetic.

“Did someone die here delivering the rats pizza?” Momo said, nervous. She inched towards it, reading the writing on the side of the box.

ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK

(UNLESS YOU ARE DELIVERING

CHEESE, THEN PLEASE KNOCK

THRICE)

Nia wordlessly rapped three times on the door. She had obviously been here before, completely unaffected by the skeletal warning sign. In response to the knocks, the creaky doors yawned open slowly, revealing another large corridor, stuffed to the brink with…

Crackers.

Just hundreds of crackers. They were oversized, and delicious looking. They smelled fresh, maybe even lightly salted. Momo salivated at the sight of them, immediately walking up to them and taking one by the hand. It’s not like the rats would miss a single cracker…

“Stop, thief!”

A voice as large as life boomed through the corridor, and Momo froze in place.

“Gods, you just had to touch something…” Radu groaned.

Another door flew open, and a giant shadow painted the wall. Compared to the other corridors, this one was rather unlit – probably to serve as a menacing warning to intruders. Loud steps boomed into the room, crackers crumbling underneath feet.

Momo’s heart pounded as she watched the shadow grow on the wall. It was rodent-shaped, and reared up on its hind legs. Two enormous pointed teeth poked out of its snout. Momo screamed, fumbling backwards.

“Please don’t eat me,” she begged. “I am 50% part rat, myself, you know. It’d be like cannibalism.”

A tongue licked its shadowy jowls. It was ready to pounce.

“How dare you trespass into my kingdom unannounced,” the shadow growled, “knocking over my things, claiming falsely to be my brethren…”

The figure drew closer, and the shadow only grew along the wall, tripling in size. The rodent in Momo’s chest was running faster than it ever had – nearly hitting a wheel-spinning personal record.

“Oh, Fromage, cut the act. It’s only me,” Nia said, rolling her eyes.

The shadow paused. It sniffed the air.

“Nia Nightsbane? Is that you?”

Into the light, the giant rat emerged. He was nearly double Momo’s height, and wore a top hat, a suit, and a bowtie. He looked like he had jumped out of a rodent-only rendition of Pride and Prejudice.

“I’m so sorry, sir,” Momo bowed. “I really did not mean to knock over your cracker.”

“Nia, is this little cracker-stealer with you? Should I believe a word out of her mouth?”

“I can vouch for her, yes,” Nia said. “She is not the cracker-stealing type.”

The rat looked at her, as if to discern this himself. After he had finished his analysis, he harrumphed, and turned his snout up to the ceiling.

“I agree, she is not plump enough to be a frequent cracker-thief. Either that, or she’s a very lousy one,” Fromage said judgmentally, and then flicked one of his paws in the air. “Rudolph, please make Nia’s party feel welcome. Set the table and put out the good bread and cheese.”

The previously unseen rodent at his side scurried away obediently.

—

Fromage ushered Momo and the rest of them to a large wooden table. It was decorated with tiny statues made of cheese, many resembling the Big Rat himself. Momo eyed one in awe. It was nearly the same golden color as Valerica’s own baubles. She’d probably love to add this to her collection.

“Don’t get any ideas,” Fromage huffed, following her gaze. “My finest [Cheese Smith] made those. They are not for sale, especially to the likes of you.”

“I was merely admiring, sir,” Momo said, bowing again. Her back was starting to hurt from the amount of apology-bows she was giving to the giant rat.

“Admiring is allowed,” he hummed. “If you behave, I might even let you touch it.”

Momo wanted to ask if they ever ate their statues, but she didn’t want to get into more trouble than she already was. They just looked like they’d pair deliciously with jam, or a cracker…

She shook her head. She was among distinguished rats, so she’d have to be on her best behavior. Not to mention that she had to model good behavior for little Biscuit. These could be his role models.

Fromage sat down at the head of the table, on a throne made of cheese. Another work of the [Cheese Smith], Momo deduced. It was a masterpiece, a fine work of cheddar and gouda. She wondered if she could hire him for the Dawn.

A rat dressed in an apron came out of the shadows, carrying a large steel platter. On top of the platter were at least ten large cheese wheels, stacked on top of each other like a leaning Tower of Cheesa.

Momo grinned at her own joke.

“What are you smiling about?” Radu nudged her.

“Nothing,” she nodded, stifling down the grin. She straightened her back, flattening her shoulders. She had to appear regal.

“You look like you’re about to pass out from concentration,” Radu added, noting her change in posture.

“Shut it.”

The aproned rat set down the platter expertly, not a single cheese wheel trembling. Another server came up on the other side, setting down forks, knives, plates, and placemats.

Momo nearly shed a tear – a plate. These really were the most civilized people in the region.

“Bon Appetit,” Fromage said happily, taking a fork and knife in his paws.

He then descended on the cheese wheel stack, taking at least four of them in his mouth at once. It was one of the most impressive feats of eating Momo had ever seen. The rat swallowed the cheese wheels within seconds, the entire stack gone in a minute.

Patting his stomach, he set down the fork and knife next to him politely. The cutlery had never touched the food.

Once Fromage had finished digesting, the bread and cheese was served. It was a modest showing of three baguettes and a variety of sliced cheese, spread out over several platters.

“Are we also supposed to eat everything with our mouths while holding up the cutlery?” Momo whispered to Radu, not wanting to be impolite.

“Well, that would be the most polite way to do things, yes,” he nodded. “But you’re a human, so they will tolerate a modicum of rudeness.”

Momo sighed. She’d just have to try her best.

She used her hands to grab a piece of bread and cheese off the platter, watching Fromage’s gaze. It was pinned to her, narrow eyes watching for another misstep.

The food on her plate, she grabbed the cutlery.

“Wrong fork hand,” Fromage corrected, waving his paw. “The fork goes in the left paw.”

“But I don’t have paws,” Momo mumbled.

“We all have to work within our limitations.”

She quickly traded the utensils. Fork in the left paw – er, hand – and knife in the right. He nodded, giving her permission to continue the intricate eating ritual.

She risked a glance towards Nia. Naturally, the thief had the whole thing figured out. She made rat-style eating look graceful. She used the back of her hand to transport the bread to her mouth, while the utensil remained. It was a delicate balancing act.

Momo steeled herself, looking down at her plate. She’d have to put her new dexterity points to good use. [Corrupted Druid] was supposed to be an agile, nimble, non-clumsy class. If she could hop through the woods with ease, summon giant birds, and blow up mage towers, she could balance cheese on her hand too. She was sure of it.

Using one hand to nudge the bread onto the back of another, she lifted the sliced baguette carefully upwards. It wobbled slightly, and Fromage opened his jowls to comment.

“Proper form is important – ” he began, but the bread stilled.

Fromage frowned, and Momo internally cheered. She had won.

She bit into the bread, but her bite wasn’t hard enough, and the sliced baguette went into freefall towards her plate. It landed with a slight plop, and Fromage grinned, showing off his pearly white teeth.

“A valiant effort,” he said, and seemed to genuinely mean it. “It is always hard for a human to acclimate at first to our fine cultural standards, even Nia was a fork-eater at first. Now look at her, a proper rodent.”

Nia barely looked up, dabbing her mouth with a napkin. She had downed an entire baguette flawlessly.

“I promise to practice,” Momo nodded. “I’ll get there eventually.”

“I’m sure you will, cracker-thief,” he said, turning the accusation into an affectionate nickname. “Now, let’s talk business.”

A note from villa1ny

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Cheese Politic

A note from villa1ny

Today's shoutout goes to The Legendary Fool [Deckbuilder LITRPG].

Thomas Lowe was destined for a life of mediocrity as he worked a dead-end job in rural america. But fate seemed to have other plans for him.

One card changed everything. A power beyond imagination. A prophecy that put him in the crosshairs of Ancient Clans and Noble Houses that have existed since the dawn of the first era.

The name of that card was....

[Card Name: The Fool]

[Rank: Ephemeral [Legendary Unique]

At the promise of talking business, the room quieted. Servants of the Big Rat had taken away the crumbs of cheddar and gouda, cleared the table, and scurried away to their designated corners.

“As you all know, Rats are the only people in this city which lack representation in the government,” Fromage began. “We are shunned to the sewers, forced to live like our ancestral brethren.”

“Aren’t rats distinctly not people?” Momo whispered to Radu. He had become her walking encyclopedia of Alois halfling politics, much to his chagrin.

The Big Rat’s ears twitched, flicking towards her.

“Rats have notoriously good hearing,” Fromage said, narrowing his eyes. “And we are people, although some ratlings find their human genetics disagreeable.”

He grimaced.

“You all do have terrible table manners, and funny looking snouts,” Fromage added. “So I understand their grievances.”

“I apologize,” Momo said, for the hundredth time since entering the city, “I hadn’t met any halflings before coming to Nam’Dal. Also you look… remarkably ratly. Except for your height and general giant-ness.”

This seemed to rub his ego the right way, and he raised his snout proudly.

“Amongst our people, I am one of the biggest. It is how I received my name.”

“Your name… you mean Big Rat?”

“Yes, precisely. An honored title,” he stated, playing with his bowtie. He motioned to the small rat boy seemingly stapled to his side. “My son, Rudolph, takes after his mother. What he lacks in size, he makes up for in speed and wit.”

“Is that so?” Momo said, politely intrigued. She tried not to laugh at the increasingly amusing names.

“Yes. Rudolph always comes in a strong second place in the Rat Race,” Fromage said with a proud grin, looking backwards at his son. His son seeped farther back into the darkness, his furry cheeks burning.

“What’s the Rat Race?” Momo asked, unable to help herself. She felt like she had stepped into one of the TV shows she watched as a kid. She had always cried at the animals having to work human jobs – like Billy the Goat-Architect. It just seemed unjust. Why should a Goat be an architect? Or a rat, a politician?

Animals were meant to laze around, be fed, and receive tummy rubs. Not perform labor.

Alois would have been her childhood nightmare.

“Have our time-honored traditions really lost so much respect?” Fromage shook his head. “The Rat Race is the most distinguished ratling event in all of Alois. Ratlings from all over the continent come to watch and compete.”

“And you host it?”

“Some years,” he nodded, and his top hat slid over his snout. He adjusted it, re-clipping it to his head with a small hair clip. “Different Rat Lords from different cities take on the honor every year. I hosted it in Nam’Dal many years ago, before the Dark Calamity made the King into a speciesist tyrant.”

So the word was speciesist. Momo felt vindicated.

“Who does the King like, exactly?” Momo murmured.

“Himself,” Nia piped up, pointing one of her many daggers towards them for emphasis. Fromage didn’t seem fazed by it. “His Circle of the Sun. Kryos. That’s about it. Everyone else is either a pawn, or something to be disposed of.”

“Seems like a pretty unlikeable guy,” Momo said, crossing her arms. “How has he not gotten overthrown earlier?”

“How does any tyrant stay in power?” Nia responded. “Fear and poverty. Make the necromancers the boogeyman, oppress those likely to sympathize with them, and then promise a future of prosperity for everyone who agrees with him.”

Momo hummed. “You’re right, that is a pretty good sales pitch.”

“Necros are one thing, but us rats have done nothing at all to deserve our reputation,” Fromage interrupted. “Raise our relatives from the dead? No! We just eat our cheese politely, bake fantastic bread, and keep the sewer system running. What do you think the King would do without a working toilet?”

He rose from the table, looming over everyone. He stared at Nia.

“Enough blabber-mouthing. Nia, it seems you have finally assembled your team of criminals,” he boomed, observing them one by one. He gave Momo a particularly suspicious glare, and mouthed cracker thief.

“They aren’t much, but I think they’ll get the job done,” she shrugged. The Con Artists slumped in their seats slightly.

“If you’re sure about that, then I have a proposal,” he stated, straightening his suit. “Should you succeed, I insist that you must reinstate Ratling representation in government. The Chamber of Cheese will once again open its doors, and my son, Rudolph, will head the department.”

Nia laughed. “I intend to topple the regime, not run the new one. I can’t promise something like that.”

“But I can,” Teddy said, barreling out of his chair. He had insisted on coming with them through the sewer entrance, and Momo supposed this might be why: an opportunity to play Cheese Politic. “With Vivienne gone, Nam’Dal will run just like the good old days. It will be a new renaissance – the rats and the birds will run this city, and the criminals will have their backs.”

“Birds…” Fromage frowned. “I actually don’t mind the squawkers staying in their corner of the city.”

“Focus on the bigger evil, Fromage,” Nia said, narrowing her eyes.

The rat sighed, flopping back into his chair.

“Fine,” he reached out a huge paw towards Teddy. “If you really mean all that, then I’ll escort you to the Hall entrance myself. If you don’t, then you’ll be hearing from me personally.”

A malignant, red glint flashed in Fromage’s eye. Momo wondered if the Big Rat himself had a class. Was he as powerful as he looked, or did he claw his way to the top of Rat Society some other way? Her head was swimming with all these new cultural norms.

She was still desperate to know how one could win the Rat Race. Was it like the Hunger Games, but with mice? Or more of a cheese-crafting competition? The range of possibilities lit her brain afire.

“It’s a deal,” Teddy said, firmly shaking the rat’s hand. With Teddy’s small stature, the exchange looked like a transaction between a gnome and a giant.

“Wonderful. Just wonderful,” Fromage said gleefully, shaking Teddy’s hand so hard the shapeshifter lost his footing. “Rudolph, we’re celebrating. Bring out the cheese-wine!”

—

“Don’t you think it’s a bad idea to topple a government while drunk?”

Momo’s complaints fell on deaf ears, the ring of clashing glasses overpowering her.

“To Nam’Dal!”

“To the future of Ratdom!”

“To seeing Vivienne locked in a pretty little cage!”

The crowd hurrahed, and downed their drinks in one swig. The rats had brought out two bottles: a typical red wine, and then a nearly two-feet tall bottle of yellow liquid. On Fromage’s instruction, they had started with the red.

“Now, for the second course,” he grinned. “Raton, prepare the gouda!”

A rat with a chef’s hat and a whiskered mustache emerged from the shadows, carrying a cheese grater and a block of cheese. He hurriedly set a platter on the table, and then raised the block of cheese upwards, as if part of a ritualistic dance.

Rudolph appeared by his side, uncorking the yellow bottle. He began to circle the table, pouring a sizable dollop in each person’s glass, while Raton began to grate the cheese.

“This is… cheese wine?” Momo wondered aloud.

“A ratling speciality,” Fromage explained. “Saved only for the most important of occasions.”

“Right,” she said, adding yet another fact to the pool of wild information that was becoming a tsunami in her head. “Is it alcoholic?”

“Alcoholic? But of course. Any good cheese is.”

Momo blinked, processing what he was suggesting. Any good cheese? That explained the pounding in her head, the growing dizziness she had felt all evening. She turned to Radu, but he didn’t seem to share her confusion.

“All cheese contains alcohol,” he said, like duh. “Everyone knows that.”

“And we’re about to try and kidnap Vivienne…” Momo paused, feeling her stomach turn wildly, “drunk?”

“That’s the only way to do a proper revolution, lass!” Teddy cheered, holding up his glass while Rudolph poured. “Make sure to lick up every single drop, there’s nothing quite like a drink from Big Rat’s cellar.”

Momo attempted to refuse, but Raton was already over her, pouring freshly grated gouda into her drink. She watched as the cheese particles plummeted into the glass; her blurry eyes tracked the gouda as it bobbed up and down on the liquid surface like small, yellow boats floating in the open sea.

It was completely enrapturing.

Either that, or she was three vodka-infused cheese wheels into a very bad hangover.

“Come on,” Radu encouraged, tapping the side of her glass to pull her attention. “Don’t be rude.”

“God help me,” Momo murmured, and threw the glass back.

You have received the boon [Cheese Vision] by drinking [Fermented Cheese Wine].

[Cheese Vision]: Years in the dark have degraded the rat’s eyes. To counteract the effects, they learned how to brew a magical variation of wine that allows them to see in the pitch black. Cheese Vision allows you to see in the darkest of environments for the next 12 hours.

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As of today, 5 advanced chapters are available at the Full Access tier on Patreon. I'm hoping to get that number to 15 very soon, hopefully in the coming two weeks.

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Riggly, Rat Of Old

When Momo opened her eyes again, she nearly toppled over in disbelief. What had once been a room bathed in dim torchlight came awake, revealing a sprawling rodent kingdom. Dozens of ratlings slid silently behind Fromage, transiting from one area of the sewer system to another. Even farther in the distance, an entire marketplace stood beneath drainage pipes.

“Oh my god,” Momo babbled. “All of that has been here… the entire time?”

“Sure has,” Nia smirked. “A silent bunch, aren’t they?”

“I feel like ‘silent’ is an understatement,” Momo said, gawking. “I didn’t hear a single footstep.”

“I told you it’d be wise to drink up,” Teddy grinned, wobbling out of his seat. Having eaten the largest proportion of the cheese, he was considerably drunker than the rest of them. “Cheesewine always reveals the way. Now, there’s no time to dally. Let’s get on with it.”

He tripped over a stray sewer pipe, flopping on to the ground.

“That’s what I thought,” Momo muttered, shaking her head. She had a small amount of faith in the Con Artists while sober, but that faith plummeted quickly into the negatives the moment alcohol was involved. She’d sooner invade the palace with the aid of a group of drugged hamsters.

“He’ll be fine,” Nia waved her hand, strutting away from the table with ease. While Momo’s knees were ready to give out at any second, Nia seemed completely unaffected. The walking picture of poise.

“If anything, his knight impression will only be more convincing,” Radu added, helping Teddy up from the floor. “Those metalheads are basically walking beer kegs.”

“And you guys are much better?” Momo snorted, high on drunk audacity.

“Of course we are. We’re artists.”

“Artists are always drunk,” a thief interjected. “It helps the creative juices flow.”

“From your nimble fingers to your thieving toes,” Teddy added musically, swaying in Radu’s arms. “A Con Artist must always be a jolly fellow.”

More of the group joined in, singing this impromptu theme song as they made their way haphazardly down the corridor. Momo’s instinct was to poke fun at it – but she was well-aware that her own internal theme song had dictated more of her life than she’d like to admit.

Once everyone was back on their feet, Fromage led them through a twisting maze of tunnels. Momo became very thankful for her [Cheese Vision], as the tunnel system became increasingly dark as they progressed. Only the first chambers were lit by torches, it seemed – the rest were only accessible after a bottle of yellow wine.

“I thought rats were supposed to be able to see in the dark,” Momo mumbled, stepping over yet another discarded wine bottle.

“Big misconception,” Fromage quickly refuted. “Our ancestral brethren were quite able to sneak around in the midnight, but only because of their acute senses of touch, smell, and hearing. Us halfling rats are plagued by our human deficiencies.”

“The same human deficiencies that allowed you to stand on two legs, talk, and make magical night vision cheese?” Momo giggled drunkenly.

He stopped abruptly, turning his head back towards her.

“What did you just say?”

Momo stumbled, nearly falling face-flat into a drain pipe before catching herself.

“Oh, n – nothing,” she laughed lightly, her heart pounding in her chest. Stupid alcohol.

“Do you dare speak ill of the Great Rats that came before us?”

“I’d advise answering no,” Nia smirked, materializing by her side and giving Momo the scare of her life. Even with [Cheese Vision] enabled, she could barely keep track of the nimble footed thief.

“No, sir,” Momo backtracked, taking Nia’s advice. “I have nothing but respect for rodents. In fact, a rodent is the only reason I am alive today.”

Fromage narrowed his eyes. “Is that so? You are rather small. I assumed you were tiny in the human way, but could it be that you, the infamous cracker-thief, are part rat yourself?”

“Oh, that’s not what I meant –”

“Answer me, cracker-thief! Rat, or not rat?”

Momo felt like she had been cast in a very odd rendition of Hamlet.

“Um well, I am not a rat. But I contain a rat. Is contain the right word? I have a rat inside me. That sounds worse.”

Fromage’s eyes widened, his face growing more solemn as she babbled on.

“A [Ratmancer]? Is that what you are?” He said, cutting her off.

“A… what?” Momo blinked.

His shock transformed into fear, and he bared his teeth.

“I will not become one of your lackeys, vile [Ratmancer]! I thought we had done away with your kind centuries ago, and yet you return to enslave me and my brothers!”

“I think there’s been a huge misunderstanding,” Momo hiccupped, frantically waving her hands in front of her face. Fromage refused to listen, inching closer to her neck. He looked like he was about to pounce.

Nia sighed, silently stepping between Fromage’s fangs and Momo’s throat.

“[Charm],” she cast.

The oversized rodent immediately settled, his teeth retracting.

“I really didn’t want to have to do that,” Nia sighed, and then turned to Momo. “Everything was going just swimmingly. You really do have a penchant for stirring up trouble, don’t you?”

“Me? I hate trouble.” Momo said, blushing red.

“Well, trouble loves you,” Nia laughed, and turned her attention to Fromage. “Alright big guy, lead us out of here. No more commotion or accusations.”

Fromage nodded, eerily obedient, and once again took charge of the pack.

–

The trek towards the secret entrance was long. Nam’Dal spanned a large distance, and the sewer system even more so, given it was not designed with walking in mind. Momo’s feet had begun to hurt, and with most of the con artists caught up in drunken chatter, her mind began to wander.

She couldn’t help but obsess over Nia’s accusation. Trouble did seem to love her. It was beginning to dawn on her that she might not be an unwilling victim of it, either. She had assumed that falling into scheme after scheme was a side effect of being one of Morgana’s servants, but…

She didn’t have to accept Nia’s invitation, or return to Valerica’s side time and time again. She could have weaseled out of the whole affair weeks ago. Momo on Earth would have. If she had any class back on the Big Green and Blue, it was [Responsibility Evader]. And yet, here she was: picking fights with rats, tagging along to a civil war, acting as a lowkey agent of necromantic revolution.

She took notice of herself in a reflective pipe. She knew the number one rule of drunkenness was never to stare at yourself in the mirror, as you will most likely spin yourself into an existential crisis, or try and fight yourself, but like all good drunkards, she did anyway.

What lay there didn’t startle her. In fact, she was relieved. She was considerably more alive than the last time she saw herself – color had returned to her cheeks, her hair was no longer completely matted. She had even gained the tiniest amount of muscle in her arms and shoulders. Enough to lift a coffee mug over her head and not worry about spilling.

Her robes were still more ‘abandoned patchwork door mat’ than proper clothing, but that could be fixed. Her hair was still white as a sheet. She still looked too much like her father, and nothing like her mother. And somewhere deep inside her chest, a rat-gerbil hybrid was spinning on a wheel like a madman.

A small, proud grin inched up her face. Sure, she looked like she had been tied up to a windmill and twirled around a couple of times, but she liked that. She was building character, as her mother loved to say. A necromantic, thieving, stealing, conning character, but one with heart.

Or at least forearms.

“We’re here.”

The announcement tore Momo from her thoughts, delivering her back to the present. They had arrived at an unremarkable dead end. Momo scanned her surroundings, but produced nothing of note. Just a cold room full of pipes, like the rest.

Not that she was in the best position to be analyzing anything. She was barely able to control her bladder. She was considering asking if they could have a bathroom break once they got into the Knight’s Hall, but she doubted that they had any public use restrooms.

“Open the hatch,” Nia instructed Fromage, pointing to one of the walls. The rat obliged, and abruptly shoved his fist into the dirt wall. He wriggled his wrist in the dirt, and then with the full weight of his body, he pulled backwards.

Accompanied by a tiny, animalesque scream, Fromage fell backwards, and out popped a rodent. Not a halfling rodent, but a normal-sized one, the size of two open palms. It fell to the floor, belly-side up, and flailed its paws in the air.

“Oh no,” Momo frowned in fear, immediately approaching it. “Are you okay there?”

The rat blinked up at her, and then a big, booming voice echoed through the chamber.

“Who dares disturb my slumber?”

Momo yelped, the alcohol nearly jumping out of her stomach. She looked around frantically, but the source of the voice seemed to originate, somehow, from the tiny rodent itself.

“We apologize, Riggly,” Nia intervened, once again excusing Momo’s bad rat-manners. “But we need you to open the secret entrance again.”

“I will not speak until I am righted.”

Nia sighed, and scooped the rat underneath, turning it over so it was no longer struggling on its backside. Properly standing, it shook its fur and licked its paws, and then firmly plopped itself into a sitting position.

“That’s better. I see you have once again incapacitated the Big One. Good. He is too full of himself.”

“I am so confused,” Momo said, mind whirring like an exhausted computer fan. “Is that a normal rat, or a magic rat, or a halfling rat?”

“How dare you! I am one of the remaining Rats of Old,” the rodent named Riggly insisted. “I may not look as handsome and impressive as I did in my younger years, but I could still dismember you limb by limb if I so chose to. So act accordingly.”

Momo blinked. It was time for her to stop talking, she decided. From the stern look Nia was giving her, she shared this sentiment.

“Riggly, will you let us up?” Nia repeated, pressing the topic.

“I don’t see what I get out of such a chore.”

“I snagged a few cheese crumbs,” Nia said, producing some stolen cheese from her pocket. “Your favorite flavor, too.”

The rodent’s eyes lit up, and it stuck its tiny paws out towards her.

“Could it be? Forbidden Cheddar? I must taste it. Oh, give it to me now.”

“Not so fast,” Nia said, tightening her fist. “First, the hatch, please.”

“No, don’t think so,” Riggly said, and waved his paw in the air. “[Paw of Fir–]”

“Do you really want to torch this cheddar?” Nia interrupted, catching his paw with her hand, effectively canceling the spell.

“Dang nab it,” the rodent gritted its tiny molars. “Release my hand at once, wench!”

Momo watched the staredown between Nia and the rodent with great amusement, Nia’s hand dwarfing his entire body in size. It seemed even great, unimaginable power had its limits.

“No,” Nia grinned. “Accept the cheese, open the passageway. Let’s not make a mess of your chambers.”

The rodent seemed to consider this, its paw falling limp in Nia’s grip.

“Fine. Release me, and I will do your bidding. But I demand all of your cheese crumbs, and that you bring me a double serving of them once you return.”

“We’re making a lot of promises to rats today,” Momo whispered to no one in particular.

“Deal,” Nia said, shaking his paw. “I’ll make it triple.”

Pleased, Riggly shuffled back into the hole that Fromage had dragged him out of. Within seconds, whistles and locks were whizzing and whirring. The western wall of the room began to shake, dirt spraying off of it. It began to recede, the stone inching slowly away to reveal a previously hidden corridor.

“Oh, great,” Momo moaned. “Another ladder?”

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The Foretelling of a Witch

“Oh, great,” Momo moaned. “Another ladder?”

“What goes down, must go back up,” Nia smirked, starting the climb. Momo sighed. Her arm muscles were going to be sacks of overcooked potatoes by the end of this. She'd be hopping back to the Dawn on crutches.

“Dusk?” she whispered once Nia was out of earshot. She didn’t think the woman had taken notice of the invisible cat yet, and she wanted to keep it that way. It was always good to have an extra card up your sleeve. Or in her case, a skeletal cat. Not up her sleeve, specifically, but nearby at the very least.

The cat flickered into view, and Momo smiled, giving her a quick rub on the vertebrae.

“Have you been good? Didn’t eat any of those nice, respectable mice-men?”

Dusk purred. Momo could tell it was sarcastic.

“I’ll pretend that was a yes,” Momo murmured, holding her hand out for the cat to climb. Dusk obliged, climbing up onto Momo’s shoulders and turning to [Phantom] mode once again.

–

After a relatively quick and painless ascent into the Hall, they arrived in the jailhouse. The ladder led into the jailhouse’s southernmost cell, at the very end of the long hallway. It was the same hallway that Momo had been locked in before, save one simple aberration: nearly all the cells were empty.

The only noise came from a chattering Eldergoat, who was in extended conversation with the wall.

“No one left,” he babbled, eyes bright and mad. “Just me, old Galgadool. Nobody wants old Galgadool…”

Momo nearly pitied him, but then remembered the prisoner exchange banquet set to happen that same day. He was acting like he was excluded from some prison break, but it was more likely he had been spared from being traded like criminal currency.

Still, Momo sympathized, looking at the way he softly rocked himself in his cage. She knew his plight well. Nothing like being left behind when the rest of your class went out for recess.

“Hey, you, goat!” Teddy barked out. “Where’s all ye friends?”

The eldergoat looked up, startled, and began to blinked frantically.

“Noises in my head! Galgadool is haunted by his captured comrades!” he shrieked, covering his eyes with his hoofs. He curled his knees up to his chin, and assumed the position of a goatly ball.

Momo shook her head at Teddy, silently judgemental. That was no voice to use with a startled animal. As the team’s resident beast whisperer, she’d just have to take things into her own hands.

But first she’d have to perform a miraculous escape from incarceration.

She approached the door to their cage, and pushed lightly. To her glee, it swung right open. The guards hadn’t bothered to lock the cages they had hauled the previous prisoners out of. That was good. It meant they didn’t anticipate their arrival.

Or they did, and the Con Artists were playing right into their hands. Momo frowned. She didn’t like the equal likelihood of those options. She looked towards Nia for any signs of betrayal, but the woman only smiled at her eagerly. Momo blushed, butterflies storming in her stomach. She looked away before her embarrassment hit catastrophic levels.

This was not the time to be fantasizing about criminals. There were plenty of other times for that, but not the current one.

The rest of the party in tow, she slowly approached the Eldergoat’s cage. He looked up at her in terror, bleating frantically.

“Galgadool is a simple goat, no use for you, no use for a knight…”

“Oh will you shut it?” Teddy groaned, causing Galgadool to only chatter further. Momo glared at him.

“Don’t talk to Mr. Galgadool like that,” she insisted, a bit of drunken authority still coursing through her veins. “Radu, hand me a candy.”

Radu looked at her quizzically, but dug one out of his pockets regardless. He handed it over, and Momo slowly slipped it in between the bars of the cage, offering it in an open palm.

“Are you hungry?” Momo smiled sweetly. “These are really good. I think you’ll feel a lot better if you have one.”

Galgadool looked skeptically at the candy, his frantic bleating continuing.

“The enemy wishes to drug Galgadool, but Galgadool must resist…” he cried, eyes locked on the wrapped piece of chocolate, “but Galgadool’s stomach grumbles. He starves. Oh, poor, pitiful Galga–”

“Give me another one,” Momo instructed. Radu obliged with an increasingly skeptical side eye.

“Why are we even bothering with this goat?” Nia interjected. “We know what fate his friends are about to suffer. If we’re faster, we can stop it entirely.”

Despite Nia’s impatience, Momo remained stubborn. She didn’t like being kept in the dark. She could excuse Valerica for doing it, as she seemed clinically predisposed to share only the bare minimum of things, but Momo wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to get a fuller picture.

“We still don’t know what prisoners they’re exchanging, or who they’re exchanging them for,” Momo said, suddenly grateful for the defiant edge the cheese wine had given her. “What if we’re running into a very scary situation completely unprepared?”

“I wouldn’t call us unprepared,” Nia said, smile faltering. “We have an expert [Dark Thief] – me, and a high level Intermediate, Teddy, as well as a handful of middling thieves and con artists…”

“Don’t ye dare call me middling!” the Eldergoat thief piped up, slurring his words slightly.

“Who are coincidentally drunk,” Momo whispered. Nia narrowed her eyes at her.

“We’re all a bit off the horse,” Nia said, and Momo merely blinked at the weird phrase. “But it was a needed sacrifice to get through the tunnels. How else would we have seen in the dark? Don’t get scared off now, Momo. Remember all that coin that’s waiting for you?”

Momo’s subconscious drew up a picture of a thousand shiny gold pennies. It was a very alluring promise. She imagined returning to the Dawn and stacking thousands of gold coins high on Morgana’s fountain. She’d place them in intricate formations, turning them into elaborate, shiny statues.

Oh god – she was becoming no better than Valerica. The shiny disease had infected her.

“I’m firmly on the horse,” Momo said defiantly. “I just don’t want to be… abruptly thrown off it.”

Nia smirked. “If we play things right, then you can ride out of here on a ten horse brigade. Now come on.”

Nia beckoned the group forward, and all but Momo followed.

“I’m not ready yet,” Momo said, her knees wobbling in a last act of defiance. “Like I said, I really want to know what Galgadool heard.”

“She wants my ears,” the goat whispered, eyes growing in size.

“He clearly hears nothing but voices,” Nia said flatly.

Ignoring her, Momo turned back to the goat. She unwrapped the extra chocolate Radu gave her, and raised it to her lips.

“Look, Mr. Galgadool. I promise the treat isn’t bad. I’m going to eat one, see? So you can too.”

“The small fiend would poison herself to trick Galgadool?” He said, aghast.

“No, no,” Momo frowned. “I’m eating the chocolate to show you that it is just chocolate.”

The goat’s eyes widened again, and then settled. Puzzle pieces clicked in his brain.

“Galgadool will watch with curiosity,” he whispered, pressing his head to the bars. His horns nearly took Momo’s eyes out.

Momo nodded, and then ate the candy, chewing with her mouth open for added proof. He emitted a small gasp, watching as she swallowed it down.

“See? I am alive. I lived.”

“The tiny fiend lives,” he said, processing the information. “So food is not poison?”

“Food is not poison,” Momo nodded. “Food is food.”

“And I am growing older by the second,” Nia groaned. “Are you about done yet?”

Ignoring her once more, Momo offered the chocolate to him again. This time, he took it greedily, slopping it up. He finished it within milliseconds, eyes bright and hungry.

“A twist of fate has struck Galgadool,” he grinned, raising his furry arms upwards. “A savior has emerged!” He looked at her brightly through the bars. “Tell Galgadool, wonderful savior, who has sent you? Was it the God of Goats?”

Looks like [Sweet Deal] did the trick. Momo grinned.

“Nope, no one sent me,” Momo said. “But either way, I need to ask you some questions. Can you answer them? I promise to let you out after you do.”

“Just as I thought, the God of Goats abandons me…” Galgadool sighed, “but that is of no consequence. A small savior has come to me, so Galgadool will answer all of her questions.”

“Thank you, Galgadool,” Momo smiled. “Do you know where all the other prisoners went?”

Terror filled the goat’s eyes yet again, and Momo wished she had another candy. She looked towards Radu, but he was conveniently ignoring her gaze.

“Everyone was taken. Taken by bad, bad knights. The knights left without Galgadool,” he muttered, looking towards the entranceway in memory. “Knights talk of a witch coming.”

“A witch?” A shiver ran up Momo’s spine.

His hooves curled around the bars tightly, his eyes boring into hers. His irises turned from yellow to red.

“The God of Goats told me,” the goat whispered harshly. “A witch long-dead has re-emerged, summoned by the twin moon. She was thought to be dead and buried, defeated by the Calamitous Age. But she lives. She lives…”

“I’m going to need you to be more specific,” Momo blinked. “Is the witch the one they’re exchanging prisoners for?”

The goat swallowed hard, and his eyes turned back to yellow.

“Galgadool has said too much,” he whispered, and turned back towards the wall. “Witch will come for us, witch will come for Galgadool…”

Momo turned towards the crowd of Con Artists. Goosebumps pricked her skin. Her stomach acid turned to an anxious tsunami at the goat’s alarming foretelling.

“Anyone else want to give up and go home yet?”

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Shark Bait

“No one is going anywhere but up these stairs,” Nia sighed. “The goat is spinning tales.”

Momo frowned, but she elected not to press the topic. She wasn’t exactly receiving glowing interest from her fellow Con Artists – even Radu had chosen to stare at his feet, tapping them anxiously.

The last thing Momo wanted was to upset her newfound friends, but she couldn’t rid herself of the clawing sensation in her stomach. The feeling probably originated with the fact that she had flown off quest-course by about a hundred miles; she was supposed to be delivering a letter to a woman, and somehow, instead, she was here: attempting to overthrow the government of a city she had arrived in a few days ago.

This is what happens when you leave your ADHD meds on Earth, she muttered internally.

Still, Valerica would be proud – hopefully. Chaos creates a power vacuum. It was the line the Necromage fed Momo every time she accidentally created more problems when attempting to solve one. Valerica seemed awfully confident that Morgana’s Dawn would be the one to fill that vacuum, but Momo was becoming increasingly less confident in that idea.

It turned out that many more people than Valerica were vying to capitalize on chaos. Oversized mice, shape shifting frog-faced men, an alleged witch. Even a cute, red Gecko with a Romanian name.

More than ever before, Momo had the urge to shed all responsibility, and fall flat on the floor.

“A witch will come, a witch will come,” Galgadool muttered miserably. “Galgadool is doomed, oh sweet, Galgadool, doomed to rot, rot away, in this little, cramped cell, poor Galgadool…”

The shaking goat had begun to hum a song about his own demise. Hearing it, Momo’s pity for him tipped the scales, outweighing her own self-pity by a fraction. Ugh. She bemoaned the day her brain developed enough to experience empathy.

She pulled at the door of his cell, and to her surprise, it gave immediately. It wasn’t even locked.

“Um, Mr. Galgadool,” she cleared her throat. “You’re free to go.”

He ignored her, continuing to hum. She demonstrated his freedom by walking in and out of his cell a few times, but he remained content singing his depressed anthem. It was as if a switch had been flipped, his goat-brain stuck in an infinite loop of misery and confusion.

Momo knew the state of mind well. It was the same one she entered whenever she had to play Clue.

“Told you,” Nia sing-songed. Momo huffed, but got up and joined the crew. She couldn't procrastinate any longer. It was coup d'etat time.

—

Momo smiled fondly at the hallway they arrived in. It was a hallway of happy memories – the same place her and Radu had previously assaulted and mugged two unlucky knights. The armor they had produced was lacking, but at least the first part had been fun.

“Remember this hallway?” Momo prodded, poking Radu in the side.

“We escaped prison two days ago,” Radu said, unamused. “Of course I remember it.”

“Good times.”

“You were begging me to let you go back to the jailhouse the entire time.”

“Well you should be thankful that I didn’t go,” Momo raised an eyebrow. “What other huge bird would have flown you out except mine?”

“I feel the need to explain that, without you constantly catching everyone’s attention, I wouldn’t have needed a giant bird.”

“No one ever thinks they need a giant bird,” Momo frowned, “until they’re 300 meters off the ground, and suddenly it’s the best – and only – solution.”

“A bunch of bickering birds, you two are,” Teddy laughed. “Now, shush up, there’s probably a guard around.”

Teddy was balancing himself on the wall, swaying in-place. He was the most distracting one in the whole bunch, sticking out like a drunk thumb. If any guards were around, they'd surely spot him first. Luckily, the hallway was completely empty, silent as a funeral.

“Aren’t you supposed to be dealing with the guards?” Momo suggested.

His red face lit up. “Right-o I am! Forgot about that…”

“We’ve made perfect timing, it seems,” Nia remarked, peeking over the wall. As she stood, the rest of the group stood with her, a cult of obedient chickens. “The halls are empty, as is the jailhouse. The prisoner exchange must have just started.”

The Con Artists did a mild hurrah. Momo wasn’t sure what they were celebrating. They were still wanted criminals who had willingly walked into prison. Not only that, but…

Her eyes widened.

“Ms. Nightsbane,” Momo coughed. “Seeing as there are no prisoners left to execute, and there’s a banquet happening… won’t Vivienne be in the Banquet Hall, too? To oversee it all? Why would she be sitting in her chamber, waiting for us to catch her?”

The Con Artists’ excited chatter came to an abrupt halt, the question hanging in the air.

“The wee one has a point,” a thief remarked.

“Won’t the knights be in there, too? Guarding the exchange in case something goes awry?”

“Takin’ on all of them metalheads at once? Seems like a death sentence…”

Nia glared at Momo silently, and then after a few moments, she sighed.

“You’re right,” she said, much to Momo’s surprise. “I might have… miscalculated.”

“Miscalculated?” Teddy unsteadily turned towards her, an accusatory finger pointed upwards. “Isn’t our entire plan based on the fact that Vivienne will be in her chamber, and the knights in the barracks? You’re expecting our crew to take on the whole of Nam’Dal’s government with nothing but the element of surprise on our side?”

“Of course not,” Nia responded coolly. “The majority of the knights will still be in their chambers. Vivienne obviously wanted to keep all of this hush-hush, so I doubt they’d have every blabbermouth metalhead watching the proceedings. My only error is that I assumed only one or two of the prisoners would be used for the trade, not the whole lot of them.”

“Meaning Vivienne will probably be in the Banquet Hall, not busy with her usual job of overseeing executions, err, judgements,” Radu said slowly, coming to the natural conclusion.

“Yes, tragically,” Nia waved her hand. “But that’s no matter. We’ll simply change tack.”

“How can we trust that you won’t miscalculate another step and get us all killed?” the eldergoat thief chimed in, furious as ever. Momo had come to appreciate his constant skepticism. It mirrored her more silent variation of skepticism, which took form as staring silently at Nia, smiling slightly.

“I suppose you can’t,” Nia shrugged. “But you’re all here already, and you’re as hungry to see the stolen money in those vaults as I am. So, if you want to, leave. Or you can be smart, and listen to me.”

The group once again fell silent, save the eldergoat thief, who threw up his hands.

“I know you all are blinded by the dragon’s hoard of coin she’s promising, but I’m not risking my hide for this catastrophe of a plan,” he shouted, and turned on his heel towards the jail cells. “Anyone else with a brain cell, I suggest you follow.”

The thieves looked amongst themselves, completely gobsmacked. After a few moments, they looked to Teddy, unwilling to betray the most powerful thief in Nam’Dal without their leader’s directive.

“I say we hear the woman out,” Teddy said, mumbling slightly. He seemed to have sobered up, adrenaline replacing alcohol. “There’s nothing I want more than to see the Con Artists’ Guild’s gold returned to its rightful vault, and Nia’s still the best of the best.”

“Thank you,” Nia said, and looked towards Momo specifically. “We are supposed to be a team, and act as a team. If we can stay true to that, we’ll come home much richer than we began.”

At that turn of phrase – richer than we began – Momo remembered Nia’s story about entering Nam’Dal. How she strode up the long bridge full of thieves, mugging the muggers. She didn’t just protect herself from crime, she left them penniless too.

This was the woman who refused to join a guild. A freelance criminal, an equal opportunity thief.

Momo didn’t need a crazy goat to foretell to her what was about to happen. Nia was performing a solo heist, just like always – but only this time, she’d hang the blame somewhere else.

“There’s no I in team,” Momo mumbled, echoing her third grade soccer coach.

“What?” Nia narrowed her eyes.

“I’m going with Teddy to the Barracks, to fetch my letter to Komodo,” Momo said, decisively. She tried not to let her legs wobble. “I wish you all good luck with the government overthrowing.”

Nia’s cheeks heated bright red.

“No,” she ordered, reaching for Momo’s arm. She gripped it hard, trapping Momo where she stood. “You’re not going anywhere.”

The rest of the group looked on in fright, not expecting the outburst. Sensing the unrest, Nia dialed down the intensity, blowing out a breath and letting go of Momo’s arm. Momo yelped at the release of contact, taking a step backwards.

“Sorry,” Nia said. “It’s just – we need you. We can’t do this without you.”

“Me?” Momo said, eyebrows lifting.

“Her?” Radu parroted.

“Her?” Everyone else joined in, as a final blow to Momo’s ego.

“Yes, her,” Nia gritted her teeth. “Without Momo, it will be impossible to change tack.”

She looked at Momo, smiling sympathetically. The change in expression only made Momo dread her next words more, a shiver running up her spine.

“Luring out a shark requires bait,” Nia said. “And no better bait to lure the Head Knight out of the Banquet than the girl who blew up her tower.”

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Praying to the Dexterity Gods

Momo only had herself to blame. The carriage driver had thoroughly warned her about Nam’Dal. He even offered her an opportunity to turn around. She could have gone about the bumpy ride home, strolled right up to Valerica and said thank you very much, but hell no.

Instead, she was now being paraded through the Knight’s Hall, her hands and legs grappled by four Con Artists, carried towards certain death.

“Where was all this kidnapping spirit when the goat guy ran off?” Momo complained loudly, wriggling uselessly with all her might. “Why am I the one being taken hostage?”

“Like Nia said, lass,” Teddy said, fronting the team that was carrying Momo. “Shark bait.”

“Radu?” Momo said, craning her neck to stare at the lizard, who was shuffling a few feet ahead. He had only watched as they hauled her up, trying his best to ignore the ordeal. “You’re okay with this? I feel majorly betrayed right now.”

“Betrayal is a hazard of the profession,” he said. Still, he risked a guilty glance back. “But do be easy on her. I’ll have your necks if you sprain one of her tiny ankles. She’ll need all the muscle she can get to outrun Vivienne a second time.”

Momo groaned. Regrettably, he was right. She’d need to conserve energy. She momentarily stopped her wriggling, letting herself enjoy the break from using her own two feet to move. In any other scenario, this would be her personal heaven. She internally cursed them for ruining it for her.

“You know, I could call my Argentavis on all of you,” Momo announced. “How would you like a bird the size of this hallway to deal with?”

The Con Artists stilled. They had heard tales of the infamous giant bird all over town.

“Momo,” Radu turned to her, finally. “I don’t like that it’s come to this, either, but let’s not be… ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous is me being hauled around like a bag of potatoes while I have a giant minion ready to claw you all down,” Momo said, summoning the last of her drunken audacity. “An ostrich, too.”

“Listen, you know Nia’s right. If we can get Vivienne to notice you, she’ll come sprinting after you. We’ll be at the ready to jump her, bag her, and high tail out of here,” Radu explained with all the manners of a politician. “Despite the circumstances, you have the support of all of us. We’ll do our best to make sure you don’t get hurt.”

“You’re quite literally carrying me, unwillingly, to a mildly certain death,” Momo narrowed her eyes, her neck beginning to hurt at the obscene angle. “I don’t feel very comfortable trusting you at the moment.”

Not to mention that I can trust Nia to keep me safe as much as I could trust a dog to babysit a newborn. Momo frowned. The thief was leading the pack, keeping an eye on their surroundings, totally apathetic to Momo’s plight. Actually, apathetic was the wrong word. Nia had been the ringleader of the entire idea, helping to hoist Momo up and into Teddy’s arms.

Momo should have known better – after years at Mallmart, one learns to never trust a pretty woman with shoplifting tendencies.

“I see your point,” Radu sighed. “Teddy, let her down.”

“Let her down? But she’ll make a run for it!”

“This plan won’t work if she doesn’t want to work with us,” Radu pressed. “We need her to sneak into the Banquet Hall alone and drag out Vivienne, otherwise it’ll just turn into an all-out brawl, like you said.”

Teddy hummed, thinking it over.

“Lizard boy’s got a point,” Teddy said, looking towards Nia. “We need the girl’s collaboration.”

“Yeah, you need my collaboration!” Momo emphasized from above. They promptly ignored her, waiting for Nia’s directive.

“Fine, fine,” Nia groaned. She was growing steadily more impatient with her group of followers, her cool, above-it-all persona chipping away with every disturbance to her plan. “Let the girl down.”

Momo yelped, the thieves dropping her at once. She landed in a bruised bundle of limbs, grateful for the small amount of STR points she had gained since coming to Alois. A few months ago, a fall like that would have put her in the emergency room with a few months of physical therapy.

Ever helpful, Radu pulled her back up.

“What do you say, boss,” he said, offering a repentant smile. “One last heist?”

Momo stared at him, his cute, beady eyes boring into hers. The urge to make a break for it remained, but without Teddy’s assistance, she would have to get through a sea of knights to get her missing letter.

“Will you promise not to kidnap me again?” Momo murmured.

“I don’t know,” he joked. “I think I can manage it. That is if you toss in a bit of coin for Thieves’ Insurance.”

“You’re the worst,” she mumbled, but she could sense the implicit yes in his words. They had forged a bond, whether Radu (or Momo) liked it. Even if she couldn’t trust a single soul in the room but him, sometimes it’s good enough to have one ally in a sea of idiots.

She’d see this plan through, for all its inevitable terribleness.

“I’ll pay you with the gold from the vaults we break into, how about that?”

Radu smiled brightly at her, and took her hand in both of his.

“You’ve got a deal, Ripper.”

–

They reached the Banquet Hall within minutes. Momo knew it was the right place by the way Nia visibly reacted to it – her face broke out in a broad smile, her hands turned to fists. Momo still couldn’t put a finger on exactly what she was planning. There was a chance she read the whole thing wrong, and Nia wasn’t playing some grand grift. After all, she stood to profit, too, even if she played the plan straight. Millions of coins in a vault? What thief wouldn’t want in?

Momo didn’t consider herself a thief – Con Artist class aside – and even she was titillated by the thought of it. So titilated that she accidentally roped herself into the plot, even knowing better.

“So, Momo,” Nia turned on her heel, looking eagerly towards her. She was back to bubbly smiles and friendly first-name greetings, as if she hadn’t just half-kidnapped her here. “Do you see that grate up there? It leads to the vents above the Banquet Hall. From the blueprints, Vivienne should be in the northern section of the room, high on her own isolated platform.”

“And you want me to… drop on her all ninja style?” Momo interjected, karate chopping the air to the best of her ability. To her right, Radu put his face in his hands.

“This is our last hope…” he muttered.

“No,” Nia quickly countered. “We want you to lure her out in a way that turns the least amount of heads. You’ll want to get her near the exit, and then at the last moment, reveal yourself. By that time, she’ll be out of view of everyone else, and she’ll chase you out and right into our hands.”

Momo nodded. That sounded pretty insane and impossible, but insane and impossible were the type of conditions she was used to working with. Bless Valerica’s leadership.

“Which exit is she going to be chasing me out of?”

“That platform she’ll be on connects back to the Judgment Room. That’s where we’ll all wait for you, body bag in hand.”

“Got it,” Momo saluted. She gave a final glance to Radu, who gave her a smirk.

“You can rely on us,” he said.

“That better be true,” Momo squinted. “Also, I want two times my original cut of the gold – the gold that the runaway goat thief would have gotten.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, lassie,” Teddy laughed.

Momo glared. “No one else is shark bait.”

That line shut them up.

“True enough,” Teddy said, after a moment of consideration. “All in favor of giving the tiny Ripper an extra cut if she succeeds, say aye.”

A chorus of ayes rang out, and Momo grinned. A part of her was grateful for her new Con Artist class. She felt much more equipped now to swindle swindlers.

“There you go, then,” Teddy clapped her on the back. “You’ll be richer than rich, should you succeed. All you need to do is scramble up there, then.”

She followed his gaze towards the grate. It was very high up on the wall, roughly the height of six Momo’s. She could summon some sort of creature to help her up, but she didn’t want to waste her one summoning chance this early on.

“There’s just one problem,” Momo mumbled. “I can’t climb a flat wall.”

“Sure you can,” Nia shrugged, and pointed a finger towards the wall. “[Shroud Ladder].”

Black smoke snaked from her finger to the wall, forming a first rung of a ladder, then a second, then a third. The ladder looked immaterial, but as she approached it, the texture was firm and tangible. It stuck out a few inches from the wall, providing a stable footing.

“Amazing,” Momo whispered. [Dark Thieves] had a pretty incredible skill set. Momo hadn’t considered it before, but she wouldn’t mind being able to climb on clouds out of any tricky situation.

She gripped the first rung of the ladder, hoisting herself up. She could feel the light pressure around her neck, meaning Dusk was still acting as an invisible cat-scarf. Good. She’d need all the help she could get once she was in there.

“I swore I wouldn’t climb any more ladders,” she muttered, beginning the ascent. “Yet here I am.”

Luckily, the Shroud Ladder made the climb easy, and she was at the grate in seconds. It looked just big enough for Momo to crawl through, and she was suddenly thankful for her small frame. If only climbing through grates had been a grade in school.

The one remaining problem: the grate was tightly shut. There was a small screw holding it in place, and she didn’t carry a handy screwdriver. Actually, she did.

“Dusk, can you claw this thing off?”

After a light, affirmative meow, an invisible cat claw whacked at the screw until it was loose enough to tug. Momo twisted it with her bare hands, the metal tearing into her fingers. After a few strained breaths, it popped off. The grate clattered to the ground, echoing through the long hall.

Momo winced. “Do you think they heard that?”

“Nah,” Nia said, knocking on the wall. “These are as thick as boulders.”

“Alright,” Momo blew out a breath. She risked a look down, and her stomach curled at the height. This would not be a pleasant fall. The ladder ran out about three feet from the vent opening, so she’d need to stand on the last rung of the ladder to properly climb into it. Her arm strength wasn't good enough to just pull herself up from her current position.

“Can this ladder not go any higher?” she whimpered.

“High as it can, I’m afraid.”

Wonderful. Momo did a silent prayer to her new dexterity points.

“If I fall, I can just become a tree stump,” she said, attempting to comfort herself. “I’ll be alright.”

With the tree stump insurance policy in mind, she cleared her mind, and steadied her hands. To her surprise, her body didn’t shake. She found that she could position her limbs like well-tuned tools, not flimsy, cooked pasta. She had gained a plethora of Dexterity from [Corrupted Druid], and she hadn’t yet put it to the test. This was the first one.

With all the force in her body, she pressed herself to the wall. It was a technique she remembered from the one semester of college she tried Rock Climbing. Not that she ever used the technique – she stuck to doing the same first level climb every day of the semester – but she remembered how some of the better climbers would walk across the wall with ease, using their body as a counterweight to gravity.

Firmly pressed to the wall, she snaked her knee upwards towards the final rung of the ladder. Finding that she was stable enough, she got her foot all the way up towards the last rung, and pressed upwards. Her body slid up the surface, and she could feel every jagged edge of the cobbled wall. It was like getting a hundred little paper cuts.

But that didn’t matter. She was doing it – standing on the last rung. Her body was pressed like a pancake to the wall, completely starfished. The grate sat directly in front of her. Now all she had to do was get in.

One problem: the cat around her shoulders. She wouldn’t be able to fit with Dusk’s head in the way.

“Dusk, can you climb into the grate from here?”

“Meow.”

She felt the pressure around her shoulders shift, and her body wobbled slightly as the cat used her head as a jumping off point. Her entire stomach flipped, her knee bobbing on the last rung. Cat feet leapt over her, and she heard the clamor of paws on metal as it entered the crate.

“Oh god,” Momo said, as she got her knee under control. “Oh god, I’m still alive.”

“You sure are!” Nia said, helpfully. “Now, hurry up, please!”

At Nia’s words, Momo used the last of her adrenaline to barrel inwards.

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Dogubis, The Eternal Cagehound

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Patreon update: TEN (10) advanced chapters are now available! So you can get nearly 20k words ahead as of today.

She had done it. Her heart beating in her chest, she could feel the cool metal underneath her hands. The muffled cheers of the Con Artists suggested that she was still alive, and not a splatter of limbs on the floor of the hall.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she yelped as Dusk’s skeletal face looked back at her.

“Oh god, put on some clothes,” Momo stuttered. “[Disguise].”

A pelt of black fur fell on the cat, and Momo breathed easier. Even if the feline spent most of its time invisible, it still unnerved her to see it in its natural, undead form.

“Get behind me,” Momo said, pressing her face down so Dusk could climb over her back. She didn’t want the cat to accidentally claw open the vent and reveal Momo’s pretty little face to a sea of enemies.

With Dusk in tow, Momo army crawled through the air vent. The air vents were dark and tight, but [Cheese Vision] allowed Momo to see as if it was lit by daylight. She found the vents quite cozy – like a long, metal bed. High above trouble, completely isolated from everything.

The urge to nap came at her like a racing truck.

“Right… government… overthrowing,” she muttered, willing her eyes back open. She imagined Valerica swimming in a pool of the gold she was going to bring back, and the vision filled her with renewed motivation. She was doing this for the Dawn.

As she crawled further, she began to hear distinct voices. Many, many voices, all coming from below. They were speaking loudly, trading yells and pleas. A few rays of light began to eke into the vent through a slotted grate, and Momo crept towards it.

As she peered through the grate, her eyes widened. Oh, wow. The entire Banquet Hall sat beneath her. It was a beautiful, ornate room, as wide as a soccer field. Romanesque columns stood all around, culminating in a large, marble platform at the end of the room. On the platform stood Vivienne, presiding over everything, just as Nia had suggested.

Except, in place of dining tables, the room was littered with cages. Cages stuffed to the brink with criminals. Hundreds and hundreds of criminals. Momo began to wonder if the Judgement her fellow prisoners received the day her and Radu were incarcerated was not execution, but instead to be sent here, caged and awaiting exchange.

Momo squinted, looking for who they might be exchanged for. All the cages looked the same, and the prisoners weren’t particularly exceptional. Momo spotted a furry figure in the corner, most likely Lord Gunther, accompanied by one or two knights.

As Momo watched, a lanky figure emerged from the darkness behind Vivienne. Who was that? There was only supposed to be one person on the platform, and it was her. The figure wielded a giant half-moon shaped axe, which stood above him like a looming guillotine.

Maybe it was her executioner?

She seemed to carry him around like a loyal dog. Momo counted her blessings that he hadn’t accompanied her during the accident at the Mage Tower.

Momo inhaled sharply. This was still doable. Even if she led both of them out of the room, it’d still be two versus all of the Con Artists. Nia’s original plan had her and Momo facing them personally, so these had to be reasonable odds.

From her current position, the vents split off into two directions: one towards Vivienne’s platform, and the other towards Lord Gunter and the knights. She began in the direction of Vivienne, once again losing sight of the floor below. The vent began to slope subtly downwards, and she could begin to make out the yells beneath.

“We’re not animals. You can’t just trade us like livestock.”

“Yeah, you can’t make us leave these cages!”

“Did you forget how I got you in the cages?” a familiar voice jeered. Septim. It was that dimwitted knight from before. Momo couldn’t imagine why he’d been chosen to be here, but then again, none of the knights seemed particularly good at their jobs. They were a bunch of high performance alcoholics, much like the Con Artists, but with swords, instead of daggers and mental manipulation.

“We’ll find a way to get these mana-depleters off,” a criminal bit back. “And when we do, it’ll be scrambled eggs with all of you!”

Momo giggled, imagining Septim being flipped on a pan, oil biting at his heels. Her stomach started to gurgle as the vision filled with actual breakfast ingredients – ham, bacon, eggs, sausages, egg rice…

God, she was so hungry. If only she could just close her eyes for a little bit, and imagine being surrounded by a free hotel breakfast buffet…

Stay on track. She blinked. If she completed this mission, she'd have enough gold for a hundred hotel breakfast buffets.

She continued her crawl, her elbows starting to bleed as they rubbed against the metal. She’d need to majorly overhaul her skincare routine once this was all done. Climbing that wall, plus this – it was like the most intense exfoliation scrub of her life. She’d need to sit in a vat of moisturizer for a week to recover.

“Oh gods, what is that?” a voice below shrieked. A breath later, the entire room was shaking. Even the vent wobbled up and down, as if a giant had stepped on the castle.

“What in Gods’ names are we being traded for?”

Something large shifted again, and the room rumbled. The vent made a yawning sound, trembling beneath her.

“It’s going to eat us, Gods, we’re going to die!”

“Stay calm, you idiots, it’s only a vehicle!”

Despite her stinging elbows, Momo hustled to the next grate. She desperately needed to see what was going on below. The vents were shaking terribly.

“Awwhooo!”

What sounded like a dog howling into a megaphone echoed throughout the chamber. Dusk hissed at it hysterically. What in the fresh hell was that? Momo scrambled up to the grate, pulse vibrating as she got a glimpse of the monstrosity below.

It was a dog, sort of, except that it was the size of a bus. It had the markings of a Doberman Pinscher, with tall, upright ears, and a pointed face. The most astonishing feature was what grew out of its back: a prison cage, much like the ones that littered the floor. Except this prison was not made out of metal, but flesh. It was an outgrowth as natural as ears or a tail.

Inside of the dog-cage was a cloaked figure, covered in locks and chains. The figure sat on the ground, cross-legged, unmoving. Momo couldn’t discern a single thing about it besides that it looked vaguely human. Still, a shiver ran down her back at the sight of it. This had to be the one they were trading the criminals for.

Momo followed the leash of the dog down to the floor, where another new individual stood. The dog’s keeper was a bird-halfling, a raven-headed man. He was draped in black robes, the insignia of the King embossed into the breast pocket.

Momo’s fingers began to sweat as they gripped the slots of the grate. This was no ordinary prisoner transfer.

If the goat was onto something…

Lord Gunther went up to greet the keeper, shaking his free hand. They seemed to be well-acquainted. Momo pressed her ear to the grate, picking up the faint echoes of their voice as they spoke.

“Good to see you, Pol,” Gunther said. “Your beak is looking freshly shined.”

“Your maw is as brown as always,” Pol returned, completely monotone.

“The prisoners aren’t used to seeing such a magnificent showing of the King’s power,” Gunther said, gesturing to the hound. “Dogubis looks sharp as always. The cagehound groomer has kept him in proper shape.”

“I take him every Wednesday.”

“It shows,” Gunther nodded. Then his facial expression seemed to darken. “So she’s really in there?”

“Docked in hundreds of mana-depleting chains, yes,” Pol said. “Not to mention the hundreds of debuffs that have been cast on her, and the natural mana-depleting aspect of Dogubis’ cage.”

“Fantastic. This should be an easy swap then.”

“It should be, yes,” Pol nodded. “I see you have brought the requested criminals. The King will be pleased. His son requires dummies for training, and there is no better way to farm for [Holy] experience than felling a hundred criminals.”

Momo’s mouth went dry.

The criminals weren’t being used as servants or teachers. They were… experience fodder for the King’s son?

Momo had to admit, she was slightly jealous. She wished Valerica would line up people for her to rob instead of her having to go out and do it herself. How convenient would it be if she could just wake up in the morning, come in for lunch at the Dawn, and then pick a few pre-selected pockets? What a dream.

Momo quickly remembered herself. Right. She was supposed to be interrupting this. In retrospect, this was a terrible day for them to overthrow the government. They could have much more easily caught Vivienne in her office on a day where there wasn’t a huge prisoner transfer.

But whatever. Momo wasn’t exactly going to crawl out the other way now. The Con Artists would probably just throw her back in until she finished the job. All she had to do was drop out of the vent, grab Vivienne’s attention, and run for her life.

Momo looked again towards the high platform, and her stomach dropped.

There was only one problem.

Vivienne was gone.

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A Wolf In The Vents

Vivienne was no longer on the platform. Momo surveyed the rest of the room frantically, but she was nowhere to be seen. The executioner had similarly disappeared.

“Without further ado,” Lord Gunther announced, turning to the trapped criminals. “Let’s get this over with.”

Panic struck the cages. The criminals began heaving themselves at the bars, attempting to wrestle out of them like wild animals. With their mana depleted and their hands tied, they had nothing left but their own adrenaline and stupidity. Momo could relate.

“Sit, boy,” Pol instructed the cagehound, and Dogubis obeyed. The dog laid on the ground, and a staircase descended from his side. Pol walked up it slowly, approaching the flesh door of the cage. He paused in front of it, staring down at the figure limping at its center.

Tension hung between the two, a grave scowl painting Pol's face. It's obvious he thinks this is a terrible idea. Momo could understand why: dense, oppressive power wafted off of the chained creature, even under its crushing abundance of chains.

"May the Gods be kind," he said. "And forgive the King's stupidity."

With a simple movement of his hand, the door creaked open.

Everyone in the room watched with bated breath, including Momo.

Seconds passed, and nothing happened. To their great relief, even with the door open, the chained figure remained motionless.

“I trust you will transport her securely to the containment cell,” Pol said as he turned to Gunter. It was a very polite threat.

“She won’t leave my sight,” Gunther bowed. She. Momo frowned. It was a woman. An evil, powerful woman. Hmm. She had the sudden, completely unbiased urge to root for her escape.

Satisfied with his response, Pol approached the woman. He produced something from his pocket – a watch. One of those large, hand-held ones. He pressed his thumb to it, and the figure abruptly stood, as if dragged upwards by an inverse force of gravity. The figure hung limply in the air, propelled only by the watch’s magic.

“Don’t have too much fun with this,” Pol said as he handed the pocket watch to Gunther. “I’ll take care of the rest.”

Gunther nodded, taking control of the watch and leading the woman out of the cage. She floated after him like an obedient spirit. Momo still couldn’t make out a single feature about her, the chains obscuring her entirely.

Pol raised his hand, and the criminals' cages began to shake. Could he use telekinesis? Momo watched with interest as the cages began to drag slowly towards him, pulled by an invisible string. Just as Pol moved to load them into the Dogubis, Momo heard a sudden movement.

“What was that?” Momo whispered to herself, anxiously surveying the vents as if Vivienne might appear horror-movie style.

Just as Momo was about to relax, finding nothing out of the ordinary around her, she heard it again. It was louder this time. The vents had begun to rattle, just as they had when Dogubis had entered the Hall, except this time it was coming from inside. She could hear the thumping of feet, the labored breath of a wild animal.

Something was coming straight towards her, and it was coming fast.

“Oh god,” Momo mumbled, panic filling her chest. She got back on her stomach and began to army crawl towards the platform even faster than before. “Oh god, oh god, oh god.”

She paid no attention to the open wounds forming at her joints as she crawled for her life. The thing was getting closer. She could practically hear saliva drip from the beast’s maw. Momo’s brain, in its panicked state, began formulating an image of the monster: a carnivorous chihuahua, with canines as big as her hands.

“Dusk, get ahead of me!” Momo yelped, urging the cat in front. She didn’t want the poor cat to get steamrolled by whatever was coming for them.

As Dusk climbed over her back, Momo heard the beast round the corner into their section of the vents. Its wild moans echoed down the small chamber, reverberating against the narrow walls. Its feet clicked rapidly, thumping like horseshoes and causing the entire ventilation system to sway and bob.

Fueled purely by adrenaline, Momo scrambled forward, using her knees like feet and her elbows like hands. It still wasn’t enough. The next grate was several paces off, and the animal was closing in. She wouldn’t be able to reach the exit in time.

I have to fight it somehow. There was no way to do a 3-point turn in the narrow vent, so she opted for her second best option. Heaving out a groan, she rotated her body like a sausage on a grill, so her head and torso faced upwards. She craned her neck up as far as it could go, finally getting a gander at the oncoming threat.

She almost fainted. It was not a chihuahua.

It was quadruple the size of the rat-dog, most closely resembling a wolf. Standing on four short legs, it was a beast made purely of Holy Fire. Its paws instantly burnt the ground beneath it, searing everything in a foot radius. It had two bright orange eyes, and fanged, fiery incisors. Oh god, my fire curse. Momo froze. If the thing got any closer, she’d be burnt toast.

Momo’s panicked brain sifted rapidly through her spellbook. From the look of it, the creature had no bones. It was purely a construction of heavenly flame. [Bone Dance] would be no use. She could use [Abysmal Burst], but it would tear the entire vent open. She’d give away her position, and most likely fall to her death.

Momo’s feet began to burn. The [Holy Fire Wolf] was still yards away, and she could already feel its presence incinerating her skin. There was only one option left.

“You’re a good boy, aren’t you?” Momo attempted, giving her friendliest smile. If she remembered right, her [Corrupted Druid] class made animals have a default friendly disposition towards her. Why would a holy, fiery wolf be any different?

Her tone gave the beast pause. It tilted its head, momentarily receding its fangs.

“Such a good boy, yes you are,” Momo nodded enthusiastically. She ignored the first layer of skin peeling off her feet. “Why don’t you turn around, go lay down at the other end of the vent, and I’ll come back later with lots of treats?”

It was not persuaded.

“I’m sure I can find you a really hot bone, or something,” Momo insisted. “I know a dog. Cerberus. He’s got tons of them. I’m sure he can part with one or two, or five or fifteen.”

The initial curiosity wearing off, the beast bared its fangs again. It once again began to stalk towards her, looking very much like it was about to bite her neck off.

“Bad dog,” Momo frowned. “Very bad dog. Please, back away –”

The dog wasn’t listening. It was only getting closer, and the flames around its paws were nearly ready to lick the skin straight off Momo’s bones. She looked around frantically, finding no exit. Damn it. There was no other way out but through.

“I’m sorry about this,” Momo squeaked out, “[Abysmal Burst]!”

Sizzling dark magic erupted from her hands, blasting straight through the wolf, and the vent surrounding it, in an instant. Momo watched as what remained of the beast plummeted to the floor, erupting into flames on top of one of the cages. Consequently, the criminals began to shriek, and Momo began to unwillingly slide downwards.

The blast had destroyed not just the section of the vent where the wolf stood, but the supports underpinning the entire vent. With them gone, the metal chamber began to slowly break down, the vent sloping downwards like a roller coaster that had lost half of its track.

“I’m not dying today,” Momo cried out, pressing her hands, knees, and elbows to the side of the vent to stop herself from sliding. It worked to slow her descent, but the vent was still crumbling. It would inevitably put her at a 90 degree angle, dropping her straight to the floor.

“Shit,” she panted, “[Summon Lesser Familiar]!”

She focused the image of the Argentavis in her mind. Due to the spell upgrade, it came to her with ease. Nether magic flared around her. Within seconds, it turned from an intangible force of nature into glittery, liquid putty, mashing together like Playdo to form the gigantic bird.

“Cackaaw!”

The bird swooped down, catching Momo by the torso before she slid out of the vent. Momo groaned thankfully. The bird fluttered high above the floor, grabbing the attention of the entire room.

“It’s that foul, lying, conniving necromancer! The one that flattened the Head Knight’s tower!” Gunther growled. He was completely engaged, his face curled up in an expression of pure hatred. “Knights, get her!”

Momo found herself quite proud of the accusation. She wished Valerica had been there to hear it.

The knights bumbled in her general direction, but she was too high for them to do anything. They hadn’t had the foresight to bring any mages. She supposed that no one typically expects a giant bird and its tiny necromantic master to intrude on governmental proceedings.

She wanted to gloat – but very quickly realized she had once again ventured completely off-plan. Nia and the Con Artists would not be enthused. Looking around, she attempted to find Vivienne. She was still nowhere to be seen. All that existed below her was a sea of eyes, mostly originating from hopeful criminals, looking to her as their savior.

So much for being discreet.

Momo paused, her mouth going dry. There was one other person that was mysteriously missing.

In his rage, Gunther had seemingly failed to notice that the pocketwatch had been stolen right out of his hand. The figure next to him had, too, vanished.

The woman was simply gone.

“Lord Gunther,” Pol stuttered. The King’s guard had made a similar observation. “Where have you put the prisoner?”

Gunther blinked, finding it hard to look away from Momo. He tore his eyes away, the color draining from his face as he found his hand empty, and the woman nowhere to be found.

“I – I just had her,” Gunther began to sweat. “I swear, she must just be behind me, or…”

“The pocketwatch is gone,” Pol said, rage building in his voice. “You absolute imbecile.”

“It must be the necromancer!” Gunther said, rapidly switching blame. He pointed an accusatory finger at Momo. “Quick, shoot her down before she can escape again!”

Pol scowled, whipping his face towards Momo. Oh no. If he was a Mage, then Momo was about to have serious problems. Her eyes found the platform Vivienne had been standing on. If she could make it to that, she could run out to the Judgment Room, just as they’d planned.

“[Unchain Soul - Holy Flame]!” Pol shouted, pointing his gloved hand straight at her.

“Argent, move!”

The bird ducked out of the way at the last second as a beam of Holy Fire shot straight past them. It’s the same spell the Earl had used to dispel the Zombie Glob. It seemed to unsummon any beast from the Nether, no matter the size.

“Get me to that platform!” Momo directed hastily as more lightning shots came. Pol seemed to be of vastly greater power than even the Earl; he could fire off a spell every second, harvesting a seemingly limitless mana pool. The argentavis curled and bowed, dodging the beams as it swooped over the platform. They were so close, now all it had to do was stick the landing.

“Land here!” Momo commanded. The bird fluttered briefly to a halt high above the platform, readying to land. A beam struck it immediately, taking advantage of its momentary stillness to crash straight through its pelt of feathers. It squawked wildly, the embers of Holy Fire radiating over its body. Momo cried out as the bird began to turn into Nether ash, disintegrating before her eyes.

The next second, she was falling.

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Never Forget to Lock the Back Door!

“[Polymorph - Tree Stump]!” Momo cried out as she plummeted towards the platform. She felt the same terrible sensation of her limbs being contorted into bark. It was quickly replaced by a more terrible sensation, however, as she crash landed into the stone flooring. The stump hit the platform at an odd angle, sending a shockwave of pain up Momo’s spine.

Still – she was alive. And so was Dusk, telling by the sensation of skeletal paws clawed into the top of her. There was also a throbbing pain at the base of the stump, a long crack in the bark, but it was survivable. Most importantly, she was out of view. The explosion of dark, Nether ash had momentarily hidden her from sight.

“There’s no way she survived that kind of fall,” Pol announced, and Momo breathed a sigh of relief. They either hadn’t heard her cast Tree Stump, or had assumed she’d die regardless. “We must retrieve the pocket watch immediately. Alert all of your men. Make sure the Hall is surrounded. If the prisoner escapes, Nam’Dal itself is in imminent danger of destruction.”

The entire city? In Imminent danger of destruction? Momo gulped. Either the chained woman somehow grabbed the pocketwatch herself, or someone else had done it while Gunther wasn’t looking. From the look of those chains, she doubted it was the doing of the prisoner herself.

She didn’t have time to wonder. She immediately cast [Demorph], and groaned as her limbs expanded to their normal size and shape. A long, nasty cut ran up her leg, at the same place that the stump had suffered a crack in the wood. It was bleeding heavily. As she stumbled forward, she started to feel lightheaded.

I need something to stop the bleeding, she thought uselessly. She looked around, but the platform was empty. Looking down at her own tattered robes, she had an idea.

“Dusk,” she whispered painfully. “Claw off a long strip of my robes.”

The cat quickly obliged, sensing Momo’s weakness. It cut into the robe like scissors, a long stretch of blue fabric falling to the ground. Momo picked it up, tying a makeshift tourniquet around the deepest part of the cut. The robe was luckily made of thick, sturdy fabric. She was grateful she had gotten it from Bruda, and not some cheap shop out of Kalendale.

It wasn’t perfect, but she could walk. She hobbled as quickly as she could towards the attached corridor, the knights’ attention diverted. They didn’t seem to notice her as she slipped out of sight, towards the Judgement Room. It was thankfully a quick walk, and the door was very obvious: a large, golden, ornate entranceway. It was cracked the slightest bit open. Someone had recently entered it.

Momo’s eyes widened. Is that where Vivienne went? Maybe the Con Artists had managed to catch her without Momo’s help at all. As she inched towards the door, she heard slight chatter behind it; she recognized the two female voices immediately.

“She’s a good luck charm, all right,” Nia laughed. “More like a good luck bomb, actually. You put her somewhere, add a little ammunition, you can bet all your coin the place will go up in flames.”

“Bomb is right. She blew my back out with that whole mage tower incident,” Vivienne grumbled. “Hell, the girl likes being locked up. Why did she have to make me chase her? I was just going to put her back in prison like she wanted.”

Momo’s heart raced. Nia had betrayed them. Just like she suspected – Vivienne and her were connected somehow, and clearly on better terms than she let on. She feared the worst for the Con Artists. If she opened that door, would she find them…?

“Gods, my head hurts like I got hit by a four-hundred pound hammer,” Teddy groaned. “You didn’t have to slap us around like that. I woulda’ stepped in the cage out of my own volition!”

Momo blinked. Teddy was alive. And the us suggested the others were too. Had they known about the plan as well? Was everyone in on it but her?

She was about to be really pissed if so. She hated being left out of things.

She weighed opening the door. There was a chance that she was still running into a very obvious trap, but the alternative didn’t look so good either. With the chained woman missing, the entire Hall would be surrounded. The knights would also be running to her location at that very moment. Finding that she was not dead, they’d hastily make it so she was.

Walking headfirst into the trap it is.

She pushed the door open, and it creaked as the entire room was revealed. At the center of the large, ornately decorated room, stood Vivienne and Nia. Off to the right, the Con Artists were stuffed in one of the cages used for the other criminals, mana-depleting handcuffs around their wrists. They looked bruised and annoyed, but certainly alive.

Nia whipped around, and Momo’s eye immediately went to the device in her hand – the pocketwatch. Her and Vivienne's feet had been previously obscuring the figure sitting in front of them, but when Nia turned, Momo could see the chained woman.

Momo gasped. It had been Nia to steal the pocketwatch. Of course. Momo knew Nia moved fast, but it made sense that the woman could also move invisibly. It was no coincidence that she had been able to sneak up on Momo so many times, even with her [Cheese Vision]. She was part-phantom.

“Momo,” Nia grinned. “It’s great to see you.”

“I –” Momo stuttered, unable to process what she was seeing.

“Took long enough,” Radu coughed in the corner. He sounded exhausted. His body was visibly caved in, as if he’d been struck by a huge spoon. Despite his injuries, he seemed genuinely relieved to see her.

“I had my hands full out there,” Momo mumbled in response. “I feel that I should mention that I have no idea what’s going on. Am I going to die now?”

“Yet to be seen,” Nia shrugged, and Momo was uncomfortable with the fact that she could not discern if it was sarcasm or not.

“I am so confused,” Momo said, grasping her head with both hands.

“Fairly so,” Vivienne said, not sharing her conspirator’s warm smile. She still seemed upset about the whole mage tower incident. “Nia did a good job keeping you in the dark. She’s terrible like that.”

“I am,” Nia grinned. “But you have served us so well, Momo. You deserve an explanation.”

Served? Momo’s head was swimming. She thought she had been drowning in information before, but that had only been a kiddy pool compared to the reality that was facing her now. She was looking at a certified information tsunami: her singular ‘friend’ was locked in a cage, suffering grave injuries, an assassin and her holy nemesis were talking like old comrades, and most gravely of all, an alleged city-ending witch was sitting in the middle of it all, silent as a lamb.

The Great Nap was calling again. Either that, or Momo was losing so much blood that she was about to faint.

“I think I’m bleeding out,” Momo said breathily. “Could you repay me by making sure I don’t die, if that isn't too much to ask?”

Nia’s eyebrows rose as she looked at the long cut on Momo’s leg.

“Oh, poor thing,” she frowned. “Vivienne, do your weird magic.”

“Weird? You’re one to talk. You just spit dark fumes everywhere and go invisible.”

“You’re the one who can summon dogs made of fire.”

“So that was your dog!” Momo gaped. “You tried to kill me.”

“Not kill,” Vivienne clarified. “Just encourage.”

“Encourage?”

“Sure. Encourage you to make a huge mess, as you love to do, and distract Pol and the rest of them,” Vivienne explained as she stepped closer, reaching her hand down to touch Momo’s leg. Normally, Momo would be mildly flattered – but she wasn’t exactly the hugest fan of this particular woman.

“[Healing Touch],” Vivienne cast, pleasant light radiating from her palms. Momo took back her hateful thoughts in an instant. That felt wonderful. She watched as the wound visibly closed, zipping up like a hoodie. The thumping pain gave way to a pleasant, aloe vera like sensation.

“I need to learn that skill,” Momo said, her mind clearing like a sunset after a storm.

“I fear you can’t,” Vivienne rolled her eyes. “No necromancer could.”

“Well not with that mindset,” Momo mumbled.

“Exactly, Vivienne,” Nia grinned. “Don’t underestimate our little firecracker.”

“Oh, I’m not. I’ve seen what kind of destructive power she has in that tiny body,” Vivienne returned to Nia’s side, putting her hand on her hip. “I simply can’t imagine it being used for healing.”

“Oh gods, I’ve heard quite enough of this,” Teddy moaned from the cage. “What is your endgame? Here I thought you whacked us over the head and caged us up so you could turn us in with the rest of the criminals. Get some kind of cut of a deal with Vivienne. But you don’t seem to be doing much but talkin’ and whisperin’. Not to mention this poor chained up lass you floated into the place…”

Teddy gestured to the woman who remained on the floor, mute and unmoving. Up close, Momo could slightly make out her face. It was shielded underneath a black hood, and bandaged up to the nose. All that was visible were her pupils. Two piercing blue eyes looked back at Momo. Momo hiccupped in fear, quickly averting her gaze.

“Ugh, men,” Nia rolled her eyes. “All you ever do is complain. Be patient. Good plans take time. This is why you haven’t reached Expert.”

“Why I oughta,” Teddy scowled, gripping the bars of the cage. “That mouth a’ yours –”

“[Charm],” Nia flicked her fingers, and Teddy immediately fell to his knees, eyes gone absent. Nia really enjoys Charm-ing anyone she doesn’t feel like talking to anymore, Momo observed. She envied the spell greatly. If Momo had the mana, she’d probably use it on every person who tried to talk to her.

“The man has a point, Nia,” Vivienne grimaced. “We can’t wait around all day. We have to get the chains off of her soon, before Pol finds out I’ve betrayed them. The magic seal on the Judgement Room is powerful, but he can dispel it – eventually.”

“What? Magic seal? But I just walked on in here,” Momo blinked.

“Through the back door, yes,” Vivienne said, and then trailed off. “Shit. I forgot to seal the back door.”

—

“Lord Gunther, I see her!”

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The Goat Wasn't Crazy

With the back door to the Judgement Room flung wide open, Septim had a clear view of the entire party of troublemakers. He stood alone, trembling in his boots, as he pointed an accusatory finger at Momo.

Momo was quite proud of the degree that he was terrified of her.

“The thieving necro survived!” he yelped. His arm was in a sling, and he wore bandaged knee pads over each leg. It looked like he had gotten in a fight with gravity, and lost badly. She supposed it had been from the fall he suffered at the mage’s tower. Oops. Her bad.

Looking farther into the distance, Momo could make out Pol and Gunther still ascending a make-shift ladder onto the platform. They were climbing as fast as they could, but the distance upwards was formidable, and Gunther’s heavy armor weighed him down.

From the looks of it, the thieves had under a minute before the knights breached the back entrance. Septim didn’t look like he was going anywhere, happy to tremble and point until reinforcements came.

“Do you still have time to seal the exit?” Momo said, whipping her head back to face Vivienne. The [Holy Knight] didn’t need to be asked.

“[Pinning Blow]!”

The door slammed shut before Momo could finish her sentence. Vivienne had launched herself at it with the full force of an avalanche, throwing back Septim and rattling the door on its hinges. Due to its design, it locked in place as soon as it crossed a certain threshold. It was shut tight as a clam.

“Nia, spot me,” Vivienne commanded as she recovered, taking a knee by the base of the door. “The physical lock will only do so much. It needs a magical sealant, or else we’ll all be in chains when Pol gets here.”

Nia nodded and held both her hands upwards, palms open. Dark energy radiated off of them, and Momo could feel the air in the room pressurize like a ticking time bomb. Whatever Nia had silently cast, it had the effect of keeping everything very tight. Not only was the door not going to budge – but neither was Momo. Her throat tightened, and she focused on getting as much oxygen in as possible.

Vivienne began whispering as she dragged her hand across the door’s golden filigree. White light emanated from her fingertips. “[Holy Seal],” she whispered quickly. The halo of light traveled from her fingertips to each corner of the door. After a moment, the entire entranceway was bathed in a white, ghostly veil.

Having seemingly recovered from his fall, a loud knock persisted on the other side. Septim was nothing if not relentless.

Relentlessly useless, Momo thought. Not that she was doing much herself, unless one counted standing there and trying not to die of asphyxiation. She backed away from the door and towards the middle of the room, an equal distance from Nia and from the Con Artist Cage. She didn’t particularly want to be near either of them, still traumatized by the unprovoked bodysurfing she was forced into earlier.

“Will it hold?” Nia shouted.

“Not for long,” Vivienne muttered, stepping backwards. The veil of light began to dissipate, the incantation complete. “It’s a lot less powerful than the one I put on the front door, but that one took hours to set up. I can’t believe I forgot the second entrance.”

“Me neither,” Nia raised an eyebrow. “You only ever betray the city you govern once in a lifetime, maybe twice. One would imagine you’d think harder about the prep work.”

Vivienne glared at her.

“Shut up. We don’t have much time. We have to get those chains off,” Vivienne paced back to the center of the room, looming over the sitting woman. She looked at her almost sadly, with a pitying expression. “I’m just – I’m scared. I don’t know what kind of mental situation she’ll be in when they come off.”

“She’ll be fine,” Nia waved away the concern. “She’s as resilient as they come. Ten years in lockup is practically paradise for her – more time to plot her brilliant plans, brainstorm new monstrous creations. All her favorite activities.”

Nia squatted next to the woman, and affectionately caressed the side of her hooded face.

“In fact, with her mana completely muted, maybe she’s actually experiencing a coherent train of thought for the first time in her life,” Nia smirked, patting the woman’s cheek. “Now wouldn’t that be something.”

“I highly doubt even the most powerful artifact in the world could accomplish that.”

Momo stood and stared, absorbing the information. Ten years in solitary confinement? Momo thought she was a fan of alone time, but this woman took it a step further. Momo could only be inspired. Jealous, even. An isolated cell with no one to bother her, for ten entire years? That sounded like an extended vacation at this point.

“Well, we’re about to find out. Let’s get this over with,” Nia pulled out a key from her pocket. It was a short, heavily detailed tool made of obsidian. Stuffing the pocket watch away, Nia wrapped her fingers around one of the hundreds of small locks that ordained the woman.

“Here goes nothing,” she inhaled, twisting the key inside of it. A faint pop echoed through the room as the lock fell off the chain, smooth as butter.

“There we go,” Nia grinned wolfishly. She proceeded hastily, unlocking a dozen more. The locks were simply piled on the woman. It’d take more time than they had to get them all off.

The chained woman’s eyes looked down as the locks descended into a pool by her legs. The end of her lip moved the tiniest twinge, flicking upward. Although she could barely emote, Momo sensed excitement bubbling within her.

Momo had the faint feeling that she was sitting at the foot of a volcano that was about to erupt.

As Nia proceeded with her work, several footsteps halted at the back door. The door handle rattled against the latch, spurring several complaints from the new visitors. Septim’s voice rang out on the other side.

“She’s taken Vivienne hostage, and the prisoner too, I saw ‘em,” he warned the figures who joined him, who Momo presumed to be Pol and Gunther. The two knights responded in surprise, and they began chattering conspiratorially behind the door at a volume Momo couldn’t perceive.

“Hostage?” Vivienne gaped, clearly offended. “If anyone was taking anyone hostage, it surely wasn’t her to me.”

“Oh, get over it,” Nia barked out at her, another lock clattering to the ground. “This is a good thing. We need you to stall.”

“Stall? How?”

“I don’t know, run out the main door? Scream like a little girl and make it seem like Momo’s taking you hostage somewhere else?” Nia suggested. “I just need a few more minutes, then we won’t have to worry about something as measly as a few knights anymore.”

“Gods,” Vivienne grasped her face in her hands. “This has gotten so out of hand. But fine.”

“Does that mean I have to go too?” Momo piped up. “I’d rather stay here, if that’s alright.”

“Yes, stay here,” the other two said in unison, looking at Momo sternly. The pair of them in agreement, Vivienne took a long breath in, and then headed for the front door. With a whisk of light, she pressed through the main entranceway. Out into the hallway, she proceeded to scream bloody murder.

“Someone help me!” she yelled. “The vile necromancer is taking me away to my doooom!”

Momo had the sense that this was a blow to Vivienne’s dignity that she’d make Momo pay for later.

Vivienne slammed the door shut firmly behind her, solidifying the enclosure spell once again. Momo felt relieved, knowing they were protected at both exits – at least for now. She heard the patter of Vivienne’s boots as she ran in the opposite direction of the Judgement Room, back down towards the Knight Barracks.

“Did you hear that?” Gunther said. “They’re getting away!”

“I’ll go after them,” Pol said sternly. “You stay here and work on that lock. You’re too slow.”

Gunther grunted, clearly annoyed, but obedient. He rattled the handle again. No luck. Irritated, he backed up a few steps, and then threw the full weight of his body at the door.

“[Pinning Blow]!”

The door didn’t budge a bit. Momo stifled a laugh. The [Holy Knights] had a very limited skillset, it appeared – big light beam, and charge like a bull. Faced with an unmoving door, they became reduced to animals, stampeding at each other uselessly from each direction. At least Vivienne had the foresight to reinforce the lock with magic, or else Momo might have been gum under Gunther’s shoes by now.

“What kind of lock is this?” he growled at the door. After a few moments, he paused. “A [Holy] lock? Did Vivienne put this on? Why would she lock out her own knights?”

Momo heard the cogs whir in his furry brain. Oh no. He was doing something the other knights didn’t dream to do – think.

“I don’t think we have much time left,” Momo mumbled. “The bear’s got us figured out.”

“Oh, sweet Momo,” Nia grinned, wide as she’d ever seen it. “He has no idea what’s coming.”

With a final click, the last lock clattered to the floor.

In the same moment, every single glass window in the palace shattered.

—

“Oh god,” Momo gasped. “The goat wasn’t crazy.”

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It Feels Good to be Queen Again

A banshee’s wail of a laugh echoed throughout the entire Hall. Every surface cracked in response, the building trembling like it feared its own collapse. As more cracks formed in the cobbled walls, black goo began to ooze through them. The ooze looked similar to unformed Nether magic. It had the same texture as the primordial material that constructed Momo’s summons – the unformed void that grew into the argentavis, or the ostrich.

She must be a necromancer, Momo deduced, her eyes widening. Her power was striking, nearly unbelievable. She imagined it rivaled Valerica’s, if not superseded it. The mere thought of someone stronger than Valerica standing a few feet from her sent a chill down her spine. The fort reacted similarly; stone splintered off the wall, crashing around her. She yelped, falling to the floor. Complete awe took over Momo as she watched the woman ascend upwards, levitating through the air as the chains broke off of her.

“Long time no see, Sera,” Nia smiled.

Sera.

Momo’s mind stilled. It was one of the three Excalibur necromancers. The one that had manipulated Leone into building the monstrosity that nearly wiped out Bruda – the famed Necropriest.

This was Nia and Vivienne’s secret plan? Momo watched the thief’s expression of pure elation. Momo had been all wrong – this wasn’t about money at all for her.

This was about the revival of a beast.

“Oh gods, it’s too late,” Gunther whispered.

The doors of the judgment room flew backwards, torn off their hinges. Vivienne’s magical locks didn’t seem to impede Sera in the least. The backdoor hurtled into Gunther, pinning him to the floor. Septim screamed, running past his lord and towards the back of the platform.

“Oh, little skeleton, don’t make me chase you.”

Sera outstretched a hand, and Death magic zipped out of it, crossing an unbelievable distance in mere seconds. It struck Septim in the back. As if stabbed with a dagger, he froze. His body went limp. He groaned, and keeled over immediately. His face fell flat on the stone, unmoving.

Momo blinked. Holy shit. He was dead. Sera had just killed him.

“[Raise Undead],” Sera commanded, with the ease of a shrug. With her finger still pointed at Septim, his body began to rise upwards slowly. It was as if his limbs were moving independent of him – first his knees, then his hands, and finally his skull. Momo closed her eyes, unable to watch the inhuman performance.

“How unusual. A necromancer who closes her eyes at the rise of the undead,” Sera commented, turning her gaze to Momo. “You must be the one Morgana speaks of.”

Momo’s skin crawled, her eyes snapping back open. The last thing she wanted was Sera’s attention. The Necropriest hadn’t even known how annoying Septim was, and she still killed him outright. Cold, thoughtless murder. It was probably a blessing upon the intelligent population, but still. Momo felt herself mourning his loss, as if a hunter had shot a helpless dog.

“He was harmless,” Momo whispered.

“A knight? Harmless?” Sera raised an eyebrow. Her robes danced as she descended onto the floor, and began walking towards Momo. “No disciple of Kyros is harmless. They all feed his deadly ego. His murderous campaign.”

“R – right,” Momo stuttered, shaking as Sera approached her. The Necropriest folded her cowl down, and stripped the bandages off the bottom of her face. Her hair had been trimmed down to near baldness. Her lip, cut. Still, she smiled broadly, exposing shiny, white teeth.

One thing about necromancers, Momo learned, is that they loved to smile in the face of death.

Her knees wobbling terribly, Momo could do nothing but stand as Sera inched closer to her. This could be the moment I die, Momo thought. Again. One stray movement, and it was all over.

Sera wrapped her hands around Momo, and took her into a bone-crushing hug.

Literally bone-crushing. Momo could feel at least three separate bones crack, sharp pain shooting up at her from every limb. The pain was nauseating, and she nearly fainted the moment it hit her. The only thing that kept her upright was Sera’s embrace.

“I’ve heard great things about you,” Sera said. Her tone was cold, yet Nia still looked onwards with jealousy.

“Hello? Nothing for the woman who just broke you out of ten years of prison?” she commented, eyes narrowed.

Sera turned, waving her off. “I’ll get to you later.”

Nia huffed, and Sera turned her attention back to Momo, whose face was contorted in extreme pain.

“Oh my, I must have nearly killed you with that hug,” she laughed. It wasn't a sympathetic or pitying laugh - but one of genuine amusement. After a second, she pressed her arms, softer now, to Momo’s. A white light, corrupted by streaks of black, emanated from her. The light bathed Momo's body. It tingled, turning sharp pain into a faint numbness.

She sighed as the relief came instantaneously.

“My apologies. Ten years in solitude, and you tend to forget how to give a proper, non-fatal hug,” she shrugged. “But all is well now. If you start throwing up termites in a few hours, that’s completely normal. You might also hallucinate the death of your friends and family, but nothing to worry about.”

“What?” Momo said weakly.

“Side effects of [Dark Healing], is all,” Sera smiled, patting Momo on the side. “Now, Morgana has been telling me so much about your little escapades with Valerica. Gods, I miss that witch. I’ll have to seek her out once I’m done here.”

“Once you’re… done here?” Momo muttered. “What exactly is it that you intend to do?”

“Finish what you started, of course?” Sera laughed, raising her hand into the air. She twisted it, and a large splash of black goo appeared on the ceiling. It spread rapidly, painting the entire chamber black – every stone, every chair, even the floor. It bubbled up from the ground, forming furniture that hadn’t been there before. Most notably, an ornate, midnight-colored throne.

She stepped away from Momo, and went to sit on the chair. Getting comfortable in her new, goo-created seat, she stretched her limbs.

“Ah,” she sighed. “It feels good to be Queen again.”

“You sure didn’t miss a beat,” Nia rolled her eyes.

“Why the whining? It’s as you said. I’ve been preparing for this for ten years,” Sera said, stretching her arms. She whipped her hand again, and an array of black orbs formed in every corner of the room. They sprouted gooey limbs, then feet, and began scurrying around the place. Dozens of minions, with misshapen faces and too-long legs. This has to be an insane evolution of [Summon Lesser Familiar], Momo thought.

Septim, hunched over and dead in the eyes, appeared finally at the doorway. He had been trying to get over to it for a period of five minutes, to no luck. Momo imagined it was hard to get accustomed to walking like a zombie. Just didn’t feel natural to let your feet actually do the walking, and not your brain.

“You, go paint the rest of this place,” Sera commanded, producing a paint brush and a paint can made of pure Nether, and tossing it to Zombie-Septim. “I want every stone covered, alright? I can’t stand to look at this boorish gray for even a second longer.”

Septim failed to catch it, instead getting whacked over the head by the paint can. He groaned in acceptance, and grabbed it once he was back on his feet. He trotted away towards the hallway, dragging the paintbrush behind him.

Poor guy. Momo frowned. She knew his soul was long gone, probably wandering uselessly around the Nether, but it still didn’t feel right to see his body limp around.

Momo noticed that the Con Artists had been suspiciously quiet. She looked towards them, and saw that they suffered a similar fate to her — utter, shocked silence. Even Teddy had the foresight to shut his mouth. Better to see how things played out, Momo guessed. It’s all ‘let’s take down the dictator!’ until the dictator is a bald, Excalibur Necropriest who just turned your enemy into a paint can-wielding zombie.

“You,” Sera snapped her fingers towards Nia. “Where’s your sister? She should be back by now.”

Sister. Momo’s eyes widened. So she had been right!The similarity had been too uncanny. Nia grimaced as the Con Artists gasped, obviously not happy about the information being shared. Still, she kept her mouth shut. She wasn't about to challenge her new master.

“Vivienne? She’s busy creating the distraction that allowed me to unchain you,” Nia rolled her eyes. “But I agree, someone should probably check on her. Pol isn’t exactly your average grunt. If he figured out she was lying, then there’s a high chance…”

Nia’s face whitened. It seemed she had been too preoccupied with Sera to worry about her sister, but now the reality was dawning on her. She began to tap her foot anxiously.

“I’ll go get her,” Nia said, heading for the exit. “She’ll be somewhere in the Knight Barracks.”

Momo’s ears perked up. “I’ll come with you!” she said, following suit. This was a double opportunity: one, to get the letter she owed Komodo, and two, to high tail it out of here before Sera noticed. She doubted she’d kill Momo on a whim – it might upset Morgana – but she didn’t trust her to let her go, either. Momo didn’t want to become the next Leone.

Plus, she missed Valerica. She seemed like a much more sensible, kinder boss by comparison.

“Whatever,” Nia said, turning into the hallway. “Follow me.”

A note from villa1ny

So... it was Sera! Reactions? Thoughts? Feelings? I wonder how Valerica will feel about this...

To get 11 chapters ahead right now, you can head over there!

Join the Discord / Momo cult here.

Morgana Messes With the System

A note from villa1ny

Today's shoutout goes to Ghost of the Truthseeker by Strungbound!

A cultivation story with LitRPG elements

The people of Earth thought it was bad when an alien descended upon Earth, killing billions of people. That was nothing. Their world is initiated into a universe-spanning empire of cut-throat cultivators, beasts, and entities of ungodly power. Not to mention being forced to navigate a complex system of progression aided by a mysterious AI.

Alistair was just an ordinary college student, but he is now forced to find his way through an increasingly complicated world where power is obtained through conflict and death, where cultivation is key and the Peak is insurmountable. Alistair faces deadly encounters behind every corner on his path to survive and protect his loved ones, as he forges his own path to securing eternity.

As soon as they entered the hallway, a barrage of parchment hit Momo all at once.

“What the hell?” she groaned, physically pushed back by the sheer number of documents.

Congratulations! You have ga

Hello Momo. This is Morgana. I hope you’re doing wonderfully. I just caught this bugger before it headed out to you – thought it’d be a prime opportunity to chat.

I’ll get the big news out of the way first. I suggest you get as far away from Sera as possible. My dear disciple doesn’t quite have the pacifist nature that Valerica possesses. I do believe she intends to enslave you quite immediately, to take you out of the competition, so to speak. You see, I’m an all-loving goddess, but sometimes, one’s children can get jealous…

Now, for the lesser news, I have decided to give you a second blessing. You have proved yourself rather useful, and I don’t want you to meet the Nether just yet, so I figure this will help you evade Sera for now.

Momo’s heart rattled in her chest. Her instincts had been right – Sera was bad news. On the conniving spectrum, Valerica came in a respectable second place. Not that she’d ever tell her that.

Momo looked at the next page.

Morgana’s Blessings

I: [Primordial Knowledge]

II: [Nether Immunity]

III: ???

IV: ???

V: ???

[Nether Immunity]: Become bathed in a pool of defensive Nether. You cannot be affected by Dark magic attacks for 60 seconds. You can switch this skill on and off at will, and it can be used once a day.

That will definitely come in handy. She wished she had a way to thank Morgana, but she settled for oddly bowing towards the piece of parchment as it floated out of existence. The rest of the stack had an odd look to them, as if someone had patchworked different parchments together.

Congratulations. Gained level in. [Necromage!]

You have ascended cultivation of. 3 levels. Gained the skill [Born Cultivator]

Cultivator? Necromage?

She flipped the page.

Hello again, Morgana here. I think I lost the pages the courier was meant to send you – oops! I’ll just give you the next one I see instead. That should be fine. A level is a level, right? Oh, damn it. I got some nail polish on this one. Let me just scrub it away. Oh, that didn’t work well.

Momo flipped the page. It looked as if the courier had a printing error. There was only one line on the entire page.

[Born Cultivator] is a skill.

Momo scratched her head. Yes, it certainly was. She flipped the parchment again. There were so many pages.

Ugh. It appears I might have mixed my universes again. My apologies. Enjoy whatever [Born Cultivator]   is. I seemed to have erased the skill description. Maybe the Courier can help you with that.

“Umm, alright,” Momo said, trying to keep pace with Nia as she read through the documents. The pair of them were nearly at the Knight’s Barracks. I'll have to investigate later. She stuffed the remainder of the parchment in her pockets, and followed the thief down the stairs. It seemed they weren’t bothering with any disguises or pretense -- just full steam ahead.

“Pol better not have messed with her,” Nia grunted as she swung open the door. The thief darted down the stairs in a second, stepping through the shadows like Momo had seen the vampire do. Momo kept track of her for a moment before she disappeared. Totally invisible. Momo sighed. So it looked like Nia did had a strategy, only the strategy once again left Momo alone to her own devices.

She'd just try and not die before Nia could enact whatever plan was in her head.

Luckily, Vivienne wasn’t hard to find.

“Get your hands off of me!” the Holy Knight exclaimed. Pol had cornered her into the Knight’s Quest Board, her head colliding with the wood. He was surrounded by knight lackeys, who were trying their best to avoid eye contact with their former leader. It appeared that there was little loyalty to be found among them when faced with a higher power.

“You must have been planning something,” Pol gritted. “I catch up to you, and yet you are not being kidnapped. You are running. Running from me.”

“I told you, when she heard you coming, she released me and ran,” Vivienne spat, breathing heavily. He had cast something on her to limit her powers, and she was having trouble standing. "I thought you were with her."

“I don’t believe you,” he whispered. He whisked his hand in the air, and a scepter of light generated into his palm. It was a long, holy spear, with a pointed edge at the top. He pointed it at her neck. “I know you have some resistance to [Holy] magic, but not nearly enough to resist a prolonged spear to the neck.”

“I can imagine you won’t survive a prolonged stab in the gut, either.”

Nia’s voice came as fast as her blade, striking straight into Pol from behind. She pushed the dagger as far as it could go – penetrating from his back, and straight through to his heart. Momo was the first to scream, watching as he stumbled backwards.

“Gods. You – you’ll pay for this,” Pol mumbled, his eyes fluttering as he grasped at his wound. It did nothing, the bleeding was too fast, and Nia's weapon was seemingly drenched in [Dark] magic. “Do you not fear the King?”

“Fear the King? That hack should fear me,” Nia said, eyes mad with rage. She stood in front of her sister, dwarfing her in size. Vivienne slunk backwards, breathing heavily as she leaned on the wall for support. “Don’t worry, you’ll be able to join his fanclub again soon. I’ll be sending him to the Nether just like the rest of you.”

“Blasphemy,” was the last thing he said before falling to his knees. The knights watched in stunned silence as he fell to the ground, his head colliding with cold stone.

Nia threw in one last kick to his torso for good measure.

“Nia,” Vivienne said, managing to speak. “That was unnecessary.”

“Killing him, or kicking him afterwards?”

“Both,” she said breathlessly. “We could have just thrown him in the dungeons. He’s one of the King’s closest Experts. He probably had information we could have used against him.”

“And he also probably could have killed you if I gave him another second,” Nia said. She stepped over the body without a thought, giving a look to the knights. “What are you all dawdling on about? Get back to work.”

They stared at her, then Vivienne. Momo herself had barely been able to make sense of their relationship, so she imagined the knights’ limited brain capacity had even less of a fighting chance. Half of them were barely able to even balance on two feet; Vivienne and Nia had caught them at drinking hour.

Which was, to say, every hour besides 3pm.

3pm was when Lord Gunther had begun to make a habit of giving a speech, usually about one of his many exaggerated noble escapades, and forced them to sit and listen. And even then, they usually discreetly handed a flask around to get through the lecture.

“As she said, get back to your posts,” Vivienne commanded. “There’s been a change in leadership. I will still be in charge of you lot, but you will ultimately answer to Nam’Dal’s new ruler, Sera, the Excalibur [Necropriest].”

The mention of an Excalibur anything sent shockwaves throughout the room. The added ‘necro’ only worsened the mood, and Momo could start to hear a murmuring amongst them. Not a happy one, either.

“You’re telling me we work for a necro now?”

Momo recognized the knight from before. It was the one who had warned him about Nia. Nia, who was coincidentally standing right in front of her Wanted poster, like a celebrity standing outside their billboard on Times Square. The knight had a permanent scowl etched into his face as he stared at her.

“Yes,” Vivienne put simply. “And if you’re thinking of rioting, I suggest you don’t. I advise you to remind yourself what Excalibur means. Your Lord Gunther has been subdued, Pol is dead, and I work for Sera. Any complaints?”

The room remained silent. The dead body sitting between them all seemed to have a muting effect on possible upheaval.

“Wonderful,” Vivienne said, concluding the discussion. “From the way the fort shook like I’ve never felt anything shake, I assume everything went as planned?”

“Yes, it did. Although I can’t say that Sera’s been very appreciative,” Nia rolled her eyes, walking with Vivienne to a corner of the room. Momo silently followed, avoiding eye contact with any of the knights. She hoped the general aura of confusion permeating through the space prevented them from apprehending her on sight.

“Appreciative? When has she ever been?” Vivienne laughed. “She’s always shown her love in other ways. Not in particularly loving ones, but still.”

“I know,” Nia said, gritting her teeth. “I wasn’t expecting praise or anything, but a little gratitude might have been nice. How often do your disciples take on false identities and build them up over years in order to free you from containment? It’s not like you wanted to be a [Holy Knight], yet here you are, stuck in that horror show of a class.”

“It’s not too bad,” Vivienne shrugged. “It just means I get to piss off Kyros even more when he realizes I’ve betrayed him. Which I’m sure will be soon.”

“If not already,” Nia lifted her brow. “Did you receive any experience from this whole thing? I got a shit ton. I can’t even count the amount of parchment I’ve been stashing away for later.”

Vivienne furrowed her eyebrows. “Now that you mention it, no…”

“Exactly,” Nia laughed. “You’ll be experience-starved forever, starting now. He’s not exactly going to give out XP to someone who’s working against him.

Vivienne groaned. “That’s so unfair. Why do I have to suffer even more? I had to put up with those brickhead knights for so long. It was basically torture. Sure, I did hire explicitly the stupidest people in all of Nam’Dal to make sure Sera’s ascent would be easy – but still. Tortuous.”

“You’re the one who had the idea in the first place,” Nia reminded her. “When Sera got taken away, you were acting all high and mighty like oh no, I’ll save her! I’ll become the best [Holy Knight] in all of Alois, right under Kyros’ nose! And you, my dear sister Nia, can still do what you do best…”

“Being an absolute nuisance.”

“Being a world-renowned thief,” Nia said simultaneously. “Which I did, creating a wonderful distraction for everyone else while you quietly ascended the throne.”

“Fair enough,” she muttered. “I needed to keep the rest of the government busy while I found a way to manipulate the King into giving her up. It was a very hard sell. Luckily, his oaf of a son made things simpler. Jarva has a soft spot for the useless boy. He knew that having a limitless source of criminality to train him on would be invaluable if he ever dreamed of reaching Expert.”

“I still can’t believe the King would just hand you Sera,” Momo muttered, joining the conversation by accident. Her mind was running at the speed of light digesting all the information, and her curiosity only grew with each new fact. “Aren’t necromancers his like, worst fear? Why would he part with one of the most powerful ones in Alois?”

“I told him I had a technology that could keep her contained, indefinitely,” Vivienne grinned, obviously proud of the lie. “I told him I wanted to do experiments on her while she was in my custodianship – find ways to extract necromantic power, rendering her useless. In exchange for letting me do those experiments, I’d supply his son with…”

“The beautifully terrible citizens of Nam’Dal,” Nia giggled. She had obviously taken part in the brainstorming session for this plan.

“Wow, that’s…” Momo’s mind went blank. “Very conniving.”

“Thank you for saying so,” Vivienne said, smiling shyly.

“Hey! I was part of the plan too,” Nia frowned. “At least 30% of it.”

“That’s a bold estimation.”

Interrupting their bickering, a bumbling figure slammed into the wall next to them. Momo yelped, turning around to see Zombie-Septim. He had dragged a river of paint behind him, like a slithering black snake. Recovering from his crash, he moaned and leaned backwards, lifting his arm to paint the wall again.

“Is that… Septim?” a knight cried out.

“No,” Vivienne shook her head. “That’s just one of Sera’s minions now. All likeness to your former colleague is purely coincidental."

“Is that going to happen to us?” one of the knights shivered. “I don’t want to be a zombie. Oh gods. I’m too young to enter necromantic servitude. I have such nice skin —”

“I’m getting out of here,” another jumped up from his barstool, heading for the door. Nia and Vivienne didn’t stop him.

“Just a warning to you all, that one is going straight to necromantic servitude,” Nia explained, pointing at the knight running straight for the exit. “Sera doesn’t like runners.”

Nia cleared her throat. “But she doesn’t mind obedient, non-zombie minions either. If you all just continue as you did before – being obedient knights who are terrible at your job – then you can continue enjoying your existence, free will and all. I will make sure of that, as your representative.”

“Our representative?” a knight asked. The other knights seemed similarly confused.

“Of course,” Vivienne nodded, and then bowed. “I will continue my term as Head Knight, and represent your ‘human rights’ in court with our new ruler. Unlike under the rule of Jarva, the people of Nam’Dal will have a say in this new government. Ratlings, ratbirds, regular birds, even lizards.”

Huh. Leave it to the necromantic regime to be more pacifist than the Holy governance.

“So,” Vivienne turned towards Momo, her speech finished. “As a first order of business, we’ll have to deal with you.”

A note from villa1ny

If you're wondering: This story isn't going xianxia / cultivation. (This is just for laughs lol although the skill will be investigated in future chapters)

To get 11 chapters ahead right now, you can head over there!

Join the Discord / Momo cult here.

Money, Money, Money, Must be Funny, in a Rich Momo’s World!

A note from villa1ny

The soundtrack to this chapter should be obvious https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ETxmCCsMoD0

“Deal with me?” Momo squeaked. Morgana had given her new defenses against Dark magic, but Vivienne was pure holy light. The room was too cramped to outrun a light beam – not to mention that Argent was on cooldown. She’d be skewered in a second. She began to sweat, running out of options.

“Oh, relax,” Vivienne rolled her eyes. “Not like that. I meant we need to compensate you for your help. Unlike Nia, I believe in honest work receiving honest pay. We wouldn’t have been able to retrieve Sera without you.”

The Holy Knight seemed begrudgingly grateful, as if the words were coiled around painful spikes. She chewed her lip and looked up at Momo, impatiently awaiting her answer.

“Oh,” Momo said, blinking dumbly. So she wasn't about to die. Nice. “Are you sure you’re not just trapping me into some other elaborate scheme?”

“Honestly, I can’t be sure,” Vivienne shrugged. “Elaborate schemes are the only thing I’ve thought about for the last ten years. It’s kind of hard to turn off. But if it comforts you, I don’t think I am.”

It did not comfort Momo. She looked towards Nia, who she trusted even less.

“My sister isn’t the generous type. I’d take her up on the offer,” Nia said, looking ever so often at the Pol's body, splayed awkwardly on the floor. “I’ll be following, of course. If Sera doesn’t want to give me a reward, I’ll simply reward myself. I assume we’ll be emptying the vaults?”

“Naturally," Vivienne answered.

The Con Artists would be furious. Momo swallowed. As much as she would love a glorious amount of money, she wasn’t interested in making a glorious amount of enemies when they were released from the cage. Assuming they were released. Momo was still fairly unclear on just how ‘fair’ this new regime was going to be.

All she knew was she couldn’t stay long. A warning from a Goddess wasn’t to be taken lightly.

“I have to get my letter first,” Momo swallowed. If everything took a turn for the worse, or, rather, worser, she wanted to at least have the envelope in hand. She’d rather be Sera’s slave than disappoint Valerica by losing the one quest item she gave her.

“Fine,” Vivienne waved her off. “But don’t dally. We should get back to Sera before she turns all the knights to zombies out of boredom.”

Momo nodded, heading hastily towards the storage room.

—

She was eternally grateful that the knights were slobs.

The place hadn’t been touched – and certainly not cleaned – since she left it. If anything, it had only increased its collection of dust and cobwebs. With Dusk’s aid, she found the letter in minutes, collected under the gold pieces she had left to rust.

She looked down at her robes. Damn it. She still didn’t have anything to carry the leftover gold in. Even the envelope was at risk of falling out again – her pockets were about as trustworthy as a backpack with a rip down the middle. Still, she wasn’t about to leave it a second time.

Maybe I can get a nice backpack as a reward, she thought. Whatever the North Face equivalent of Alois was – something fashionable, yet sporty. She could even carry Dusk in it! How cute would that be? The cat’s little snout sticking out of the bag, meowing as they walked. It was certainly preferable to carrying her around on her shoulders all the time.

It was decided. Momo was getting a magical backpack.

With the letter in hand, she headed back to Vivienne and Nia. They were nearly out of the room, waiting impatiently by the door.

“We don’t have all day,” Vivienne glared. Momo squeaked out an apology, running after them as they headed back up the stairs.

She had the letter, and the promise of a reward. Now all she had to do was avoid getting enslaved by Sera - and the wrath of a jealous Con Artist.

—

“The vaults are down this way,” Vivienne instructed as they passed the Judgement Room. Momo blew out a breath, grateful they weren’t making a pitstop to greet Sera again. The Necropriest was obviously busy redecorating. Skeletons, hung on flowery nooses, were arranged all over the walls like interior decoration. Everything was painted Nether black, just as she instructed.

Septim made a far more efficient zombie than he did a human knight, Momo mused.

The most astonishing change was the Mage’s Tower. Momo could see it through the large windows that ran down the hallway. A majestic, pure-black steeple, it hung over the horizon far above any other building in Nam’Dal. It had to be quadruple its original size, and Sera had managed to rebuild it in just an hour.

Nether seemed like a dangerously efficient building material, but there was no way it was safe. Structures built out of the material of the afterlife? Momo couldn't imagine trying to explain this to an American pastor. Still, it was undoubtedly beautiful. Totally and completely black. Light died upon contact with the surface, as if the structure was eating the sunray alive.

Momo wondered if she could build her own palace out of pure Nether. It sounded cozy.

Nia and Vivienne took a sharp left turn, and Momo nearly face-planted into the wall as a consequence. She didn’t realize the hallway even had a left to take. Surrounded by cobbled stone, it appeared like a dead end.

She should have learned that lesson by now, though: nothing was as it seemed with Nia and Vivienne. They reminded Momo of the bluntly mean (but surprisingly smart) popular girls from high school, except these two swore themselves to Necropriest Sera, instead of Beer-Enjoyer Matthew.

Removing a rectangular stone from the wall, Vivienne scowled in disgust as liquid Nether ran over her hand. It stained her nail beds, coloring her skin.

“It’s so sticky,” she groaned.

“That [Holy Knight] training really got to you, didn’t it?” Nia teased. She removed a few more stones with ease, unaffected by the black oil slopping onto her fingers. Unlike real paint, the Nether didn’t stick properly to the surface. It just went wherever it pleased.

With the stones tossed aside, the hollowed-out wall formed into a hallway. Is this another secret passageway? Momo thought as the pair stalked leisurely inside. Nia’s stolen blueprint of the castle seemed less impressive to Momo now – given that her literal sister was in charge of the whole affair. It had hardly been an impressive theft, and more of a confusing act of nepotism.

They strolled down the dark hallway until they reached a door with a wheel at the center. Vivienne turned it, and a shuttering sound echoed around the room. The walls of the hallway began to quake, then shutter, and then finally begin to descend. Momo looked around, wide-eyed in awe, as the stones lowered slowly towards the floor with every crank of the wheel-lever.

“This place has some crazy engineering,” she muttered. Vivienne laughed.

“Thank you.”

“You didn’t…” Momo stuttered, “...design it, did you?”

“Of course I did. I'm an engineer by trade. Nam’Dal was a barely-functioning slum before I rose to power,” she claimed. “Now it’s a slum with excellent infrastructure.”

That was surely… one version of events. She was sure the Rats would beg to differ who had kept things running.

As Vivienne cranked the wheel a final time, the stone walls collapsed completely into the floor. Mechanical gears whirred, and a set of shelves started extruding from the walls. They were simple shelves made of wood, stuffed to the brink with paper. Momo’s eyes widened, and she got to her knees to examine the bills.

They were small and red, with the King’s insignia embossed in the center. A Nam’Dal banknote.

“How much is this worth?” she whispered.

“About a hundred gold coin,” Nia answered, squatting down next to her. She laughed at Momo’s subsequent expression. “Don’t look so impressed. That’s the smallest denomination in here.”

“Smallest?”

Momo's vision darkened, dizzy with the dollar signs that had started to color her eyeballs.

She had a few thousand gold coins to her name – her life’s savings – but there were enough red bills in this storage cell alone to get her to ten thousand. From above Momo, Nia had already moved on from the red bills, grabbing a handful of yellow banknotes from the shelf above her. They gleamed like solid gold.

“These are worth a thousand,” Nia grinned, and tossed one to Momo without a thought. Momo caught it rabidly out of the air, stuffing it in her pockets without a thought. When Nia turned away, Momo shoveled as many golden bills in her pockets as would fit. They had the benefit of being both light and thin, so she could crumple a good hundred of them into her robes.

I’m rich. She thought, adrenaline coursing through her veins. She could afford a bed now.

“Slow down, tiger,” Nia laughed, strolling further down the corridor. Knowing it was always best to follow in a thief’s footsteps when in a treasure vault, Momo followed in tow. Nia stopped at one of the last containers, which held green colored banknotes. Momo wanted to laugh – they looked nearly like US dollars.

The appearance of them transported her back in time. She could barely remember the feel of a dollar. How it felt in her hands. How it felt to stop by the corner store and spend a handful on a cup of instant ramen. It was insane just how fast she had been forced to adapt to her new circumstances. She wouldn’t have been able to pronounce Necropriest back on Earth; now look at her. She was so far out of her original comfort zone, it was almost unfathomable. She couldn’t even imagine explaining her average day to her parents. It’d probably kill them.

“Are you ready for what these are worth?” Nia grinned villainously.

“No,” Momo trembled, her hand already reaching for the bill.

“Finders keepers,” Nia grinned, snatching the bill just out of her grasp. “It’s worth ten thousand coin.”

Momo nearly fainted then and there.

“How many can I have?” she mumbled. She hoped the answer was everything.

“As many as you can hold in those tattered pockets,” Nia laughed.

Momo reached out, then paused.

“This has to be a trap,” she said.

“I mean, this is as real as money gets,” Nia shrugged, following Vivienne further down the hallway. “Sure, we could be setting you up – but it’s exclusively up to you if you come out of this chamber rich or poor, dead or alive.”

Momo moaned internally. She was quite exhausted by these sisters and their riddles. Couldn’t someone just be straightforward with her for once? She thought of Radu – who had told her, almost immediately, that he was a Con Artist. Looking back, he was as blunt a salesman as any respectable shop owner. She found herself missing him.

He probably feels the same, she thought, remembering that he was currently locked up in a cage under threat by one of the world’s most powerful necromancers. Shit. She had made him a promise: he had her back, and she had his.

She couldn’t just leave him there.

Momo sighed. Having friends was exhausting. She knew there was a reason she tried to avoid it back on Earth.

Trap or no trap, she loaded up on as many of the green bills as possible. Surveying the rest of the shelves, which spiraled upwards just past her head, there didn’t seem to be any higher denominations. For a vault containing such an insane amount of money – it was laughably simple, like a toddler’s imagination of a bank. She felt like she was playing with Monopoly money.

“This is just the treasury,” Vivienne said, strolling further down the hallway. “The next room has the real fun stuff.”

Fun stuff? Momo was scared to imagine what Vivienne thought was fun.

She followed Nia and Vivienne until they reached another other door, which required a magical incantation. Vivienne quickly obliged, speaking in words Momo couldn't understand until the door clicked open. The woman seemed to have a fascination with the interaction between the physical and the magical – with each of the doors requiring a mixture of both to successfully unlock.

The next room was much wider, and Momo’s jaw nearly dropped at the contents: armor, weapons – everything a young Knight would dream of. There was an entire chamber dedicated to battleaxes, another to knives, one to heavy armor, and finally…

Momo yelped. Standing in the middle chamber was a man in a cloak, brushing off the dust from the weapon hangers.

“Ah, I see you followed instructions,” Vivienne grinned. “It’s good to see Sera didn’t gobble you up, Extrius.”

The man slowly turned, and a green, leathery neck peeked out from his black clothes. He dropped his face-shielding cowl, and the head of a turtle blinked back at her. Yes, a turtle. Draped in black, with an Executioner’s Axe steady in his left hand.

“The revolution was a nice opportunity to clean up down here,” he said slowly, with the enunciation of a sloth. He absentmindedly itched the back of his cloak, a bulbous thing – which Momo had originally thought was a bad back, but now realized was a shell.

“Your executioner… is a turtle?” Momo said, no longer surprised.

“Turtling,” he corrected her, because of course.

“Just how many halflings exist? And why are they all in this city?” Momo asked miserably. She thought she had identified all of them. Birds, rats, lizards. That was quite enough half-animal insanity.

“Oh, as many as there are stars in the sky,” the turtle replied simply. “We halflings descend from the Great Elder Animals of Alois, the original species of this continent. You know, it was humans that were the anomaly. No one seems to remember that.”

He had a kindness to him, in his big eyes and his slow, methodical speech. Momo couldn’t imagine this guy chopping heads off.

Then again, she could barely imagine Valerica leading a necromancer cult. She had the personality of an overexcited English teacher with weird eating habits. If it wasn't for her obsession with dead bugs, and her collection of skeletons, she'd fit in as an average overzealous High School teacher. One of the varieties that liked to assign impossible assignments with impossible deadlines.

“Right,” Momo nodded, absorbing the halfling lore. “Thank you for enlightening me.”

He smiled a bit, and continued his dusting.

“Alright, Momo,” Vivienne said, commanding her attention. “Take whichever items you want – and can reasonably carry. I figure we’ve put you through enough to justify it. But only three items maximum, please. A city requires a full vault of magical items to be considered viable.”

“Whichever she wants?” Nia complained. “Me too, I assume?”

“An incorrect assumption,” Vivienne glared. “You’d somehow manage to take everything in the chamber, and then some.”

Nia groaned, but Momo was no longer listening. She was already on the move, like a kid in a candy store. She was not going to let this opportunity pass her by.

She went into the armor chamber first. It was mostly suits of traditional heavy armor, but there was a small corner with enchanted leather armor, boots, backpacks…

She audibly gasped, running up to the leather strapped bag. Her prayers had been answered. Not only was it a backpack, but it was the perfect backpack. It was soft to the touch, durable, and light. It was a pleasant, inconspicuous brown – wouldn’t stand out in a crowd, just like Momo liked. The only peculiar thing about it was the strange symbol etched into the back.

Written in a deep red, it looked almost like an Ancient Egyptian word – like hieroglyphs. Momo remembered seeing that writing somewhere, but she couldn’t place where. Inside, the bag was a similar, garnet-colored red. It was exquisite, but had a subtly eerie aura to it.

Was this… a necromancer’s bag?

She put it around her shoulders, successfully equipped. A piece of parchment came flying in, as expected.

⟡ You have equipped [Neculai’s Enchanted Backpack] ⟡

An artifact of the God of Bloodlust, this backpack has near limitless capacity. Of course, all things you put it in will come out drenched in blood, so keep some soap around!

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Catling’s Cowl of the Void

Momo groaned. Why did everything in this world come with terrible disclaimers?

Then again, limitless capacity. It was the bag she dreamed of – endless. She supposed it was worth giving a whirl. She called for Dusk, who appeared in front of her, tail wagging slowly through the air.

“Dusky, get in the bag, please.”

The cat obliged with a happy meow, dropping itself into the bag. Its head poked out happily. Momo was confused. Isn't it supposed to be endless? Dusk could sit in it with no problem at all. Not to mention there was no blood anywhere.

“Okay, out of the bag,” Momo motioned. Dusk complained, obviously comfortable. “Come on, I don’t have all day."

Begrudgingly, Dusk pushed a paw out of the bag. As soon as she did, bursts of blood shot out of the fabric, dousing her completely. Momo watched, appalled, as Dusk slunk out of the bag, dragging an entire pool of blood behind her. In her undead form, it was even more terrifying – a skeleton strewn with blood.

A typical necromancer’s delight, probably, but not Momo’s. She nearly fainted.

“Nope, absolutely not,” she said as she shoved the backpack back where it came from. “No chance.”

Then again… She could just use the backpack to transport some large, valuable items out of the vault, and then sell the enchanted pack to a trader. She was sure the item probably went for a pretty penny, given its capabilities.

With the remaining backpacks too small to even carry Dusk, Momo resigned herself to the idea.

“Fine,” she sighed, putting the backpack back on her shoulders. She stared at Dusk. “But you’re walking. No more bloodbaths.”

Dusk meowed solemnly.

She proceeded to the next chamber – the armor vault. Like the other chamber, it was mostly a collection of sets best befitting knights and paladins, with a small subsection for leather wearers and mages. She trotted over to the Mage section, and recoiled at the amount of white clothing. So bright. She had ventured out into the world of wearing blue, but that was as far as she’d go, her hard limit.

“Now what is this?” she cooed happily, finding something black hidden in the corner. It had a label stapled to it, reading CONFISCATED CONTRABAND - PROCEED WITH CAUTION. That sounded exciting.

She spread the small piece of fabric out on the floor. It appeared to be some sort of cowl. Two, cat-like ear flaps sprung out of the top. They were hollow pieces of fabric, designed as if real, human-sized cat ears were supposed to fit in there.

It had to be a hat designed for some sort of cat-type halfling.

“Oh my god,” she grinned. “Dusk, we can be twins.”

She quickly pulled the cowl over her head, and it fit snugly. It was nice and warm, and would be great to protect her from the winter.

⟡ You have equipped [Catling’s Cowl of the Void] ⟡

Designed especially for Meowsiph III, Lord Ruler of his Kind, this cowl protects from the elements while enhancing one’s Dark magics. It also fits very comfortably around the ears.

Dark type spells are 5% more effective.

Oh, this was absolutely perfect. She wouldn’t do it the dishonor of stashing it in her bloody backpack. It belonged firmly on her head. The only downside was, with no cat ears of her own, the earflaps hung downwards. She looked like a very sad cat indeed.

“I’ll have to get some stuffing to put in there,” she hummed, gesturing to the ears for Dusk to see them. “Cool, right?”

The cat looked at her with half-closed, skeptical eyes, as if to say: this is but a pitiful imitation.

“You’re no fun,” Momo rolled her eyes. She looked around to see if there were any robes to replace her own, but nothing caught her eye. The tailor back at the Dawn had promised her new ones, too, so she didn’t want to waste one of her three precious items on something she’d quickly replace.

Happy with her selection, she proceeded to the next room.

She shrieked, feeling someone’s breath on her neck.

“Oh, my apologies,” the turtle executioner said. He was uncomfortably close. “I was just examining your new hat. It’s very nice.”

Momo backed away slightly. His neck was sticking out overly far, like a snake, his body many feet away. It was rather disturbing to look at.

“Y – yeah, it is,” she nodded. “I’m off to get my last item, then.”

“I see. Not that I do not trust your taste, but may I make a recommendation?”

Momo paused. The turtle seemed well-intentioned enough, if a bit socially awkward. She nodded.

“Follow me,” he said, and slowly walked her into the chamber of books. It was basically an underground library, lined with old, oak bookshelves. Illustrious book spines lined each shelf, gleaming in purple and golden hues. The turtle smiled proudly as he looked upon them.

This part of the Vault was obviously his pride and joy.

“You are a [Corrupted Druid], yes?” he asked, running his hands along the book spines.

Momo blinked, astonished. “How do you know that?”

“It is a skill I have. [Class Identification]. My second class, after [Executioner], is [Librarian].”

A librarian executioner. Momo wondered what a combination class of the two would look like.

“That’s actually… pretty cool.”

Despite Momo’s general hatred towards books, she had always liked libraries. They were rather cozy, and usually darkly lit (due to underfunding). Librarians, the silent kind, not the overexcited variant, were also not the worst people to be around. They didn’t disturb her when she took naps in the back, pretending to read with a book lying flat on her face.

Extrius pulled out one of the purple-spined books. On the front, it had an oil painting of a lady in a forest, draped in robes of green, and surrounded by wild wolves. A full moon lit them all from above.

“Have you used a skillbook before?” Extrius asked, handing her the hardcover. It was unexpectedly heavy, and Momo’s arms gave out beneath her. She caught herself, heaving the book back upwards with a long groan.

“Gods, why does it weigh like a trillion pounds?” she sighed, sitting down to put the book in her lap. Holding it felt like she was trying to pull off a bench press. “And I’ve heard of them, but I haven’t used one before. I’m not a huge reader.”

“I’ll help you read this one, if you’d like,” Extrius smiled kindly. “One of my [Librarian] talents allows me to read skillbooks aloud – despite their reliance on pictures – so that I can teach someone who might not otherwise understand the diagrams.”

“That would be great,” Momo nodded. Getting a skill without having to read? She could get used to that. She wished she could hire Extrius as a part-time tutor, but she imagined he would have his hands full with the change in regime. No one needs an executioner more than after a revolution. You know, uprisings and the like.

He smiled warmly, and took the book from her with ease. It appeared light as a feather in his hands. Momo frowned in embarrassment.

“Don’t worry, the book only appears heavy to you because you lack the skill to understand it. Skillbooks are unlike other regular books, in that they are constructed purely of magic. The denser the magic inside, the higher your skill in that magic must be to comprehend – and hold – it. This one is part Death Magic, part Nature magic, just like the class you possess.”

“So shouldn’t I be able to, um, hold it?” she mumbled.

“[Summon Nether Wolf Pack] is an Expert level skellbook, and you are an Intermediate, so… no," he shook his head. "I am only able to hold it because of my class."

An Expert-level spellbook? She didn’t realize she could get ahead of the game like that. Reading was like a cheat code. That explained why Devola did it so much. Momo remembered her saying that it was impossible to learn new skills after a certain point, without graduating to the next rank - in her case, Excalibur - so she was reduced to reading spell books to attain further progress.

Momo wondered if there were any Excalibur-level spellbooks in existence. Probably not, given that the Excalibur rank was already a new concept in itself. Valerica and her ilk would probably have to be the ones writing them, and Momo couldn’t imagine her or Sera sitting down to assist the populace by writing a handbook on how to be just as powerful as them.

Momo nodded along, waiting patiently like a schoolchild for him to begin reading.

He cleared his throat, and opened to the first page.

“First,” he unfurled his fingers, gesturing towards Momo, “summon Nether energy before you.”

“Sure,” Momo said, and then paused. “Actually, I have no idea how to do that.”

“Summon Nether energy? Oh, but I saw that pretty little bird you made. You do it all the time.”

“Yes, but through a spell,” Momo narrowed her eyes. “Don’t I need to use a spell to use magic?”

“Ah, well, it’s complicated,” the turtle hummed. “To really do much, such as hurt another person, or generate something, or protect yourself – the basic spell capabilities – you must use or create a spell. But to learn a spell through non-system means, one must always summon the magic that is required. When learning a new spell this way, you must do it manually.”

“O…kay,” Momo said. She had no idea what he was on about, but she imagined it like the difference between making a campfire to cook a steak versus popping it in the microwave. “I’ll try that.”

She closed her eyes tightly, and imagined how it felt to use her other spells. Usually she felt an odd sensation run through her – her heartbeat picked up, her palms got sweaty. She knew how to charge spells, by holding the idea of them in her head for longer before she announced them, so maybe it was something like that.

“Great job, next step.”

“Huh? But I haven’t done it –” Momo opened her eyes, and found that her hands were sizzling with that same familiar, black aura. It looked like an [Abysmal Burst] that hadn’t gone off yet, just sitting placidly on her fingertips. “How did I do that?”

“You must have figured it out,” he smiled. “Now, I want you to do a mental exercise. Picture that you are a wolf.”

Momo blinked. Okay. She pictured herself in a forest, eating a steak. Steak seemed to be a theme today. She had just tore it off some poor cow, and was now pleasantly enjoying it in her little wolf cave. The place smelled gross, like an unwashed dog, but she didn’t care – she was the unwashed dog. She wolfed down the steak – pun intended – and then howled at the moon, as she imagined one would do after a particularly good meal.

“Good, good. I sense the presence of Nature magic. Look at your hands.”

Torn from her daydream, Momo looked down at her palms. The Nether magic swirled together with a new green companion. It looked like the soft-serve ice cream she’d have as a kid, when she could get the chocolate and vanilla all mixed into one cone. A delicious combination.

“This is… kind of fun,” Momo mumbled, a small smile on her face.

“Oh, it’s the best thing in the world,” the executioner smiled back. “Now, return to your dream. Visualize your wolf pack. They’ve just returned home from an adventure – and you all join in for a feast around a small campfire. The one left behind from the human you disposed of.”

They murdered someone? That didn’t exactly align with the cozy fantasy Momo was imagining, but she sighed and did as he asked. It had been far too long since her last opportunity to lose herself to a daydream. As a kid, it was her number one coping mechanism. Whenever she felt like crying, she dreamed of an alternative universe version of herself instead, popping herself into a completely different life.

A shiver ran down her spine. Kind of like Alois.

The fleeting idea that this place was all an elaborate dream, concocted to cope with near-fatal food poisoning, crossed her mind. That would be… terrifying. To imagine somewhere she was trapped in a hospital bed, in a cheeseburger-fueled coma, imagining her life away as a necromantic druid.

She shook the thought off. No way. She wasn’t creative enough to dream all of this up. Regardless, she didn’t have the time for existential dread – she was having too much fun being a wolf.

“You’ve got it, now,” the executioner celebrated, clapping his flippers together. “Now finally, speak the words [Summon Nether Wolf Pack], and fuel it with as much Nether magic as you can. Let the dream completely envelope you.”

Momo hummed. She tuned out reality completely, imagining only the sensation of warm fur against her skin. She was just one wolf in a pack of dozens, eating graciously under the light of a full moon. Life was just splendid.

“[Summon Nether Wolf Pack].”

Then she felt something lick her.

Momo’s eyes shot open immediately. Luckily, the Executioner was still sitting on the other side of the room, looking at her with a smile. The source of the tongue was, in fact, a wolf. A wolf in a group among several others, all dyed Nether black, with shining emerald eyes. Not quite the cuddly dogs she was imagining, but still – cute.

“Wow,” Momo said, inhaling sharply. “Did I… do that?”

“Yes, you did,” he nodded. “With my help, but you powered the spell. Congratulations.”

Momo saw that he was no longer holding the book. It wasn’t next to him, either.

“Where did the spellbook go?”

“Oh, they’re one time use only. That’s why they’re so valuable.”

Momo’s eyes widened. “And I just used the only one?”

“Of that specific kind, yes, but I believe you will put the spell to good use,” he smiled, but it quickly faltered. One of the wolves was gazing at him with hungry eyes. “Now, would you mind unsummoning these beasts? I don’t like the way they’re looking at me.”

“Oh,” Momo blinked, “Sure. Um… [Unsummon]?”

The wolves popped out of existence in a blip.

Congratulations! You have learned the skill [Summon Nether Wolf Pack]  .

A note from villa1ny

Catling’s Cowl of the Void pictured above 🐈

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Valerica’s Golden Bauble Addiction: The Case Continues

A note from villa1ny

Today's shoutout goes to Darling of Fate, a LitRPG about a man, his goose, and the end of the world… I mean, come on! How good does that sound? If you love Momo, I know you love a good animal companion, and a Goose Spirit Guide is just genius. Go check this out if you want to laugh. The full blurb below if you're interested!

A man, his goose, and the end of the world…

Life had been kicking me in the balls for a few years now.

But all my prayers were answered when the world abruptly ended. A Tower-freaking-Apocalypse!? Just what the doctor ordered.

Bonded with a Spirit Guide-slash-goose and with a little help from Fate herself, I had all the tools to make this Tower Climb a cake walk.

Little did I know, my Spirit Guide’s an idiot, and Fate’s a real bitc—Oh hell, that’s her now.

“Extrius,” Momo mumbled. “Would you mind if I bothered you with a few more questions?”

“Of course not,” the turtle nodded, his snake-like neck bobbing up and down. “I am at your service, Tiny Ripper.”

How did that name catch on? Momo grimaced. She immediately regretted her promise to rescue Radu and the Con Artists. They had obviously been popularizing the bastardization of her title.

“Spell check, [Born Cultivator],” Momo spoke aloud. She had learned that trick from Devola. If you wanted to summon a courier with any type of information, you just had to say check after it, and then the spell name. It was quite handy for when Momo was in the middle of things – like taking over the government – and she received a class notification.

[Born Cultivator]  : Born Cultivator is a skill. 010101 聖 Holy Dao of the. From aura, create forms. Easy.

Momo groaned. The description wasn’t any clearer than before. Apparently, the glitch that Morgana caused by swapping and editing the parchments persisted. Even the handwriting on the scroll was different. Some of it was written in… was that Chinese?

Oh. The realization dawned on Momo – it had to be some sort of bad translation. She had read plenty of manhwas as a kid that her father would pick up from his business trips to Seoul, and some of the English-translated ones were absolutely unparseable. It didn't surprise her that the Nether had similar issues finding good translators.

From Momo’s limited understanding of the Nether, it acted as a sort of middleground for thousands of universes. A hub of the in-between. It was the reason she could summon practically any creature from it. As long as it existed somewhere, it could exist in front of Momo. Theoretically.

So far she had only summoned various sizes of birds.

She hadn’t really thought about the existence of other universes outside of Earth plugging into the larger Nether System, but it could be only logical. If there were already two universes in existence, why wouldn’t there be millions?

Ugh. Her brain hurt. She wanted to go back to summoning puppies, and not worrying about universal quantum physics.

“Do you know what this skill does? I have no idea,” she passed the parchment to Extrius, who took it gladly. He furrowed his eyebrows, raising the parchment to his face.

“Most interesting,” he said, scratching his scaled chin. “This spell seems to have transmigrated from somewhere else.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, too. The spell description is like a badly translated caption.”

He hummed. With a flash of brilliant light, a giant dictionary dropped in his lap. He browsed it with incredible speed – his nimble flippers soaring through the pages. Landing on a specific page, his eyes widened, and he nodded fervently to himself.

“Ah yes, I see, I see,” he said, eyes flipping back and forth from the parchment to the book. Momo blinked at him, completely lost.

“Translating properly from the original meaning of the word ‘cultivate’ in the universe of origin, I believe it means that if you focus your Nether energy purely – as I just taught you to do – you should be able to create undead forms,” he explained, and then looked up with wide eyes. “This is an extremely powerful talent.”

Momo was absolutely lost, but extremely powerful talent sounded cool. She’d focus on that part.

“Can’t I create undead forms already? Using [Raise Undead]?”

“[Raise Undead] only works on things that previously contained souls. Organic matter – corpses, the like. If I understand correctly, this means you can create things from Nether itself. I wish I could explain further, but there is not that much information on this spell. It originates very far away from our own universe, in the cosmic-Nether web.”

“Right,” Momo nodded slowly. Whatever the hell that means. “Thanks.”

“Of course,” he bowed. The book disappeared as quickly as it was summoned. “I am very curious to know just how this power will manifest. Please do get back to me about it.”

“Sure. I will."

Probably not. If Morgana’s warning had been correct – Momo probably wouldn’t be seeing the turtle for a while, but it was the least she could do to agree.

“Now, I will stop taking up your time,” Extrius said as he rose from the ground. “I believe you have one more item to choose from.”

Momo furrowed her eyebrows. “Actually, I think the spellbook put me at three.”

“I don’t see a spellbook anywhere,” he winked.

Momo put her hand over her mouth, shocked. “Isn’t Vivienne your fearless leader, or whatever? Wouldn't she be mad at you if you let me take another thing?”

“I owe her my life,” he smiled kindly. “But I also like you, tiny one. You show great promise. I am glad that I did not execute you when you first arrived in our cells. It would have been a waste.”

Momo wasn’t sure whether to feel complimented or threatened.

“Well then,” Momo cleared her throat. “I’ll be getting my last item.”

—

Momo barely knew what to do with herself. She had acquired riches far beyond her wildest dreams – a hat with cat-shaped ears, several thousand dollars, and a limitless backpack. Asking for anything else seemed almost too much.

Just kidding. She absolutely wanted more stuff.

Extrius had suggested she check the Chamber of Accessories. It was a room that looked most like a traditional dragon’s hoard – with golden trinkets and, peace be with Valerica, golden baubles.

She sighed. She had no other option. She’d have to get the Necromage a souvenir. It would be rude to travel to a far off location and come back empty-handed, and she doubted Nam’Dal sold postcards.

Momo sifted through the piles of gold. She didn’t have the [Enchantment Identification] skill to check if anything was [Overpriced], so she just settled on the shiniest thing she could find. It didn’t seem to bother Valerica if it turned out to be a fake, anyway.

You have acquired an [Undead Golden Bauble]  .

Momo gaped. An undead bauble? That was possible?

“Greetings, grand adventurer! Ah, at last, I have been chosen once again!”

“Oh great,” Momo sighed. This again. She had shut her last talking pendant in a closet for a reason – she wanted to avoid talking to any more inanimate objects. “I just left my previous talking object at home. I’m sorry buddy, but I don’t have room enough for the two of you.”

“Wait, stop!” the bauble screamed as Momo moved to toss it back. “You don’t know what you’re giving up on!”

“That’s always the sales pitch from you things,” Momo glared.

“But mine is not a sales pitch – it is a pitch of truth. I am the great Excalibur, the first of my kind – an Undead Golden Bauble!”

“Excalibur?” Momo's eyes widened.“Like the class rank?”

“Yes, exactly! Who do you think that was named after? Me, of course!”

Momo was skeptical.

“That makes no sense. Why would they name it after you?”

“Why wouldn’t they? I was once owned by one of the most powerful necromancers in all of Alois – a wondrous woman named Valerica. She saved me from a life of ruin, collecting dust at a lowly bakery. A bakery! My sheen had been utterly ruined by flour and other baking ingredients. She recognized my great power in an instant, and rescued me.”

Momo’s eyes widened even further. “Valerica rescued you?”

“Ah, so you know my great master!” the bauble exclaimed. “Yes, she did. She bestowed upon me the ability to speak, and with her I shared my name, my past life, my tales and memories. We became as thick as thieves, her and I, until disaster struck. She carried me with her everywhere, you see, in her pocket.”

The bauble rolled and hopped around, telling the story with great enthusiasm.

“She was staying in this dastardly city when a pickpocket stole me right from under her nose. A lousy consman, who slipped away before Valerica could even notice I was gone. He had no idea of my wealth – and tried to sell me on the black market. The black market! Me, Noble Excalibur! He was punished aptly for his sins, and taken to the prisons. My fate was similar – I was imprisoned here, among these pitiful, unthinking trinkets.”

This story is simply too ridiculous to be made up, Momo thought.

It would also explain Valerica’s obsession with buying baubles – maybe she was trying to replace her old friend? Although it was hard to tell if it was a chicken or an egg problem: had Valerica bestowed such importance on the bauble because she loved baubles, or was the bauble truly extraordinary? It was impossible to know.

Either way, if this arrogant bauble was truly important, it would be worth delivering to the Necromage.

“Fine. I’ll take you with me,” she grabbed the bauble. “But I need you to tell me something first.”

“Of course, new master! Anything for my savior.”

“Do you know anything about a woman called Komodo? Valerica sent me here to deliver her a letter.” Momo thought it was worth a try – if the bauble had been to Nam’Dal with Valerica, then there was a chance it overheard conversations between the two of them.

“That vile lizard?” the bauble vibrated with anger in her hand. “Why of course I remember her. Valerica had come to the city to visit her when the theft occurred. As I recall it, Komodo controlled the northern border of the city. She ran a tight ship – everything going in and out of the city was under her purview. Crops. Supplies. She and her lackeys got a cut of all of it, the scheming lizard.”

“So she’s a tax officer?” Momo quirked her head. “Everyone’s afraid of a tax officer?”

“A tax assassin! A [Dark Thief] who managed to become a corrupt politician. Valerica wanted to get in on her business – sell her bones and bugs across the border, without the King’s notice. A beautiful plan, but Komodo ruined it. She took Valerica’s supplies, and ran off with the money. I advised Valerica to retaliate, but she refused.”

“Valerica refused to get her money back? That doesn’t seem on brand,” Momo said, her mind swimming with new information. So Komodo was… the Nam’Dal equivalent of the IRS? That explained why everyone hated her so much. She was probably scamming every business in the city.

With all the scams going on in Nam’Dal, Momo was surprised that anyone made any money at all.

“Valerica is a woman of mystery, even to me. She thinks eons ahead of the rest. If you cross her, retaliation does not come quickly – but it does come. If Valerica has sent you to see her, then I believe Komodo’s days are numbered.”

Momo blinked, dread crawling over her. Her days are numbered?! If Valerica had sent Momo here as an assassin, she couldn’t have been less clear about it.

The bauble was right about something – the woman was a mystery.

“Okay,” Momo said. “Thank you for your information, bauble.”

“Of course,” the bauble bowed, tilting slightly. “Let us go teach the lizard a lesson.”

A note from villa1ny

To get 13 chapters ahead right now, you can head over there!

Join the Discord / Momo cult here.

I hope you all had a good weekend! My condolences that it's Monday. T.T

Roses for Kyros

A note from villa1ny

Today's shoutout goes to a fantastic tale of baking and magic -- Casual Heroing! It's currently on the front page of Rising Stars, so check it out! Blurb below~

When everyone expects you to become a hero if you have a supreme magical relic, why not just make pastries instead?

Forget quests and adventures, I'm more interested in finding a wife in this fantasy world. It doesn't matter that Elves don't like Humans at all, a good baker like me won't have a problem finding cake. So if you want some delicious pastries, come by where I work. If you just want to bother me, though, sorry but I'll have to report you to the Watch for loitering.

Momo had grown up with one single pet – Luna, the infamously lazy calico. She had been Momo’s pride and joy on Earth, and keeping her alive was quite often Momo’s only reason for getting up in the morning. Still, taking care of a single living animal had been enough work for the whole family: vet visits, grooming, nail cutting, kibble purchasing. Cat therapy, for when Luna went through a spell of depression.

Now, Momo strode out of the Vaults accompanied by six wolves, one undead cat, a talking bauble, and two (allegedly) human women. Not to mention Biscuit, who was toiling away as always.

She felt like an overworked mother.

“I need to offload some responsibility,” she sighed. “Dusk, you’re in charge of the dogs.”

She knew she could just [Unsummon] them, but she figured it was better to keep them around – should things go awry back in Sera’s Judgement Room.

As expected, Dusk easily obliged, meowing happily. With Big Bird at home, the cat had been yearning for another attempt at managerial work. Being Momo’s sidekick wasn’t really her thing – she was more of a main character sort of feline. Momo didn’t mind that. In fact, she embraced it. She was happy for the cat to take the spotlight while she snuck around on the sidelines.

“Where did that meow come from?” Vivienne said, snapping her head back and forth in fear. Nia laughed.

“Oh, you haven’t noticed Momo’s little helper?”

Momo’s eyebrows shot up. “And you have?” She swore that Dusk had evaded Nia’s notice so far. Sure, she talked out loud to the cat sometimes – but she assumed that people would just think she was insane, not conversing with an invisible, undead animal.

“Duh. The thing was chasing around half of the rat population down in the sewers. You were just too in your own head to realize it,” Nia snorted. “My [Shadow Eyes] ability allows me to clearly see the outlines of invisible things, so following that cat around was no problem.”

Momo’s mouth formed a circle, impressed. “You have your own built-in [Cheese Vision]?”

Nia’s smile fell. “You could call it that, but I wouldn’t.”

“Cats freak me out,” Vivienne glowered.

“Everything freaks you out,” Nia rolled her eyes.

“That’s not true,” she turned her nose up. “Dogs are fine. These ones are a little.. terrifying, for my taste,” she eyed the pack of Nether wolves obediently being led by Dusk, “but they’re still canine enough.”

Momo remembered the Holy Wolf Vivienne sent for her in the vents, and grimaced. She didn’t want to envision a puppy playdate between their respective packs.

As they walked back towards the Judgment Room, it occurred to Momo that she hadn’t taken the time to formulate a plan. Sure, she had [Nether Immunity] as her final, should-everything-go-wrong defense, but it was just that – a last defense. She’d need to do a lot more than block a few attacks if she was going to free the Con Artists, somehow evade Sera, and outrun Nia and Vivienne, if they decided to join in on the beating.

She groaned internally. She could just take the money and run. She was sure the Con Artists would find a way out of this on their own – that was their whole gig, anyway. She frowned. But Radu is my only non-Valerica friend. Call Momo many things, but she was as loyal as an obedient dog to anyone who didn’t spit on her.

“Oh my,” Nia said with a surprised laugh, stopping at the foot of the Judgment Room door. “She sure knows how to redecorate.”

Momo looked up. Oh my god.

To Vivienne’s grave annoyance, Sera had chosen a few knights to become her new furniture.

“I told them I’d prevent this from happening,” Vivienne gritted her teeth. “How are we supposed to create trust with the civilian population if Sera insists on turning them into plant vases?”

“Oh, Vivienne. Knights aren’t civilians,” Nia snickered. “I’m sure the average person in Nam’Dal would pay a fortune to see them hang like ivy.”

Vivienne glared at her. Momo continued gaping at the former knights – now mere skeletons in knight armor, their bodies posed in various positions with roses protruding from their mouths. Hanging just above the makeshift Romeos, a fit of graffiti was painted in that familiar Nether Black.

Roses For Kyros, the graffiti read.

And Momo thought Valerica had a vendetta against the guy. Not that Momo could entirely blame her. If she had been locked up for ten years by some god, she’d probably dedicate an art show to pissing him off.

Brushing past Momo, Nia pushed open the door to the Judgment Room. As the door creaked open, overwhelming dread turned Momo’s stomach. The Con Artists had been left there alone. If this is what she did with the knights, Momo could only imagine what their fate might have been…

“I think the lamp would look better over there,” Teddy said, a finger extending out from his cage. “Mm, yep. Much better.”

“Oh, yes, quite,” Sera said with a nod as Septim hastily moved the lamp from one corner of the room to another.

Momo gaped. She had nearly thrown up with worry over… this. Sera had turned the Con Artists into amateur [Interior Designers].

“Oh, you’re all back. Good. Vivienne, it’s been too long.” Sera smiled placidly. Despite sharing her murderous intensity, Sera did not share Valerica’s warm enthusiasm. Everything she said – even the nice, pleasant things – felt like a warm dish served cold. It only contributed to Momo’s growing anxiety.

“Likewise,” Vivienne smiled back, and then reached into her backpack to procure a number of artifacts. “We made a quick trip to the vaults. You’ve made great work of the place already, but I thought I could help hasten a few things.”

Momo had been too focused on her own item-choosing to notice Vivienne take anything. Momo expected to be jealous, but the items she pulled out seemed quite dull, bland – predominantly made of stone and wood, lacking sheen. Two were small ingredient bowls. One was a hand-carved, ritualistic dagger.

Seeing the tools collected together, Momo paused. It was giving a… sacrificial vibe, and given that no one had strung up a goat or a hare, Momo worried that it was of the human sacrifice variation. Momo’s breathing started coming faster. If Morgana had been attempting to warn her about a human sacrifice, she could have been a little more specific.

In fact, everyone in her life could benefit from being a little more specific.

As Vivienne and Sera caught up with a bit of mindless small talk, Momo quietly walked up to the Con Artist Cage. Swerving out of the way of Teddy, who was happy to ignore her in favor of ordering Septim around, she squatted down to where Radu sat, still looking pale and exhausted.

“Hi,” she said simply, unsure what else to say. The situation had left her a little speechless.

“Howdy do,” he greeted, tipping a non-existent hat. “How are you finding our new evil overlord?”

Momo frowned. “Don’t let her hear that.”

“Oh, I’m sure she’d take it as a compliment,” he laughed hoarsely.

“Probably.”

Silence passed between them for a minute.

“I think she’s going to try and kill me,” Momo whispered. “Or enslave me. Most likely both.”

“Seems probable, yes,” Radu nodded sarcastically. “Do you intend to do something about it?”

Momo looked towards Sera. She was busy talking animatedly with the two sisters. Despite their collected appearances, Momo could tell that all three of them were happy to see each other.

She still hadn’t exactly determined their connection to Sera. All she knew was that they had known each other for a long time, and Vivienne and Nia clearly felt like they owed Sera something, or at least cared about her enough to devise an utterly insane plan to free her. A plan that was ten years in the making.

Momo couldn’t imagine committing herself to something for even a year, no less a decade.

“I was planning on just leaving,” Momo shrugged. “But then I had the unfortunate realization that I didn’t want you to die. It would keep me up at night – and you know how I feel about my sleep.”

“I’m honored,” he sighed, but cracked a smile. “How do you plan to get me out of here?”

“Can’t you pick the lock on the cage?”

“Oh, most genius Ripper, thank you for the suggestion. I hadn’t thought of that.”

Momo glared at him.

“No, I can’t pick the lock. It’s a magical seal, and none of us are high enough of a level to break it. Vivienne’s magic.”

Momo hummed. That was indeed… troublesome.

“Do you have any idea what they intend to do with you all? If they haven’t killed you yet, that’s at least a good sign.”

“It is helpful, yes,” Radu said, wincing in pain as he moved his neck. “Nia did a number on us putting us in here, so clearly she didn’t want us intervening with their plans, but I don’t know…”

“Has anyone tried asking?”

“Asking? Like, asking the evil overlord if she plans to kill us or not?”

“Yeah, exactly,” Momo nodded. “They tend to like to tell you their schemes. It’s an ego thing.”

“No, we haven’t. Teddy’s been on a single-man mission to impress her through… decorating. He’s been moderately successful so far.”

“Well, I think you should ask,” Momo emphasized. “And I think I should stand in a far corner of the room while you do it, so I can make a run for it when she explains that she’s going to sacrifice me.”

“Sacrifice you?”

Momo pointed towards the embalming tools that Vivienne had laid out on the table in front of Sera. Since Momo last looked, several more knives had made it to the table. Flower petals and ivy, too. Radu made a face of realization, getting her point.

“You know what, fair enough,” Radu cleared his throat. “I’ll do it. But if things go sideways, I’ll need you to just blast this cage open, full force. You’re not leaving me here with the looney bin.”

Just as Momo was about to agree, she was yanked upwards. The collar of her robes nearly choked her as something pulled her up by the neck, levitating her high up above the cage. Her heart raced as she flailed mid air, trying helplessly to kick and squirm out of the invisible hold. Black smoke snaked around her body, keeping her in place.

“Scheming, are we? But that’s my job.”

Her eyes locked with Sera’s. The Necropriest’s hand was moving steadily upwards on par with the movement of Momo’s body, a smirk crawling up her lips.

Momo’s heart hammered in her chest. She’s got me.

Momo’s wolves began to amass just below her body, snarling and growling in Sera’s direction. A few of them jumped and snapped at the black fog surrounding their leader, but their jaws got ahold of nothing. The dark force that surrounded her was wet, moist, and smelled like death – like a putrid cloud holding her in its foggy fist.

Nia and Vivenne stood just behind Sera, worriedly looking at Momo as she writhed in the air. Oh god, I’m going to be cooked for dinner, Momo thought miserably. She’s serving me up as her first course.

“Speechless? Understandable,” Sera flicked her hand to the right, flinging Momo across the room and right above the table that lay before Sera. She set Momo down on it in a sitting position, but Momo found she couldn’t move. Her limbs were being folded into her, pressed to her chest. The dark energy pushed harder and harder, strangling her like a straight jacket.

“Let her go!” Radu yelled. Everyone’s head whipped towards him. “I’m sure she’s not worth the meal. Why not sacrifice one of the knights instead?”

Sera quirked her head. “Sacrifice? Now where did you get that idea?”

“You’re not eating me?” Momo said, jaw slack in confusion.

“Eating you? Don’t be disgusting,” Sera’s face screwed up in horror, and she followed Momo’s gaze to the table beneath her. “Are you talking about the tools Vivienne brought me? Gods, those aren’t for eating. They’re for cleaning up my skeletons. I prefer my minions looking sharp. Dapper. Too much decay, and they lose their charm.”

“Oh,” Momo blinked. “So what are you doing with me?”

“Having a face to face conversation is all. Is that a crime?” she asked. She stood up and put her hands palm-down on the table, leaning her face forward so it sat just a few inches from Momo’s. Momo could feel her breath on her cheek – as rotten as one would expect. Her bright blue eyes raked over Momo’s face.

Sera took Momo’s chin in her hand, tilting it like a mannequin.

“You certainly make an unconventional vessel. High heart rate. Low blood count. Weak to most things, low strength score. A fear of blood. A fear of skeletons," Sera listed a few more notable qualities, and then paused. "And yet there's something... delightfully intriguing about you. I'm starting to understand what Morgana sees in you.”

Momo tried peeling her face away from Sera’s grasp, but the woman’s grip was firm. She twisted Momo's chin left, then up, and then down, examining her like a fresh cadaver.

“I would appreciate it if you stopped pushing my face around,” Momo mumbled quietly.

Sera blinked. “Oh, my apologies.” To Momo’s surprise, she actually released her. “Just a medic’s muscle memory, you know? Before I was a necromancer, I was a [Coroner]. I’m so used to bodies coming to me lifeless. You can imagine my surprise when one talks back to me.”

Momo blinked nervously, unsure if that was a joke or not.

“What are you going to do with me?” Momo interjected, cutting to the chase. To say she was receiving mixed signals was an understatement. The woman hugged her, levitated her, flung her, then inspected her. She was a control freak, that was for sure. A murderer, definitely. A cannibal, apparently not.

But what did she have planned now?

“Oh,” Sera frowned. She seemed genuinely confused. “Have I not been clear? I want to hire you.”

A note from villa1ny

What do you guys think - who would be the better boss? Sera or Valerica? Momo's necromancer Linkedin is blowing up right now.

The Cult of Sera

“I’m sorry,” Momo blinked, feeling as if she might be going insane. “You want to… hire me?”

“Of course,” Sera said, sitting back down on her throne. The Nether fog kept Momo pinned to her seat on the table. “I had previously considered just killing you outright to make sure Valerica had no chance of outdoing me, but ten years in solitary confinement has made me rethink my previous methods.”

Thank God, Momo thought, her whole body loosening slightly. I’m safe.

“It’s obvious that Morgana thinks highly of you. Seeing as it is my goal to serve her, it’d be unwise for me to kill you without first attempting to onboard you. Of course, if you refuse, I will just kill you anyway.”

Nevermind.

“What would this hiring entail, exactly?’ Momo stuttered. She looked behind Sera, finding Nia and Vivienne barely listening. They were having some sort of heated argument in the corner. It was a whispered argument, but the passion was evident, with furious hand gestures flying through the air. Every so often, they’d risk a look back at Momo, and then the argument would resume.

“Oh, nothing you aren’t used to, I presume. Valerica is a softie, but even I will admit that her methods have their value. You’d be expected to perform the usual jobs of a minion: ordering around my sub-minions, defending my fort from attacks, preventing subterfuge. Oh, and occasional massages. My shoulders have rotted with age.”

“Right,” Momo nodded, her mind moving a mile a minute. She didn’t want to die, so she’d obviously have to go along with the proposal for now. Nam’Dal was large, but it wasn’t inescapable – she could find a way to sneak back to the Dawn. “I’d be happy to.”

“Hm. That’s what I thought,” Sera smiled. “Of course, this will require you to pledge your allegiance to me, and disavow Valerica. Don’t get any ideas about betraying me, either. You will not like where that leads.”

Momo gulped.

“I will have the city border guarded at all times, so if I see you try and escape, you will be swiftly dealt with. Of course, that shouldn’t be a problem. Follow my orders, and you will be greatly rewarded. Far past what Valerica and her humble ambitions could offer you.”

Momo nodded furiously, not wanting to appear reluctant in the least. Her acceptance seemed to register somewhere, because she promptly received a piece of parchment in her hands.

Error: You cannot be part of two guilds at once.

Previous guild membership revoked. You are now a member of the Nam'Dal Knights' Guild. All previous active quests have [Failed].

No! Momo grimaced. Her precious Dumpling Guild! Not to mention her current quest. Would this mean she'd get no XP for delivering the message to Komodo?

Wait.

"The Knights' Guild?" Momo mumbled in confusion.

“A temporary workaround until we destroy the King and his terribly biased Guild System,” Sera smiled broadly at the thought. “New member Momo, I welcome you to the Cult of Sera. I will assign Nia to be your mentor – and you, her cadet. You will follow all of her orders, or risk being expelled from the cult. Seeing as you are already an Intermediate Necromancer, you may also request a cadet of your own.”

Immediately, Momo’s eyes went to the cage. She already knew the answer to that. “I request Radu, the Red Riptide, to be my cadet. I also request, um, all the other Con Artists as well.”

Sera squinted. “That is not how the cadet system works.”

“Isn’t it?” Momo tilted her head. “Everyone in the Con Artist Cage is an Intermediate too, so if they join the cult, then they can each be… each other’s cadets.”

Sera waved her hand. “Whatever. If they want to join, they can. I was going to make them into mindless skeletons, but having thieves with brains is usually better than thieves without. The lizard can be your cadet. As for the rest of them, they’ll have to figure it out for themselves.”

She turned towards the cage, menace in her eye.

“But the same warning goes out to all of you. Betray the cult – and you will face the consequences.”

“No one more loyal than me, ma’am,” Teddy insisted, slamming his head to the ground in a full-body bow.

“That’s a load of sh –” Momo whispered to herself, but Radu quickly shushed her with a glance. Fair enough. Not the right time. She’d just have to give them a piece of her mind later on.

Sera didn’t acknowledge Teddy, instead pivoting her gaze to focus on Vivienne. The sisters had apparently concluded their argument, but stood turned away from each other, chins tilted upwards in defiance. Momo over-curiously wanted to know what they were squabbling about, but now didn’t seem like a wise time to ask.

“Vivienne, unlock the cages. Each new member of the cult will receive fitted armor from the vault.”

Vivienne worried her lip. “I’m afraid we don’t have enough armor that will fit. Most of the clothes in the vault are meant for [Holy Knights], not thieves and light armor wearers. We’d need an armorsmith and a tailor to fulfill that kind of request.”

“Then that will be your first assignment,” Sera ordered, gesturing towards the door. “You will inform the citizens of Nam’Dal of the change in rulership, and make sure every armorsmith and tailor in this city knows they serve us.”

Vivienne grimaced. It didn’t take much for Momo to read between the lines – Vivienne clearly wasn’t satisfied with how Sera was kicking this new regime off. To Momo’s surprise, Vivienne seemed to be the more egalitarian of the two sisters. Although she ruled with an iron fist under the King, it appeared to be more of a means to an end, a careful facade. She was merely acting the part until her plan was finished.

But Nia? Momo looked over at the woman, who smiled as Sera went on to list several other increasingly insane decrees. Nia was, as Momo suspected, concerned only with getting her due: praise and appreciation, and greater power for herself.

A migraine began to blossom in Momo’s head. It was as if all her preconceptions had been flipped 180 degrees.

Obliging Sera’s request, Vivienne released the magical locks. The Con Artists hurriedly left the cell, getting as far away from containment as possible. In turn, Sera released Momo from the grip of her Nether fog, and the druid ran to join Radu by the doorway. The tension in the room was as thick as smoke clouds, with everyone more than eager to get out of the Hall.

“So, cadets,” Nia drew out the word, smirking as she circled to the front of the group. “Cadets. Knight's Guild. It's all a bit amusingly ironic for a bunch of thieves, is it not?”

The Con Artists didn’t laugh. Only scowls painted the face of the small crowd. With their backs facing Sera, they weren’t trying hard to hide their true emotions. Nia had betrayed them on a much larger scale than any of them were prepared for. Not only were they not getting a cut of the loot, but they were now foot soldiers answering to an even stricter leader.

Sensing Momo's growing anxiety, her pack of wolves curled around her, forming a battalion of growling Nether puppies. Their presence comforted Momo. She could get used to having a legion of furry guards.

“Come on, boys, settle down,” Momo scratched one of the dogs behind the ears, and it whined in protest. Still, the affection worked – the entire group began to relax. “Ms. Nightsbane is friend-shaped, not enemy-shaped,” Momo clarified.

A total and utter lie, but she wanted to be convincing. If she was going to get back to Valerica, she’d need Nia to think she was still on her side.

“Momo gets it,” Nia said, an eyebrow raised in surprise. “Now, don’t give me those grim looks. This is what you guys wanted, a new Nam’Dal – a city in complete opposition to the King. Right?”

The Con Artists grumbled amongst themselves. None of them seemed brave enough to challenge her, with Sera’s looming presence haunting the entire room.

“Good. That’s what I thought,” Nia smiled. She was absolutely relishing this. Momo felt her stomach sink. She couldn’t believe she ever thought highly of Nia. The assassin was disarmingly charming, and oddly friendly, but unlike Radu and the rest, very little humanity seemed to hang below the thief’s hood.

Momo frowned. Morgana had warned her about false friends. Momo had thought Viktor Mole’s bad attitude was all she had to worry about – not that she’d be traveling to Alois’ unofficial capital of lies and betrayal.

“So, are we just gonna stand here and wait for the big lady to slice and dice us, or can we be on our merry way?”

Teddy, naturally, was the first to speak. Nia just laughed.

“Look, I’m not Vivienne. I have no interest in leadership. I’m not going to party you around town on a leash making sure you fulfill my every whim and wonder. Even though it might not feel that way, things have changed for the better. You can go back to your guild, free of worry about being arrested. All the Cult of Sera asks for is loyalty. Can you manage that?”

The group froze, eyes turning once again towards Teddy for answers. They had already implicitly pledged their allegiance, but not yet with words.

“I suppose we can,” Teddy said, a frown still engraved in his features. “You’re telling me we can go back to business as usual? Like the golden days, before all of Vivienne’s anti-crime hullabaloo?”

“Sure can. I won’t stop you,” Nia said with a shrug. “Of course, all of your profits will go to the Cult, but seeing as you’re part of it – you’ll see some of that gold, too. New armor. A better guildhouse. You’ll notice a stark quality of life improvement, I’m sure. Just keep things good for Sera, and she’ll keep things good for you.”

The words hung in the air, and the Con Artists considered them. Well – Teddy considered them. The rest looked to him like lost puppies, save Radu, who kept his eyes out the window. He refused to look Nia in the eye.

Momo, to her part, was just happy she wasn’t dead yet.

“Fine,” Teddy said after a long pause. “But don’t trust me to pray to her, or whatever. I’m no man of religion.”

Nia laughed. “Oh, please. No shrines required. She’s not an egomaniac.”

Teddy scoffed, and whispered harshly. “She named a cult after herself, and you’re expecting me to believe that?”

Nia rolled her eyes. “I’m sure you’d be calling your organization Teddy’s Guild of Thieves, if the King’s court allowed it.”

Teddy went silent. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. That was answer enough.

“Enough of this,” Nia sighed. “I’m already tired of all the bureaucracy. I haven't gotten to properly thieve around in years, too busy with this whole charade. Momo, you’ll be coming with me. The rest of you, get out of my sight.”

Momo’s eyes widened. “What? Me? Why do I have to stay?”

“Sera’s orders. You’re a flight risk.”

The Con Artists quickly saw their opportunity and took it. Teddy and the rest bumbled down the hallway before Momo could get out a second protest. Radu turned back briefly, mouthing something at Momo from a distance.

Momo squinted her eyes, trying to make out the words. Whacked Bag? Smacked Egg?

He rolled his eyes, making a circular shape with his fingers. Then he mimed taking a hammer to the shape, creating a crevice in the middle of the circle. Momo blinked furiously. Cracked circle. What in the hell was a cracked circle?

Momo shook her head at him, and he sighed, waving her off as he walked away. I'll figure out what that was all about later. Right now, she had bigger problems, such as:

“Look Momo, I don’t want to play babysitter," Nia crossed her arms, frowning softly, "so I’m unfortunately going to make your life a little miserable.”

A note from villa1ny

To get 13 chapters ahead right now, you can head over there!

Join the Discord / Momo cult here.

Nether Jedi

Miserable had not been severe enough a word.

Momo had been tasked with paint duty. With Septim busy as the new [Interior Decorator], Sera needed someone to mindlessly lather the rest of the castle in Nether. Luckily, zomboid Septim had taken care of most of the chambers, leaving only the Banquet Hall unpainted.

Coincidentally, the Banquet Hall happened to be the largest room in the entire fort. Momo had a sneaking suspicion that Sera had been saving it as capital punishment – a penalty for only the most severe of wrongdoings. Naturally, Nia had sprung it on Momo without a second thought.

Why couldn’t Vivienne have been her girl scout captain? This sucks.

Her arm ached as she swiped the wall with the brush again. She frowned as the Nether bounced off of it, slapping her in the face like a rubber boomerang.

The worst thing was not the painting – but the paint. Momo actually enjoyed painting, among other activities that required zero neuron activity. The problem was that Nether was a stubborn material. It loathed to be told where to go. As Momo stroked her brush over the walls, only a sliver of the Nether actually stuck. The rest sprung off with disobedient glee, spraying her clothes and hair.

Great. Now not only were her clothes tattered, but they stunk of the afterlife.

A piece of parchment fluttered into existence, instantly becoming damp with black ink as it slotted into her hands. She grasped for it, but it slid out of her grip, landing in the pool of sticky nothingness that had layered the ground below her. After slip-sliding for several minutes – looking altogether like a circus clown – she grabbed ahold of it.

Congratulations! You have gained a level in [Artist].

+3 CHA

Well, at least there's that. Momo sighed, lifting the parchment up to dissolve back into the air. More charisma for me to talk myself into even more trouble.

“Dogs, grab a brush,” Momo muttered. The wolves whined in protest, but for once, Momo wasn’t interested in the ethics of animal labor. She tasked each of them with a corner of the wall, a paintbrush, and the instruction to paint for as many layers as required. Sometimes that meant one, or ten, or fifteen. It all depended on the will of the tyrannical Nether.

“Ye missed a spot.”

Momo gritted her teeth. She took it all back. The worst part of it wasn’t the paint, or the painting – it was the audience. The criminals that had been originally meant for the exchange had, due to unforeseen events, not been exchanged. With Sera busy doing whatever it was new dictators did, they were left to sit in the cells, growing more and more impatient with every passing minute.

Momo couldn’t blame them, but she’d also prefer if they stopped criticizing her painting technique. It was giving her traumatic art school flashbacks.

“I think you’d get a better angle on the wall if you used your other hand,” another commented. “It’s terrible form, you’ve got.”

She clenched her hands. Just as she was about to yell something back, an idea came to her.

There were hundreds of prisoners in those cages. Practically an entire army of tired, hungry thieves. If she could figure out some way to release them, Sera would probably be too overwhelmed with the small invasion to notice Momo sneaking out through the jailhouse entrance.

But the cages are magically locked. Momo narrowed her eyes. The locks were magical, but what about the bars? The prisoners were handcuffed, so they couldn’t do much about prying them open, but Momo could. Not with her arms, clearly. She was stronger now – but not superhero strong. But if she could put one of her lackeys to use…

She looked down at the paintbrush, the Nether dripping off of it and slithering around on the floor. She remembered what Extrius told her about that new, bugged-out skill of hers – [Born Cultivator]. If she understood him correctly, it allowed her to use pure Nether to create forms. To put that into simpler, Momo-style language: she could make the Nether do shit for her.

She went over to the cage the thief heckler was occupying. He jumped back, not expecting her to actually face him.

“Hey, hey, hey. No need to hurt us,” he said, getting to his knees. “We’ve just been a bit bored is all, and watching paint dry is better than listening to our stomachs grumble.”

Momo ignored him, proceeding to splatter paint on the bars of the cage.

“Oh gods, what is that stuff? Is it poisonous?” another thief asked, panic stricken. The thieves scrambled into a corner of the cage far away from Momo. Their eyes were absorbed by absolute terror – staring at the globs of ink as if it might jump out and claw them to death. She couldn’t help but laugh at their twisted up expressions.

Great. One day in the Cult of Sera, and she was becoming a certified sadist.

“It’s just paint,” she clarified, clearing her throat. “I’m going to try and break you out.”

“Break us… out?” they blinked. “As in, free us?”

“That’s the plan. Unless you’d rather sit here and continue giving me painting pointers.”

“Oh, no, no, we’re done with all that! Moved on! We would love to walk out of these cages, yes ma’am,” the smallest of them nodded, and then the other two reluctantly followed along, placing their foreheads to the bottom of the cage in a full-body bow. Momo grinned. She began to understand what Sera saw in the whole authoritarian cult thing. Being feared and respected was kind of nice.

Ehem - but evil. She reminded herself.

She lathered up the next bar with paint, then the next. To her surprise, the more she focused on the Nether, the more it followed her will. Blocking out all other sounds, she began to hear a faint hum emanating from its inky surface. It was... singing. Each molecule of it vibrated at a singular, barely audible frequency. Maybe audible was the wrong word. She couldn’t hear it, exactly – but feel it. Like a gooey phantom limb.

Momo narrowed her eyes, and dictated an order with her mind.

The bars cried a metal shriek, suddenly pulling in her direction. Momo’s jaw dropped. She was doing it. She was telekinesis-ing the cages into submission, like some sort of Jedi. Or at least, she assumed that’s what Jedis did. She had never seen Star Wars.

Once her mind attuned itself to the Nether’s chorus of vibrations, she could manipulate it with only a thought – like dialing up and down on the car radio. It felt like working a muscle she couldn’t see, her mind straining into a migraine as the bar snapped in half.

The metal bar shot like a rocket into a nearby wall. It imploded on impact, leaving a gaping crater of Nether and crumbled stone.

“I just finished painting that section…” Momo grumbled. When she turned around again, the thieves had joined hands in glee – prancing around her like schoolchildren. The lack of food, water, and sleep had clearly gotten to their heads.

“The goo-bender has done it! We’re free!” They hurrahed. One of them extended a clawed finger, pointing towards the door. “We’re getting the hell out of here.”

“Wait!” Momo yelped, stepping between them. The three thieves, all bird-headed ravens, faced their beaks downward in surprise. They were nearly double Momo’s size, and now that they were free, they seemed much less inclined to listen to her.

“What is it?” the middle one cawed. Standing tall, proud, and arrogant, he seemed to be their leader. The feathers adorning his head fell over his eyes like bird-bangs, giving him the look of a goth teenager. It was hard for Momo to take him seriously – but she straightened her back, trying to appear confident.

“You don’t want to go out there, trust me,” she said, gesturing towards the Banquet Hall door. “I saw Sera turn a guy into a plant vase.”

The two birds behind him cheeped in horror, shuffling behind their leader.

“Sera?” the front bird chirped. “Who the hell is Sera?”

Right. They had no idea what was going on outside the Banquet Hall.

“Sera is the prisoner they were going to exchange for you all,” Momo explained. “Woman. Blue eyes. About this tall,” she pointed several inches above herself, “Excalibur level Necromancer.”

They all gasped in unison, their hands flying to their beaks.

“An Excalibur? You mustn’t be serious.”

“I wish I wasn’t,” Momo muttered. “She’s very annoying.”

“But you faced her? And lived?”

Momo paused. That was one version of events.

“Yeah, something like that,” Momo nodded shyly. “So if we have any hope of getting out of here, we’re going to need every single criminal in this room. If I get those mana-depleting handcuffs off of you, will you help me?”

The birds deliberated, forming a circle and squawking quietly.

“We agree to your plans, painter girl,” the goth one said with a slight bow. “Since you did us the service of freeing us, we’ll be at your disposal. For now.”

Momo grinned widely. "Then let's get out of here."

A note from villa1ny

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What If We All Punched at the Same Time?

A note from villa1ny

TWO big milestones today. 1) the story hit 5,000 followers. Wtf. Truly unbelievable to me - thank you guys!

2) Book 1 is FINISHED on Patreon! If you'd like to read all the way ahead to the ending of the current book, you can head over there.

The birds kneeled, heads down, with their handcuffed wrists raised towards Momo.

“This feels weird,” Momo mumbled. “The bowing is a bit much.”

“We’re not bowing, we’re protecting ourselves. In case your weird black magic goes awry, I’d rather only be missing hands, not my head, too,” the goth bird explained, an eyebrow raised. Momo gulped.

She didn’t plan on beheading anyone today.

Momo took the paintbrush and doused each of their handcuffs with Nether.

“I’ll start with yours,” Momo said, eyes narrowed in focus. “Now stay still.”

Momo focused her mind once more. Okay brain, do the thing again. Sensing the Nether’s faint hum, Momo tapped into it. Like igniting a car engine, as soon as she could feel it – she felt everything. She could operate the Nether like a finely tuned metal machine, her mind’s eye cranking levers and spinning gears.

Now, if I could just make it act like a key…

The Nether began to solidify, gripping tighter to the surface of the handcuffs. As she strained her mana, she forced the Nether to shrink. It slithered into the keyhole of the handcuffs, and then Momo let it expand. If she could make it mimic the shape of the key, and then turn it…

A faint click sounded, and the handcuffs fell to the floor.

The bird raised his head, eyes wide with surprise.

“You actually did it,” he mumbled, completely shocked.

“Me next! Me next!” the bird to his right commanded. Momo laughed. The other one was younger, and considerably more excitable. The goth bird sighed, and got out of the way so Momo could proceed with his colleagues.

After the handcuffs were taken care of, the bird thieves shook their feathers, and faced Momo.

“Thank you,” the bird with the bangs said, doing his best attempt at gratitude. It didn’t suit him very well. “Now that we can properly shake talons, I suppose we should introduce ourselves. I’m Corv. I specialize in pickpocketing and ranged attacks. This is Salvo, our [Materialmancer]” he gestured to the younger, brighter one, “and this is Geff. He likes hitting things.”

Geff grunted. He was a bird of few words.

“I’m Momo. Nice to meet you,” Momo said, limply shaking his hand. She tried to avoid getting impaled by any of his extremely long fingernails. “Now, can you all take care of the rest of the cages? All this Nether-bending drained the hell out of my mana. And I assume you have some sort of lockpicking skills…”

“Sure do,” Salvo grinned. “Unless the locks on these cages are magically sealed…”

A loud, guttural noise turned all of their heads in the other direction. Several locks clattered on the floor, thieves rejoicing as they escaped their cells. Geff hadn’t stayed along to strategize, instead making quick work of the cages. He held two bars with his bare hands.

“I guess that answers my question,” Salvo muttered. “Slow down, Geff, you always get to do the fun part!”

Salvo raced after the bigger bird, the pair of them joining forces to combine dexterous skill and brute strength to empty the cages. As they did, the prisoners assembled in huddles. While they seemed briefly placated by making it out of the cells, Momo knew it’d only be a little while longer before they started darting out of the place. Momo would have to act fast.

The only way they were going to make it past Sera’s defenses was if they came at her in overwhelming numbers. Some of them would undoubtedly be re-captured, but if she played it right, Momo could manage to slip away during the chaos…

She frowned. Who did she think she was? She'd never just 'slip away' while someone else was getting turned into Sera's new flower vase. She’d be haunted with a guilty conscience forever if one of those silly birds caught a stray [Abysmal] bullet.

But it isn’t like their chances are much better rotting away in here, Momo thought.

She sighed. They’d have to do something. She’d have to do something.

“Can I have everyone’s attention?” Momo said, using her outdoor voice.

No one turned to look at her. In the cacophony of competing voices, Momo’s was barely a gust of wind. Her [Burgeoning Confidence] had certainly helped her hold a conversation with a few people without wanting to cry, but there was no way she was ready to command an army of criminals. That was some Valerica type stuff.

She’d need to outsource this [Army General] requirement, and fast.

She looked over towards her personal legion – five wolves and an unseen cat. Hm. She couldn’t imagine any of them giving a rousing speech. Maybe if someone could translate meows into battle cries… Ugh. Momo didn’t have the time to develop that sort of technology. She surveyed the room, already seeing a few groups of criminals pointing towards the exit.

She looked upwards, back towards Vivienne’s platform. That’s when something caught her attention. The light in the room – it originated from a stained-glass window sitting just above that platform. Remembering the architectural plans that Nia showed them, that window had to face the south, the opposite side of the building to the Knight’s Quarters.

There were no exits on that side of the building. And if there were no exits, then there would be no reason to post guards there…

Momo had an idea.

“Mr. Corv,” Momo cleared her throat. The bird remained by her side, apparently uninterested in joining his two companions on their chaotic quest to pry open the cages. “Do your wings work? Or are they just for show?”

He scowled at her. “What kind of question is that? Of course they work.”

“Sorry,” Momo turned red. “I’m new to all this.”

“To manners?”

“To bird manners,” Momo sighed. “Look, I need a way to get everyone’s attention, and my voice doesn’t exactly reach a level above ‘moderately quiet’. Do you think you could fly up and make an announcement?”

He considered it, and then rolled his eyes.

“Fine. I can use my [Call].”

Momo didn’t dare ask what that was – at risk of appearing even more rude.

“Okay – yeah, sure, do that. Tell everyone that if we can break that window up on Vivienne’s platform, we could escape out that way. Pol left the ladder there, so it’ll be an easy climb up. It’s probably a bit of a long way down, but anything is better than running straight into Sera’s lap. Plus, half of you have wings.”

He hummed, emitting a gurgling sound from deep in his throat. Momo took that as the bird version of a nod. Within seconds, he was shooting upwards. Momo gaped, staring in awe as he glided effortlessly above the crowds.

It dawned on her that she had never seen any of the bird halflings fly. Watching Corv swim through the air like it was nothing made her immediately jealous. Why couldn’t Valerica have given her wings? She was entirely sure the Necromage knew how. It was just one of those things that Valerica would say. Like, ‘oh, did I forget to give you your cool raven wings? My bad!’

Momo grumbled. It would have made deliveries so much easier.

She was internally assembling a list of complaints for when she returned to Brulane. She was confident that she would share approximately zero of them outloud.

Once Corv was sufficiently high above the rest, he opened his beak and let out an alarm bell of a sound. It was a sharp, staccato cry that accomplished exactly what Momo wanted – every single face turned to him, many with hands over their ears.

“The painter girl who freed us carries a message. Apparently, the woman who the metalheads intended to trade us for has become free. If the girl is correct, this woman, an Excalibur necromancer, has ousted the King’s regime, and overtaken the government. She tells us that if we leave the way we came, there is a chance we could be killed on sight.”

Fear once again took hold of the room. The low chatter turned to a high pitch, each clique of criminals looking more desperate to leave. With a groan, Corv let out his [Call] again, at an even higher frequency this time. Momo felt her eardrums bleed a little.

“She says our best bet is to leave through that window,” he pointed a talon towards it. “The knights conveniently left a ladder for us to climb, so let’s single-file out of this Netherhole. I suggest we do this quietly, so we don’t attract any unneeded attention.”

The room calmed down once again, relief washing over them. The crowds immediately started walking chaotically – but quietly – towards the ladder, not leaving a second to chance. Momo ran after them, not wanting to be the last one to escape. She was sure that one of Sera’s lackeys would catch on pretty quickly, and Momo wanted this to be her last prison break of the month.

—

To absolutely no one’s surprise but her own, Momo was the last person to make it up to the platform.

Every type of rat, snake, and thieving bird shoved their way in front of her. Apparently, her quick tour of admiration and respect ended as soon as the criminals were free to do what they pleased.

By the time she had joined the rest, they were already busy throwing everything they had at the window. It was surprisingly resistant – and definitely not made of regular glass. It seemed to be doing more damage to the criminals than they were doing to it.

Geff looked down sadly at his talons, which were inflamed red.

“Window hurt my fist,” he grumbled.

Salvo gave him a protective pat on the shoulder. Her expression of pity quickly turned to anger, eyeing the window as if it had attacked Geff and not the other way around.

“You think you can knock about my brother, huh, window?” she squawked at the inanimate thing. She raked her talons across it, testing the material. Despite the intense pressure she put on it, it didn’t crack – not even the streak of her claws left a mark.

She turned to Momo.

“It’s made of magically-refined sandstone,” she told her. “It’s an incredibly durable physical material, resistant to both physical attacks and to most elemental magics. It would take an [Expert] level attack to saw through it.”

Momo huffed. None of the captured criminals seemed any stronger than an [Intermediate], and Momo supposed that was on purpose. Lower level criminals were good to have around if you needed mindless servants, not would-be revolutionaries and escape artists.

She racked her brain.

“What if we all just… hit it at once?”

The criminals turned to her with stupefied expressions on their faces.

Momo turned red as a tomato. Sure, it wasn’t Einstein levels of smart, but it was the best she could come up with.

“I mean, have you tried that?” Momo squeaked. “You all just seem to be hitting it randomly. No offense! That’s a great strategy. But… maybe if we just took one huge, big sling at it…”

They just blinked at her, expressions unmoving.

“All punch at once,” Geff nodded, shaking out his talons. “I like.”

“From my understanding of the material, an overwhelming blunt force attack might just work. But the key would be to hit it in succession, at the same place,” Salvo said, thinking aloud. She drew her finger over the glass, highlighting what she believed was the weakest section. “So if everyone lined up, punched their best punch at the weak point, and then let the next person give it their go, then we might be in business.”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I meant,” Momo said, laughing nervously. “Let’s do that.”

Geff was the first in line.

This time, Momo didn’t mind waiting her turn. She queued in the back as she watched the criminals charge up their attacks. Several bandaged their fists, others took out handaxes. The sharp tools were put aside, daggers stowed in exchange for gauntlets. If this had been a collection of knights, the glass would have cracked in no time.

But this was a bunch of light footed thieves, whose individual physical strength was akin to a gang of mice. Even so, if the mice targeted their attacks just so…

“I heard a crack!” Salvo cheered, just as another fist smashed into the hardened glass. Salvo had posted herself by the front, her finely tuned eyes and ears keeping an eye on the window’s stability.

“[Pinning Blow]” one thief screamed, rocketing a magic-tipped arrow at the wall. It bounced off like a boomerang, soaring overhead. The crowd booed.

“Next! Come on, blunt attacks only!” Salvo yelled.

Momo laughed. Salvo was really getting into this.

Thief after thief landed their blow, and the cracks started spreading like tree roots. Luckily, the Banquet Hall's walls were well-insulated, so none of the cheers and boos seemed to escape back to Sera’s domain.

The slivers of broken glass only grew deeper as the minutes went on, but the criminals were growing exhausted. They were taking turns in rapid succession, barely taking a moment to breathe before getting back in line for another go.

“Come on, Momo – let that vile window have it!”

Salvo’s green, passionate eyes bored into hers as she reached the front of the line. She had been so busy tracking the progress of the crack that she had failed to notice that she had made it back in front. She had let Dusk get the first few swipes, trusting that the cat’s muscle was probably greater than her own.

But maybe...

“Wait, you said it resisted elemental magics, right? Does Nether count?”

“Nether?” Salvo’s eyebrows rose. “I don’t know.”

Momo gritted her teeth. There was a good chance [Abysmal Blast] would either tear right through the glass, or bounce back and tear right through a few criminals. She put her fists together.

“Everyone, get to the sides!” she shouted.

Or at least she thought she shouted. Her voice was still not loud enough to interrupt the normal volume of conversation, and she sighed.

“Salvo, can you tell everyone to –”

“Everyone get to the sides!” Salvo roared, an unprecedented volume coming out of her shallow beak. The criminals quickly and fearfully obliged, rocketing to the sidelines as Momo inhaled.

If I use my new cultivation ability to supercharge the Abysmal Blast…

She had no idea if that would work, but she had learned one thing about life in Alois – it was best to improvise.

“[Abysmal Blast II]!”

A note from villa1ny

If you missed it at the top of the chapter:

TWO big milestones today. 1) the story hit 5,000 followers. Wtf. Truly unbelievable to me - thank you guys!

2) Book 1 is FINISHED on Patreon! If you'd like to read all the way ahead to the ending of the current book, you can head over there.

Near-Death By A Thousand Cuts

As the gigantic ball of sizzling black cratered into the window, Momo clapped her hands to her ears and ducked.

She waited several seconds, fearing the worst, but... nothing came. She heard no explosive shattering, no cries of pain and suffering. Just a still, awed silence.

Momo opened her eyes, peeking upwards. There was no broken glass. No flying glass shards. Instead, she was greeted by a demonic inversion of the original stain-glass window. What had once been a red and blue depiction of a kneeling knight had turned into its blighted twin – a painting of cracked, black glass.

The [Abysmal Blast] had not shattered the window; the window shattered it. The black magic seeped into the cracks, spreading its ink throughout the entirety of the painted pane. From inside the cracks, it shimmered, shaking unstably. The slight, repetitive motion gave the illusion of looking at a moving picture, a black-and-white movie in glass form.

“Um... how?” Momo stuttered.

“This is incredible,” Salvo said, eyes wide with amazement. Momo got the sense that she had forgotten about escaping entirely – too fascinated with the scientific improbability before her. “It seems the refined sandstone ripped the magic into dismembered shards. Now, the Nether is caught in its scattered web, attempting and failing to merge back together…”

The overcurious bird approached the glass. She hovered a talon over one of the pulsating cracks.

“If I were to inflect a small bit of force on the Nether…” she whispered. “The whole window pane might shatter in an instant.”

“And it might shatter you,” Corv intervened, putting a hand over her shoulder. “It’s too risky, Salvo.”

“I need to know what happens,” Salvo demanded. “This – I’ve never seen something like it.”

“What if I just… move it with my brain?” Momo suggested. “Instead of you risking your life to poke it.”

“Move it with your brain?” Salvo furrowed her eyebrows.

“Yeah. Like I did with the cages, and your handcuffs.”

“It took an immense amount of energy for you to break one cage open. How could you possibly move all of this Nether at once?” Corv said, skeptical.

“If it’s like Salvo said, I won’t have to,” Momo quirked her head. “I just… poke it. But with my mind.”

The criminals stared at her in befuddlement. Momo was starting to get tired of being at the receiving end of that stare.

“Fine,” Salvo said. “I’d rather be alive to see what happens, anyway.”

Wait – why did I agree to this? Momo’s stomach dropped. She could have let the bird poke it, or at least thrown a stone at it from far away. But now that Momo offered, everyone was looking at her expectantly.

She inhaled, and began taking slow steps backwards. Salvo and Corv did the same, shuffling away to join the rest of the prisoners on the sidelines. Momo stood, alone, barely a pebble in the face of the stain-glass monstrosity. The Nether shimmered at her, almost in challenge. It couldn't speak, yet Momo felt it beg. A hundred little disparate voices, begging her to try and move it.

I have to be going insane.

“If I die, tell Valerica I’m sorry I couldn’t deliver her letter,” Momo whimpered, hoping Dusk was nearby to hear. "But also tell her that I would have preferred if she sent it by post instead."

She closed her eyes, quieting the world around her. She reached out with her mana once again, using the [Born Cultivator] ability to tap into the Nether. Finally, lacking better judgement, she poked it.

The glass didn’t so much crack, or break, as implode. An incredible adrenaline rush soared through her, as if she were a fickle god destroying a world on a whim. She felt giddy with excitement, with inconceivable, euphoric, power.

And then she felt a world of pain.

“Momo, move!” Salvo yelled.

Shards of glass flew like jets – etching scathing lines of blood on her exposed skin. She screamed and huddled into a ball, hugging her legs and pressing down on the wounds.

“[Polymorph - Tree Stump]!”

Bleeding cuts turned into cracks of wood, and the endless series of expletives Momo was screaming in her head calmed to a soft stream. Just as emerging from the stump form worsened the pain, entering it softened it. Trees didn’t feel pain in the human way Momo was used to. They simply existed, cracks and all.

Momo blew out a breath. A metaphorical breath, of course.

“Much better,” she sighed.

“Momo… is that… you?” Salvo said, squatting by the stump. Worried tears had formed around her eyes, and Momo immediately felt bad. Seeing a regular human person cry was one thing, but bird tears? It was equally sad as it was unnerving.

“Yes, yes, it’s me!” the Stump said comfortingly. “I’m fine. I think I’m probably bleeding profusely in my regular form, but I’m fine right now.”

Salvo wiped her tears away with her sleeve. “Alright, good. Good. Well, not good. I don’t know how to bandage a stump. But I do have some healing ointment.”

She reached into her robes, extracting a satchel. It had been tucked in a secret compartment in her breastplate, escaping notice from the knights. Unzipping it, she removed a small green flask. It smelled like wood and dirt.

Or maybe that smell was just Momo. Momo sniffed. Mm. Yep. That was just her.

“Should I just apply it to your bark?” Salvo said quizzically. “I have no idea if this will work.”

“I’d rather not waste it,” Momo said begrudgingly. “Let me… go human. One second.”

Her limbs popped back into place, and half the crowd turned away at the display. Momo had never seen it from the third person, but she was sure it was not a pleasant sight.

I probably look like one of those Animorphs covers.

Before she could laugh at her own comparison, she groaned in pain. Not only did everything hurt, but there was a slight film grain on her vision. Everything was black around the edges. A powerful thumping echoed in her head.

All good signs.

“Here, lay down,” Salvo said, propping Momo’s head up on her knee. She poured some of the flask’s liquid onto her hands, and spread it over Momo’s wounds. It stung politely, but not violently. The pain Momo was already in was too great for anything else to overshadow it.

To think my greatest problem in life used to be living in Upstate New York, she thought miserably. Now I’m bleeding out on a bird’s leg.

Minutes passed extraordinarily slowly. She had grown nauseous, and sleepy. Sounds had dulled. Everything was fading away like the final transition of a movie, the circle closing over her.

This is what I get for trying to have my Superman moment. She could have probably manipulated the Nether from a distance, but no. She had to stand there all Rose from Titanic-esque and suffer death by a thousand cuts.

Well, figuratively. She hoped she wasn't really dying. She'd feel too guilty about the failed letter delivery.

After telling herself a few more bad jokes to avoid dwelling on the pain, the black rings around her vision began to recede. She could see Salvo’s beak hovering over her, inspecting her wounds with scientific curiosity. In her momentary coma, she had failed to feel the bird bandage her legs and arms, even applying a small bandaid to her cheek.

“Good as new,” Salvo grinned, giving a thumbs up. “Now, not to rush the healing process or anything, but we should probably jump out the window.”

As her sense of sound came back to her, she heard the clamor of heavy armor coming from beneath the platform.

“Get them!”

Momo whipped her head around to see a legion of knights scrambling towards them. They were like a group of headless chickens – with Vivienne gone, they lacked a leader or direction, and clambered into each other in pursuit of the criminals. They weren’t fast, but they had the advantage of numbers. Not to mention that their presence meant that Vivienne was not far behind.

Momo strained her back and groaned. A light thumping still racketed around her skull like a tennis ball, but she managed to get on her feet. She leaned on Salvo’s feathered shoulder as she limped towards the makeshift exit. Corv and Geff waited by the window, anxiously checking the stampede of metal heading straight towards them.

“Come on, I’ll carry the girl,” Corv said, and Salvo nodded.

“Thank you for your help, friend,” Salvo smiled at Momo kindly before releasing her into Corv’s grip. Momo felt like a hot potato the way she was being passed around. She fell into the bird man's back, grasping at his wings for leverage. He yelped as she death-gripped his feathers.

“Hold onto my shoulders, not my wings!” he instructed, teeth gritted. From beside him, Salvo took off into the sky, spinning and twirling with the same excited tone that she spoke in. Geff was much the same, floating solemnly upwards and gliding like a loaf of bread might, should it have wings.

Momo adjusted her grip, positioning her hands over his shoulders. She jumped, and he caught the underneath of her legs in a piggy-back ride formation. She felt suddenly like a kid again, and that this was all a magical, fantastical game. Unbidden memories of her brother sprouted in her brain. She remembered the soft, clumsy way he'd haul her around the playground, laughing like a maniac as she hugged him for dear life.

But no amount of childhood play could have prepared her for the actual feeling of flight. Corv dove forward with a sprint, catching wind and soaring forwards. Momo nearly choked on air as it spit at her from every direction. Her hair blinded her, whipping like a tornado over her eyes as they soared. Still, she didn't need sight. The sounds of the city filled her ears – the chatter of the marketplace, the soft chirping of birds, the louder chirping of their part-human counterparts.

She had never been more grateful to hear this many voices.

For a wonderful, blissful, too-short moment, she felt free.

A note from villa1ny

To read to the end of Book 1 right now, you can head over there!

Join the Discord / Momo cult here.

An Alliance Outside A Pig Farm

Just as Momo was about to reach inner euphoria, Corv’s voice rang out.

“Oh for the sake of Mordecai, it’s that thing again!”

Momo nearly lost her grip as Corv frantically pivoted left. His wings knocked against her, slapping her sideways as he tore in the opposite direction.

“What is it? What thing?” Momo yelped, fighting the force of gravity with all her tiny might.

A yowl pierced the chatter of the crowds. The stomp of heavy feet reverberated off the ground, and Momo managed to see a sliver of fur through her blinded vision.

Oh no.

A wet, stubbly tongue the size of a small mountain came raining down on the pair of them. It licked Corv with the intensity of a bulldozer, sending them off-course and bulleting towards the ground. Momo’s hair whipped back just at the right time for her to see them headed for the pavement, Corv’s wings immobilized from the saliva.

“Shit, brace yourself!” He squawked.

“[Polymorph - Tree Stump]!” Momo cried out, but nothing happened. A piece of parchment appeared in front of her face, but the air stole it violently before she could read the text. It didn’t matter – she knew what it said. I have no mana left.

“There’s a hay pile, maybe if I can just –” Corv shouted, yanking his head upwards. He strained against the perma-glue that painted his wings, managing to tilt them ever so slight upwards so a last gust of wind flew underneath them. They shot upwards, briefly, before the strain was too much – and his wings snapped back into place.

They were once again nosediving.

“Jump, Momo, jump!” he screamed.

Before she could think to move her limbs, they had already made contact with the ground. Momo felt pine needles shoot at her from all directions, spindly things that tickled her cheeks and ankles. Hay coated her legs, and her neck spun around like a spinning top. In front of her, three duplicates of Corv hovered in the air – all six of his eyes staring at her in disbelief.

“We’re alive,” his hydra-like head said, breathing out a long, staccato breath. Momo made an affirmative noise that probably sounded like a choked cry. She braced her head with her hands, desperately trying to force her vision back into place.

“I’m going to end up with more concussions than an NFL player,” she muttered, slurring her words.

“A what?”

“Nothing,” she said, and collapsed again in the hay. The familiar feeling of it immediately sent her back in time. Weeks ago, when she first awoke in the dank abyss beneath the Dawn, curled up in that all-familiar hay pile. If only Momo had known then what she knew now.

Which was a whole lot of nothing, to be completely honest.

But she was alive. And she had escaped. Escaped one of this world’s most powerful spellcasters, if only for a brief moment. As everything spun around her, she took a moment to be proud of herself. She had come a long way from preparing toilet brush dumplings.

After a few restful minutes, Momo finally righted herself. Looking around, she realized that they had flown quite a ways from Nam’Dal central, landing in a rare patch of green in the ordinarily hyper-urban city streets.

The hay pile Momo laid in stood right outside an abandoned barn, in a small, gated grass field. Pigs with red and purple skin grazed on wild outgrowths of vegetation. Their water troughs were festering and rank, smelling more of mildew than water. The barn itself had decayed into a skeleton, pillars of decomposing wood sticking out like jagged bones.

“Where are we?” she mumbled. "What are those?" The pigs looked like they had been scribbled on with rainbow crayons.

“West Nam’Dal. The agricultural sector,” Corv said simply, scowling down at his wings. He was fighting the saliva and losing. "Blasted dog."

“Was that Dogubis? I couldn’t see it, but I assume…”

“There aren’t that many super-sized dogs lying around, no,” Corv grunted. “He was standing guard right outside the window. We’re lucky he only licked us. He seemed confused. He must be in a slight daze, seeing as his master is…”

Corv trailed off.

“Wait, where did that guy go?”

A shiver ran down Momo’s spine in memory.

“Where all the bad birds go, I assume,” she hiccupped. He narrowed his eyes at her in confusion, so she cleared her throat and clarified. “He’s dead.”

His beak opened in surprise, his feathers standing on edge like goosebumps.

“They killed one of the King’s men? Not just any knight, but him?” he said. “Oh, they must have a death wish. When him and his hound don’t return to the capital, the King will be sending every [Knight of the Sun] in his arsenal to sunray this place into ashes.”

Momo swallowed. “Oh… and how long do you think that’ll take?”

Corv hummed. “A bit, probably. If the new necromancer in charge knows what’s good for her, she’ll probably fake some correspondence back to the capital. Make up some story about how the prisoner exchange is taking longer than anticipated. Bide her time. With a good alibi, she could probably delay it for a few weeks.”

“A good alibi?”

“Is that bear Gunther still alive?” he asked. “I’ll bet he is, if she’s got any brain at all.”

Momo thought back. She did watch a door get launched at him, but she imagined he could survive that. From what she saw, he hadn’t been turned into a zombie yet, either. He was probably still around there somewhere – maybe hibernating in the jailhouse.

“Yeah, I think he is,” she nodded. “You think she’ll use him to lie to the King?”

“Definitely. Just point a [Black Thunderbolt] at his head, and make him blabber on about bureaucracy, traffic, bad weather. It’ll give her plenty of time to figure out her next move. ‘Course, it doesn’t matter what her next move is. She’ll be dead regardless.”

Momo frowned. She didn’t particularly like Sera – see: the threats made on Momo’s life – but she didn’t like the optics of the King’s men trampling an Excalibur necromancer, nor did she want them coming so close to Brulane.

Nam’Dal was a distance from the Dawn, but from what Momo had heard, the capital was much farther. If Sera attracted their attention all the way down here, they would undoubtedly hear rumors of Valerica’s little necromantic outfit.

A chill breeze blew by them, and Corv wrapped his hands around himself. He was shivering. The permanent dampness of Dogubis’ saliva was stuck to him like glue. Momo frowned. She had mostly forgotten about the cold entirely – her adrenaline raging too high at all times to consider it. Plus, winters here were far milder than they were back in New York.

But the ravens clearly didn’t have the same tolerance.

“We should get you somewhere warm,” Momo said, concerned.

“I’m fine,” Corv chattered, waving a dismissive talon. “We just need to find the others. Salvo. Geff. At least I do. I won’t assume you’ll be following me around like a helpless puppy dog.”

Momo frowned. Well, she had planned on doing just that, at least until she located Komodo. But now she felt embarrassed about it. Whatever, she thought. They’d be lucky to travel with me.

“Do you know where Komodo is?” she asked for what felt like the hundredth time. She was starting to feel like an extra in Where in the World Is Carmen Sandiego?

“Oof,” Corv laughed through his chattering teeth. “You got business with that lizard? You’ve got worse luck than all of us combined.”

“That’s what everyone says,” Momo sighed, and tried to remember what the talking bauble had told her. Something about the northern border…? She was grateful she had stored him in her bloody backpack before launching into the sky. “Do you know if she’s still running things at the northern border?”

“The northern border? Come on now. She runs the whole border. Can’t get in or out anywhere without her say-so.”

Well then. Letter or not, it seemed that Momo would have to deal with the woman if she wanted to get back to Brulane, either way. Of course, Radu could probably call Alexi back up – but she had no idea where that lizard had run off to. She visualized his weird series of gestures from before, but she was still as dense as a rock.

What was it he was trying to say? The Whacked Bag, or something?

“As much as I’d like to stand here and get frostbite, I’m gonna dart,” Corv said. “Only a matter of time before Sera’s got a patrol looking for us in every corner of the city.”

“Are you headed towards the border, by any chance?” Momo mumbled, looking up at him with what she hoped were doe eyes. "Then, perhaps, we could travel together..."

He sighed. “Most people go out of their way to avoid Komodo, you know.” He paused, and then shook his head. “Fine, yeah. My crew hangs out in a hole near the Western Watchtower. If you’re mad enough to climb up it, you’ll likely find the lizard at the top.”

Momo stuck out her hand.

“I will be cowering behind your wings the whole way,” she grinned.

He sighed, but Momo could see a twinge of amusement pass his face. He rummaged his feathers to his best ability, shaking off the cold air.

“Deal,” he said, placing his talons in hers. “As long as you’re okay with dragging my corpse the rest of the way once I’ve gone completely icicle.”

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Horsing Around

Momo followed Corv as he hobbled towards the barn. With his wings immobilized, his gate went from steady and confident to slow and lurching. Momo frowned at him. He reminded her of a bird that had flown into an oil spill.

“Might be some water in here to wash this off,” he explained as they crossed the threshold into the decrepit barnhouse. The entrance was just a set of rusty hinges. It looked like it once held a door in place, but that door had been gnawed off by a giant and spit into the grassfields, resulting in the heaps of rotting lumber splayed around the yard.

Momo pinched her nose as they entered, a putrid scent filling her nose. It smelled like an abandoned frat house, only the sticky material under her shoes was green and blue instead of translucent alcohol. Faced with what was probably a fully-decomposed person, she urgently missed the invisible grossness of those house parties she'd been unwillingly dragged to by her dormmates. If there had been corpses lying around in Alpha Pi, at least they were buried under the scent of raspberry vodka.

“I don’t know about water, but maybe some radioactive goo, if that helps,” Momo muttered nasally, cringing as she fought to lift her feet from the floor. Whatever substance coated the old barn was fighting tooth and nail to keep her there.

They came upon several former horse stalls, and several former horses. Tears pricked Momo’s eyes when she saw the skeletons.

“Poor horsies,” she said, swallowing down a sob.

She couldn’t just let them lay there. She kneeled by one of the steeds, and laid a hand on it.

“[Raise Undead].”

Corv whipped around. “What are you doing?”

“Finding us a faster ride,” Momo said as the skeleton floated upwards, bones clicking together like jigsaw pieces.

“Seriously? We’ll attract the guard’s attention in minutes if they see us riding around on some boney ponies.”

Momo tapped her necklace. “Not with this bad boy.”

A ghostly neigh rang from the horse’s rebuilt muzzle. Momo grimaced. She still wasn’t used to the appearance of her revived companions.

“[Disguise],” she said, very happy she hadn’t used it up earlier. A brown coat sidled up the horse, covering it to completion. Corv’s eyes looked like they might burst from his skull.

“That’s… disgusting.”

“Isn’t it?”

Momo searched around for a saddle. There was a large cabinet near the end of the barn which luckily seemed untouched by any toxic ailments. Inside, she found three saddles, leather straps, loose grains, and a potion bottle filled with bright red liquid.

She took one saddle and the longest strap, promptly shutting the cabinet. She wasn’t messing with any liquid that wasn’t clear, watery blue for the foreseeable future. She didn’t trust anything that could possibly be alive, or sentient, or at the very least, poisonous. With Momo’s luck, she’d probably pick it up and it would start talking to her.

She placed the saddle and strung up the straps to use as reins.

“That looks about right,” Momo said with a shrug, inspecting the setup. She had never ridden a horse, so the positioning was based mainly on vibes. Still, the saddle seemed to stick. It would have to do.

She gave the horse – who she decided would be named Nightmare – a solid pat on the side.

Finally, she turned on her heel to face Corv, who was still miserably hugging himself and shivering.

“I don’t see any water anywhere,” he said, eyeing the skeleton steed up and down. “Looks like you’ve found a way to get us home quicker, though. Good one.”

“Do you know how to ride a horse?” she grinned. “Because I have no clue.”

“Oh, great,” Corv blew out an exhausted breath. “Of course not. Why would I know how to ride horses when I have wings?”

“Touché,” she frowned. The last animal she’d ridden had been a huge, undead bear, bless Phil’s soul. Momo missed him dearly. He had been fairly low to the ground and walked with slow, balanced steps. He definitely didn’t gallop, or do anything approximating running. Momo had been grateful for that. She didn’t have the best sense of balance.

A faint numbness in her feet caught her attention. Her [Riding Boots] were glowing the slightest hint yellow. Right! If she recalled correctly, they were supposed to give her an [Affinity to Horses]. Maybe that would make them less likely to… gallop. Or eject her like a rocket if she hung on a little too tight.

“Alright, Nightmare,” she said, putting her hands to her hips. “I’m going to… get on top of you. Please don’t buck me off.”

The horse neighed neutrally, and Momo grabbed hold of the saddle. Using what little strength remained in her arms, she sidled her way up and on. Nightmare, to Momo’s relief, stayed perfectly still. Momo risked a hand outwards to pet her mane in appreciation, using the other to grasp the reins.

“Okay, you next,” Momo said, beckoning Corv with her free hand.

“Me? We’re supposed to share one?”

“I can only cast [Disguise] once every two hours, so either you can run through town on a bony pony, like you mentioned, or you can get in the backseat.”

Corv grumbled, but he ultimately joined her. With his soaked wings tripling his weight, the horse’s knees buckled slightly, but Nightmare righted herself. Momo’s scream died in her throat.

“Okay,” she said, reassuring herself. “We’re just going to do a little, slow, experimental trot. How does that sound, girl?”

The horse neighed and began to walk steadily out of the barn. Momo bobbed side to side, the saddle clearly not fastened properly.

“Great,” she muttered, fear turning her stomach as the saddle swayed. Corv obviously felt the same, his hands wrapping tighter around her stomach.

“Should we get off and try fixing it?” Corv said.

“Probably. When she starts galloping, this isn’t going to be –”

Taking the mention of the word as a command, the horse immediately broke out into a sprint.

To be fair, Momo’s not sure what she expected. That didn’t stop her from screaming.

“Slow down, slow down!” she yelled as Nightmare tore out of the barn, galloping with the freedom of an animal who just had been revived after years spent toiling on a barnhouse floor. The horse didn’t seem to hear her – or care to hear her – as it continued to rocket across the grass fields, whinnying as it dodged grazing piglets.

“I’m going to fall!” Corv squawked. Momo risked a look behind, seeing that the bird was nearly at a right angle off the side of the horse.

“Hang on!” Momo heaved her body in the opposite direction as a counterweight, hauling the bird back into the saddle. He yelped, regaining his balance and hugging Momo’s middle with a violent grip. She coughed at the impact of it, nearly choking, but kept her tight hold on the reins.

“Nightmare, please, for the love of God, slow down,” she commanded weakly, holding the reins so tightly that the horse nearly keeled over. Luckily, it got the message. It curved to the right, and then began to slow its pace, transiting from high speed rocket to respectable, rickety wagon.

“Oh gods,” Corv exhaled heavily into her back. “I haven’t been this nauseous since I first flew the nest.”

“I’m honestly used to it by now,” Momo said, her head spinning beyond comprehension. If the horse was about to canter right into a wall, she wouldn’t know it. “I’m surprised I haven’t thrown up yet.”

“Oh, gods, don’t even mention it,” Corv said, shutting his eyes tight.

After a few minutes of gentle trotting, the adrenaline faded. The horse had been doing circular laps around the field, running the pigs around like a herding dog.

“So, boss, where to?” Momo whispered to Corv, fearful that she’d accidentally send the horse in another sprint. “I have no idea where west is.”

A talon jutted into her peripheral vision. It pointed right of the barn, towards a gravel path. Momo steered the steed to it. She found that after Nightmare had calmed down, it was quite easy to direct her. Commanding the reins felt second nature, as if she’d done it hundreds of times before.

She supposed it was a consequence of her [Corrupted Druid] class. She couldn’t communicate quite telepathically with animals, but there was some element of translation going on. They understood her commands precisely, as if she was eloquently speaking horse language.

“Where are the farmers? I thought this was supposed to be the Agricultural District?” Momo wondered aloud. “Unless the cows here are milking themselves.”

Momo cringed, remembering the Eldergoats. She supposed it wasn’t an impossibility.

Still, the gravel path was the only man-made object within a mile, save the abandoned barn they had originated from. Sera’s black tower jutted out in the east, marking the Nam’Dal skyline. Aside from that, it was all rolling fields and odd-colored farm animals. Corv had flown quite a distance in the limited time they were in the air.

“The pigs here aren’t livestock,” he laughed. “They’re [Lesser Demon Boars]. A necromancer blighted this section of Nam’Dal during the Dark Calamity, and the government never bothered to clean it up. There’s some actual farmers closer to the border where we live, but they steer clear of these particular fields.”

Looking into the distance, Momo saw what first looked like a red and blue horizon – the sun dawning over the fields – but she quickly realized it was far from a trick of the light. A huge, undulating mass was stampeding directly over the path. Luckily, it didn’t run at them, but adjacent.

“What in the hell is that?” Momo said, pointing at it as they inched closer.

Momo’s eyes widened as they approached it. It was pigs. Hundreds of pigs. They were migrating southward at a fearful speed, hoofed feet smacking into the grass and generating dense clouds of dirt in the air around them. Red and blue flesh peaked out through the clouds, incessant honks coloring the soundscape.

From behind her, Corv groaned. “Shit. It must be almost nightfall. The boars start moving around six, and don’t stop running until nine. I’d fly us across, but for obvious reasons, that’s not an option.”

Momo looked to the right and left, but the stampede seemed endless. Over the heads of the pigs, she could see the tall, familiar walls of cobblestone. Watchtowers, wells, and gated farmhouses stood only a mile away. But the pork blockade was unpassable.

We’re so close. She sighed. If only there weren't a thousand pigs standing between her and her goal.

“I’d summon my Argentavis, but I’m worried that’ll create too much of a scene,” Momo frowned. “I don’t want Sera to spot us before we’ve gotten anywhere.”

“Yeah, I’d advise against that,” Corv muttered. “But there’s no way I’m sleeping in the wet grass and freezing to death.”

Momo huffed. While going back to lay in the hay was appealing, she was tired of this city. She yearned for her own hay, her own barn. She missed the Dawn with an ache she could have never imagined.

She steeled herself. She’d just have to do this the Momo way.

“I have a really stupid idea.”

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Momo and the [Greater Demon Boar]

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“I’m all ears,” Corv said, teeth chattering.

“Well, I have two stupid ideas,” Momo clarified. “One question first, though. Do you think the boars would chase something if it interfered with their path?”

“You got a death wish or something?” Corv said. “No. If you threw a rock at them, they’d barely flinch. If you stood in the middle of them, they’d just run you over.”

Well. That didn’t sound ideal.

“There’s absolutely no way to get them to switch direction so we could pass?”

Corv considered it. He let go of Momo, disembarking the horse. From the ground, he took a long look at the stampede. He seemed to be searching for something.

“Aha,” he said, pointing a claw towards the boars. “You see that one, there? Much larger than the rest?”

The boars came like bullets, but Momo still found it with ease. A pig nearly triple the size of the rest loomed above, trotting at a slower, more deliberate pace. It had bright red, demonic eyes, long tusks protruding from its jaw, and a jagged scar that ran down its forehead.

“He’s terrifying,” Momo trembled. "Why is he so big?"

“Yeah, that’s a [Greater Demon Boar]. It evolved from one of the Lesser ones, and the pack will follow it wherever it goes. There’s a few of them out of every hundred.”

“So if we sufficiently bothered the Greater Boar, the rest would follow?” Momo summarized.

“I see why you called your plan stupid,” he muttered. “You don’t want these boars following you. Even on horseback, they’d catch up with us in a matter of minutes. There’s a reason no one else treads this road at this time of day.”

Momo sighed. He was right, but still – it was only so long until Sera’s henchman tracked them down. She wanted to find Komodo before that happened.

“Okay,” Momo said. “So outrunning is out. But if I sent something to mess with it – a Nether creature that was small enough to avoid Sera’s notice, but big enough to cause a nuisance – I could lead it astray, right?”

Corv paused. His frown turned into a scowl.

“Unfortunately, that might work. It also might get us killed.”

“But it might get us less killed than my original strategy,” Momo smiled. “So I say we try it.”

He sighed.

“Fine. It’s your death wish.”

With Corv on board, Momo nodded. She closed her eyes. She hadn’t had the time to practice any summons yet, so the only two she had reliably memorized were the Ostrich and the Argentavis. The Argentavis was too big, and the Ostrich couldn’t fly. She’d need something that could swoop in and take the boar off-course.

It’d have to be pretty powerful, too. If the boars didn’t mind having a rock thrown at them, a few pecks from a woodpecker would be water off the beast’s back.

It needs to be something small, compact, yet powerfully annoying.

Momo wished she could clone herself.

Sadly, that seemed improbable. She doubted a [Lesser Nether Momo] existed in any universe, especially one with wings.

Tapping into the Nether, her mind took her way back in time. Back to when she was a kid on the playground, having a grand time on the swings. She was smiling, gleeful, in a moment of honest peace. Until –

A buzzing sound filled Momo's ears.

“You summoned… bees?” Corv choked.

“Well, the biblical kind,” Momo grinned, hearing the buzzing grow around her. “Locusts.”

A huge swarm of them levitated around Momo. A twinge in her stomach told her to be afraid – but they stayed a polite distance from her face, swarming in circles as they waited for a direction.

“[Nether Locusts],” Corv said, blinking in disbelief. “Now that’s a first.”

“I’ll send them after the big boy, and hopefully get the whole pack running towards Nam’Dal proper. That’ll give Sera something to deal with, and gives us an opportunity to skedaddle towards the Western Watchtower.”

“This is not a stupid plan,” Corv muttered, tugging himself back on the saddle. “It’s a terrible plan.”

“You got anything better?” Momo said, gripping the reins tightly.

“Absolutely not.”

“Great,” Momo nodded. “So terrible it is, then.”

The previous [Greater Demon Boar] was already near the head of the pack, much too far away for the locusts to reach anytime soon. Luckily, another one was approaching from the rear. This one seemed even bigger, somehow. Four tusks. Six eyes. A total eldritch nightmare.

“Of course,” Momo muttered, then sighed. “Okay, locusts. Do you see that big guy? You’re going to swarm the hell out of him. Then fly as fast as you can towards that thing.”

Momo motioned her thumb backwards, pointing to where they’d come from. The gravel path swooped around the abandoned barn, and then led towards the Knights' Hall.

“Tell them to keep low to the ground, too, so the boar doesn't lose sight of them,” Corv added.

“What he said,” Momo echoed. The locusts continued torpedoing around them. Momo took it as an affirmative.

Momo took a deep breath. Corv wrapped his hands once again around her middle.

“Any last regrets?” Momo squeaked, heart beating hard in her chest. She suppressed all the thoughts telling her this was a terrible idea.

“This very moment comes to mind,” he groaned. “But I’ve decided to go along with it.”

Momo took a deep breath.

“Okay, locusts,” she mumbled, “do your thing.”

The locusts obediently swept past Momo, turning into a speeding tornado as they rushed towards the stampede. They had a single-minded focus, curving through the air until they settled in front of the Greater Boar’s eyes. With no hands to whack them away with, the boar spit and roared, raising onto his haunches in immediate frustration.

“It’s working!” Momo shouted.

“Now we need to get the hell out of the way!” Corv shouted back as the Greater Boar flailed wildly, smacking the lesser boars with a flurry of legs. The chaos reverberated quickly through the pack. The pigs began to slow their pace, honking as they reoriented themselves towards their struggling leader.

The locust swarm swooped down, momentarily freeing the Boar from blindness. Every single one of the Greater Boar’s eyes locked onto it. Pure, unadulterated fury leaked from its gaze.

Momo gulped. Corv was right; they had to move. The beast was about to head right for them.

She pulled the reins hard and fast. Nightmare got the message, eagerly jumping into action. The horse ran parallel to the pigs, putting as much distance as possible between Momo and the raging Greater Boar.

“Can you see if it’s moving?” Momo yelled, the air buffeting her cheeks. She felt like a dog with its mouth out the window.

“It is!” Corv said, his weight shifting on the horse as he looked back. The saddle slipped again, and Momo shrieked as she attempted to keep them on.

“Be careful!”

“It’s not my fault you don’t know how to tie a saddle!”

“Neither do you!” she returned. Looking to her right, the smaller boars were beginning to turn in the opposite direction of them – rotating on their hooves to follow the Greater Boar. The ground shook beneath them as the Greater Boar clomped across the fields, snarling and puffing with pure rage as it chased the locusts.

“By Mordecai, it’s working,” Corv exhaled.

Nightmare continued pacing rightwards until the boars began to clear. The crowds had thinned, only leaving a motley crew of boars, pacing around listlessly. The rest raged after their leader, heading directly towards the city center – and Sera’s tower.

“She’s not going to like that,” Momo choked.

“It isn’t just Sera who’s going to be pissed,” Corv shook his head.

They rode over the rolling fields, weaving through the stunned lesser boars and towards the Western Watchtower. While the western tower was dwarfed in comparison to Sera’s creation, it was still impressive by regular standards. It was an immaculate construction of wood and steel, veneered by rope ladders, and guarded by sharp, pointed posts.

“We’re here,” Corv said, relief evident in his tone.

With the rabid oinks now a mere echo in the distance, a worn sign reading 'The Agricultural District' greeted them as they trod into town. The gravel road tapered off into a circle, surrounded on all sides by modest farmhouses. It reminded Momo of some of the poorer suburbs back in Upstate – large houses made of cheap materials, with an overabundance of overgrown, unkempt yards.

Normal looking pigs and cows grazed the grass, and even a farmer or two stood watch, long-brimmed hats tipped over their sunburnt faces.

“I hope you aren’t in the business of robbing these people,” Momo whispered, giving Corv a judgmental stare as they tacked Nightmare onto a nearby post. “They look like they barely have enough money to live on.”

Momo unbuttoned her backpack. Dusk’s skeletal face immediately popped out, offering her a toothy smile.

“Get back down!” Momo whispered harshly, tapping the cat's head back into the bag. “We don’t need someone seeing you.”

Corv grimaced. “Was that a… cat?”

“No,” Momo said, hastily rebuttoning the backpack. “You saw nothing.”

But she was relieved Dusk was still there in one piece. She had been worried her bones had scattered during the bumpy ride.

“Sure,” Corv laughed. He seemed to be in better spirits now that they were back in familiar territory. “And no. They wouldn’t have anything good to steal, anyway. What would I do with some milk and a water bucket?”

Corv led Momo further down the road towards the watchtower. An enormous wooden wall stood behind it, extending for miles on either side. Momo craned her head to see the top of it, and grimaced when she spotted the many metal spikes that littered the surface.

It was a no way in, no way out sort of situation.

The wall seemed to border the entire city – the barricade that separated Nam’Dal from the chasm that existed outside of it. In the south, where the Nam’Dal Terror bridge sat, the wall was passable through a giant gate, but that was only the entrance or exit she’d seen since entering.

“So I’m guessing you aren’t supposed to leave Nam’Dal this way,” Momo muttered.

It would be a convenient exit. She could just deliver the letter to Komodo, then promptly exit stage left. It didn’t even matter if it lacked a bridge. She could just have Argent fly over it.

“Not unless you want one of Komodo’s sharpshooters pointing a [Stun Bolt] at your head, no,” Corv said, looking at her seriously. “It’s hard to see from here, but there are dozens of platforms within the walls. It’s basically a labyrinth that extends around the entire city. Hundreds of Komodo’s guards patrol inside it and on top of it.”

“Wonderful,” Momo sighed. So flying over the chasm was a no. That was unless she somehow took care of Komodo and every single one of her deputies, but that seemed like it would take more time than she currently had.

“Ah, home sweet home," Corv sighed happily.

Momo looked down to find Corv kneeling by a metal grate.

“Are you part rat, too?” Momo’s eyebrows rose.

“Rat? Don’t be prejudiced,” Corv said, shoving the grate to the side. “More than just rats can live below ground. Bunkers are to be enjoyed by all species.”

“But birds?” Momo stressed the word. “It feels really antithetical to your species’ whole thing.”

“Well, hard times,” Corv shrugged with a frown, and swung his legs over the side of the grate. In an instant, he was gone, disappeared into the darkness.

Momo immediately squatted in front of it. “Hello? Corv? Don’t leave me here!”

His head poked out, taking her off guard. She flopped backwards, landing clumsily on her hands.

“It’s not steep, come on,” he laughed.

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If You Do Not Comply, You Will Die

“Welcome to our little slice of heaven,” Corv said sarcastically as Momo plopped down beside him. She took a deep breath of relief when her feet immediately made contact with the floor. He was right – the drop wasn’t steep. Unlike the Rats’ Sewers, this tunnel was narrow and short. She could barely stand upright without impaling herself on the cobbled ceiling.

“You… live here?” Momo mumbled, trying to not sound rude. He had seemed unimpressed by the rotting barn, but a cramped underground tunnel seemed to be the worse alternative. At least the barn had fresh air – this tunnel just smelled of wet.

“Didn’t your parents teach you manners?” Corv said, several strides ahead.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “It’s just…”

Momo’s heart jumped as something rattled loudly next to her. It was a rush of sound, like a tidal wave of water shooting through a narrow space.

“God, what was that?”

“Oh, right. That tends to frighten guests,” he said with a shrug, and tapped something to the right of him. It gave a hollow thump as he rapped his knuckle against it. “Nothing to yelp about. It’s just the pipes.”

Looking to her right, she saw them. Long, endless pipes gripped the walls. They weren’t the metal kind that Momo was used to – instead, they seemed to be constructed of wood and clay. That explains the molding wood smell. Water sloshed aggressively against their interior, producing a rattling sound that made Momo worry deeply about their craftsmanship.

“These don’t sound very… sturdy,” she mumbled. Water sloshed under Momo’s boots, dampening each step. A slight dribble of water leaked out of the pipes. “Don’t you worry about… I don’t know, drowning?”

“Birds can swim just fine,” Corv bristled, and kept walking.

Judging by the foul, nearly depressed attitude he’d adopted after getting licked by a single dog, Momo doubted that sentence. Plus, even without the wings, any non-amphibious person would drown in this enclosed space.

Thankfully, it wasn’t long until they reached the intended destination. A smidgeon of light leaked out into the space, revealing a wooden door. Corv knocked against it three times, squawked melodically, and then hopped, happy like a child, as it yawned open.

“Corv? Is that you?”

“Sure as hell is! Let me in!”

Salvo’s face peaked out of the doorframe. She smiled brightly at her compatriot, and pulled him into a furious embrace. The hug didn’t last long, however; she produced a disgusted groan, flailing her talons wildly as if she had just dipped her hand in radioactive waste.

“Ew! Did you get in the habit of rolling around in pigsties while you were gone?” she complained, beak turned upwards in what Momo imagined was the bird version of a scowl. “You look, feel, and smell like an unbathed pig.”

“Don’t even get me started,” he muttered, pushing her aside as he stalked into the room. Momo eyed him with jealousy, unsure if she was welcome or not. Warmth and light radiated from behind the doorway, making her realize just how frigidly cold she’d been before.

Her hands were as rough and dry as wood chips, and every muscle in her body ached to just sit by something cozy and warm – a fireplace, a stove. She’d let a penguin sit on her like an egg, or she’d curl up in a grizzly bear’s stomach if she had to. She just wanted to feel something outside of borderline frostbite again.

“Are you just gonna stare at us from the doorway, or are you gonna come in?” Salvo said, beckoning her with a quick hand. “You’re letting all the hot air out, come on.”

Momo smiled gratefully and ran inside, not leaving a moment to spare. The door shut behind her with a click, and she stopped the urge to fall to her knees and spread out like a starfish. She regretted every word she’d said before – this place was heavenly. Inside the room, it was quiet, undisturbed by the worryingly rustling of water pipes. It was warm. It even smelled like milk and cinnamon.

“I want to live here,” she groaned.

“Well, that’s a bit forward,” Salvo laughed as she lowered a tray of uncooked pastries into an oven. Fire roared from it as she lowered them in, and steam gushed out as she closed it, blowing back her feathers.

“I didn’t mean to say that outloud,” Momo mumbled. But I meant it.

The place was a perfect picture of bird domesticity. It was one large room, with makeshift wooden walls that separated several bed cots. It had a furnace, a stove, a dining table, and several cushioned chairs. It was like peering into a medieval IKEA catalogue.

Despite the lack of direct sunlight, it was also brimming with plants. Small circular panes, which looked a bit like those Sunlamps people on Earth sold for seasonal depression, beamed light onto the potted greenery.

“What are those?” Momo pointed at the panes curiously, Intelligence points getting the best of her again.

“Sunlight Stores,” Salvo said with a grin, happy to be asked. “They can capture, hold, and project sunlight. They keep my plant babies alive just beautifully – all I have to do is leave them out in the sun every couple months to recharge.”

“Amazing,” Momo said, blinking in awe. And it was. The whole room was a feat of engineering. Textiles with patterns and materials Momo had never seen layered the floor and the ceiling, all seeming to perform a different function.

“Having a [Materialmancer] around occasionally comes in handy,” Corv joked as he emerged from the bathroom. Despite his ever-somber personality, he looked almost chipper. Towels hung over his wings, seemingly in-recovery from the saliva incident.

“Occasionally,” Salvo rolled her eyes. “You two would be living in the streets without me. Especially you, Corv. At least Geff had the decency to punch a hole in the wall big enough for us to live in.”

“He… what?” Momo murmured, looking around. Now that she mentioned it, the room was a bit… oddly shaped. It was as if someone had dug a hole in the sand and poked a few openings for rooms. It reminded Momo of the hollow sandcastles that toddlers would build at the beach, except with a working central heating system.

Geff grunted in the corner. He was sitting on one of the cushioned chairs, picking at a small, painted box. His face was wound tightly in concentration.

“So, Momo here apparently wasn’t satisfied with escaping prison, and is insisting upon invading the Western Watchtower,” Corv said as he leaned on the countertop next to Salvo. Salvo’s cheeks went red, and she whipped her face towards Momo.

“You what? Aren’t you in enough trouble already?”

“Never enough, it seems,” Momo grimaced. “My friend wants me to deliver a letter to Komodo.”

“So you’ve said,” Corv nodded. “What’s so important about this letter?”

Momo paused. She actually had zero clue. All she knew is that Valerica had impressed how important it was to deliver. The people-pleaser she was, she went right along with it, asking very few questions before loading all her belongings into a wagon and heading off.

“I have no idea,” Momo mumbled.

“So you’re going to waltz into Komodo’s tower with no idea what you’re delivering? That’s a terrible plan,” Salvo commented. “You should really read the letter first.”

Momo opened her mouth to protest, but found that only stupidity was about to come out of her mouth. She really should read the letter. If Komodo was just some woman as Momo originally thought her to be, she’d respect Valerica’s right to privacy. But if she was going to risk her hide for this delivery, she might as well be prepared for how Komodo would react.

Not that she really had any alternatives. Komodo controlled her way out of this city, and Sera wasn’t exactly going to help her teleport back to the Dawn in one piece. Momo sighed.

“Fine,” she said, and unbuttoned her pocket. The envelope was still in there, crumpled, mildly damp, but resilient as ever. “Do you have a letter opener?”

—

“It’s a rock," Corv remarked. "You're about to risk your life for a rock."

“It’s not a rock, idiot. It’s a crystalline quartz," Salvo glared.

“Looks like a rock to me.”

Salvo turned to Corv and hit him on the shoulder. He whined, hitting her back.

“What was that for?” he grumbled.

“For mistaking citrine for a rock,” she said, crossing her arms. “That isn’t just wrong, it’s obviously wrong. I can’t just associate myself with dumb birds. It’s embarrassing.”

Letting their babbling fade into the background, Momo took the rock – sorry, crystalline quartz – into her hands. It was jagged, but not sharp, and colored white at the base, and orange at the peaks. It looked almost as if someone had spilled tomato juice on it, or, for a more morbid example, blood.

Momo had found it in the envelope alongside two small sheets of parchment. She had placed the rock on the table, which immediately caused the heated discussion that was turning into a near-fistfight. Continuing to ignore the birds, she gripped the first sheet of paper.

Dearest Komodo,

I regret that our last meeting took such a disagreeable turn. I have meditated on what transpired for many years, weighing what to do about it. How should a woman react when wronged? It’s a question that I’ve had difficulty answering. Kill you outright? Make an example of you in front of the King? Brainwash you into wearing a jester’s costume and have you perform little dances for my houseguests for all of eternity?

So many possibilities. No clear answers.

Ultimately, I came back to the reason I wanted to meet with you in the first place. I admire your conniving wit. Like me, you are an entrepreneur. A business woman competing in a harsh, competitive world. I understand why you took my goods. It was silly, stupid, and ultimately regrettable, but I understand it. From a business point of view.

So that is why I reach out to you with a new proposition.

Morgana tells me that two former subjects of Sera have risen to power in Nam’Dal. Sera is a coworker of mine, a fellow child of Morgie. But she’s a bit… how should I put this…

Is ‘mean’ the right word here?

What I am trying to say is that she will have you killed imminently.

While I am a ‘let the employees do the work’ kind of gal, she has a bit more of a hands-on approach to running things. She will not take kindly to profit-sharing imports and exports with you. I am confident she will solve the issue murderously.

I don’t know when she will arrive in Nam’Dal, but my senses – and my benevolent Goddess – tell me it will be soon. That is why I am tasking my most treasured assistant, my dear Momo, with delivering you this treaty. My proposal is simple:

One, you will lend Momo the magic artillery that will be required to subdue Sera.

Two, you will return my supplies, or a banknote equivalent of what you’ve stolen from me.

Three, you will become a Partner to the Dawn, and join me in a 50-50 split over Nam’Dal’s profits once Momo is in control of the city. (You will notice that this is a very equitable split, when compared to Sera’s offer, which will be 100-0.)

If you do not comply, you will die.

Cheers!

Val

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Momo the Merlin

Momo was so stunned by the letter, she barely noticed her Courier land smack dab on her forehead.

She looked up, wiggling her eyebrows so it fell flat into her hands.

Congratulations! For being promoted to Necromage’s Assistant, outmaneuvering Giant [Boars], and participating in intergroup political conflicts, you have gained a level in [Corrupted Druid].

You have learned the skill [Polymorph - Merlin].

[Polymorph - Merlin]: Polymorph into a Merlin.

Leave it to Valerica to somehow promote her via a letter that wasn't even intended for her. Momo sighed, then laughed, then sighed again. Either way, at least she got a new skill, with an... illuminating skill description.

Turn into a… merlin? Momo squinted. Like the wizard?

If it did turn her into a wizard, perhaps even one with a flying broomstick, it’d definitely prove helpful in climbing the Western Watchtower.

She was compelled to give it a try.

“I’m not quite sure what this will do, as a warning,” she mumbled. Salvo and Corv didn’t acknowledge her, still completely engrossed in their rock, not-rock debate. Geff regarded her with a small, curious nod, and then went back to his tinkering.

“Here goes nothing,” Momo cleared her throat. “[Polymorph - Merlin].”

She had already grown accustomed to the horrid sensation that was shapeshifting, so it didn’t affect her in the least when she felt her legs shrink and stretch, muscle and tendon bending like puddy into new, unfamiliar shapes.

What did surprise her was the sensation on her arms. When she went Tree Stump mode, her arms simply receded. They went from arm to nonexistent. Not this time. It was as if her arms had been unscrewed at her shoulder blades, then tilted at a right angle so they shot upwards behind her. The sensation wasn’t nauseating by itself, but the imagery nearly had her sick.

After a moment of trying not to vomit, she opened her eyes again.

And – oh. Everything was… big.

Corv and Salvo had grown three sizes, and so had every piece of furniture in the room. It was as if a toddler had scrunched her down until she was the size of barbie, and stuffed her into a dollhouse. She opened her mouth to yell, but a high pitched, birdly squawk came out instead of a petrified scream.

Holy shit. I’m a bird.

“Momo? Is that you?” Salvo stared. The squawk had been enough to tear them from their argument, and they both looked at her, completely dumbfounded. “Why are you a bird?”

“Squawk, squawkity, squawk,” Momo explained pointedly.

“Ah, I see,” Salvo nodded, leaning forward in interest. “A Merlin, you say?”

“Squawk,” Momo affirmed with a nod. Or at least what she thought was a nod. She found it hard to maneuver her neck in the same way she could in her human body.

Salvo grinned widely. “How cool! You’re a hawk, just like me and Geff!”

A hawk. That explained things. She was slightly disappointed the spell didn’t turn her into an all-powerful, flying wizard, but she supposed the bird shape was on theme. She had heard that the Class System tended to lean towards skills that replicate your habits – so it was only logical.

“You have a nice coat. Mind if I examine it?” Salvo said, reaching out her hands. Momo looked at the open palms skeptically, and then ventured a step into them. She didn’t necessarily want to be examined, but it wouldn’t hurt to find out as much as she could about her new form.

Her clawed feet took purchase on Salvo’s hands. The woman whisked her swiftly upwards by the neck, nearly strangling Momo. Momo squawked hoarsely as Salvo patted her sides, then her wings, brushing her feathers with the tip of her clawed finger.

“Squawk!” Momo barked, emphasizing the importance of personal boundaries.

“Right, right, sorry,” Salvo laughed. “I forgot you were an actual person for a moment.”

Momo glared.

“Squawk,” she began, and then cleared her throat. She hadn’t realized it, but she had been talking in birdling the entire time. “Hello?”

Salvo’s eyebrows shot up. “Okay, that’s weird.”

“What? How is a bird speaking?” Corv muttered, blinking rapidly.

“Wait, seriously? Shouldn’t I be asking you all that question?” Momo said, flapping her wings.

“Well, no. We’re bird halflings, so we have the vocal muscles of humans,” Corv corrected. “And our evolved beaks allow us to form sounds that our… smaller relatives cannot. Such as you, Bird Momo.”

“It must be magic,” Momo said. The air around her shimmered as she spoke. “I can speak when I’m a Tree Stump, too.”

“Fascinating,” Salvo said, eyes large in reverie.

“So, did you ever figure out what that stone did?” Momo asked, pointing a talon at the quartz.

Salvo glared at her, but didn’t take the bait. “The quartz is a Summoning Stone. Citrine is an excellent conduit for Nether Magic, so it’s an apt choice.”

“A summoning stone? What does that mean?”

“It means you can summon someone – or something – by activating it,” Salvo explained. Her giddiness returned as she continued her explanation.

“So how do I activate it?” Momo said, fluttering her wings to land on top of it. The surface was unpleasantly rough on her claws.

“No idea,” Salvo shrugged, relaxing back into her seat.

“That’s helpful,” Momo deadpanned, collapsing into a heap of feathers on the table.

“Sorry, little guy,” Salvo said, ruffling Momo’s feathers again. She squawked at her reflexively. “Sorry, you’re just so cute like this.”

Momo slanted her eyes menacingly. Salvo laughed.

“Don’t give me that look. Don’t you have a lizard to catch, or something?” Salvo tutted. “Lucky thing you can turn into a bird now. It’ll be a lot easier to infiltrate the Western Watchtower with an appearance like that.”

“That’s true!” Momo exclaimed, patting her feet around happily. She didn’t know why she kept doing that – simply a birdly urge, she supposed. “I can just flutter up and deliver the letter like a carrier pigeon.”

“Sounds a lot better than climbing it,” Salvo said. “Or whatever your plan was.”

There was no plan. Momo thought. After Salvo’s had reached out towards Momo again, Momo immediately cast [Demorph]. Her legs grew back into place, and she found herself sitting right on top of the crystalline quartz.

“Ouch!” she yelped, standing up immediately. Corv and Salvo finally bonded over something – laughing at Momo as she hopped up and down gracelessly.

“Aww, no fair, go back,” Salvo protested after her laughing fit. “I liked you even better as a bird.”

“I liked you a lot less while I was a bird,” Momo muttered under her breath. The pair just laughed again, heads thrown back.

Interrupting their ruckus, Geff made a sharp, contented grunt. He stood from his seat, and held the tiny cube in his hand upwards, displaying it in a Zelda-esque fashion.

“It will work now,” he said, as if any of them knew what he was talking about.

“The box?” Corv said after a moment.

“Music box,” he corrected. Momo’s eyes grew. So that’s what it was. Upon further inspection, she could see the small, thin needle of a crank jutting out of the side of it. He wrapped his thick thumbs around it and turned slowly, a familiar ticking sound echoing from inside the box.

He released it a moment later, and the soft, melodious notes began. A metal figure, no bigger than a thumb, slowly ascended from the middle. It was a raven, perched on a tree branch. Its wings flapped up and down mechanically, in tune with the music, until finally halting to a stop as the song ran its course.

“Beautiful,” Momo said, after a reverent moment.

“Agreed,” Salvo said with a grin. “You’re a miracle worker, Geff. Its old owners did a number on the poor thing. I’m glad we could give it a new home.”

Momo hummed. Of course it was stolen. She forgot what company she kept around her these days.

Geff nodded proudly and went back to cranking it again. Corv gave Salvo a look that said something like this is going to be a long night, and Salvo returned a glare. She looked to be the younger sister, but she had the protective energy of an older one. It was… charming. If Salvo didn’t have the head of a literal bird, Momo would probably find her pretty cute.

Momo took a moment to evaluate the ethics of cross-species relationships, but it nearly burnt her neurons into a crisp in the process. She needed to focus on the letter. She could worry about life’s great quandaries later.

“I should get going,” Momo said, taking an awkward bow. She wasn’t sure when she started doing that, but now she couldn’t stop. “Thanks for… uh. All of it.”

“Don’t forget your rock,” Corv said, leaping up to place the quartz in her hand. Salvo seethed quietly behind him. “And you are very welcome. When this city inevitably falls to ash, the water pipes burst, and we’re drowning like a bunch of drunk peacocks, I hope you make it out okay.”

Momo laughed lightly – somewhere between nervous and amused.

“Yeah, um, you too.”

Corv shook her hand, Salvo gave her a tight, rib-cracking embrace, and Geff offered a small salute, and a pretty serenade from his new treasure, and then Momo was off.

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Momo Takes Flight

The land was mushy underfoot as Momo trekked towards the tower. She chose to leave her possessions – namely Dusk, and around twenty thousand in banknotes – with the birds. She said they could steal all they wanted from it, as long as they kept an eye on the cat. Corv had agreed immediately. Salvo had assured her they’d only steal a respectable amount.

Momo’s boots squashed in the mud as she arrived at the foot of the beast. Looking up, the tower loomed overhead like an endless jungle of wood and rope. It made her stomach queasy just to imagine climbing it. It would be doable – there were ladders on the other side of the spikes – but it wouldn’t be pleasant.

Thankfully, Morgana had given her a birdly gift from the heavens.

She looked around, making sure no one was watching her. Luckily, the village was mostly a ghost town. A few men and women in straw hats ambled around, gnawing at their teeth as they carried water bucks and pig feed. Guards were sparse, at least on the viewable side of the wall. She guessed most of them had probably gone to check out what was happening in the center of town.

The black tower ascending from the ground was pretty hard to miss.

She hid behind a stack of wooden planks, and dug through her pockets. Out of view, she retrieved the letter and bit into it with her teeth.

“[Polymorph - Merlin],” she cast, mumbling through the envelope.

Within moments, a single leg of the tower grew to be the size of a small skyscraper. It had been huge before, but it was terrifyingly imposing now. When you’re small, things are not just bigger, but they take on a sort of anthropomorphic stature, like a Giant looming overhead. She suddenly felt a strong solidarity with New York City’s pigeon population.

They are so tiny, yet so abused, Momo thought sadly.

Momo squawked once for good measure, to keep up bird appearances. No one looked her way. Satisfied that she was unsuspected, she crept out from hiding.

Momo's eyes widened. Just as the tall things had grown taller, the small things had grown, too. It was a stupid realization - but it really was stupefying.

Pebbles and crumbs became enormously interesting, and Momo had the urge to peck at them for no good reason. Some of the feed that dropped from the farmer’s packs invaded her nostrils, and she quirked her beak to inspect it. It smelled delicious. In fact, everything smelled delicious. Momo had an oversized appetite as a human, but as a bird, she felt insatiable.

Focus, she mumbled, and continued failing to do so. The aromas and sights were nearly suffocating. Her senses were much more acute.

Luckily, she had a spell for this.

“[Focus],” she squeaked. She was glad she didn’t have to talk through her beak, because the envelope was nearly the size of her.

As she had hoped, her senses immediately went mute. The only thing she heard was the gentle breeze, and the creak of wet wood groaning under the immense weight of the tower. If the trio had been correct, Komodo sat at the very tip of that tower, in its highest chamber, as any good Boss Enemy would.

Now all I have to do is fly.

Despite her [Focus], her feet still trembled at the thought. She had accomplished a small flutter here and there, but actually swimming across the sky? She had no idea how to get any lift, no less enough to soar her all the way to the top.

She eyed the wood pilings she had previously hid behind. The disorganized stacks of lumber were strewn at the foot of the tower. Their disorganization was to her advantage, as they jutted out at several different angles and heights, allowing her to clamber up them with only her claws and a bit of wing flapping.

Before long, she was standing nearly three meters above the ground. With the full effects of [Focus] drowning out her emotional responses, her immediate urge to go home and hide was replaced with a simple, singular concentration.

She was going to fly.

She lifted her wings upwards, gave them an experimental flutter, and then stepped off the plank.

A split second later, and she wasn’t dead. In fact, she was higher than before. Her wings were sputtering like she’d been tasered, flapping like the engine of a sports car through the mild winds.

After several minutes of desperately trying to stay afloat, she began to get the hang of things. She realized that flying was quite like sailing – which she had done once, against her will, with her rich uncle Jin – where gaining speed was all about catching wind at the right angle.

Sometimes the boat would go completely slanted, a near right-angle into the water, but Jin never faltered. He’d just grin like a madman while the boat jived, the sails ripping violently through the wind. “Stay the course!” is what he’d shout at Momo, who was weighing the pros and cons of vomiting below deck or above.

Stay the course. She repeated that phrase like a hypnotic mantra as she angled her body to the right. She was sailing far away from the tower, and she needed to do a U-turn to get back. She could do that.

She just needed to be a sailboat.

It occurred to Momo briefly, as she tacked in the wind, that she had to be the first bird who ever learned to fly by modeling a sailboat.

Still, it worked – just like a wild sail, her feathers rippled against the wind’s current. It twisted her in the opposite direction, and soon enough she was sailing back from where she came. With the mechanics of lift becoming muscle memory, she flapped herself higher and higher, until she was nearly at the midsection of the tower.

Just as she was about to land on a stray wooden pillar, she caught sight of a fellow bird. The bird was plump and purple, with two beady eyes that watched her flutter onto the pillar. Its tail feathers reared up and out explosively, like an airbag shooting out in a car crash. Momo squawked defensively, fumbling backwards.

“Stay back, you thief!” the bird wailed at her. To any passing human, it would sound like nothing more than an aggressive cheep, but Momo found herself able to understand it. “This is my territory that you trespass on!”

Momo looked around her. The territory in question was a few slabs of wood that jutted out of the side of the watchtower, chipped and rotting. The bird had decorated them with a few molted feathers, a collection of weeds and twigs, and a ripped piece of parchment that was folded into a makeshift hut.

“I’m sorry,” Momo chirped apologetically. “I promise I’m just passing through.”

“That’s what they all say,” the bird argued, waving his tail feathers in an intimidating fashion. “I have been kind and hospitable in the past, but no longer. The general populace is not owed my decency. The last fowl I welcomed here stole half my house.”

“Half your... house?”

“You heard me,” the bird puffed out its chest. “A wonderful house it was, as white and big as the beasts that loom in the sky. Now it stands ripped, divided in two.”

Momo looked upwards, following his gaze. The beasts he referred to seemed to be the clouds.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she sympathized. “But I have no need for a new house. I have my own. I’m just trying to get to the top of this tower.”

He paused, looking her up and down.

“Is that so?”

“Yep,” Momo nodded. “I'm sorry for intruding. I’ll get out of your feathers.”

Momo motioned to leave.

“No!” the bird said, fluttering forwards in a hurry. “Don’t leave, please.”

“What?” Momo stopped, nearly falling off the pillar as the bird crowded her. “I thought you wanted me gone?”

“I do!” he insisted, and then paused. After a long, considering moment, he sighed. “I suppose I don't, actually. I... I am lonely here.”

The bird deflated, his chest slumping downwards. In his defeated pose, he looked like a purple mop with a yellow beak. Momo felt an immediate sense of pity for him.

“I’m sorry to hear that. You probably don't get many visitors all the way up here.”

“No, I don't. I didn’t mind that, back when Ms. Nupkin was around,” he chirped sadly. Momo assumed he was Mr. Nupkin in this equation. “She made the long, cold days bearable. Always so chipper and chirpy. My pink-feather lady…”

Momo frowned, as much as a beak could frown, and tiptoed towards him. She experimentally reached out a wing, and tried curling it around his back. He didn’t flinch, instead cooing a soft, sad birdsong.

“Was Ms. Nupkin the one who stole half your house?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said, a sob threatening his beady eyes. “But she didn’t steal it. I – I just get so sad to think about it, so it’s easier to make up tales. We split the nest fifty-fifty. It was a mutual decision. I kept the twigs and the leaves, she got the paper and the pebbles.”

Momo nodded. “That seems like a fair split.”

“I suppose it was,” he sniffled. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to squawk at you all meanly. It’s just a sensitive subject for me.”

He slipped out from beneath Momo’s wing, and shook his feathers. Taking a breath, he puffed out his chest once more.

“You are kind for listening,” he said. “I must repay you somehow.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” Momo said, looking around at his belongings. Momo wouldn’t want him to give away any of his treasured twigs. “Do you know about a big lizard lady named Komodo? I’m told she lives at the top of this tower.”

“Ah yes, the dragon,” Nupkin said darkly, lowering his tone to a whisper. “I have visited her domain on occasion. She leaves bird seed by the window, and on hungry winter days, I risk a bite of it.”

“She leaves bird seed?” Momo squinted. “That sounds pretty nice of her.”

Nupkin unfurled his wing dramatically, pointing it at Momo.

“Do not be fooled! The seed is a lure. A trap. You see, she is involved in the dreaded manling profession of mail delivery. She will convince you that she cares for you, feed you plump and fat, and then make you her delivery boy. You will spend your days delivering messages through the pouring rain, all for your next grain.”

Momo stopped herself from chuckling. She had never really thought about it from the pigeon perspective, but training birds to deliver messages did seem a little exploitative.

“I see,” Momo nodded. “Thank you for the warning.”

Nupkin eyed the envelope that Momo had stashed behind her on landing.

“Is that… is that mail?” he said. “Does she already have you roped into her scheme? Dear friend, there is a way out. You do not have to subject yourself to this humiliation.”

“Oh, that?” Momo pointed a wing towards it. “Don’t worry. That’s um… personal mail. From a friend.”

He hummed skeptically.

“I hope it is as you say.”

Momo assured him it was.

“Well, then,” he gave a slight bow. “I hope your personal mail delivery goes well. If you should find yourself flying by my tower again, I… would not mind seeing you. If fate deems it necessary, of course.”

“Of course,” Momo grinned.

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Komodo

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[Boss Fight Music Plays]

Momo did several circles around the tower, looping until she reached the top. A window, divided into two by a long, wooden mullion, offered a view inside. Momo fluttered onto the window sill, and peered into the glass.

It was an office. Much like Valerica’s, it was littered with scrolls, parchment and inkwells. Unlike Valerica’s, it was not full of golden baubles, bones or human debris. Komodo instead seemed obsessed with furniture: ornate stools, oiled trestle tables, antique bookcases. Her writing desk was the most spectacular item of all – a glossed desk of oak, lined with green, glowing runes.

The runes worried Momo. The glowing aspect specifically.

If she remembered correctly, Komodo was a [Dark Thief] masquerading as a tax official. She had to be a slippery one, too – to escape Vivienne’s incessant arrest campaigns. Momo doubted she could just waltz into the office, deliver the letter, and then hug it out. But she still liked to imagine that she could.

The right side of the window was open just a crack, bird seed leaking from the inside. Momo squeezed inside of it. Surprisingly, the window gave easily, and she was able to hop inside.

So maybe she could just waltz in.

Nupkin’s words echoed in her head as she fluttered past empty birdcages. Luckily, she was not actually a bird. Even if Komodo offered, it’d be a difficult sell to get Momo involved in some kind of mail delivery scheme in exchange for a reward as paltry as grains. Her standards were low, but not that low.

Momo paused, remembering exactly what she was doing here – and who had ordered her to.

Valerica didn’t even offer me grains.

Diverting her attention to the situation at hand, she inspected the desk underneath her claws. She had landed on a stack of envelopes. Beneath them, several metal stencils were strewn about the desk. Stencils? Momo quirked her head in confusion. They all had different insignias. Only one of them she recognized – the mark of the King.

The insignia was inked on several outgoing envelopes.

“Oh my god,” Momo muttered in realization. “She’s forging his signature.”

No wonder she was in need of so many birds. She wasn’t just taxing imports and exports, it seemed she was directly taxing the citizens of Nam’Dal, too. Many of the envelopes were titled ACTION: PAY TAX NOW, or THE KING REQUIRES YOUR COMPENSATION. It was a bold scam – posing as the capital government and extracting some extra coin under the veneer of the King.

Momo saw why Valerica liked her.

A pair of loud footsteps dragged Momo out of her reverie. The door that was attached to the Nam’Dal Walls flung open, and a woman sidled in, slamming it behind.

“Oh shit,” Momo mumbled, frantically jumping off the desk and ducking under it before the woman noticed.

The woman, a lizard with gleaming red scales and a pristine suit of leather armor, flounced angrily into the room. She cursed fervently under her breath as she strolled up to the birdcages. One by one, she gave them a meaty, violent kick, the metal crashing and whining against the floorboards.

Finally, after there was nothing left to kick, she screamed, then lowered herself dramatically into one of her plush armchairs.

Momo was eternally grateful that all her birds seemed to be out on business.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” she growled, pressing her hands hard to her forehead. She looked like she wanted to pry her own skull off. “Stubborn murderous idiot wants to ruin everything I’ve worked my tail off for.”

A knock came at the door. After Komodo grunted loudly, the door yawned open, and a man dressed in a scout’s uniform entered.

“Boss,” he greeted with an anxious bow. “I am here to report that Knight Hall has been completely overtaken. The King’s government is no more. Lord Gunther’s location is unknown, and Vivienne seems to be subservient to this woman – Sera.”

“Obviously,” Komodo barked back, pointing a scaly finger at the Mage’s Tower looming in the distance. “Has she made any demands of us? What kind of terms did she offer?”

The scout lowered his head, staring at his feet. Komodo rose from her chair to meet him.

“Do you want me to tell you exactly what she said, or paraphrase it politely?” he asked, quivering as she approached.

Komodo edged closer. “I want to hear her words exactly.”

He cleared his throat.

“She said, um, that we could either pledge ourselves to the Cult of Sera, start painting the Nam’Dal Wall with Nether, and renounce all ties to you, or…” he trailed off, and looked down at his robes. They were dotted with blood. “Get enslaved, or exploded.”

Komodo’s eyes widened. “Exploded?!”

“Most of our people pledged allegiance to her, the others…” he swallowed. “Well, they’re painting the walls in other ways.”

Komodo grimaced in disgust. “That’s… Gods. That’s gross.”

“It is.”

“Wait,” she narrowed her eyes. “Does that mean you swore yourself?”

He took a step back, fear cast over his face.

“I had no other choice, ma’am,” he defended weakly. “I didn’t want to be exploded.”

She inched closer, her face mere breaths from his own.

“Fine,” she said, sighing and backing away. “I don’t blame you. I’d rather have undercover agents than blood splattered agents, anyhow. You made the right call.”

His entire body visibly relaxed.

Momo’s did too. She had not been looking forward to witnessing another murder. She was capped out for the month.

“So, what should we do now, ma’am?” he asked, blowing out a shaky breath.

“Get our wits about us, and then retaliate,” she gritted her teeth. She sat back in her armchair, and looked out the window, eyes pointed at the obsidian tower. “Excaliburs are powerful, sure, but they’re only mortal. There are always ways to weasel out of their grip.”

“You intend to fight her, ma’am?” he said, beginning to sweat.

“If I have to,” she grunted. “We’ve spent enough time on the sidelines, hedging along with modest profits. Imagine what we could do if we controlled this city? If it was you and I sitting on that throne? Use your brain, lad.”

He nodded furiously, going red in the face.

“I will await your orders, boss.”

“Try not to get exploded while you do,” she grimaced. “In the meantime, get everyone together. Make sure all of the artillery is accounted for. If she is indeed a big cockroach, then we’ll just have to go about it the old fashioned way – grinding her under the heel of a giant, magical boot.”

He nodded once again, and closed the door quietly behind him. Minutes after his departure, Komodo hadn’t moved an inch – all the lizard did was stand and stare out the window, tail whipping back and forth, her scowl growing more pronounced.

It was not a look that inspired Momo to come out of her hiding place.

She knew Valerica would have seen this as a prime opportunity to initiate discussions, but Momo was not her. She saw it in a very different light indeed. This was a prime opportunity to sit very still and hide until Komodo and Sera duked it out. Maybe Komodo would win, and then there would be only one, moderately less scary opponent to deal with.

Or Sera would win, and…

Momo swallowed. No, she had to be brave. Valerica sent her here for solely this reason – this singular objective alone. She would see it through.

Carrying the letter in her beak, she quietly walked out of her hiding place under the desk until she was at Komodo’s feet. The lizard took a moment to notice her, the small, unassuming bird that she was – but when Komodo did take notice, she looked at Momo with relief.

“Gods, I thought you were some sort of grenade,” Komodo shook her head. “Don’t go sneaking up on me like that, little one. Not when war's brewing.”

She squatted down, reaching a finger out towards Momo. Momo was surprised by her gentleness. She carefully climbed onto her finger, and Komodo hoisted her upwards, removing the letter.

“I know all my birds, and you’re not one of mine,” Komodo squinted at her. It wasn’t accusatory, but curious. “Did someone else send you my way?”

Momo fluttered onto the head of the armchair as Komodo tore open the letter with one curved fingernail. She slipped it out, sniffed it experimentally, and then began reading.

As the seconds passed, Komodo’s face went on a journey of emotion – first confusion, then fear, and finally, that familiar scowl. After her eyes reached the end of the parchment, her head turned slowly back to Momo.

“Are you Momo?” she asked, equal parts anger and confusion. “Valerica’s… assistant?”

Momo cheeped affirmatively. The lizard didn't seem intent on murdering her yet, so she figured it was best to play along. She also decided to remain in bird form, seeing as Komodo had a decided affection for them.

Placing the letter down on her desk, Komodo inspected the summoning stone.

“Now what is this thing?” she grunted, feeling it with her thumb. “Some sort of Morgana’s Dawn signing bonus?”

Momo shrugged her wings.

“Well, little birdie,” Komodo slipped into her armchair, curving her hands around Momo so she sat in her open palms. “Can you deliver Valerica a message for me?”

Momo wagged her head up and down.

“You can tell her to keep dreaming,” Komodo said slowly, growing a wide, sardonic smile. “Because if she thinks I’m sharing this money keg of a city any longer, she’s as delusional as they come.”

Her grip on Momo tightened. Her nails began to dig into her feathers, stabbing like microscopic daggers.

“[Demorph]!” Momo shouted.

She burst out of Komodo’s grip, lobbing a swift, accidental kick in the lizard’s face as she rolled off of her. Komodo screamed in anguish, her hands flying to her right eye.

“You brat!” she screamed, shooting up from her chair. Momo scrambled backwards, noticing for the first time the green runes which ran up Komodo’s neck. The runes had begun to glow, radiating a noxious fume. Inhaling it, Momo suddenly felt itchy, like poison ivy was nibbling at her insides.

“I’m very sorry,” Momo apologized frantically, waving her hands as she backed away. “I didn’t mean to kick you, miss. My feet just don’t listen to me sometimes.”

Komodo swayed as she stood, her remaining good eye locking onto Momo with a furious glower. She lurched forward, swinging with her left arm. Momo ducked out of the way, only able to evade the punch due to the lizard’s partial blindness.

“Come here, you little rat,” Komodo roared. She was faster this time, landing a muscly kick into Momo’s stomach. The kick hit like a missile, sending Momo flying backwards into the birdcages. Pain radiated through her – the twisted metal bars sticking into her back.

“Ouch,” she coughed. She noticed blood dribbling out onto her hand from her mouth. “Oh. That is medically concerning.”

“I’ll show you something medically concerning,” Komodo growled as she stalked towards her. She was still swaying slightly, her feet landing unpredictably with each step.

Momo inhaled sharply, shoving down the pain. She rolled out of the way just as Komodo’s fist came flying for her. The lizard’s knuckles instead made contact with the wall – piercing straight through the wood and locking her wrist into it like a pair of lumber handcuffs. As she struggled to free it, Momo crawled desperately across the floor, her eyesight pinned on the summoning stone.

“[Summon Nether Wolf Pack],” Momo whispered hoarsely.

Komodo freed her wrist and whipped her head around. Five growling beasts of Nether looked back at her, heads low to the ground, black saliva dripping from their maws.

“Oh, Gods."

The wolves launched at her, each aiming for a different limb. Unable to escape in time, Komodo drowned beneath them, screaming and flinging fists as Momo reached the stone. She grabbed it in her hands, curling her fingers so tightly that the jagged edges gnawed at her skin.

“[Poison Gauntlets]!” Komodo yelled.

A piercing howl soared over Momo’s head as she saw one of her hounds smack into the opposing wall, falling flat to the ground. She turned her head just in time to see another cratering towards her. Momo yelped, but she wasn’t fast enough; the dog, and her, were sent skidding across the floorboards.

From under the heaps of black fur, Momo could see the silhouette of Komodo rising from the ground. The Nether Wolves had made a dent – their teeth marks evidenced by the black scars running up and down the lizard’s arms. Her eye was shut closed, blue and bruised.

Komodo raised her fists in a battle stance. They weren’t fists anymore, but huge, armor-clad gauntlets. They gleamed pure silver, with green runes etched over the knuckles. An effervescent, mossy glow emanated around them – that same poisonous fume that came from her neck.

“Is it too late to call for a truce?” Momo squeaked.

Komodo scowled.

“I’ll take that as a no,” Momo said, pointing a finger towards the lizard. “I’m sorry, but – [Abysmal Blast]!”

Komodo braced herself, but blinked when nothing came. An unwanted piece of parchment appeared in Momo’s hands.

You have insufficient Mana.

“Why?” Momo said weakly, regretting that she popped her most expensive skill first. The wolves had helped stall the lizard, but they had nearly drained her whole Mana pool.

“You’re dead,” Komodo grunted.

The lizard wound up her arm slowly, green mist curling around the glove. Momo reasoned she had approximately three seconds to find a way out of imminent death. Her eyes darted to the stone in her hand, remembering Salvo’s words – Citrine is an excellent conduit for Nether Magic.

Closing her eyes, she bit into her lip so hard it bled. She channeled every last drip of Mana into raw Nether, funneling it into the stone. When she had nothing left to give, her reservoir completely drained, she opened her eyes.

The last thing she saw was Komodo’s fist.

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Five Valericas is Better Than One

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When Momo’s eyes opened an unknowable amount of time later, she inhaled as much air as could fit in her lungs. Her hand went to her chest, feeling the familiar rattle of a wooden wheel, the relentless panting of a gerbil.

I’m… alive?

She turned. When she processed the sight in front of her, she became immediately less confident in that thought.

Standing in front of her were five entire Valericas.

One Valerica was standing by a whistling tea kettle, casually stirring matcha with a spoon. Another lounged in Komodo’s prized armchair, shoes proudly hoisted on the table, paging through a book. The third was giggling as she inked the King’s insignia onto a blank envelope. The fourth was taking a nap on the rug, smiling as she snored.

The fifth was strangling Komodo.

“You really never learn,” Fifth Valerica tutted, tightening her grip on the lizard’s neck. Komodo choked out an intelligible sound. Her runes were glowing brighter than ever – but Valerica inhaled the noxious gas as if it smelled like cotton candy. “Ah, I forgot that old parlor trick of yours. A lovely aroma. Did you know poison is my favorite seasoning?”

Komodo croaked out something approximating no. Valerica just laughed.

“You know, Komodo, I really was being honest about that 50-50 split. But seeing how you treated my dear assistant, I don’t think I can honor those terms anymore,” Valerica frowned as the lizard’s face started to go white. “I just don’t think I can go into business with someone who doesn’t respect my employees.”

“Valerica?” Momo squeaked out, barely audible.

Valerica’s grip immediately weakened, dropping Komodo to the floor. The lizard’s hands went to her throat, hacking for air faster than a car engine.

One by one, all of the Valericas turned to look at Momo.

“Momo,” they cooed in unison. “You’re awake.”

A split second later, only one Valerica remained – formerly Fifth Valerica, and now solely The Valerica. She strolled up to Momo with a grin that nearly broke her face. Momo’s entire body prickled to see it. A lump of emotion sat in her bruised gut, turning and turning.

Momo had missed her.

“How are you, um, here?” Momo mumbled as Valerica embraced her, heaving her upwards to stand on two feet. Her ab muscles ached as she tried to balance, the remnants of Komodo’s attack still painfully lingering.

“Well, you summoned me, of course,” Valerica laughed brightly. “Didn’t you know that?”

Momo blinked. The stone.

“Um, sure,” she said. “I just knew immediately, with one look at the rock, that feeding Nether magic into it would summon you. Plainly obvious. Definitely wouldn’t have enjoyed knowing beforehand.”

The latent sarcasm flying over her, Valerica’s grin widened. “Yes, exactly. How smart is my assistant?”

She turned her head jollily back towards Komodo, who answered with an unconscious frown.

Momo shook her head. It’s good to know she’s still purposefully dense.

In truth, Momo had zero clue what the stone would summon – but she assumed it would be something, at the very least, and that something could create a sufficient diversion while Momo rolled out of the way of Komodo’s fist.

She had been right – it did summon something. Rather, someone.

“I’m really glad you’re here,” Momo whispered honestly, the adrenaline of the near-death experience stamping out her usual nerves around the Necromage. Despite Valerica’s general aura of rot and death, Momo couldn’t help but feel safe under her shadow. Call it Stockholm Syndrome or a legitimate mentorship – but Gods, she was happy.

“So am I,” Valerica grinned, giving Momo a ridiculous thumbs up. She turned to look out the window, appreciating the view. “What a vista this is. The rolling fields, the rampant Demon Boars, the giant black tower of Nether…”

Valerica trailed off.

“Hmm,” she said, her smile faltering slightly. “I haven’t caught up with Morgana enough recently, it appears.”

Momo’s jaw dropped. “You don’t know?”

Valerica shrugged, falling into the armchair. “I can guess. My dear compatriot Sera has clawed her way back to freedom. I knew it would be soon – but not this soon. I presumed we’d have more time to prepare.”

Valerica looked over to the fainted lizard.

“And more time to persuade our little friend,” Valerica snickered. “But that won’t be too hard. I’m quite good at persuading.”

Momo joined her on the adjacent armchair, flopping into it and groaning. Her body was too weak to stand. Every second upright felt like rolling a boulder uphill.

“I would have brought a healing potion if I had the foresight,” Valerica frowned. “In truth, you caught me at quite the opportune moment. I was on a required visit to Devola’s new Dance School in Bruda. She was making me learn,” she shuddered, “jazz.”

“My condolences.”

“Thank you,” Valerica sighed, but then brightened. “But, that’s no matter now. We have more pressing things to deal with. I say we discuss the hard topics first, then the menial things after. How does that sound?”

“Peachy,” Momo said through a hacking cough. Her throat burned with bile. Her digestive system didn’t seem to enjoy getting karate punched.

“Wonderful, so,” Valerica bundled her hands together. “When we take over the city, what do you think we should rename it? Nam’Dawn? McDawn’nal? Morgana’s Five Star Getaway for the Criminally Inclined?”

Momo’s jaw unhinged itself once more. “This is the hard topic?”

“Naming something is always the hardest part, Momo,” she furrowed her brow. “How does one encapsulate the feeling of a place into a simple, evocative term? It’s near impossible. Do you know how long it took me to name the Dawn?”

Momo blinked. She was scared to ask.

“Five years,” Valerica sighed. “Five years of intense, endless meditation. But then it came to me in a dream – the sun dipping over the horizon, illuminating a barren landscape of ash. And who stood in the middle? Her. Morgana, in mortal form, gleaming under the dawning sun. I started the sanctuary the next day.”

“Sounds like a nice dream,” Momo said, not buying one second of it. She couldn’t imagine Valerica sitting still for five years to do anything, even if it was for her favorite Goddess. Knowing her, she probably outsourced the thinking to an undead marketing team, rejected all of their proposals, then had the dream and claimed all the credit.

“It was,” Valerica said wistfully. “But I see your point – deciding the name now would take too long. We won’t be able to put in the care it requires. Let’s start somewhere else instead. How about you catch me up? If I’m going to take over a city, I’d like to know what I’m dealing with.”

Momo gave herself an instant migraine trying to succinctly capture everything. A lot had happened since she arrived in Nam’Dal.

Still, she laid it out as best she could, running Valerica through every jail break and arrest, her newfound group of friends and enemies. She ended the disjointed summary with her discovery of halflings, and her failure to understand their intricate cultural rituals.

“The rat people are my favorite,” Valerica grinned. “Did you try their fermented cheese?”

“Unfortunately,” Momo grimaced.

“It’s the only non-insect food I can stomach,” Valerica said. “It’s just rotten enough to be edible.”

Momo wasn’t sure what to say to that, except that she was suddenly grateful not to be back in the Dawn’s kitchen.

“So, Sera’s twin disciples freed her, with your unwitting assistance,” Valerica hummed. “I should have known that letting my good luck charm go was a mistake. Everyone immediately wanted their hands on you. How can I blame them? Understandable, but unfortunate.”

Momo blushed at her phrasing. She stared down at her feet, averting the Necromage’s gaze.

Valerica cleared her throat. “Well, anyway. As they always say, why settle for only one coup d’etat when two will do?”

Momo was confident no one had ever said that.

“So, this is the plan,” she began, rising from her chair slowly and whisking her hand around. In a moment, her five body doubles had returned. Instead of lounging around like they did before, they all headed for the door like an obedient line of ants.

“Where are you… they, going?” Momo asked, watching with confusion as the door slammed behind the clone troop.

Valerica continued with her previous train of thought, ignoring Momo’s question. “You see, Sera is a [Necropriest], which means she can regenerate endlessly by using Nether magic. Tear her limb from limb, and she’ll just paint her skeleton back together. This means that to subdue her, we must play tactfully.”

Having seen Sera harness Nether to build a tower and redecorate an entire Hall, Momo didn’t think Valerica was exaggerating. But how do you beat an enemy you can’t hurt?

“Do we have to overthrow her?” Momo interjected. “You guys are friends, right? Can’t we just talk this out?”

Valerica smiled. “Ah,” she said, and then laughed. “You really take after me. A true pacifist.”

Momo was still unconvinced that word had anything to do with Valerica.

“I’m not crazy. I have no intentions of killing her,” Valerica insisted. “My duty is to Morgana, and the more Excalibur children that Morgana has – the better she is served. However, I cannot sit around and let Sera steal my disciples, and ruin my plans. There’s a reason we lost the Dark Calamity War, and I won’t blame her directly, but…”

Valerica trailed off, examining her nails. Momo noticed, for the first time, that they were chipped. It worried her. She had never seen Valerica in anything other than a dewy, fresh coat of radiant red. These were nobbled, almost chewed at the corners. Had she been worrying about me?

No. That’s narcissistic. It was probably something else.

“I take it back. I will blame her directly,” Valerica waved her hand. “We had all of the chess pieces lined up to take out the King’s top brass, but Sera got ahead of herself. She wanted blood. We are not vampires. We don’t massacre for the thrill of it. She lost control, and cost us the war. She will not do it twice.”

A foreign seriousness inhabited Valerica’s tone. The Necromage looked out through the watchtower window, and strummed her nails against each other. Her foot tapped against the wooden floorboards, and the sound echoed around the small chamber.

She’s anxious. Valerica – the picture perfect optimist – was anxious. Momo wasn’t the best at reading emotions, but she could read anxiety a mile away. She pretty much had a PhD in worrying.

“I digress. The reason I contacted Komodo is because I knew she possesses the magical artillery known as [Missiles]. These missiles can be loaded with any kind of magic – Holy, Nature, Nether. One missile alone could turn an Intermediate to dust. Three could probably down any Expert. But Komodo has hundreds.”

Valerica smiled wickedly, getting her pep back. She turned her head towards the lizard, who was still splayed on the ground, twisted like a ragdoll.

“I think nap time’s over.”

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Nap Time’s Over

“Hello there, sleepyhead,” Valerica said musically, towering over Komodo’s unmoving body. “I’d let you rest up a bit more, but one should never dawdle during a revolution.”

Momo didn’t want to risk pointing out that Valerica had done nothing but dawdle during a revolution.

Valerica continued with a series of witty coup d’etat puns, but none of it moved the lizard. She remained limp and unresponsive, eyelids fluttering every so often to indicate life.

Valerica sighed. “You’ve left me no choice.”

Rearing her foot back, she gave the lizard a swift, merciless kick in the ribs. Momo recoiled just witnessing it – her own bodily aches flaring at the sight. Komodo immediately lurched back to life. Her eyes popped open, her hands hugged her stomach. She erupted back into a coughing fit.

“I also hate waking up,” Valerica frowned sympathetically, patting the lizard’s back. “My alarm raven makes such a racket. Sometimes I think about killing him – but then I wake up laughing, because he’s already dead!”

Valerica laughed to herself as Komodo struggled to breathe.

After a few minutes, the lizard could finally breathe normally again. Her eyes immediately fell to Momo, burning with a rage that nearly rocked Momo off her feet. Momo frowned, desperate to return to simpler times. Life as a bird had been so easy and free – the worst she had to worry about was unfriendly neighbors, and even Nupkin came around in the end.

“You asshole,” Komodo uttered hoarsely, scowling so deep it looked like her face might get permanently stuck in a frown. “I’ll kill both of you. Just you wait until my men get here, you’ll regret ever –”

“Good, you can still talk,” Valerica interrupted, glossing over Komodo’s words with ease. “You’re a smart woman, Komodo. I know that. So no need for the empty threats. We aren’t here to be silly.”

Komodo’s expression was as far from silly as Momo could imagine, but Valerica had a speciality for projecting delusions into reality.

Valerica helped Komodo stand. The lizard unwittingly accepted, too pained to fight it. She carried her to her armchair, set her down, and joined her in the opposite one. It looked like a proper business meeting, only one of the parties was ten seconds away from bleeding to death.

“Tell me, what exactly is your plan to take down Sera?” Valerica inquired. “If you can present a way that you can do it without my help, I promise I won’t interfere.”

Komodo stared at her furiously, wincing as she straightened her back in the chair.

“Why would I tell you that?” she sneered.

“Because I’m not asking,” Valerica smiled, leaning forward so her elbows perched on her knees. “I’m telling you, my dear Komodo. If you do not help us, I will simply take control of your men myself. It’d be more convenient if you were involved, but only a minor hindrance. Really, I’m doing you a grand favor.”

“And why should I believe that? You’ll just end up stabbing me in the back,” Komodo gritted her teeth. “You have no reason to keep me around once Sera’s off her horse.”

Valerica made a face of mock insult. “You really do mischaracterize me. I am a woman of my word, Komodo. Let me lay things out for you, plain and simple. I want Morgana’s Dawn to span the entire empire. The entire continent. If I am to succeed in that, I must think big. I cannot spend my days tiring away as middle management.”

Valerica concocted a map out of thin air, just as Momo had seen the Earl do, except she used Nether instead of Light. It was a map of the entire continent. Momo’s eyes widened looking at it. She had so far been creating her own mental picture of the kingdom – but now she could see it in full.

The King’s empire spanned the majority of the continent, with curiously independent colonies sprawled sporadically about. A blinking black dot of Nether sat in the south, signifying their current position. Nam’Dal was merely a fleck of dust when compared to the sheer size of the empire.

Far in the north, the capital city of Jarvirium sprawled. Valerica tapped it with her fingernail.

“This is where I intend to sit,” she smiled. “And my body doubles cannot do all the ruling for me. I must appoint capable middlemen – such as yourself – to do the dirty work of running the cities, Nam’Dal included. Do you follow?”

Valerica’s tone had gone from sardonic to mocking. Her patience was obviously running thin.

After a moment, Komodo let out a breath.

“I follow,” she grumbled.

“Excellent,” Valerica clapped her hands together. “And that’s your goal, isn’t it? To run this beautiful criminal hivemind? So why make things harder for yourself?”

Komodo’s scowl turned into a thoughtful frown. Momo could see the gears turning in her head.

“Fine,” she grimaced. “We can be partners. You can do the busywork of baiting the crazy wench into the city center, and I’ll work the ammunition.”

“Splendid,” Valerica said, extending her hand with a broad smile on her face. “I trust you won’t go running off with the goods this time, then?”

Wincing as she leaned forward, Komodo grasped her hand. She wore an unreadable expression.

“I won’t.”

—

Valerica took the next half hour to explain her plan. Momo took dutiful notes, scribbling in one of Komodo’s vacant notepads. After Valerica concluded her spiel – including many long and unrelated tangents – Momo reviewed the agenda.

1 - The Magical Missiles are stored below the city walls in the sewer chambers. We have to get the missiles from the rat guys (I hope Fromage won’t be mad at me about last time) and haul them upstairs (sounds exhausting).

2 - Me and Valerica will load up the missiles with Nether magic (she made a bunch of hand gestures on how to do this but didn't give any specifics).

3 - Valerica will go to the City Square and … stand there? While doing a power pose? Unclear if she has any other plan for luring out Sera. She seemed very confident that this would work.

4 - Sera will come challenge Valerica for standing there menacingly, or whatever. They will probably exchange competing evil monologues until one of them drops dead from boredom (just kidding they’re gonna throw hands).

5 - Valerica will cast [Nether Inversion], which will invert Sera’s Nether defenses into weaknesses, so the missile hits will be critical. She’ll also cast [Rapid Decay] to slow her Dark Healing regeneration so she can’t just immediately pop back to normal. Finally, she’ll cast [Paralyze] to stun her. Valerica will then give Komodo the signal, and she’ll fire the missiles.

6 - Valerica insists this won’t kill Sera, but I’m pretty sure an attack of this caliber could kill Morgana herself. Not going to question her judgment though lol.

7 - Profit

–

Without [Cheese Vision], walking through the depths of the sewers was like walking through a hedge maze with a blindfold on. Valerica stalked proudly ahead, [Dark Vision] lighting her way. Momo and a dozen of Komodo’s men trailed miserably behind, smacking into walls and tripping over discarded wine bottles.

“Ah, splendid. Here we are,” Valerica’s voice echoed. From the sound of her voice reverberating endlessly throughout the chamber, Momo guessed that they had entered a much larger room than the tunnels they had been sulking through before. “Alright, you bunch, start fetching the missiles.”

“You must be crazy,” one of them complained. “How are we supposed to move something we can’t see?”

“You can’t see?” Valerica asked, seeming genuinely stumped. “Ah! Right. Your weak, unadjusted eyes. Does anyone have a light spell?”

“Don’t you think we would have thought of that already?”

“No dark vision and no light spells?” Valerica laughed. “Komodo really prepared you all for nothing, it seems.”

Momo heard Valerica rustle for something in her robe pocket. She uncorked some sort of opaque jar, and a flurry of fireflies zipped out of the top. The caverns immediately came to life. The fireflies emitted light as powerful as sunrays – buzzing about and illuminating the boundless chamber.

She craned her head towards Momo, smirking.

“Firebright fireflies,” she winked. “You don’t still have that curse, do you?”

Momo blinked. Shit.

“Curse check,” she whispered urgently.

No active curses.

She blew out a relieved breath.

“It’s gone,” Momo said.

“Oh good! You would have burnt alive within a few minutes otherwise. I don’t have Light essence abilities – only Fire. These critters are pure flame.”

Momo looked at her blankly.

“I wish you had checked with me beforehand, then…” she said under her breath.

Seeing as she wasn’t dying a fiery death, Momo looked around. Just as Valerica had promised, the chamber below the Western Walls was brimming with weaponry. The missiles were the main event. Hundreds of them bordered the room, sitting in orderly lines from one end to the other. They looked like they hadn’t been touched in decades – covered under a thick layer of dust and cobwebs.

Momo approached one, running her hand over it curiously. The missile appeared nothing like its earthly equivalent. The ones Momo had seen on news broadcasts were cylindrical beasts of steel alloy – these were circular and transparent, shaped like inflatable beach balls. They even had plugs for blowing in air.

“I’m sorry, these are missiles?” Momo said, not hiding her confusion. “Not beach toys?”

“Of course they’re missiles,” Valerica said, lifting one up with ease. She gave it a good natured squish, jostling it around like it wasn’t a weapon of mass destruction. “Aren’t they lovely?”

“These are going to kill – I mean defeat – Sera?”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Valerica lifted an eyebrow. “It’s never good to underestimate something based on its appearance. Shouldn’t you know that?”

Momo looked down, chastised. Valerica had a point. Nothing in Alois could be quantified by appearances.

Komodo’s men had already begun carrying the ball-missiles back towards the tunnels. They held them with ease, each scout taking one under each arm. After several requests from the soldiers, Valerica directed the Firebright flies to light their way through the return tunnels.

“Best to avoid any accidental explosions,” Valerica said, wearing a humorous grin that felt much too jolly for the sentence.

A note from villa1ny

To get 17 chapters ahead right now, you can head over there!

Join the Discord / Momo cult here.

Momo. Just Momo.

A note from villa1ny

Sorry this chapter came a bit late in the day! I just flew to the US and I'll be here for a few weeks, so I'll probably be posting chapters more in the US afternoon, not the EU morning like usual. Otherwise, my posting schedule remains the same!

Standing at the cobbled edge of the Wall, Momo’s fingers curled around the guard rail. From such a high vantage point, it became apparent just how contained Nam’Dal’s chaos was. To her left sat a ginormous chasm, an open maw of jagged rock. Past those rocks were forests, full of spindly, snow-covered trees. They blew peacefully in the wind, completely unaware of the all-out war brewing on the criminal island they neighbored.

Momo could picture Kalendale in the far distance beyond them, covered in a sleepy white coat of snowflakes. She imagined John and Bertha sipping cabbage wine, singing Aloisian folk songs as they danced around a parade of taxidermized deer. She pictured Devola in the Earl’s court, busily defending the near-fatal injuries caused by her jazz class.

Momo sighed. Brulane was an awful and weird place, but it was her awful and weird place. Weeks ago, the grumbling peasants of that small deer-obsessed village seemed to be the most insane thing Momo had ever come across. She felt silly, in hindsight. Outright naive. She had been worried about delivering insects.

Now she was shoving deadly beach balls into a cannon, wondering if it would be wise to pray to survive, or to pray to die swiftly enough when this all went sideways.

“Valerica,” Momo cleared her throat as she squeezed the last of the spheres into the breech. “You are aware that these are cannon balls, not missiles, right?”

Valerica quirked her head, eyes squinted in confusion.

“Cannon what?”

“These balls that we’re putting inside the cannon?”

“Sweet Momo, those are missiles we’re putting inside the cannon.”

“Why would we put missiles inside a cannon?”

Valerica blinked at her.

“Where else would you put them?”

“Nevermind,” Momo whispered, defeated.

“Anywho. I think that’s the last one,” Valerica said cheerily, slapping the cannon for good measure. Momo jumped backwards, fearing it might fire a hole straight through her. “Now we just have to power them.”

“Power them?”

“With Nether, of course!” Valerica laughed. “Unless we plan on assaulting Sera with air.”

Valerica hovered her hand just above the cannon’s chamber. She waved her fingers softly, and pure Nether materialized. The substance curled around her fingers like an obedient serpent, hissing with excitement to be summoned.

“Now watch,” Valerica said, and Momo’s eyes followed her dutifully. She lowered her hand into the chamber, and the Nether slunk off of her, slithering into the dark interior of the weapon.

“Turn the cannon towards the chasm,” Valerica instructed, an excited grin forming on her face.

“Okay…” Momo said nervously. Taking a deep breath, she used all of her strength to rotate the barrel of the cannon towards the chasm and away from the city below.

“Well done,” Valerica giggled. “Now enjoy the show.”

She snapped her fingers, and a flame appeared.

Oh no.

“Valerica, what are you –”

Momo’s hands shot to her ears. The boom was deafening. She felt her skull reverberate as she watched a ribbon of pure black descend into the chasm. Valerica was right – that was no cannon ball. The combustion had turned the spherical ammunition into vaporous firepower, shooting like a black missile into the depths below.

Despite firing into the depths of the gulf, the reverberations of the blast trickled like tree roots into the land on either side. Goliath chunks of stone and soil came apart like mere pebbles, splintering off the side of the cliff and falling into the chasm. The Walls themselves shook ever slightly – trembling like a scared child.

Momo gaped at Valerica.

“And you’re not planning on killing her?”

“Not at all,” Valerica frowned. “What makes you say that?”

“I just –” Momo inhaled sharply. “I don’t think we’re going to need all of the cannons.”

–

They loaded all of them, just in case, by Valerica’s demand.

“Another quick question,” Momo said softly as they trailed the wall’s perimeter, looking over their handiwork. “Won’t this blow up the entire city?”

“And?” Valerica teased.

“That’s like, genocide.”

“Correct answer,” Valerica gave a thumbs up. “Ten points.”

Momo shook her head.

“I’m merely joking,” she laughed, tugging on Momo’s sleeve. “I’ll set up a [Nether Enclosure] around Sera after I’ve paralyzed her. The good thing about [Enclosure] type spells is that they’re one-way roads. Objects can enter them, but they can’t leave. The missiles will fly through it, but the blast will be contained.”

Momo remembered the [Holy Enclosure] that Vivienne had nearly ensnared her with before. She supposed it worked similarly, but in a necromantic variation.

“That… makes sense,” Momo nodded, still skeptical. Valerica’s plans made sense on paper, and she was sure the Necromage had thought them through. Still, Sera was a woman of equal caliber – and of even less remorse.

Momo couldn’t stop the sinking feeling that Morgana had set up an unwinnable Hunger Games between her best disciples, and neither of them knew it yet.

–

With the preparations set, Valerica and Momo embarked towards the city center. Making a pitstop by Salvo’s place, Momo grabbed Dusk and the rest of her gear as the three birds stared in blank terror at her Excalibur traveling companion. Momo was pleased to see they only took a modest amount of her money – roughly sixty percent – and left the remainder kindly tucked away in a sealed bag.

From the blood splatter on the floor, they hadn’t had the most pleasant thieving experience.

“Good luck with the city conquering, and all that,” Salvo said, swallowing her fear to reach out a hand to Momo. “Don’t forget us petty thieves when you’re sitting on the throne.”

“And if you decide to blow up the place, try and avoid our tunnels with those missiles, yeah?” Corv added, wearing that sarcastic sort of frown he did. “We don’t own bathing suits.”

Geff, for his part, played out their leaving with a musical note from his box.

–

As the rolling fields slowly transitioned into cobblestone streets, Momo’s anxiety began to spike. They were half a mile away from the densely inhabited Old Town where the Hall sat, and Momo could already see knight helms sticking out like spiky steel thumbs.

“What if someone sees you?” Momo said worriedly, turning to the grinning Necromage.

“That’s the whole point, is it not?”

Momo swallowed. Right.

Despite Momo’s many doubts, Valerica remained indelible in her plan.

As they crossed the threshold into the center, Nam’Dals citizens began to take notice. Momo had become inured to the overpowering aura of rot and ruin that Valerica persistently gave off, but she could imagine it was a shocking first impression.

If it wasn’t her aura, then it was her clothes. Fresh from Jazz class, she wore a dancer’s variation of her typical green and black gown. Skeletal koi fish danced along the sleeves, winking as they leapt out of the seam. Skeletons the size of fingertips encircled her neck in the form of a popped collar, reaching their bony hands up to support her chin.

It took only a matter of seconds before a circle of shivering knights appeared before them, each quaking more than the next in their steel boots. Momo noted that their outfits had been given a slight makeover – Nether encased their steel plates, dripped down their blades and lathered their gauntlets. They looked like they’d been dropped in an oil vat.

“Halt, necromancer! I am Gorbrius, newly appointed Head Knight,” the one in the center shouted, pounding his scepter into the stone. “State your purpose, or we will haul you to the dungeons!”

Valerica grinned, looking each of them in the eye before settling on the speaker.

“Visiting an old friend turned politician,” she said, crossing her arms. “Well, I’m not sure visiting is appropriate. I intend to remove her from office.”

Valerica glanced over at the Knight’s Hall, a morbid mess of undulating black.

Gorbrius swallowed. “We have sworn ourselves to the Cult of Sera. We will defend her fort with our lives.”

Valerica perked an eyebrow, smirking. “Is that so?”

She reached out a hand, but Momo stopped her.

“Can I handle them?” Momo squeaked. “I want to test a theory.”

Valerica looked at her in surprise.

“Of course,” she obliged, stepping back. “I pity the knights who draw your fury, Ms. Ripper.”

The knights’ fear only increased at her words, and one or two of them backed away, looking as though they might dart at a minute’s notice. Momo grinned, adrenaline pulsing through her. She had been waiting desperately for this – a chance to show Valerica what she was made of.

She reached out her hands, and focused her mind’s eye on the Nether that was attached to their gear. Sensing her signal, it reverberated in synchrony. Their chest plates began to rattle, the hilts of their swords vibrated in their hands. Gorbrius looked down in terror as his hand shook violently.

“Don’t just stand there. Stop her!” he commanded, pointing his shaking sword.

The lieutenant to his right jumped forward. He screamed bloody murder as he jolted towards Momo, sword first, intending to pierce her right through. Momo giggled. She swiped her hand to the right, and the whole of his body flew like a paper bag in the wind. He smacked into the pavement, the Nether pinning him to the ground.

Valerica oohed proudly. “Good one!”

Her mentor’s validation lit her like a firespark, and her grin grew nearly murderous.

Cool it, Momo. Don’t go all Sera on them.

“Who’s next?” she said shyly.

Her answer came in the shape of a battleaxe. Gorbrius’s left lieutenant – a burly man the size of a car – jumped into the air, axe swooping down to chop her in half. Momo yelped and dodged to the right, swiping her hand downwards. The Nether pulled him down into the pavement, tripling the effects of gravity and smacking him to the ground like a squashed bug.

“Two for two!” Valerica cheered.

“I’m out of here!” another knight screamed, high-tailing it towards the Hall. Gorbrius scowled.

“I’m no coward,” he grunted. “But I’m also no fool. [Strength Up III] [Beast Muscle]!”

Momo’s eyes widened as his body began to expand. The armor whined against it, unable to contain his growing muscles. He flexed his arms and legs, howling like a wild animal.

“What are you…?” Momo blinked.

Unable to withstand the pressure, his armor exploded off of him. The steelplate went flying overhead, skidding far into the rolling fields behind them. His chainmail leggings shredded off his skin, fluttering to the pavement. He was reduced to his underwear and a helmet, which he quickly removed and threw to the side.

“I saw you using that foul dark goo to manipulate them,” he gritted his newly-fanged teeth. “Try and manipulate this.”

He reared back his fist, charging a punch.

“Oh,” Momo said, taking in the absolutely cartoon dimensions of his body. “Alright. [Abysmal Blast II].”

His eyes widened comically as Nether completely engulfed him, shooting him backwards a hundred feet and straight through the walls of multiple shops – leaving a man-sized dent in all of them.

“Sorry!” Momo said, waving her hands in apology as the shopkeepers stared angrily at her from their respective doorways. “I’ll pay to fix it, promise.”

Before she could move to go and compensate the merchants, she found herself being whisked upwards. Familiar, talon-like fingers wrapped around her middle, spinning her around.

“That was just brilliant, Momo,” Valerica grinned, shaking her up and down in a full-body cheer. Momo could feel her brain bounce against every corner of her skull. “You’re truly living up to your name.”

“The Ripper?” Momo responded weakly, eyes hazy.

“No, darling,” Valerica smiled softly. “Momo. Just Momo. You don’t need a fancy title to inspire terror in others. I knew it from the day I picked you out of a million wayward souls. You could be Momo the Martyr, Momo the Saint… it would be irrelevant.”

Momo blushed under her intense gaze. Valerica’s irises burned bright red, her fingers heated.

“You see, dear, names are cyclical. We name our children after beautiful things, lakes and mountains, castles and kings. Then when those children grow up to be great, their names become synonymous with their greatness,” Valerica continued, placing Momo back on the ground and fixing her disheveled Catling cowl back into place. “When I think of Morgana, I see a beautiful field of rot and ruin, wilted daisies, bones and mildew. And when I think of you, what do you think I see?”

“A girl with a rat for a heart?”

Valerica smirked.

“Don’t be dense,” she said. “Someday, my dear assistant, people will use Momo as a word to describe limitless potential.”

Momo looked at her speechlessly, paralyzed by the compliment. Valerica turned on her heel, whistling her way towards the Hall.

A note from villa1ny

As usual, no chapter tomorrow - except on Patreon, where there's an extra chapter every Friday

To get 17 chapters ahead right now, you can head over there!

Join the Discord / Momo cult here.

A Deathly Reunion

A note from villa1ny

Ah! We're only 3 chapters away from the end of Book 1! [Boss Music Intensifies]

As a knight soared over the horizon, the heel of Valerica’s boot firmly imprinted on his behind, Valerica cleared her throat. Her eyes were glued to a long scroll of parchment.

“Member Momo has defected from the Dumpling Guild,” she frowned, looking at Momo quizzically. Meanwhile, another naive swordsman darted for her, his shining blade targeted towards her ribcage. “What’s this about?”

“This is for Gorbrius!” the swordsman cried out.

“This is for interrupting my conversation,” she rolled her eyes. With a whirlwind kick, he joined his companion in the skies. A similar fate befell his backside.

“Ah, that!” Momo turned red, faced with her own disloyalty. “That’s nothing to worry about.”

Valerica had decided to go through her backlog of Courier notices as they strolled into town, and she had unfortunately arrived on an undesirable one.

“It says here, my dear, that you’ve joined a new guild.”

Momo coughed. “Right. Right. Yeah. See, um, to avoid getting murdered, I had to join Sera’s club. I would really appreciate it if you reinstated me in the Dumpling Guild, though. I never got any quest experience for the whole letter delivery thing.”

Valerica’s frown turned into a scowl. It was a rare, frightening sight.

“That witch. Does she think she can just steal my employees?” the Necromage spat, the ground melting beneath her. “Murder is one thing, but labor theft? To think I was going to take her down mercifully.”

Steam was practically blowing out of Valerica’s ears. Momo swallowed.

“Oh, well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Momo squeaked. “I still think we can solve this peacefully.”

A small cloud of smoke hung above Valerica’s head. Her eyes burned the color of amethyst, and her boots had sunken a few inches into the melted pavement. A charging trio of knights halted a few feet away from her. They dug their heels in, glancing upon her like she was an active volcano.

A shrill voice from the Knight's Hall called out towards them.

“That’s the one, Lady Vivienne!”

“Oh shut it. I’m still Knight Vivienne to you.”

Momo whipped her head around to find two familiar faces descending the Hall’s main staircase. It was Nia and Vivienne, accompanied by the terrorized face of one of Momo’s previous knightly ‘opponents’. Valerica and Momo stood mere meters away from them, leaning on the large, marble fountain which stood as the centerpiece to the city’s old town.

Several waves of knights had attempted to stop their progress towards the Hall, but none had disturbed them more than a fruit fly. Momo had questioned if angering Sera by destroying her troops was the correct approach – but Valerica was insistent. According to her, it was the best way to empty Sera of her allies.

“Finally, something interesting,” Valerica groaned. Her voice had dropped a few octaves, dripping with fury. “It’s just as I thought. Sera will throw every last one of her minions at a threat before she risks her own hide. A pity.”

Valerica spread out her hands, and cracked her knuckles.

“Sorry saps they are, for following such a cruel leader,” she sighed. “It can’t be helped, I suppose. It’s their choice, and their funeral.”

Momo froze. Is she intending to kill them? Momo wasn’t exactly fond of Nia and Vivienne, but she didn’t want to see them dead.

Momo tugged at Valerica’s sleeve. “Go easy on them, okay? They’re not evil. Just… misguided.”

Valerica’s ruby-red gaze turned to her. Looking upon Momo’s genuine expression, her eyes softened. Their hue changed to a dark, measured purple.

“Misguided?” she laughed lightly. “They planned Sera’s ascension for years. They were the orchestrators, dear Momo.”

It was hard to argue with that. Yet, for whatever reason – she still wanted to. She shared a stupid kinship with them. She, too, had tripped and fallen into necromancy through some woman’s cult of personality. While she greatly preferred her enigmatic leader to theirs, she could have just as easily ended up a loyal body bag for Sera instead.

An idea striking her, Momo dug through her pockets and handed Valerica a wrapped chocolate.

“Can you eat this?” she asked politely.

“Happily,” Valerica said unquestioningly, popping the sweet in her mouth. After she swallowed, the color of her pupils quieted even further – the effects of [Sweet Deal] tranquilizing some of her fury. “Momo, are you trying to manipulate me using magic?”

Momo turned bright red. After a moment, she answered, “Yes, definitely.”

Valerica smiled broadly. “That’s my girl. Continue.”

Momo straightened her back, and cleared her throat. From her peripheral vision, she could see Vivienne and Nia talking in whispers, their eyes darting to Momo, then Valerica, then back. Thankfully, the sisters were mostly strategic, not impulsive – Momo likely had a few minutes to convince Valerica not to annihilate them before they tried anything.

“I totally get that you’re mad at Sera for trying to steal me – I mean, your labor – but I know the real you, the conniving, contemplating, waiting for years to seek revenge you. Want to make Sera angry for one day? Murder her best, most loyal henchman. Want to make her pissed forever? Steal them right back. Show mercy now, and present them with a better alternative to their terrible ruler.”

Momo trembled. She hadn’t said that many subsequent words to Valerica ever, especially to disagree with her. Still, even under Valerica’s molten gaze, she remained sure of herself.

This will work.

She saw the way that Nia was disappointed by Sera’s lack of gratitude, and Vivienne’s distaste for Sera’s equal-opportunity annihilation of all the knights. If they thought Valerica was a better alternative, they would choose her. Eventually.

“This chocolate is delicious,” Valerica finally said, after a long, nerve-wracking pause. “And, I must admit, you are correct. I let myself be driven by the emotion I hate most. Seeing as I can no longer trust myself, I will follow your directive, captain Momo.”

She gave Momo a ridiculous salute, and winked.

Before Momo could respond, she registered Nia’s faint, transparent silhouette. The assassin was standing mere inches behind Valerica, shimmering in the wind. A barely visible blade was reared in the air, ready to strike.

“Valerica, watch out!” Momo shouted.

Before Valerica could react, the dagger had already sliced through her middle, popping out the other side. Nia’s hand protruded from Valerica’s stomach, dark, glistening blood decorating the blade. It was morbid, sudden, classless; Momo went completely pale.

“Holy shit,” Nia said, voice weak with surprise. “I did it.”

“Oh,” blood dribbled out of Valerica’s mouth as she spoke. “Indeed you did.”

Momo’s entire body went rigid. She watched as Valerica’s eyes fluttered closed, her mouth babbling something incoherent. Nia slipped her hand back out, wet and sloppy. Unable to balance, Valerica fell to her knees, revealing Nia’s shocked face to Momo’s own.

Momo spoke so quietly that the breeze nearly swept it away.

“What did you just do?”

Without so much as thinking, Momo struck Nia. She hooked her fist underneath her chin, grappling onto her with a scream. Taking advantage of Nia's post-murder paralysis, Momo wrestled the slippery dagger out of Nia’s hands and threw it to the side. The blade skidded across the stone.

“Stop it – get off of me –” Nia grunted, one hand holding her injured nose, the other pushing helplessly at Momo. The smaller girl was stuck to her like glue, pounding her fists at every piece of flesh she could reach. The punches didn’t do much – Momo’s strength was admittedly lacking – but what they lacked in brutality, they made up for in pure rage.

“You stupid thoughtless asshole!” Momo cried out. “She was going to let you live! Unlike your cruel excuse for a mother figure, Valerica was going to be merciful!”

With tears dripping down her face, Momo managed to place both of her open palms on Nia’s face. Her rage funneled into Nether, and the familiar, sizzling blackness began to mold into the skin of Nia’s face. If she were to fire off an attack right now, at this proximity…

“[Abysm-]”

“Oh, Momo, that really won’t be necessary.”

Momo’s words died in her mouth. Nia had turned as white as sheet paper, gazing beyond to an unknown place above her. Momo staggered off of her, turning to see Valerica's bright emerald eyes looking back at her, a serpentine grin on her face. Not a mark of blood or dirt hung on her robes.

“How…” Momo trailed off.

“[Body Double] is quite the skill, isn’t it?” Valerica said, ruffling the top of Momo’s cowl. Wordlessly, she stepped forward towards Nia. Nia scooched backwards helplessly, trying and failing to get off the ground. Complete, unadulterated horror hung off of her as green flame danced around Valerica. "You don't think I'd endanger the real me so thoughtlessly, do you?"

The Necromage’s aura had changed from furious flame to a silent, venomous green.

She towered over Nia, and outstretched a hand.

“May I help you up?”

–

A grave silence hung over the stone pavement. The rush of water leaving the fountain spouts, accompanied by the soft chatter of civilians, was the only noise inhabiting the town square. Shopkeepers, tavern owners, wandering farmhands, bluebirds and blackbirds, ravens and rats, all stood at the perimeter of the plaza, looking and pointing, but not daring to enter.

Only four remained within the invisible bubble. They sat around a table of obsidian black, sat in equally black chairs, staring pointedly at each other.

“Well, this is boring, isn’t it,” Valerica yawned, piercing the silence. “I’m used to Momo’s long, anxious silence by now, but you lively bunch? You just brought back the second coming of the Netherdevil, and all you can do is sit and stare?”

Valerica whisked her hand, and a Nether teakettle poured molten lava into a teacup. Momo watched with astonishment as the device made its way around the table, pouring an equal portion of red hot liquid into each. Vivienne and Nia eyed it in abject horror, not daring to pick up the glass.

“I’m not much for talking to the woman holding me hostage,” Vivienne said through gritted teeth.

“Hostage? And where are the chains?” Valerica gestured to her free hands. “You can get up if you’d like. Actually, that’d be rather helpful. I thought Sera would have joined us now, but she’s fashionably late as always.”

Vivienne glared, unresponsive. Valerica turned to Nia.

“And you,” she smiled. “Nia, darling. I really must say, you’ve grown spectacularly. No hello, no pleasantries – just a stab straight through the gut. Wonderful! I remember when you were only this tall,” she made a movement only a few feet off the ground, “prancing around the graveyard, stabbing pin cushions and wooden dummies. Sera must be proud.”

Nia scowled, the comment hitting a sore spot. “Proud? Please. She’s barely looked my way since we got her out.”

Valerica frowned, and placed a hand over Nia’s.

“Well, if it helps, I’m proud. You’ve come a long way from hunting squirrels in the castle courtyard. Now look at you! Taking over cities, owning your criminal enterprise…”

Momo balked, looking between them in disbelief. Was she… praising her? Momo’s head reeled. She couldn’t tell if Valerica was taking her advice of ‘don’t slay the enemy, woo the enemy’ to heart, or if she was being genuinely… genuine.

Momo felt a migraine coming on. That was the problem with Valerica, truly; each of her actions could have an endless amount of explainable motivations.

Valerica changed tack, looking once again at Vivienne.

“Now Viv, don’t give me that glare. You used to call me auntie.”

Auntie? She knew that Nia had instantly recognized Valerica’s scent on her when they first met – but she hadn’t known how far back her relationship to the sisters went.

“That was before you betrayed Sera, now wasn’t it?”

“Betrayed? Let’s be reasonable, dear,” Valerica laughed. “Your darling of a cult leader put herself in that situation. Couldn’t resist launching a skeletal army at the King’s throat, giving away all elements of surprise. She basically walked herself into those dungeons.”

Vivienne opened her mouth to protest, but an enormous shockwave threw all of them off their chairs – save Valerica, who continued placidly sipping. A black, pulsing ring of Nether emanated from the top of the newly constructed tower, followed by another, then another. A mammoth Nether fist grew out of the side of the structure, melting and dripping as it protruded like an oil-covered hand.

After a moment of stretching itself into existence, the fist uncurled its fingers, and then waved.

“Ah,” Valerica hummed, taking a long, heavy sip, then setting down her tea. “It appears Sera is finally saying hello.”

A note from villa1ny

To get 17 chapters ahead right now, you can head over there!

Join the Discord / Momo cult here.

Paralysis

As the tower ceased its waving, clouds of gray ash slipped overhead, eclipsing the bright afternoon sun. The city became veiled in shadow, draped in an artificial midnight. Momo shivered, the lack of sun exacerbating the winter chill.

“And she says I have a flair for the dramatic,” Valerica rolled her eyes.

The tower began to tremble. After a long moment, it started to lean in a scoliotic fashion, bowing towards the ground. The long rope of black was delivering something downwards – a shadowy figure, barely visible.

Sera.

The Necropriest flitted in and out of view, jumping between puddles of shadow.

“Momo, dear, I have a new quest for you,” Valerica said, her eyes darting around, tracking the figure’s approach. Her voice was suspiciously unsteady. “Do you accept?”

“Uh, I’m not sure. You didn’t tell me what it is yet.”

“No time for that!” Valerica yelled, eyes opening wide.

Momo followed her gaze, and her body went cold.

“Shit, fine – yes, yes!”

Before Momo could think to move, a tidal wave of Nether submerged her. Ferocious black waves blew Momo straight to the ground, pinning her underneath the tsunami. It was like being stuck to the sea floor, only the algae was floating, crumbling pavement, and the seaweed was black and prickly.

Momo sputtered and choked. She inhaled no air – only liquid tar, hot and muddy in her mouth. All she saw was black nothingness, and all she heard was her own suffocating breaths.

No. No. Absolutely not. I’m not dying today.

She coughed violently, but the Nether she expelled was only replaced with more.

I can’t die. I haven’t even kissed a girl yet.

As that single, motivating thought rattled around her skull, a newfound willpower coursed through her. Closing her eyes, she focused not on breathing – but hearing. The Nether was calling to her, singing in synchrony like a chorus of sirens. Their song was sharp, like nails on a chalkboard mingling with an untuned organ.

The Nether – it was in pain. Those sounds were songs of torture.

Momo’s eyes shot open. She took in a long, scattered breath, and reached out to it.

"Settle down," she murmured, "it's okay."

Shocked by her own voice, she realized she could breathe again. Around her, a bubble of Nether had formed, the violent waves splitting around it. She couldn’t see anything outside the black, bubbly walls, but she was safe within them.

She thanked Morgana a thousand times for mixing up her universes. Extrius had been right – this bugged out skill was powerful. She’d have already suffocated without it.

Most strangely – the Nether’s song had changed. It had gone from a shrill, piercing scream to a pleasant murmuring. From Sera’s violent tsunami to a lovely little melody.

It was almost as if Momo had… tamed it?

It was an insane thought, but she had the instinct to check her [Bestiary].

Later, she decided. It was sapping all of her mana as it was to preserve the bubble against the tidal wave of energy being thrust at it.

Before she could devise a plan, a piece of parchment, seemingly born of nothing, appeared in her lap.

You have been reinstated in the [The Dumpling Maker’s Guild For Esteemed Makers of Dumplings]  . Your previous uncompleted quests have failed.

Momo frowned. My XP.

You have accepted the quest [Save Nam’Dal] given by questgiver [Valerica].

Quest completion condition: Defeat the current tyrannical ruler of Nam’Dal, the Excalibur Necropriest Sera, and take control of the city.

Bonus objective: Protect future labor forces (citizens) from harm.

Quest rewards:

- 10,000 XP in [Corrupted Druid]

- Guild Fortress (Knight’s Hall)

- Scepter of Ruin

- Bonus reward: 2 Battalions (Knights Guild and Thieves Guild)

Momo’s eyes bugged out of her head. 10,000 XP?! She knew that the experience reward was scaled by the difficulty of the quest – she had read so in her So you want to be a Guildmaster? pamphlet– but that was still an insane amount. Her quest to kill the vampire had been worth 1,100 XP, and even that measly amount had given her an immediate level up.

Of course, the experience required to level up did scale each time, as evidenced by her annoyingly slow progress since hitting Adept. But this… this could take her far.

Her body filled with greedy adrenaline.

“[Nether Inversion]!”

The muffled shout broke Momo out of her reverie, reminding her that she was floating placidly through a warzone. Not to mention that if she had heard that spell correctly, Valerica’s plan was nearly halfway done. Momo began to panic. She needed to give the signal to Komodo, or the lizard wouldn’t know when to fire the missiles.

And then Valerica would lose. Or die. Or both.

Momo felt like she was going to throw up.

Everything’s fine. Deep breaths.

Momo went to her safe place – the corner of her mind that had memorized every pixel of YouTube’s ‘Cute Cat Video’ playlist. She inhaled, and her head only pounded further. It appeared the bubble was rapidly running short on oxygen.

“Shit.”

Momo thrust her hands forward experimentally, and to her delight, the ball moved with it. She groaned as the motion sapped her mana. Still, she was moving. Like a sphere-locomotive, the bubble sputtered through the dark.

“I.. I can drive this thing?”

As she thrusted the barrier through the waves, a sliver of light peaked out. She used her remaining energy to power straight towards it. The waves lashed out, almost vindictive – but with a last push, she soared out of the tsunami, flying parabolically until she slammed onto the ground. The ball dissolved around her, and she lay flat like a starfish on the cold pavement.

“Urgh.”

“[Paralyze]!”

Momo craned her neck upwards, expecting to find Sera’s paralyzed body. Instead, she was faced with her worst nightmare – Valerica, standing perfectly still, mouth frozen in a horrified expression.

“Gods, she’s like a cockroach,” Sera groaned. “But that should teach her.”

The two Excaliburs stood mere inches from each other. Sera leaned crookedly, gasping for breath as Valerica motionlessly gazed at her. The entire plaza sat in shambles beneath them. The nether had violently infested every nook and cranny of the pavement, leaving craters of rock and dirt where the marble fountain used to stand.

Luckily, the damage was limited to the small area. The surrounding homesteads and shops remained untouched. Looking upwards, Momo understood why. A giant dome lurked overhead, a translucent black semicircle which hugged the perimeter of the square. That had to be the [Nether Enclosure].

The Necropriest began to turn towards her, and Momo reflexively threw her head back down, closing her eyes. She knew that Sera could kill her in one hit if she wanted to – better to play dead until she left.

“Oh, and what’s this?”

The smell of rotten fish swam into Momo’s nostrils. It took everything in her not to wriggle her nose in disgust. Sera’s hot breath fell on her cheek. The Necropriest lifted her chin, twisting her face back and forth.

“It seems rigor mortis hasn’t kicked in yet,” she observed, dropping Momo’s face abruptly. Momo let her neck fall slack to the side, doing her best impression of a corpse.

“I can’t break the barrier,” Vivienne’s ragged voice called out. “None of my [Dispel] charms are working.”

“That’s no issue. It’ll dissipate within half an hour,” Sera dismissed. “Regardless, I’m not sure why Valerica bothered to cast it. I can’t imagine she really cared about preserving the lives of these silly, Novice mortals. Perhaps she hoped that I’d be caught up in my own [Death Tsunami], but all it did was ensure that I had the upper hand.”

“I’m not sure – but I’m sure it was for a good reason,” Vivienne said, concern evident in her voice. “Some of my knights believe she’s collaborating with Komodo.”

“Komodo? What is that?”

“She is Nam’Dal’s border patrol officer. She controls the walls, and the defensive artillery. I sent a knight patrol out this morning to make sure she wasn’t setting up an attack in secret, but I haven’t heard back from them yet.”

“An attack?” Sera laughed. “She sounds like a lovely skeleton to add to my trophy room. I say let her try.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Nia interjected. “That lizard has a lot of punch packed down in the sewers. The last time I talked to her, she was boasting about a dozen or so magical missiles. The type of thing that could blow any one of us to smithereens.”

“Magical missiles?” Momo could practically hear the terror in Vivienne’s voice. “Are you kidding? And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“What, seriously? I assumed you knew! In case you forgot, you’re the one who was running the whole entire government up until a few days ago.”

“So? It was your responsibility to fill me in on the criminal underworld. That was our agreement – I was above ground, you were below. Why would Komodo tell me about some stockpile of world-ending bullshit? I let her have her cut of the imports, and she let me not think about our border security. Our relationship ended there.”

“Girls, stop bickering,” Sera interrupted. “You forget that you have me now. You do not have to concern yourself with fears from before. If they send [Holy] missiles, then I will simply cancel them out with [Nether Beams]. And if it does blow me to smithereens – I will simply regenerate.”

“But Valerica cast that curse on you…” Vivienne countered. “The one that slows regeneration.”

Sera paused, and huffed. Momo heard her footsteps get farther away from her, and she risked opening an eye.

Just as she did, she spied a fast-moving object slithering through the clouds, just over the horizon. Within seconds, hundreds of other snakes of black joined it. Momo’s heart nearly stopped. The gerbil in her chest slowed its gait, sensing something ominous.

Komodo didn’t wait for a signal.

The lizard hadn’t been worried about Valerica betraying her – she had been concocting the perfect plan to betray Valerica. Two necromancers, one stone; or rather, two necromancers, a hundred air weapons, primed to kill.

The missiles were heading right for them, and there was no escape.

A note from villa1ny

The next chapter is the last chapter of Book 1!!! Let's goooo!

To get 17 chapters ahead right now, you can head over there!

Join the Discord / Momo cult here.

The Election (End of Book 1)

A note from villa1ny

This is the last chapter of Book 1. What a crazy ride its been since Ch. 1 lol, enjoy!

Watching as certain death slithered towards her, Momo figured she had about thirty seconds to save herself.

She heaved her body upwards, stilling her breath as she crawled silently towards Valerica. As the sisters continued bickering, Momo sidled up to Valerica’s legs, and then wrapped her arms around her middle. Sera was wrong – the missiles weren’t full of Holy Magic. It was pure Nether, armed by Valerica herself.

And thanks to Morgana, Momo still had a fighting chance against them.

She gripped Valerica tightly, and whispered, “[Nether Immu–]”

“She’s still alive!” Nia exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger towards her. Momo’s mouth halted, the spell dying on her lips. She swore she saw relief wash over the assassin’s face. Vivienne’s, too. The two sisters exchanged a glance, and made no move towards her.

Momo looked upwards. The missiles had to cover a large distance until they made it to the city square, but they did so at extreme speed; the black trails were rocketing towards them, growing larger and deadlier by the second.

“Look up!” Momo squeaked, directing their attention away from her and towards the skies. “I don’t think you want to bother with me right now.”

The trio gazed towards the sky.

“Oh Gods,” Vivienne muttered. “Are those…?”

“Nether missiles,” Nia said, her voice going hoarse. “Shit. Sera, the [Nether Inversion] she cast on you...”

Sera’s face had drained of color. She looked from the sky to Momo, her eyes burning with venom. Momo had yet to see her drop her cool façade – and this went far beyond that. She was smoldering. Momo could feel her rage in the Nether surrounding them. The pavement began to float upwards tremulously, guided by shrieking blobs of black.

“You…” she spat. At her words, Nether bricks rocketed towards Momo and Valerica. Momo reached out, screaming as she countered Sera's Nether energy with her own. The bricks halted in space, caught between equal and opposite forces. They trembled as Sera and Momo fought for control over them.

“You will not hurt her,” Momo choked out, a migraine the size of Mars taking over her skull. Sera spent only a fraction of her power to fling the bricks, yet it took every atom in Momo’s being to keep them where they were.

Sera’s eyebrows rose incredulously. “It’s her you’re worried about?”

“She's the only thing I'm worried about,” Momo repeated, gritting her teeth. Her palms were sweating pure black, Nether seeping out of her. Her mana was beyond its limit, yet she kept pushing – straining her very veins to keep the barrage of bricks in stasis.

“A necromancer who cares more for the lives of others than her own,” Sera remarked, disgusted. “We are harbingers of the dead – not protectors of the living. Morgana is wrong about you. You are not worthy of her. You are nothing but a weak sheep.”

Behind Sera, the black missiles grew so close that they nearly eclipsed the sun. Momo could hear an internal clock tick in her head – and it was dawning on the last few seconds.

“Vivienne and Nia don’t have your power! You have to protect them somehow, or they’ll die.” Momo choked out. The sisters looked at Sera obediently, but Momo’s warning put terror on their faces.

“She’s right,” Vivienne cried. “Do something.”

Sera screamed, and the Nether bricks imploded. They splattered everywhere, obfuscating the plaza with ash and Nether dust. Completely blinded, Momo tightened her grip around Valerica’s stomach. Even through the ash, she could see the maw of the missiles glint. A bright, violent blacklight ripped through the dome.

“[Nether Immunity]!” Momo screamed, and buried her ears into Valerica’s cowl.

—

Black rain pattered against the pavement. It dribbled from window panes and umbrellas, long brimmed hats and coats of feathers. Fog hugged the remnants of the city square as Nam’Dal’s citizens stood, trembling and wet, watching with bated breath as the dome of Nether finally receded.

Ash and smoke escaped the fading enclosure, puffing like a cigarette into the surrounding city. Thieves and knights alike huddled together, holding their breath as the putrid smog cleared. Allegiances had fallen to the wayside, replaced with an overwhelming curiosity. The spell had finally receded, and everyone was eager to know the result – or more accurately, the victor.

The sun, dawning just then, shed a sliver of light to illuminate a scene of utter destruction.

It also happened to illuminate Valerica. Standing at the center of the giant crater that was once a fountain, the Necromage wore a smile as bright as daylight. A smaller girl – who might be mistaken for a cloak, or an accessory, if one did not look close enough – was wrapped around her waist, head pressed firmly into her back.

“Momo, you can open your eyes now,” Valerica said softly.

At the sound of her voice, Momo’s eyes fluttered open.

“Valerica?”

“The one and only,” the Necromage grinned.

Momo reluctantly separated herself from her, and took a shaky step backwards. Her ears were ringing like hell, as if the explosion had detonated inside of her skull.

“The spell must have worked,” Momo whispered, looking down at her unharmed hands. Valerica, too, seemed untouched by the blast. Her sleeves were still perfectly frayed, her collar flush. “Did it… work on you too?”

“Did what work?” she batted her eyelashes cluessly. “The plan? Yes, obviously.”

She gestured to the giant crater they were in.

“No, um – how are you so… alive?”

“Oh,” she laughed, waving a hand. “I made sure to drink up on my [Nether Resistance IV] potions before this whole ordeal, just in case. Not to mention that my innate Nether defenses are nearly at 90%. Although, I suppose, it should have still left a mark…”

She peered down at her dress, inspecting the material.

“Ah, here we are.”

She lifted up a layer of fabric, revealing a mid-sized hole.

“That is all a fleet of missiles did to you?” Momo gaped.

“I know. An unforgivable casualty, isn’t it? This is expensive fabric…” she frowned, toying with the rip. “No matter. I’m sure the tailoring equipment is better here at our new castle. Lorvis will be just delighted.”

Momo stared at her blankly. As Valerica spoke, the reality washed over her. They were… alive. They had done it. Momo had completed two coup d’etats in under a month. She imagined she might fit in somewhere in the Alois version of the Guinness World Records.

Momo paused, looking around her. There was nothing but dirt and broken pavement. “But what about Sera? Vivienne? Nia?”

Valerica smirked. “Look behind you.”

Momo turned her body a complete 180, eyes widening when she saw her. Laying like a sleeping pig, with her arms and legs protruding awkwardly from her body, was Sera. Her robes were wildly cut, her face and arms bruised, her cheeks unnaturally pale. She looked like a shell of her former self, completely robbed of all magical authority.

“But…” Momo blinked slowly, processing the sight. “The sisters?”

“It seems the coldhearted witch cares more for her disciples than she lets on,” Valerica shrugged, beginning to walk towards Sera’s unconscious form. “She used the last of her mana before the missile hit to cast them out of the Enclosure. Not sure how, or to where – breaking through a [Nether Enclosure] should be impossible.”

Momo swallowed, but she felt relieved. She was just happy to know they weren’t dead, even if they were floating around in some endless void.

“What are you going to do with her?” Momo asked.

Valerica squatted, shoving her hands underneath Sera and then heaving her upwards. She held her like a cradled baby.

“Oh, just what any sensible new leader would do,” she grinned.

—

“I can’t believe that’s the same woman who nearly destroyed Nam’Dal,” Radu said, pointing in disbelief. His gaze led to the center of the newly renovated Judgement Room – now renamed The Tea Room for Illustrious Guests – where a bald woman, wearing a brightly colored purple tunic, a belt of jingling bells, and two pointed shoes, sat in an invisible cage. A permanent scowl had etched itself into her face, so unmoving that it remained even when she slept.

“I think this qualifies as cruel and unusual punishment,” Momo grimaced. She had thought court jester had been a euphemism, but it had instead been incredibly literal. Imprisoned inside some never-ending Enclosure enchantment, Sera had become the centerpiece of Valerica’s new entertaining quarters.

The room had been cleansed completely of Nether, returning to its naturally gray, cobbled state. High banners of skeletal koi fish were hung from the ceiling, bone charms and baubles decorated the perimeter. One bauble in particular stood out amongst the rest – sitting high on its own throne of stone, the newly returned Excalibur was given the prestigious title of Bauble Chancellor.

Momo could tell that Valerica had zero experience being a monarch. She threw out titles like they were amusing jokes – Dusk became High Meow, Fromage’s son, Rudolph, became her Economic Advisor for Cheese Related Endeavors, Teddy was assigned Spymaster and Joketeller. She even gave Radu the title Highest Lizard amongst Lizards when she heard about his loyalty to Momo.

Momo, to her credit, had remained Valerica’s Assistant.

She didn’t mind it that way.

“How long do you think until the King hears about this?” Radu asked, anxiously tapping his finger on the longtable. He and Momo sat at the far edge of the room, amongst twenty or so other members of Valerica’s newly-appointed court. The motley group of established Nam'Dal citizens had all been summoned there for the crowning of their new ruler – a ritual Momo imagined would be as ridiculous as it sounded.

“Hopefully a long time,” Momo shuddered. “I haven’t figured out how to explain this whole double necromantic coup d’etat situation in a convincing way.”

“I give it two weeks,” he laughed.

Momo sighed. She went to protest, but the words died in her mouth as the doors flung open. A red carpet rolled out ceremoniously. Torches flickered into illumination. Sera buried her head miserably into her lap.

Here we go.

To her surprise, it was Dusk to enter first. The cat was dressed in a full suit of regalia, a chiming golden bell ringing with her every step. The cat sauntered forward, meowed politely, and then slipped towards Momo.

“Dusk,” Momo shook her head, scratching the cat behind her ears. “What was all that about?”

She got her answer in the form of Valerica.

The woman stepped boldly into the room, six-inch heel first, wearing an outfit that rivaled the worst of the Met Gala. The head of a Blacktip Shark, sewn entirely out of magical thread, adorned her head like an egregious hat. A gothic dress hugged her waist and trailed off for several meters, nearly drowning the carpet beneath it in a cape of black.

“Ladies and gentleman and cats of the court,” she greeted, clasping her hands together and bowing politely to each member. When she came upon Sera, she made a regretful face. “Oh, and jesters. My apologies.”

Momo was grateful the Necropriest’s invisible cage was soundproof – or else the proceedings would probably be interrupted by a stream of profanities.

Valerica did a small twirl, and sat herself on Sera’s former throne. A crouched over man shuffled out of the open doorway and hobbled towards her. Momo recognized him instantly. It was Lorvis, the Dawn’s tailor. He was carrying a large box, wrapped divinely with green paper. He placed it down on the table in front of Valerica.

He also removed his hat – a tall, black tophat – and placed it on top of the box.

“Thank you, dear,” she smiled. The tailor made no reaction to the praise, simply turning on his heel and grunting his way back out of the door.

Valerica rose.

“My delightful members of the court, this day marks a new dawn for Nam’Dal. This beautiful city of rats, ravens and thieves has seen many an unfit ruler. I know you have longed for someone who can represent you – a woman of the people, who understands the value of crime, sewage, cheese, and low taxes,” Valerica said, pointing to each appointee at the appropriate moment.

A soft murmur overtook the room, with each member discussing amongst their party. Valerica clapped once, and was met with immediate, obedient silence. She smiled, and continued.

“I know two government takeovers in a week can be tough on the nervous system. I don’t envy you. But I do know there is one singular person in this room fit to rule this island, and I’m sure you’ll agree with me. That’s why I’m putting it up to a vote.”

Gasps abounded in the small chamber, including Momo’s own. Valerica had been so insistent about making Nam’Dal the capital of their new kingdom – but now she was giving it up to chance? The fresh sense of competition in the room was obvious, heated glances flicking from one face to another.

Momo sighed, slumping into her chair. She knew at least one thing – she was not fit to rule a city. The other court members could battle it out all they wanted while she sat back and relaxed.

“That’s right,” Valerica giggled manically. “I am auctioning off the right to this city. There’s only one small condition – whoever is voted to rule will report directly to me. I will oversee your every action, review your every thought, and appraise your every daydream. I will become a permanent, everlasting fixture in your waking and sleeping life.”

With a plucky smile, Valerica dug her hand into the tophat. When she uncurled her fist, she revealed a flurry of paper slips inside of it. She placed the paper and an inked quill on the longtable.

“All I ask is that you write a name and place it in the hat. You can nominate yourself, or any of your fellow council members who you think will best serve this city. Oh, and you cannot vote for me, although I am delighted by the compliment.”

Silence enveloped the room as the members weighed the decision. Some scribbled quickly, while others took their time, sweating profusely as they etched their answer into the paper.

Finally, the question reached Momo.

She looked over to Valerica, who immediately met her gaze. Momo flushed. The woman had been seemingly staring at her the entire time, a knowing smirk written into her features. It was a familiar expression – the same one she wore months ago, when she carried Momo on her shoulders out of the labyrinth and into her new life.

The memory carried with it a feeling. That spark that Valerica had lit in her. At the time, Momo had thought her insane. Not for the skeletons or the necromancy or the fountains of blood, but for her even greater crime of believing in her. Her absurd and incessant faith that Momo was more than a failing, unsociable art major, despite all the evidence to prove otherwise.

“Who are you going to vote for?” Radu whispered, nudging her with a shoulder.

Momo inhaled, hanging desperately onto that feeling.

She wrote her own name down on the paper.

A note from villa1ny

So, to answer some questions ahead of time!

Q: Will there be a hiatus between books?

A: Nope. I'm totally obsessed with writing Momo, and I already have Book 2 planned out, so it will start immediately -- aka, tomorrow.

Q: Will this book be published on Amazon with some extremely sick and cool cover art, and a paperback for me to buy and worship?

A: SHHH!! (More news soon.)

Anyways, writing this first book has been a pleasure. Thank you guys for being amazing readers. I read every single one of your comments, even if I don't reply.

Curious to see who wins the election? If you'd like to read 17 chapters ahead into Book 2, you can do so now on Patreon.

Join the Discord / Momo cult here.

Election Results (Start of Book 2)

A note from villa1ny

And.... without any ado, here is Book 2!

A dense line of citizens curled around every corner in Nam’Dal, each waiting their turn to witness the results. The news of the election had spread quickly throughout the city, with each faction picking their hopefuls and placing their bets. As with any city where money flowed, the election quickly devolved into a gambling pot – the livelihood of every betting bird reliant on the outcome.

Of the twenty court members, only four candidates had their names placed in the hat. Those four became the frontrunners, each with their associated fanbase. With his face plastered over every city grate, Rudolph was certainly the most advertised. Teddy scored a few fans himself, mostly through thinly veiled threats and promises of tax-free prosperity.

Even Dusk had accrued a rather confusing, yet devout, following. Momo would have wondered who put the cat’s name in the hat, but she had looked over Radu’s shoulder just in time to see him scribble it in, giggling to himself for several minutes afterwards.

The candidates sat on a high balcony overlooking the town square. From above, the crowds looked like ravenous ants, each trying to outdo the other to get a better look at the proceedings. Chants in favor of Rudolph came from a small, furry faction to the right. The aptly named Meows for Dusk group assembled to the left, and the greatest mass of all stood in the center – Momo’s supporters.

“Momo oh Momo, great savior of all,” they chanted musically. Momo stared down in bewilderment, turning bright red as they performed their rehearsed ballad. “Famed Destroyer of Towers, great Rider of Birds. Her name will be remembered, her legacy too, For Momo, the liberator, was brave and so true.”

The liberator? Momo squinted at the crowds. Her eyes widened in recognition – identifying many of the faces below. The hundreds of petty criminals that she had freed from the Banquet Hall were joined by the arm in song and dance, praising her name with religious zealotry.

Momo squirmed in her seat. That level of attention would have previously sent her into an embarrassment-induced coma. Not anymore. She still burned as red as a tomato, but she didn’t mind it much. As the thought dawned her, a piece of parchment flew into her lap.

Congratulations! Your [Self Assurance I] has upgraded to [Self Assurance II]. +3 CHA to the previous tier of the skill.

Momo smiled down at the paper. Progress is progress.

Valerica strolled out onto the terrace. She was carrying that green box that Lorvis had left – still perfectly wrapped. She laid it out on a table before the candidates, and then gripped the railing. She clapped her hands loudly to get the attention of the crowds, and the makeshift arena soon quieted. Her voice echoed with unnatural volume through the square.

“Greetings, new friends,” Valerica bowed, wearing her signature smile. “I know you have been kept waiting for many long hours, so I will make this speech short and sweet – just like the reign of Sera before me.”

Momo held in a laugh at the joke. It had been one in thousands that Valerica had delivered in the last few days. She had made sure that the Necropriest wouldn’t quickly forget just how short lived her incumbency had been.

“If we have not been acquainted before, let me introduce myself. I am Valerica, the High Necromage of Morgana’s Dawn, and one of the members of the Circle of the Lich – Morgana’s elite circle of Excalibur necromancers.”

The crowd’s silence went from obedient to eerie. While it was known that the new heir to the Nam’Dal throne was not of the Holy sort, the people had yet to completely understand just exactly who was in charge. Those two words in particular – Excalibur Necromancer – held quite the volume of baggage. The fear that took hold of the crowds was palpable.

“Ever since the so-called Dark Calamity, our people – the necromancer, the thief, the con artist, the Rat, the halfling – have become the shunned and oppressed boogeymen of this nation. That ugly tyrant Jarva insists we are the threat, and yet… who is it that jails us? Who is it that refuses to educate our children? Who is it that destroys the dreams of budding entrepreneurs?”

Momo was quite sure Valerica was talking about her ‘entrepreneurial’ business of selling bugs and bones to naive wizards, but luckily the crowd didn’t know that. In fact, they looked completely absorbed, holding onto every word. Momo sighed, relieved. She has an unusual way of going about things, but you can’t say she’s not persuasive.

“Luckily for you, I have the solution. A new nation – a better, kinder nation. The Queendom of Morgana. It will be the Goddess’s mortal empire, of which I will be the figurehead. Your beloved city of Nam’Dal will serve as the capital to this new Queendom. How splendid does that sound?”

After several long seconds of uncertainty, a singular clap echoed through the crowd. Out of either genuine agreement or peer pressure, the applause quickly spread. Within a minute, the entire square was enveloped by cheers.

“Wonderful,” Valerica giggled, clearly pleased. “Now, onto the main event. Before you are your four candidates. Each of these candidates has received at least one vote from their fellow court members. One in particular received the majority. I will leave it to our Bauble Chancellor, Excalibur, to announce the winner.”

Momo blinked in disbelief as Valerica unearthed the bauble from her pocket, and then proudly displayed it to the crowds. From its perch on her open palms, the bauble cleared its throat. Just like Valerica’s voice, the bauble’s words carried unnaturally far, propelled by a magical quality that filled the entire square.

“Citizens,” the bauble greeted. The crowds seemed bewildered by the choice of speaker, but they were too curious to care. “I will now read out the vote count, in ascending order.”

The bauble took a long pause, as if recalling the list from memory.

Momo wondered where exactly a bauble stored memories, but then quickly remembered she was quite possibly several breaths away from becoming the leader of a nation capital.

“In fourth place, with 2 votes, is Rudolph the Rat Prince.”

A dismayed clap echoed from Rudolph’s followers. Momo could see Fromage’s furry face bow towards the street, obviously dispirited.

“In third place, with 3 votes, is Dusk… the cat.”

Momo’s jaw dropped. Three votes?! She looked down at the cat, who was busy purring softly in her lap. Momo shook her head in disbelief. She knew the feline had management potential, but she imagined it’d be hard to rule a city without being able to communicate anything other than ‘am hungry, want food’ and ‘am bored, want to kill something.’

“In second place is Teddy, The Thief of Many Faces, Guildmaster of the Thieves’ Guild.”

Momo froze, her blood running cold. Every single sound dulled to a soft ringing in her ear. The angry boos of the Thieves’ Guild, the early chants and cheers of her supporters. She felt faint, her entire body pulsating in expectation. If Teddy is in second place, then that means…

“In first place, the newly appointed ruler of Nam’Dal, is Momo the – err – Ripper?”

The overwhelming cheers tore her from her stasis, the black rim around her vision clearing. The roar of applause came like deafening blows on her eardrums. She stared forward blankly, completely consumed by the cacophony of sound.

“I… what?” she said aloud, finally.

The bauble turned to her. “Miss. Ripper, I believe you must now give a speech.”

Momo stared at him. When she wrote her name down on that paper, it had been nothing but a fleeting feeling. A misplaced emotion. Sure – she was more self assured then before, but she wasn’t a bloody politician. Valerica’s charisma count had to be somewhere in the hundreds, hers was just peaking above ten.

Every eye in the city stuck to her like glue. With a shaky breath, she rose, and stepped towards the podium. She trembled like a chihuahua as she gazed down at the waiting crowds, their smiling faces directed up at her like light beams. Their genuine excitement nearly knocked the wind out of her. They were here for her.

It wasn’t just Valerica anymore. An entire council – an entire city – believed in her.

“Hi,” she said, swallowing down years of adolescent fear. “I’m Momo.”

—

The speech hadn’t lasted much longer than the opening line. Sweat nearly engulfed her by the second syllable of her name, she said something along the lines of “thanks” or maybe “you’re welcome,” and then shuffled off-stage. The crowd gave a confused, but still enthusiastic, bout of applause.

—

Valerica found her in the Banquet Hall, absentmindedly painting the walls. The bucket of Nether still remained, and without the pressure of having to, Momo found that she quite enjoyed the thoughtless nature of stroking the brush up and down the wall.

“An unconventional first act of leadership,” Valerica remarked. “I have to say, you’re the first ruler I’ve met whose immediate urge after ascending the throne was to go do some menial labor.”

Momo turned towards her, startled. Seeing that it was only Valerica, she visibly relaxed.

“I had to get away for a bit,” Momo muttered. “I was getting nauseous hearing my name over and over.”

Valerica joined her on the floor. She remained silent for a couple of seconds, watching as Momo stroked a final touch on her current artwork. She had painted a rather convincing mural of Dusk.

“Just gorgeous,” Valerica commented. “I didn’t know you were so gifted with the paintbrush.”

“I wouldn’t go as far as gifted,” Momo said, bowing her head. She could identify at least ten different places where the silhouette was off – the ears were too perky, the bones were too gaunt, her snout looked a bit more like a rottweiler’s than anything feline.

Dusk seemed to share the critiques, meowing annoyedly as she pawed at the painting. Her claws dragged the Nether off easily, smudging off several whiskers.

“I think gifted is an understatement,” Valerica continued, in her usually over-complimentary way. “I didn’t just choose you for your meekness, small build, and otherwise unremarkable character. I chose you because of one moment in particular – do you know what that was?”

“Moment?” Momo squinted. “What do you mean, moment?”

Valerica laughed. “Right. I forget that the Nether Pool is a one-way window. I watched you for several months, viewing your life as – what is the Earthling word – a tv show. I watched you get up in the morning, brush your teeth with toxic paste, gargle that odd blue liquid, and then eat your ceremonial morning…”

Valerica trailed off.

“What are those circular purple things called?”

“Grapes?” Momo said, voice laced with horror. “You were spying on me?”

Momo’s face went bright red. If someone had told her back then that her every movement was being watched by an eccentric necromancer from an alternative universe, she would have fainted on the spot.

“Right – grapes!” Valerica grinned. “Oh how I craved to try them. The way your mouth curled to a smile everytime you consumed them. They seemed to be such a delicious delicacy.”

Momo frowned, mind reeling as she tried to remember every embarrassing thing she might have done that Valerica could have witnessed.

“Anyway, I have flown off-course,” Valerica laughed. “Yes, right – the moment I knew that you were the one. It was after one of your art instructions. A lecture on portraits,” Valerica waved to the cat on the wall, and gave her an odd smile. “The entire class had vacated the room, but you stayed, sitting under the dim light, completely spellbound by the drawings the professor left on the wall.”

The description sounded familiar. It was something Momo had done countless times during college. It had been hard for her to focus during class – what with the cacophony of sounds and faces. Once the room had cleared out, she’d often sit in front of the blackboards, following the professor’s instructions over and over again until her hands bled.

“I watched you for hours that night. I had never seen such concentration. Everytime I thought you were going to leave, you were only sharpening a pencil, or waving your hand around in the air to release the tension in your wrists. You’d fill up a hundred pages of a notebook, sketching the same exercises, over and over and over.”

Valerica’s eyes turned soft and blue as she recounted the memory.

“Determination beyond reason. Dedication beyond sanity,” she whispered, turning to her. “That is why I picked you, Momo.”

A note from villa1ny

To get another Q&A out of the way...

Q: Is this going to be a kingdom building book now?

A: Nope haha. It's going to have some fun kingdom building elements, especially in these first few chapters, but the Momo misadventures you know and love from Book 1 are still going to be the focus. I think of Book 2 as a more focused iteration in the series - more plot, more systems, more character development, the same humor and chaos you know and love. I've taken everything I've learned writing the first and applied it here, so I hope you enjoy!

Join the Discord / Momo cult here.

Heavenly Bureaucracy

With a groan, Momo flopped her head down on her writing table. An abused quill slipped from her palm, inking a trail of black on the wooden surface. Her wrists ached. Her back was most likely inflamed, and her eyes were nearly bloodshot.

“Dusk,” she whined, “I don’t think I’m cut out for this.”

Within her first week of rule, Momo had become what she feared most – productive. Shuffling Nam’Dal into a new age of leadership required a lot of paperwork – city guilds to officiate, taxes to levy, insurance policies to purchase, trade routes to pave.

Apparently, becoming ruler of a city opened a new facet of interaction with the System. Since the Gods used mortal governments as conduits for their absolute rule over Alois, ruling a city meant dealing with a lot of heavenly bureaucracy.

After wading through most of the heavenly legalese about titles, de jure kingdoms, hierarchy, dynasties and inheritance – all of which she conveniently ignored, as she had no princely babies to leave things to – she finally got to the last paper in her stack. She stared at the piece of parchment, eyes watering with exhaustion.

The Ruler of [Nam’Dal] has been reset. You, [Momo the Ripper], are now the current Ruler. As Ruler of [Nam’Dal], you must choose which deity to align your holding with. Based on your selection, your city will receive Perks related to your choice.

You may revoke or change your deity choice at any point, and you will retain the City Perks you have gained. WARNING: You may invoke undying godly wrath by doing so.

Current Deity: Mordecai, God of Thievery

Current Perks:

[Sewers and Ratways]

[Heist Equipment]

[Corrupt Officials]

[Architected for Theft]

An attached piece of parchment explained each of the current perks. From what she could tell, the perks were a mixture of architectural and political features. [Sewers and Ratways] provided the city with a pristine underground system of tunnels. [Corrupt Officials] ensured that any government official could be bribed if the price was right.

Momo squinted at the paper. I’m not sure I’d call these ‘perks.’

Your holding can gain ranks, which lead to better Perks. Ranks are gained by population increase, citizen education, prosperous guilds, businesses, and organizations, increased territory size, among other things.

At each rank, the city deity will award the holding with a Perk of increasingly greater rarity. At Rank 1, a city will receive [Common] perks, at Rank 3 [Rare] perks, and so on.

[Nam’Dal] is currently Rank 3.

Momo let the information soak in. Okay – so if she wanted to improve the city, it would gain ranks, and then consequently gain perks, which Mordecai would hand out to her. That was all nice and dandy, except for one thing. Valerica had explicitly instructed her to change the deity to Morgana, so that Nam’Dal could be considered part of the Necromage’s upstart ‘Queendom of Decay’ or whatever.

Momo sighed. She really, really didn’t like the sound of ‘invoking undying godly wrath.’ She had invoked a mild amount of godly wrath last month, and was allergic to all things warm for almost two weeks. It had been hell.

Nevertheless, she began sorting through the paperwork to the part about changing deities. It was etched with about fourteen more warnings, each scribbled in increasingly red ink. Charitibly, there was one section that detailed what the gods weren’t allowed to do in retribution.

Gods are not permitted to 1) directly execute the leader of a city, although they are allowed to hire a mortal to do so, 2) plague the city with blood clouds, pestilence, rats, beetles, or frogs, unless one has obtained a permission slip from the Plague Control Committee.

Momo was wrong. Charitable had not been the correct word. The disclaimers filled her with even greater worry than before.

She stared at Sera, who had dozed off in her seat in the center of the room. Momo momentarily considered slipping the responsibilities back to her. She seemed like someone who would be far better equipped for dealing with blood clouds, pestilence, and murder attempts.

But Valerica would be so mad. Ugh.

Before she could think better of it, she wrote Morgana, neat and clean, in the deity change box.

–

One thing Momo did enjoy about ruling was the repetition. She had a set schedule, given to her by the Bauble Chancellor, which outlined all the important meetings and projects she’d have to see to on that given day.

In the morning, she’d bring milk and chopped tuna to Dusk’s presidential suite – a private room with a cat-sized Nether bath, courtesy of Valerica. By midday, she’d meet with a few guild leaders: seafood brunch with Teddy, cheese and black bread with Rudolph and Fromage, fancy tapas with Alexi. All the socialization was wrapped up by seven, and the time after was devoted to ‘administrative duties.’

Administrative duties, by and large, meant meetings with Valerica.

–

“Valerica, not to be impolite, but – where exactly are we?”

Valerica had reclaimed the summoning stone for herself, and used it at will – very much at will – to summon Momo to wherever she pleased. More often than not, it meant this specific room.

It was a cramped, circular chamber with large windows, overlooking a vast, endless forest. She first assumed it to be one of the Dawn’s outlook towers, but the trees outside were foreign. Purple and pink blossoms bloomed off branches, in stark contrast to the steady oakes and birches of the forests in Brulane.

Valerica giggled. She sat on the floor, cross-legged, reading a dusty tome. The room was sparse, only including a rug, some books and blank parchment, and a cot for sleeping. Momo couldn’t imagine Valerica living here full-time. It was way below her requirement of decadence.

“Oh this? Just a place for humble beginnings,” she said melodically, opaque as usual. “Somewhere the Circle of the Sun won’t bother looking.”

The Circle of the Sun. If Momo recalled correctly, those were King Jarva’s own Excaliburs. She was relieved to know that Valerica was trying her best to stay out of their line of sights.

“The view is wonderful,” Momo said softly, joining her on the floor to look out at the vista.

“Spectacular, isn’t it? Now imagine some bodies hanging off those supple trees…”

Momo’s jaw unhinged, not hiding her reaction.

“Kidding,” Valerica laughed wildly, throwing her head back. “I’ll leave using knights as decoration to Sera. I have more refined tastes than that, I’d hope you know.”

Momo’s gaze wandered over to one of the Everbright torches illuminating the room. A trapped soul bobbed in and out of view of the flame, mouth open in a silent, tormented scream. Momo still wasn’t sure she considered that refined, but she wasn’t going to branch that subject today.

“Anyway,” Valerica continued, and Momo tore her eyes away from the screaming flame. “This meeting is about you. I want these one on one’s to be an open place where you can feel free to ask any and all questions. Where do I bury a dead body, Valerica? How do I fake a funeral, Valerica? How many toes is too many toes, Valerica? Just some examples. I won’t judge you for anything you ask.”

Valerica might not judge her, but Momo was certainly judging Valerica for that list of examples.

“Oh, well, I actually do have a question,” she said, fiddling with her hands. “It said there could be some pretty bad consequences for changing the deity of a city. And I just changed it as you asked from Mordecai to Morgana. Should I be worried about… plagues, or anything like that?”

“Ah, right, that,” Valerica said with a nod. “Nothing to worry about, no. Morgana has been doing a bit of plotting of her own, you see. Her and Mordecai are close friends – allies, you might call them. Morgana saved Mordecai from the wrath of his brother, Neculai, back in the day. A debt that is being forever repaid.”

A million pounds of weight fell off of Momo’s shoulders. Thank goodness.

“But, of course, you aren’t safe by any means,” Valerica laughed. The weight from Momo’s shoulders immediately started clambering back on. “The King’s offices will hear about a change of leadership and deity, and anything involving Morgana will be reason enough to send a dispatch of Holy Knights.”

“Oh, great,” Momo deflated. “I have a few Nether wolves and a cat with an ego, but I don’t think I have the power to take down an entire group of experts.”

Valerica shook her head with a smile, ruffling the top of Momo’s head.

“Oh Momo, you forget yourself – you’re a ruler now! You don’t have to fight a thing. Your lackeys do!” she grinned, clapping her hands together with capitalistic cheer.

Before Momo could object, Valerica had already raised herself from the floor, concerned with something in the corner of the room. She returned with the green box that had been suspiciously present at all of the election proceedings.

“I keep forgetting to give you this,” Valerica huffed, placing the box down in front of Momo. “You really shouldn’t forget to claim completed quests, Momo. Especially city-conquering ones.”

Oh, right. Momo’s eyes lit up. She hadn’t had the chance to ask Valerica about the Save Nam’Dal Quest, what with all the politics to deal with. A juicy vat of 10,000 XP was still waiting for her.

A stack of parchment appeared politely in her hands. She was thankful it didn’t decide to shoot through Valerica’s windows this time.

QUEST COMPLETE!

You have completed the main objective as well as the bonus objective.

Rewards:

- 10,000 XP

- Guild Fortress (Knight’s Hall)

- Scepter of Ruin (Loot box to receive)

- Knight’s Guild Battalion (Talk to Head Knight Gorbrius)

- Thieves’ Guild Battalion (Talk to Guildmaster Teddy)

“Loot box to receive…” Momo mumbled. “Which box?”

Valerica tapped her nail to the green box before her. “Try this one.”

The puzzle pieces clicking together, Momo felt very dumb. She set down the rest of the parchment stack – which likely included many level ups, she hoped – and inspected the box. She politely undid the ribbon holding it together, tore at the corners of the green wrapping paper, and revealed an eye-catching prize.

Laying at the very top of the box was a long, wooden scepter. It was nearly the size of her – a proper walking staff. It smelled like fresh oak and berries, with a smooth, finely sanded surface. The tip of the staff protruded out into the carved face of an undead raven. It was a bit morbid, but utterly beautiful.

“Wow,” Momo said, completely gobsmacked. “I get to keep this?”

Valerica nodded. “All yours, dear. You earned it.”

As she took it into her hands, a courier informed her of its description.

[Scepter of Ruin]:   A scepter only equippable by [Rulers], this weapon awards the user with the skill [Summon Familiar - Vicar]. First raised in the year 1032, Vicar is the undead bird companion of many generations of Necromantic Rulers.

A note from villa1ny

Q: Wait, didn't she just get 10k XP? Where are those level ups at?

Her level ups for receiving all the Quest XP (as well as exciting other rewards) are in the next chapter.

To get 19 chapters ahead right now, you can head over there!

Join the Discord / Momo cult here.

The Emperor's New Clothes

Placing the scepter behind her, Momo turned her attention to the remaining items in the box. Inside was a folded cape, soft as a pillow to the touch. It was a pleasant, dull black, with gold trimmings running up and down the edges. A pattern of smiling cat-skulls was embroidered into the attached collar, which clicked pleasantly around the neck with a cat-shaped button.

“Oh, god,” Momo said, lip trembling. “This is so cute.”

“Lorvis has a special touch, he does,” Valerica laughed lightly.

Underneath the cape was a long-sleeved white blouse, fancifully crimped along the sleeves, black pants – a delight for Momo, who was worried she had been condemned to wear robes forever – and clogs. Luxurious, fur-lined clogs, patterned with green tree leaves.

If it wasn’t for Valerica staring holes into her, Momo would have undressed on the spot.

“I could kiss Lorvis,” Momo muttered. “These are perfect for me.”

“They certainly are. I know you’ll look adorable in them,” Valerica said in a too-low voice. Momo immediately blushed red. “Go home, try them on. Always good to look your best when the enemy arrives on your doorstep.”

—

Out of Valerica’s view, her courier was much less kind.

As soon as she dressed, a tornado of parchment whipped through the window, smashing through enchanted glass like a knife through melted butter.

“Where were you when I was trying to escape the Banquet Hall?” Momo grumbled as the paper soared into her hand innocently, leaving a pile of glass shards in its wake.

You have equipped [Momo’s Cape]  . Tailored by Lorvis, great tailor of Morgana’s Dawn, this cape is especially made for Momo the Ripper – Ruler of Nam’Dal, and famed Corrupted Druid. When worn by Momo, this cape offers + 5 DEX and + 5 CHA.

The rest of her outfit offered a variety of bonuses. Her shirt was water-resistant, her clogs could step through lava, and her pants were apparently made of Netherthread, so they could transform appearance on command. Momo first questioned when shapeshifting pants would ever be useful, but quickly retracted her statement when she transformed them into sweatpants.

Taking Valerica’s advice, she sought immediately to enlist the help of every capable hand she knew. She went first to Teddy, the less hostile of the two options. She found him at the Slippery Warbler, downing a pint and detailing the way he removed Vivienne from office, working toe in toe with Nia Nightsbane to deliver Nam’Dal into a new age.

“I don’t remember it exactly like that,” Momo mumbled, drawing every eye in the room as she spoke. Sitting on a nondescript barstool in the corner of the room, she hadn’t drawn much attention while entering – but the moment she spoke, every head turned to her. It was a sensation she didn’t think she’d ever get used to.

“Ah! Lady Momo,” Teddy said with an exaggerated bow. “Come on, boys, be respectful.”

The rest of the thieves, save Radu, dipped their backs. The lizard just smirked.

“That one isn’t bowing, sir,” Momo said mischievously, pointing to Radu.

“Radu! Get in line, you delinquent,” Teddy shouted. The lizard rolled his eyes, but acquiesced. Momo giggled.

After a long moment, the thieves raised their backs again. She recognized a few of them from the initial siege on the Knight’s Hall. The rest were new recruits, halflings and humans with untamed hair and cocky smiles. The new cohort brimmed with equal parts anxiety and overconfidence.

Momo was happy to see how quickly they had doubled their numbers. With a modest donation from the new government, the Guild could afford feeding and clothing a few extra heads. The guild attire had been revamped and rethreaded, boasting fine clothing imported from Bruda, with Mordecai’s insignia embossed in black on their hoods.

“Looking good, Ripper.”

Momo’s eyebrows shot up. From the back of the crowd of newbies, Corv sauntered forward, tipping a hat. Salvo and Geff followed from behind, the former skipping with glee as she rocketed towards Momo.

“Momo!” she yelled, embracing her with back-breaking enthusiasm. “Or is that too casual? What’s the etiquette here now? Queen? Lady? All-powerful Ruler?”

Momo’s ears burned bright red. She dropped her head, embarrassed.

“Momo is just fine,” she laughed, and then looked back up to meet the bird’s gaze. Curiously, Salvo was wearing the same new garb as the rest of the pack. Corv and Geff too had traded their rags for the ravishing guild armor.

“Stylish, isn’t it?” Salvo boasted, flexing her arms. “After everything with Sera went down, we decided to stop freelancing and join up with the Guild. We knew your leadership wouldn’t lead us astray.”

“Or my money…” Momo muttered, shaking her head. She knew the birds had a nose for gold like no one else. “Speaking of my money, about the coin you stole –”

“So nice seeing you Momo,” Salvo said with a nervous laugh, patting her on the shoulder before motioning to the boys it was time to run. With a solemn wave from Geff, they retreated to the back of the room.

Momo shook her head, but a smile still crept up her face.

“So, our dear lady, what service can we bring to you today?” Teddy wondered aloud, nudging Momo on the shoulder. She had naturally forgotten why she came here initially.

“Oh, right,” she blushed. “Um, well, you guys all know King Jarva right?”

The thieves nodded apprehensively.

“Right, great. And you all know how he’s not a huge fan of necromancers?”

The nods got increasingly apprehensive.

“So the funny thing is, since this city is now run by a necromancer, there’s a very high chance that he will be sending a legion of his men to, uh, investigate,” Momo said, putting it as delicately as she could manage. “I was hoping I could count on you all to help out, should there be any trouble.”

“She wants us to risk our hide against a legion sent by the King? I’m here to pickpocket some petty cash, not lose my head in a revolutionary war.”

Momo was shocked to hear the voice of the Eldergoat thief – the same one who had previously defected during their mission to abduct Vivienne, deeming it too stupid to continue with.

It seemed he still had a knack for spotting terrible plans.

“That’s our ruler you’re talking to, Spordicus,” Teddy glared. Momo almost choked at the name. “Naturally, we’ll pitch in any and all the thieves we got. Our loyalty lies to Nam’Dal, and the only reason you sorry sort are still standing here is because of our dear Momo.”

“That’s a load of hogwater…” Spordicus continued under his breath.

“Oh, I oughta –” Teddy raised his fist, his cheeks heating up.

“Please don’t fight,” Momo squeaked, waving her hands frenetically. “Just think of it as a business proposal, alright? I keep funding your guild, and you guys can pitch in by drugging a few Holy Knights. You can empty their pockets of whatever you find, too.”

That sales pitch seemed to silence the arguments.

“The little lady is offering us a pretty pony of a deal, and I won’t have you precious pickpockets spitting on it, alright?” Teddy said, pointing an accusatory finger at the crowd. “We’re helping, and anyone who disagrees will have their ass booted to the streets with no thieves insurance. Now, let’s go open a keg, my throat’s gettin’ dry.”

Teddy gave Momo a too-firm handshake, cracking a few of her knuckles before he was off to accost the bartender. With the guild members sufficiently frightened, they joined him, leaving only Radu and Momo in the otherwise empty foyer.

“You look like a garden fairie,” was the first thing out of his mouth, his eyes surveying her new outfit. “Er, let me correct myself. A creepy garden fairie.”

Momo frowned. “Don’t you dare insult my clogs.”

“I didn’t say it was a bad look,” he laughed. “I just feel like you’re going to water my plants, weed the yard, and then slit my throat.”

Momo crossed her arms. “And who says I won’t?”

“Oh, just intuition,” he smirked. “I think you’d be a shoddy gardener. You’re more likely to steal my dog and a steak from the fridge than water any plants.”

“I’d be a fine gardener. Also, you should know this is considered defamation now that I’m a public figure,” Momo glared, pointing a finger at his chest. “I could totally sue you.”

“That would require talking to a lawyer, so, I doubt it.”

“I’m perfectly capable of talking to people,” Momo said. “Even lawyer-people. Didn’t you see my whole business proposal just now? I did so much talking.”

“Sure, but that’s only because you had to,” Radu laughed. “I have yet to see you speak to a stranger about something that didn’t have to do with your job or your immediate survival.”

“That’s… not true,” Momo argued. Her stomach grumbled, interrupting her train of thought. “I’m hungry, can you order two grilled warblers from the bartender?”

“No,” he shook his head. “You order it.”

Momo looked at him as if he had casually suggested to murder someone.

“That’s what I thought,” Radu laughed, and waved towards the barkeep.

–

Momo heaved herself into bed, limbs aching with exhaustion. Not physical exhaustion – but social exhaustion. Radu forced her to join in for a round of the Thieves’ Guild’s infamous drinking games, and one round quickly became four rounds, which quickly became a pounding migraine that left her crawling for bed.

Dusk crawled into her lap, drowning out her pained groans with an exaggerated purring.

“You’re right, Dusk. No more talking to people,” she whispered. “Just cats.”

The cat nodded into her arm, accidentally nudging the parchment she stored in her cape pockets.

“Right, I should look at this,” she groaned.

She unfurled the wrinkled stack of parchment. Three pieces of paper, decorated with Morgana’s koi fish, laid in front of her. Momo’s eyes enlarged comically. Three?!

For completing the Quest [Save Nam'Dal], you have received 10,000 XP.

You have gained a level in [Corrupted Druid].

You have gained a level in [Corrupted Druid].

You have gained a level in   [Corrupted Druid].

A note from villa1ny

To get 19 chapters ahead right now, you can head over there!

Join the Discord / Momo cult here.

Talking Shrooms

You are now Level 7 in [Corrupted Druid].

You have gained the skills [Mycelium Listening] and [Dark Healing]

[Mycelium Listening]: Hear through the interconnected web of mushroom life that covers the forest floor. A passive ability that allows you to perceive far-away voices that travel through mycelium.

[Dark Healing]: Harness Death Magic to Heal for 20 HP. Side effects may occur.

You have received the stat boosts + 10 DEX, + 3 CHA

Momo shivered, remembering how Sera used Dark Healing on her after their unfortunate embrace. Her stomach had been on the verge of eruption for a solid 24 hours afterwards. Not to mention the ever present tingling in her bones, as if undead critters were running up and down her body, manually repairing the damage with hammers.

Yeah, no. She’d be keeping that skill on reserve exclusively for life-or-death situations.

—

Needing a break from the constant chaos that was city leadership, Momo headed to the fields.

She would have gone to the even quieter forests, but that would have required passing through the Nam’Dal Terror – which, even after ascending the throne, was still terrifying. The cutthroats on the bridge had their own association, not belonging to the Nam’Dal Thieves’ Guild, and Momo wasn’t eager to find out where exactly their loyalties lied.

She traveled to the west, near Komodo’s former watchtower, and laid in the fields just beyond the grazing boars. She brought only Dusk, her scepter, and a small packed lunch of salted potatoes from Borgo’s Tavern. It was the closest thing she could find to french fries in Nam’Dal.

“We haven’t trained in awhile, have we?” she said, squatting in the open field. She scratched behind Dusk’s ears, eliciting a purr out of the skeletal feline. “I’ve been so busy with… I don’t even know. Delivering a letter, then taking over a city, then taking over that overtaken city…”

She tossed a stone across the field, and Dusk zipped after it. The cat had certainly gained some speed since Momo had last watched her. In fact, the build of her body had evolved somewhat; her legs were longer, her neck more muscular. It was as if she was growing into a proper black bobcat.

What in the Animorphs is going on with her?

While Dusk busied herself chasing her own tail, Momo decided to investigate. “[Summon Bestiary],” she spoke aloud. With a plume of smoke, the overly large book plopped into her hands. She searched for Dusk’s entry.

Type: Undead Cat*. Name: Dusk. Level 3 Phantom.

Your mostly-loyal companion, this Undead Cat will always fight by your side, unless it's busy looking for dinner.

Your current relationship with this companion is VERY POSITIVE. It could only be improved if you offered more diverse breakfast options. The salted tuna is getting a bit boring.

* This Cat can evolve into a Bobcat, Serval, Pallas Cat, or Oncilla. Its default evolution is a Bobcat, which it will evolve into as it gains levels.

Evolve? Like Pokemon? Momo blinked excitedly. How?

“How do I evolve her into the other ones?” Momo asked, probing the sentient book.

The book turned through a flurry of pages, finally presenting her with a FAQ.

Animal Evolution

In addition to obtaining [Pet Classes], Animal Companions can also Evolve. Like a Lesser Demon Boar can transform into a Greater Demon Boar, your Undead Cat can also become an Undead Serval, and so on.

Evolving pets to a specific form requires an evolution stone of a certain affinity. For example, evolving a Golden Retriever into a Lion Cub would require a Sun Stone. Evolving a Rat to a Ferret would take a Stealth Stone.

For your purposes, evolving an Undead Cat would require a Death Stone.

“That sounds pleasant,” Momo muttered. “Where do I get a Death Stone?”

The book remained motionless. Momo sighed. I guess it's a bestiary, not an all-answering book god. Sufficiently satisfied, she closed it, and a plume of Nether smoke shot in her face. She sneezed, the tome evaporating into ash.

Just as she was about to summon Dusk for another game of hide and seek, Momo heard an abrupt rustling sound. The stomping of hooves, the rabid neighs of a stampeding horse. She shot to her feet, searching the area. For hundreds of yards, it was all rolling fields, dirt roads, and the occasional snorting pig.

Am I going insane?

It seemed likely enough. She had just ascended the throne of a minor city in an alien fantasy world, and she hadn’t even had her quarterly mental breakdown yet. She was doing quite well, all things considered – too well.

Alas, no crushing feeling of mania came. Instead, a soft, rubbery sensation tickled her foot.

She squealed, pulling her ankle up. Looking down, she saw a red-dotted mushroom leaning in the grass where her foot once lay.

Wait. That skill…

Reluctantly, she squatted on the ground and touched the head of the mushroom.

Oh.

Her eyes went wide as a cacophony of sounds overtook her: hooves punishing the ground, the overwhelming rustling of dirt and weeds and displaced flora. It was as if she was hearing through the tendrils of the forest, seeing from the perspective of a blade of grass.

It was the [Mycelium Hearing]. For a brief moment, she was embodying a mushroom. A single piece of fungus, somewhere far in the distance, delivering a message through the flora. Its annoyance was palpable; it was angry, furious. Momo sympathized – men on stampeding steeds were ruining its perfectly nice turf, soiling its soil.

“But which way are they heading…” Momo wondered. She could hear the horses, but had no concept of their direction. She looked into the distance, but her sight gave her no clue as to the source of the sound.

A voice carried over through the mycelium. It was gravely and hard, staticy like a car radio.

“He insults us. Says he couldn’t spare his best men for a silly little servant of Morgana – yet he sends us! What are we to him, then? A bunch of rowdy good-for-nothings? We’ll show the King what we’re capable of and eviscerate this upstart necro. Then it’ll be us on the Quest, not them.”

Just as the voice was about to say something else, a sharp pain ran up Momo’s arm. She felt the sensation of being crushed underfoot, smashed to pieces as if she were nothing but a… mushroom.

“Oh no,” Momo said, tears pricking her eyes as she caressed the mushroom in front of her. “They ran over your brother.”

The mushroom said nothing. Momo assumed it was stricken speechless by grief.

Adrenaline coursing through her, Momo turned to Dusk. She curled her fists tightly.

“They’re coming.”

—

With a war party fast approaching, Momo did what she knew she needed to do.

She laid in bed.

She had meant to send word of the knights to Teddy’s scouts, but the call of the Nap was too powerful. Not only that, but she had a bed now. Not a pile of cow-smelling hay. No pillows constructed of mulch and leaves tied with thread. No, a proper sleeping cot.

Sitting on a frame of royal oak wood, the plush mattress was stuffed with Demon Goose feathers. The feathers were a gradient of red and brown, and emitted a warm sensation, like the fires of hell delicately licking at her legs.

Vaguely terrifying, she thought, but way softer than the Mallmart variety.

Just as she was about to doze off, a scroll of parchment smacked into her chin.

“I’m going to opt out of this system soon, I swear to Morgana,” she grumbled, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She blearily looked at the piece of parchment.

WARNING: You lack a [Housecarl].

To appoint a [Housecarl], simply award an individual with a Royal Name.

She stared at the large stack of parchment on the floor next to her. They all shared the same blaring warning. She didn’t even know what a housecarl did.

She groaned at the thought of all the new titles she still had left to hand out. It turned out you needed quite a lot of people to effectively run a city; one singular Momo could only do so much. Luckily her court came prefilled with a Chancellor – Excalibur, annoying as he was, was great at bullshiting political nonsense – but she still needed a Spymaster, an Artificer, and, of course…

“Fine,” she muttered, slumping out of bed. She magically willed her pajamas into pants, and sleepily stalked into the hallway. “The first person I see is becoming my housecarl.”

Naturally, no such person appeared.

She walked the hallways until she wandered into the Banquet Hall. In absence of rioting criminals, the football field of a chamber was eerily quiet, the ghost of the past week’s events hanging in the air. The stained glass window remained a shattered mess, the floors were muddied with boot-tracks, and Dusk’s likeness was painted poorly with Nether on the north wall.

A rustling motion on the floor drew Momo’s attention.

“Oh my, who are you?” Momo cooed, immediately falling to her knees. Scrambling across the floor like it was skating on poorly-sized ice skates was a tiny, hobbling gecko. It stared at her with bewitching green eyes, its body no bigger than a leaf.

“Blep,” it said proudly, sticking out its tongue in greeting. Momo nearly sobbed.

“Oh you are so cute,” Momo said. “Can I please pick you up?”

The gecko made no motion to escape, so Momo took that as a yes. She scooped it into her open palms and hovered it to her face.

“You need a name,” she said, matter-of-fact, as if it was required by law. “What about…”

She stared intently at the gecko. Its body was uncannily noodle-shaped, with the piercing green eyes of a goblin.

“Nooblin,” she said, decisively. “I dub you Nooblin.”

With a puff of white smoke, the gecko disappeared momentarily out of view. Momo’s eyes widened in shock, fearing she just unknowingly cursed him. Luckily, he reappeared quickly, still sitting pleasantly in her palms. The only difference – he was now wearing a lizard-sized apron, an incredibly small metal helmet, and a cape.

A piece of parchment informed her, as always, of her accidental decision.

You have successfully chosen a [Housecarl].   [Nooblin] will oversee your holding, tend to rudimentary household tasks, and serve as a [Butler], [Housekeeper], and [Bodyguard] unless you offload those duties to a different member of your court.

Momo beamed down at the gecko, who was very busy sniffing his new apron.

“I couldn’t have chosen better.”

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The Nameless Quest

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A special treat awaits you at the end of the chapter! (For fans of Valerica in America...)

“Dusk! That’s not a snack, that’s our housecarl.”

The cat meowed in annoyance, holding the gecko firmly between her teeth. Momo glared at her, making a downward gesture with her thumb.

“Put him down.”

Dusk stayed stubbornly still. Nooblin squirmed, flailing his tiny legs uselessly.

“To think I was going to stop by the market to get you some salmon filet later,” Momo shook her head, crossing her arms dramatically. At that, Dusk promptly dropped the gecko. Nooblin scurried away under Momo’s bed, quivering in fear in his tiny apron.

“Meow?” Dusk pleaded, pawing at Momo’s ankle.

“Nope. You lost your salmon opportunity when you started poking him with your fangs.”

“Meow.”

“I can’t be bought, Dusk,” Momo narrowed her eyes. “Don’t give me that cute face.”

Dusk’s pleading eyes only grew larger. Momo’s lip trembled.

“You’re terrible,” Momo grumbled, picking the cat up and hauling her over her shoulder. “One filet. And no more attacking your fellow members of government.”

–

After a trip to the fish market, Momo rode Nightmare back towards the agricultural district. She hooked the horse up to a post outside, strode up the zigzagging staircases enclosed inside in the city walls, and knocked politely on the door to the Western Watchtower.

“Come in,” a ragged voice ushered.

Crunching her molars on the remaining fish bones, Dusk smacked her lips greedily as they entered Komodo’s former den. Momo wrinkled her nose. The cat’s breath reeked of raw salmon.

“Okay, no, you’re going on the floor,” Momo said, disgusted. She placed Dusk down on the carpet, and the cat eagerly zipped across the floor, slipping underneath the writing desk and terrifying the room’s inhabitant.

“Oh Gods!” Gunther jumped, his furry paws flying upwards. “I would hope guests would refrain from unleashing monsters into my room in the future.”

The room looked mostly the same, flush with ornate furniture. The only new edition was the – in Valerica’s words – humane prison bracelet around Gunther’s ankle. Valerica had assured it wasn’t an animal rights issue, and that Gunther would have a large space to roam around. She also tried reminding Momo that Gunther wasn’t actually a bear, but she was not persuaded.

“Sorry,” Momo apologized. She leaned against the desk, gazing at Gunther’s recent work. A fat stack of parchment was slipped into envelopes, each addressed to the King. “How’s the mail been going?”

“Oh, you mean the lies and treason? Superb,” he gritted his teeth.

“Iwouldn’t go that far,” Momo frowned. “You’re just preventing a war, you know.”

She gazed downward, eyeing the current piece of correspondence.

My liege,

Things in Nam’Dal are going splendidly. The necromancer unfortunately figured out how to file the Ruling paperwork before we could catch her, but I can assure you that the Holy Knights are very much still in power in this city. It is wholly unnecessary for you to send any of the Circle of the Sun to investigate.

Their efforts are much better spent on the Nameless Quest.

Yours,

Lord Gunther

Momo squinted at the last line. The Nameless Quest. She recalled the knights she overheard through the mycelium talking about a quest. How they wanted to prove themselves in Nam’Dal so that they’d be deemed worthy enough for it.

“What’s the Nameless Quest?”

Gunther tensed, as if caught saying something he shouldn’t. He quickly flopped a paw over the envelope.

“Nothing that concerns you,” he snorted. “Knight business.”

Momo narrowed his eyes at him.

“I don’t appreciate being lied to,” she said, tapping his rounded nose. “Especially by a living teddy bear. It’s very unnerving.”

“Nonsense,” he sputtered. “I’m not lying about a single thing. Your tall, terrifying friend was very clear about the repercussions of that.”

Momo crossed her arms. She really didn’t do well with conflict, but she also suffered from incurable curiosity. She had accrued so many unfortunate intellect points during her time in Alois that her brain had begun to pulse every time something was out of place. It was like someone had drugged her innate pattern matching ability with steroids.

“I don’t want to have to call my tall, terrifying friend,” Momo raised an eyebrow, deciding on the bluff using Valerica strategy, “so I think it’d be great if you could just tell me what the quest is.”

His face went red. Momo could tell Valerica left a lasting impression on him.

“Fine, fine,” Gunther groaned audibly. “Why don’t I completely tarnish my reputation with the King while I’m here. I’m already doing a jolly good job of it.”

Momo clapped happily. “Perfect, yes, continue.”

He sighed, pulling open the desk drawer. He fished out a wrinkled piece of parchment and slapped it down on the table, creasing the edges. It was a drawing – a poor one, too, by Momo’s already-mediocre standards. By the age of the parchment, it seemed to have been drawn by a caveman.

“Have you ever heard of an Oblivion Stone?” he said, voice suddenly quiet. It was the most apprehensive Momo had heard him.

“Uh… no.”

“Gods, for a Ruler of an entire city, you know squat about squat…” he grumbled, and then pointed a pudgy finger to the drawing. The stone was not really a stone. It resembled a tablet, with squiggly lines depicting what Momo assumed were words in an archaic language. “This is an Oblivion Stone. Oblivion Stones are some of the rarest, most powerful artifacts in Alois. Until recently, it was thought that none remained.”

Momo’s eyes grew with interest. “That is the most powerful artifact in Alois? It looks like a prehistoric coloring book.”

Gunther rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t be so wry. This stone has the power to create an entire new rank of power in Alois. An unbalanced rank of power – one that the Gods can’t touch. You think Excaliburs are powerful? Imagine the power of a being ten times their strength and ability. That’s the kind of power an Oblivion Stone can offer.”

Momo’s blood ran cold, her mouth freezing in an unreadable expression.

“More power than the Excaliburs? That’s impossible.”

“The realm of possibility is far greater than your trivial mind can imagine,” Gunther grunted, sliding the drawing back into the drawer and snapping it shut. “When the King acquires the Oblivion Stone, the Circle of the Sun will ascend to an unbeatable rank, and your silly encore of the Dark Calamity will be nothing but a historical footnote.”

Momo’s jaw hung slack.

“Well,” she said, after a long, speechless minute. “We’ll see about that.”

—

“Stupid rock, do the thing!”

Momo all but growled at the Summoning Stone in her hand. Her arms shook, completely drained from the amount of Nether she had infused into the stone. It had done nothing. The stone taunted her with its perfect stillness, almost mocking her with its lack of reaction.

“I need to talk to Valerica,” Momo said, shaking the stone deliriously. “Can’t you summon her?”

The stone stared at her, as if to say no. Clearly not.

“Useless,” she grumbled. “So you’re telling me she can summon me whenever she wants, but I can only summon her when she’s in jazz class?”

Momo glared at the rock. The rock gave her radio silence.

She sighed.

“This is another of her tests, isn’t it?”

—

“What are these… gray, casual pantaloons you’re wearing?”

Momo startled. Teddy looked at her with a quizzical look, eyeing the gray sweatpants she forgot to switch out of. Flaring red, she snapped her fingers and switched them back into medieval business casual.

“You saw nothing,” Momo said, clearing her throat. “So. What do you think our odds are of beating back a group of Holy Knights?”

Momo and the Thieves stood high on the Northern Wall, looking over the vast green fields. A dirt road winded into the distance, disappearing into a mountain range.

“Aye, solid odds. A battle on home turf is always better. We’ll use every trap and trick up our sleeves,” he said confidently, rolling up his actual sleeves. “They won’t know what hit ‘em.”

Momo hummed. “That’s… reassuring. I’m just worried that fighting them might actually be a bad idea. If they return to the capital beaten and bruised, or don’t return to the capital at all, they’ll just send further reinforcements.”

Teddy nodded. He looked out into the distance, ruminating.

“Well, deceit is our playbook. We could… trick ‘em, in a way.”

Momo brightened. “I’m all ears.”

“We could get the Nam’Dal Knights in on the ploy, but I don’t trust them not to sell us out. I say we borrow their armor and offer the Holy Knights a tour of the place. Show them a few of our men locked up in cages, give Radu a fake beating or two, feed them some ale, and show ‘em out.”

Momo giggled at Radu’s deep frown. The lizard was too far away to object, but close enough to hear his inclusion in the plan.

“Perfect,” Momo said, grinning broadly. “But I’m going to need my own suit of armor. I don’t think any of the knights are my size.”

A note from villa1ny

To celebrate over 100 patrons and over 100 chapters on Patreon, I'm commemorating this milestone with something all readers can enjoy: a second installment of Valerica in America, aka the alternate imagining of this book where it was Valerica who was summoned to Earth, instead of the other way around. This is an ongoing side story on my Patreon that is free for you to read.

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Sumire the Sleepy

“I look a little devilishly handsome, don’t I?”

Momo grinned dumbly at Dusk, who rolled her half-moon eyes back at her. Momo was standing in front of her mirror, flexing her arms in a freshly fitted suit of chainmail. The breastplate had to be handcrafted, but the pants were a simple flick of the fingers, thanks to her magic pantaloons.

The cherry on top was the hat. Borrowed from the Vaults, it was a traditional knight’s helmet with a metal visor, covering her head in its entirety. Sliding it over her head, it fit like a glove. She sprayed herself with some [Holy Perfume], courtesy of Teddy, and inhaled the faint, rose-scented air around her.

“I’m a proper prince,” she giggled. “I’m just missing the flower to hold between my teeth.”

And the princess. She frowned. She had been so stuck in a stupor of shock, terror, and amazement for the past few months that all her petty little desires from back on Earth had been stuffed down to the bottom of her mental barrel. But now that she had a bit more footing in this new universe, they had begun to creep back into her consciousness.

“Brain, stop it,” she huffed, straightening herself in her boots. “I have to stay focused.”

Dusk meowed in agreement, slinking along her legs. Momo’s eyes fell to the summoning stone, which remained vacant and unmoving in the corner of the room. She sighed.

“I hope I know what I’m doing.”

—

‘Everyone, please recite your positions,” Teddy, wearing the face of Lord Gunther, commanded through a makeshift megaphone. The thieves in knight-uniforms and knights in thief-uniforms were all gathered at the northern entrance to Nam’Dal. The knights, dressed as thieves, were cuffed in chains and arranged in a long line of paired prisoners.

The plan was simple. Since they couldn’t trust the Nam’Dal Knights not to sell them out to their capital superiors, Teddy dressed them as thieves; if the knights tried to complain that they had been falsely arrested and were in fact knights, they simply wouldn’t be believed – due to their appearance.

The thieves, of course, could only gain from deceiving Jarva. They were more than happy to take on their swapped role, parading the chained knights around like common criminals.

Radu, who was given the role Head Knight for the purposes of the scheme, spoke first.

“I will be the Head Knight who is escorting the prisoners to the jailhouse.”

Salvo stood next to him, sporting a gold-tipped spear and a hilariously unproportional helmet, her beak sticking out the bottom.

“And I’ll be, uh, Head Knight Junior,” she squawked. “Making sure all the prisoners are holding hands on their way downstairs so no one gets lost.”

“We didn’t agree to that,” Gorbrius muttered. He was still nursing injuries from his run-in with Valerica and Momo, adding to his appearance as a street-hardened thief. “I’ll be posing as the Thief Guildmaster, Teddy, and make sure to look as stupid and gullible as possible.”

Teddy waved a fist at him, but Momo settled down the infighting with a light cough.

Everyone’s eyes turned to her.

“Hello. I’ll be Co-Head Knight Coco,” she said nervously, bowing slightly. “If anyone asks about a girl named Momo, tell them she’s locked up somewhere deep, dark, and unreachable.”

The crowd murmured in agreement. Momo gave a weak thumbs up.

“Alrighty,” Teddy continued. “Borbo, how much time do we have?”

A long ladder extended from the top of the city walls to the grounds below. A scout stood at the bottom of the ladder, a blushing goose-faced fellow. At Teddy’s command, he immediately scurried up the ladder to the top. After a moment, he slid like a firefighter downwards again.

“They’re nearly here, sir!” he bleated, wings flapping wildly. The tension around the gates immediately heightened. A nervous chatter struck the group, with a few of the faux-prisoners joining hands. Momo found Radu’s gaze, and jogged over to him.

“Coco,” he greeted sardonically. “You’re looking a lot more convincing than last time we tried this scheme.”

“Oh, shut it.”

—

The scuttle of horse hooves halted abruptly outside the gates, wild neighs erupting as the horses came to a stop after hours of nonstop sprinting. Under a dark veil of shadow, a litter of scouts watched the Holy Knights arrival from above.

Goose-faced Borbo descended the ladder. He frantically quacked a series of quacks, giving the Knights and Thieves their signal. With the signal given, the plan whirred into motion. The faux-thieves hunched their backs and started their quibbling about false imprisonment, the poser knights made their best attempt at summoning proud, better-than-thou attitudes.

Scouts on either side of the Northern gates began pulling at ropes. The ropes curled around wheels, leading into a series of interlocking levers and pulleys. Groaning as they pulled, the scouts willed the massive doors open. The motion puffed dust and dirt into the air, creating a cloud of smoke in which the small party of Holy Knights emerged.

Trotting in first was a man on a shining white steed, whose blonde hair matched the mane of his mount. Momo concealed a laugh. The startling similarities between him and his horse reminded her of those Buzzfeed articles about people who look like their dogs – floppy-haired beagles walked by droopy-eyed old women.

“Hail, poor, subjugated citizens of Nam’Dal!” the knight roared, slapping his breastplate for emphasis. “We, the Knights of The White Moon, sent by the honorable King Jarva, have traveled from the capital Jarvirium to your faraway southern criminal outpost to save you from the mighty necromancer…”

He trailed off. His mouth moved as if he couldn’t remember the next word in his speech.

To his left, his fellow knight gritted his teeth and whispered, “Momo.”

“Ah yes, the mighty, dastardly necromancer Momo!” he continued, trotting in a circle around them on his horse. “We hear of your city’s conversion to the deity Morgana, the sworn enemy of Kyros. Our arrival here should be indication enough that the King cares deeply for your wellbeing, and will not have you crushed under the heel of the Queen of Decay.”

Tuning out the rest of his long-winded speech, Momo focused her attention to the knight in the far back of the group. The party was about six knights wide, with the great majority seeming to file in an obedient line behind the blonde ringleader. The one exception was her.

With her hands hugged around the neck of her horse, and her eyes closed shut, Momo got the immediate impression that the knight was… asleep.

“Is that one completely knocked out, or is she snoring?” Momo whispered to Radu, pointing her out. Radu leaned in to get a better look.

After a moment, he cursed under his breath. It wasn’t the chuckle Momo was expecting.

“That’s no ordinary Holy Knight,” he whispered. “That’s Sumire.”

Momo looked at him quizically. Radu’s voice carried a foreboding tone, and Momo couldn’t imagine the snoring lady generating that amount of terror. As opposed to the rest of the knights – a mixture of pale humans and blue lizards – her skin was darkly tan and freckled. Her hair was intricately braided, decorated with white beads.

Her armor was the most striking thing about her. Instead of the traditional chainmail and steel plate, she opted for a poncho-like hooded cape made of furs. Momo was immediately jealous. It gave her the appearance of a flying squirrel, draping over her arms and lower body.

“She seems cool,” Momo said, giving her definitive assessment. “I want her coat.”

“The [Drowsy Luhkka]? Trust me, you don’t,” Radu shook his head. “You’re nap-prone enough as it is. The coat gives you immense power, but the cost is eternal sleepiness, bordering on delirium.”

“I’m already cursed with eternal sleepiness,” Momo muttered. “So I only see how I could profit.”

The blonde horseman interrupted their bickering.

“So, point me in the direction of the necromancer, and I, the great Roland, will do the liberating,” the knight announced, pinning his gaze on Momo. “You, small knight. Where are you keeping the one known as Momo?”

Before Momo could say something dumb, Teddy cut her off. “While we appreciate your help, Sir Roland, your services are not needed here. We have sealed Momo in a dungeon deep underground.”

“Is that so?” Roland said, squinting his eyes. For the first time, he seemed to properly take in his surroundings. He looked at the impatient prisoners, the slouching knights, the trembling scouts. “And who exactly are you, who has ensnared this necromancer?”

“Do you seriously not recognize me?” Teddy all but growled. Momo had to admit, his disguise was uncanny. He looked like a nearly perfect recreation of the bear knight – who, of course, remained trapped in the Western Watchtower. “I am your superior, Lord Gunther.”

Roland’s eyes widened, and he wobbled on his steed.

“G–Gunther?” he stuttered. “You were assumed dead. I knew your furry face looked familiar, but it’s like seeing a ghost…”

“Assumed dead? I’ve been in correspondence with the King for weeks now.”

“Correspondence which originated from a source of known forgeries. The parchment had the mark of the lizard Komodo,” Roland said, brushing back his hair and studying himself. Momo swallowed. Shit. She had assumed Komodo had been more covert in her schemes, but apparently not.

“Ah yes, of course,” Teddy said, not missing a beat. “After apprehending the necromancer, I personally overtook the lizard’s former lair. I’ve been using it as a base of operations.”

“Ah,” Roland said, yet an air of skepticism remained. “Naturally.”

For a moment, the two stood frozen, suspended in silence.

“And what of Pol?” Roland asked, finally.

“Pol?” Teddy said. Momo’s face went beat-red.

“Pol’s dead,” Momo squeaked out before Teddy could speak. Every head turned to her. Roland’s mouth dropped open, wearing an unreadable expression. “When we… when we overthrew the necromancer’s government, he didn’t make it.”

“That’s hard to believe.”

Heads spun again, this time facing a new voice. The dozing woman had finally woken, at least partially. Sumire’s hazy gaze looked out at the rabble. She dropped off her horse with clumsy grace, and walked towards Momo.

“Pol bites the bullet, but not Gunther?” she yawned, stretching her arms out. “Seems a little bit suspicious, if you ask me. The bear’s a great honeytalker, but a terrible swordarm.”

After a few seconds, it seemed to occur to Teddy to act offended.

“Hey!” he shouted, offering a mock scowl.

At his protest, Sumire turned on her heel to face him. She moved with a slouchy grace. Every movement was uncoordinated yet swift, unpredictable yet perfectly executed. Approaching Teddy, she whistled a tune.

“Do you remember that song, Gunther?” she asked, stopping to stand a foot from Teddy. Everyone watched with anticipation as the bear thought about his answer. No one watched on with more anxiety than Momo.

“I don’t have time for these hijinks,” he said, looking away. “I’ve got a city to run.”

“Oh, how unfortunate,” Sumire said. Her hand fell out of view, grasping at something under her cape. “Wrong answer.”

A note from villa1ny

If you'd like to see some Sumire art, I've included it in the spoiler tag. If you want to have your own image of her in your head, that's fine too!

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ASMR

As Sumire’s hand flew from her coat, a scimitar sparkled in the light. Both the blade and hilt were gleaming white, the latter decorated with colored jewels. Its surface was so bright and reflective that it briefly disappeared under the light of the sun, reappearing in a flash to find purchase under Teddy’s throat.

She’s a Holy Knight, but she has the gear of a cold-weather pirate? Momo thought, helplessly confused. The coat suggested she was from somewhere far north, maybe even beyond Jarva’s kingdom. After all, the map Valerica showed her was only local to this continent. For all she knew, Alois could be home to a dozen competing lands.

“I don’t like liars,” Sumire whispered, her scimitar digging into Teddy’s furry throat. Her tone was almost bored – apathetic and impatient. At her quip, Teddy’s face turned from shock to dismay. He seemed at a loss for words, which was never a good look for the Guildmaster. The shapeshifter’s innate charisma didn’t seem to fool Sumire.

It was a bad idea to have him impersonate Gunther, Momo frowned. They had forgotten the high possibility that the Bear Lord was well-acquainted with his fellow expert knights. Even with the immense density of the King’s army, the numbers dwindled at the very top.

According to Valerica, thousands of middling intermediates muddied the royal ranks, but only a few hundred experts were employed by the King. The higher you climbed the ladder, the closer the bonds between knights became. Or so Momo assumed. It didn’t seem to work that way with necromancers.

Still, Gunther definitely would have sold us out if given the chance. Momo had offered him some pretty great stock options in the new Queendom, but he had refused. He had gained enough esteem within the King’s government to warrant a solid pension and a lifetime of health insurance. Coming from America, Momo knew there was nothing more worth fighting for than a guaranteed retirement plan.

“Oh ho ho, let’s slow down,” Teddy said gruffly, throwing his hands up. After a prolonged silence, he finally found his words. “There’s no need for violence, Sumire. My apologies if I seem disingenuous. It’s just that the necromancers performed the [Forgaelia] incantation on me. My brain is still recovering.”

Sumire’s blade arm faltered. Her name seemed to be common knowledge, but Teddy referencing it still softened the woman. Momo could only see her back, but she could tell she was thrown off. Maybe Teddy’s charm is working after all. He was wearing that cute bear face. That had to be an instant +10 to charisma.

“Forgaelia, huh?” she said. Despite a forgiving change in tone, her blade stayed where it was – digging into his neck. “I’ve never heard of a Forgaelia curse that erases memories that far back. It typically only goes back a few days, at most.”

“I didn’t say it deleted my memory. Just slowed the brain waves, is all,” Teddy said. His face seemed to tense, his eyes considering something. “Of course I know that song you were whistling. It’s the Spinesplitter Waltz. Wouldn’t be a Holy Knight worth my salt if I didn’t.”

A moment passed, and every cell in Momo’s body jittered with anxiety. Sumire’s expression was unreadable. Momo couldn’t tell if the Spinesplitter was utter bullshit or a stroke of genius.

“Hm,” Sumire said. To everyone’s collective relief, she retracted the blade in a show of peace. Teddy audibly sighed. “Glad to know you’re still with us, Gun-gun. Now, if you don’t mind, one last question, just to make sure you haven’t been necromantically possessed–”

Before Sumire could get the question out, Momo rushed forward, jogging with urgency until she was at the knight’s side. She stuck her hand out, clenching her last piece of chocolate.

“Ma’am,” Momo said, willing her voice not to shake. “I’m sure it’s been a long trip. Can I interest you in some chocolate?”

Surprised, Sumire’s head slowly tilted towards her. At their increased proximity, Momo could see her severe under-eye bags, sitting just below buttery brown eyes. Through drooping eyelids, the woman considered her.

Momo gulped, feeling as if she was being pierced through. This was a terrible idea, she thought as the woman’s irises slowly expanded. But if I was wearing a coat that made me sleepy all the time, then I’d definitely have an extreme candy habit…

“Chocolate?” Sumire said, a slight hint of eagerness seeping out of her vacant voice. She tore her eyes from Momo, looking instead at her offered hand. “Genuine milk chocolate?”

“As genuine as it gets.”

She had zero idea how real it was, but it tasted real.

“We do not accept bribes from the rabble, Sumire,” Roland interjected, high up on his high horse. Sumire ignored him, peering even closer at the treat.

“Maybe you don’t,” She said, placing her hand over Momo’s. She gave Momo a meaningful look, and hovered her hand over hers for a too-long moment. Electricity ran down Momo’s arm, and she fought her inner voice to keep her hand perfectly still.

Remain calm, Momo repeated internally, ignoring the four-alarm fire going off in her head. You’ve given chocolate to plenty of people. You’ve even given it to goats. Cool girl pirate knights are no different. Stay still.

Slowly, Sumire grabbed the treat, and retracted her hand. She immediately popped it in her mouth, chewing slowly. After a moment, she bared her teeth. Momo imagined it was her normal smile once, but it had been tinted with manic tiredness into something terrifying and uncanny, merely approximating a human grin.

“So good,” Sumire wistfully sighed, her eyelashes fluttering.

Seizing the opportunity, Momo lowered her voice to a melodious hum. She tried to embody the ASMR streamers she had watched during sleepless nights. If she had a microphone to tap, she would. She settled on her chainmail shirt.

“You seem sleepy,” Momo suggested. “I think you’re ready to come grab some more snacks at the inn, curl up into some complementary pajamas, and…”

Momo toppled over, the already-snoring knight falling into her arms.

A note from villa1ny

Sorry for the short chapter today - I just got back to Europe and I'm super jetlagged. Hope you enjoyed regardless, more tomorrow!

To get 20 chapters ahead right now, you can head over there!

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Silent Mindreader

Congratulations! For duping a [Holy Knight] using the sweet saccharin power of chocolate, the class [Con Artist] has been upgraded to level 2.

Your personal skill [Con Artist] has become a class skill, and upgraded into [Silent Mindreader]. This upgraded skill can be cast silently, meaning you can simply think it, and it will cast. [Silent Mindreader] has all the same mechanics of [Con Artist] – unearth a deep desire or fear from your target – but can be done silently, so they don’t stab you when they realize the trickery!

You have also gained the additional skill [White Lie Detection]. [White Lie Detection] is a passive skill which gives you a 25% chance to tell if someone is fibbing.

“It’s rude to look over the shoulder of someone receiving a courier,” Teddy – still posing as Lord Gunther – reminded Roland, who was peering over Momo with barely disguised interest. The knight startled, tearing his eyes away. Momo startled just as much, immediately willing the parchment into non-existence.

“I was doing nothing of the sort,” Roland grumbled, cheeks flushed. He gave Momo an annoyed look before moving on. He sat at one of the many booths inside the Pickpocket’s Kettle, a tavern in the city’s Old Town. It had been the closest place for food and drink that Momo came across, so she had quickly ushered the knights into it before they could ask any more troublesome questions.

A piggish snort drew Momo out of her thoughts. It originated from Sumire, whose head was laying facedown on the bar. The woman had briefly woken up to enjoy a single beer, another of Momo’s chocolates, and then fallen into a narcoleptic slumber almost instantly.

“She’s so much less scary when she’s asleep,” Teddy whispered to her. He was sitting at the barstool to the left of her, enjoying his fifth beer since they arrived thirty minutes ago. Momo would have wondered if his nerves were getting the best of him, but she knew five beers was a normal amount of consumption for the man.

“Can I get you anything, Ms…” the bartender, an Eldergoat with a name tag that read Meeples, trailed off as she stared at Momo’s helmeted face. “I didn’t catch your name.”

“Coco,” Momo said, grateful for the disguise. It prevented the average townsfolk from comitting any accidental, potentially life-ending slip ups. “Do you have any apple juice?”

“We got cabbage lemonade.”

Momo felt suddenly nauseous. Kalendale’s cabbage beer had been barely stomacheable, but that sounded like an unholy combination.

“Do you have anything with fruit in it?”

Meeples considered this, turning to look at the kegs behind him.

“Is pork a fruit?”

“Nevermind.”

Sumire snorted loudly again, apparently so loudly that she shocked even herself, her eyes popping open abruptly.

“What kinda drink has pork in it?” she mumbled.

Momo jumped in her seat, nearly flying off the barstool. She can hear things while sleeping? Teddy had come to the same frightening conclusion, giving Momo a wide-eyed glare. He quickly made a bee-line towards one of the booths, not wanting to risk another confrontation.

“Porkchop Martini,” Meeples answered, shaking a canteen. Momo noticed an active grill to his right, sparkling with heat. It was built into the bar, as natural as a sink or a mini-fridge. “Gin, vermouth, amethyst cider, and a delicious cut of Lesser Demon Boar.”

Red smoke began to ripple around the canteen. The harder he shook it, the more engulfed in red it became. Momo wrinkled her nose. The red fumes smelled of magic. She had come to be familiar with the odor. Each type of magic had a distinct variation, but the core smell was the same – an old library book, nostalgic, warm, and a bit sweet.

“It’s an old Nam’Dal delicacy,” he said, and Momo could tell instinctively that he was lying. Must be that new skill. He poured the contents of the canteen into a martini glass. Dripping the froth of it like latte art, he drew the foamed face of a pig on the bubbly surface.

Sumire reached for it, but Meeples waved her off. “It’s still missin’ the chop.”

With the grace of a ballerina, he danced a pork chop off the grill and onto a small plate. He cut an incision into the meat, and placed it on the side of the martini glass like a drink accessory. It reminded Momo of those cute umbrellas they’d sometimes top drinks with, only this one was adorned with red pork belly.

“You done now?” Sumire said, eyes not quite open. Momo admired her ability to see without looking.

“Enjoy.”

She graciously took the drink, swallowed the porkchop in one swoop, and then downed about half of the glittering, red liquid. She ate like a drunkard, her drowsiness dampening her movements. She wiped her lips, passing the glass to Momo.

“Best drink I’ve had in a decade,” she mumbled. Within a breath, her eyes were closed again, and she was asleep.

Looking at her, Momo laughed. She couldn’t help but be charmed by her weird form of narcolepsy. There was something so endearing about someone who only came awake to stab, threaten, or eat. Well – maybe endearing to Momo, and probably no one else.

Still, she had to remember that Sumire wasn’t a friend. It was hard for Momo to keep that straight. She was never good at keeping enemies. She was so forgetful with grudges. Katherine W. bullied her through grades 2 to 11, and even then Momo signed her graduation yearbook with ‘going to miss you!’

It had been completely genuine. At least Katherine had paid enough attention to her to come up with a different degrading nickname every Tuesday.

But times were different now. She had actual friends, and only two thirds of them were animals. Valerica was still more of an insane workplace manager than a friend, but she was sweet in her own way. Radu was kind of a frenemy, but a loyal one. And Salvo was technically a bird – but a talking one. So she counted that.

Staring at Sumire’s head, Momo decided it was time to get the upper hand. She looked around, making sure no one was watching her. Wordlessly, she cast [Silent Mindreader].

It worked just as it did with the Earl. It was as if someone walked into her brain, yelled a few pieces of choice information, then slammed the door on their way out.

She’s afraid of Roland. It was the clearest fear of the bunch, sticking out like a green weed in a patch of dead grass. She didn’t give a rat’s ass about the rest of her crew, but there was something murky going on with the dense, blonde ringleader. It didn’t feel like loyalty, or fierce allegiance, or primal, physical fear. It was mental. It felt bad.

Momo instantly hated the guy.

She looked over to find him playing a round of billiards with Radu and fake Lord Gunther. By the greedy look on Teddy’s face, Roland had to be losing terribly. Momo couldn’t imagine someone like Sumire being afraid of him. He was all arrogance and hair.

Momo turned back to the half-consumed drink. She sloshed it around experimentally, her ravenous curiosity forcing her to tip it into her mouth. The liquid sizzled in her mouth like Pop Rocks.

“Oh, wow,” Momo said, feeling everything at once. “She was not lying.”

She finished the drink in one swoop, then shoved the glass back towards Meeples.

“I’ll have three more.”

—

Momo was smashed.

She smiled giddily as she twirled around on her barstool. She felt like she was in an old-timey movie, her vision clouded like film from an antiquated camera. Everything was high contrast and low-detail, fuzzy and overly bright. It was fun.

“You look happy,” Sumire smirked, poking at Momo’s shoulder. Momo jumped, actually falling out of her seat this time. She crumpled into a jumble of limbs, taking at least a full minute before she stumbled back upwards.

“Sorry,” Sumire chuckled. “Didn’t realize you were so structurally unsound.”

“My brain doesn’t really control my limbs. They do their own thing,” Momo giggled, sliding back into her seat. The dozing knight was fully awake now, or at least as awake as she got. She was staring at Momo with an amused smirk, bordering on flirtatious.

Oh God.

Momo had to be hallucinating. This was what alcohol did to people, right? It made them see things that weren’t there. Under no circumstances would a beautiful pirate-knight be flirting with her, especially while she was wearing a full suit of armor, helmet included.

Momo paused, raising her hands to her head. There was no helmet.

“Missing something?” Sumire laughed. She gestured to Momo’s discarded knight helmet, which she had somehow managed to throw across the bar in a spontaneous game of helmet-basketball. The hoop had been an open beer keg, and she had successfully gotten a three point shot inside, much to Meeples’ chagrin.

“I don’t remember doing that,” Momo mumbled stupidly. “Alcohol is very bad.”

“I’m guessing you don’t drink often.”

“Once or twice,” Momo said, and then realized she had to clarify. “A decade.”

Sumire did that odd grin of hers.

“That doesn’t surprise me. You look like one or two drinks could kill you.”

Momo frowned. “I’m sturdier than I look.”

“Says the girl who fell to the floor after I poked her.”

“It was a surprise poke.”

Sumire’s grin widened. Well rested as she was now, it looked much more human.

“Can I ask you a question?” Momo slurred, accidentally leaning towards the other woman. “How does your cloak work? Are you always sleepy? Or just most of the time?”

“Well aren’t you nosy?”

Momo’s cheeks reddened, and she swayed backwards. She waved her hands around apologetically.

“M’sorry. Curiosity. I have too much of it now,” she frowned. “Intelligence points are so unhelpful.”

Sumire narrowed her eyes.

“Intelligence points? And what is a Knight doing with those?”

Shit. Momo swallowed. Stupid mouth.

“I like to read books,” she said, her biggest lie of the entire day.

“Is that so,” Sumire said, tipping her head with curiosity. “What kind of books do you read?”

“Lots.”

“That’s hardly a genre.”

“Fiction,” Momo clarified, speaking a bit louder than intended. “Um, stories. About people.”

Sumire leaned in close to her. Momo’s heart picked up as the knight scoured her face. It was as if she was searching for something – a mole or a freckle that would whisper some kind of secret.

“You’re a pretty bad liar,” she frowned. “But I like that. Good liars are the worst lot there is.”

She looked like she was going to say something else, but Roland interrupted them. Shoving his way through the packed tavern, he jabbed his arm between the two of them, staring daggers at Sumire.

“I’m done losing to these cheating lowlifes,” he spat. “Nothing to see in this city except for another badly run shanty in the King’s domain. I say we leave now, before the others leave for the Quest.”

“I quite like this badly run shanty,” Sumire said, giving Momo a small, winking smile. “And I have no interest in your Quest.”

Roland’s scowl deepened, his hand turning into a fist. For the way he looked at Sumire, Momo had the deep desire to smack him.

“Well, I have no interest in your interests. You’re a part of this brigade, whether you like it or not. We’re going,” he commanded, receding from the bar and stepping backwards. He straightened his armor, and hollered for the rest of the knights, pulling them from their games and gambles.

Finally, he turned to Sumire. His next words felt venomous.

“Unless you want the King to hear about this.”

A note from villa1ny

To get 20 chapters ahead right now, you can head over there!

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Real Orders Only, Please

Momo had a nagging feeling. Nagging in the quite literal sense, where the feeling was throwing itself around her body, pestering every bone and blood cell to deliver a message to her brain. A subtle screaming that said do something you dimwit.

Momo stared at Sumire as she slid onto her horse. Momo couldn’t decide if it was drowsiness or despair, but the knight had a permanently sullen expression on her face.

The Knights of the White Moon stood as they did hours before, atop horses just outside the Northern gates. Momo’s party had dwindled in size, with most of the pretend knights and thieves having retired to their bedchambers. Teddy said it was better for appearances if only a few of them saw the knights out.

“Thank you for your, err, hospitality,” Roland said bitterly. He gazed at Teddy, then Momo. “It seems you all have everything handled here. No use in us butting in.”

“Agreed,” Teddy said sternly. Momo could tell he was relieved. His disguise was faltering somewhat – his furry cheeks sagging, his lips fading in color. The spell only lasted a certain number of hours, and the final minutes were nearing. “Best be on your way before it gets dark.”

Roland tipped his head to Teddy, a show of courtesy between Holy Knights. Sumire lifted her head but an inch, not to Teddy, but to Momo. It was an utterly pained look. Not quite pleading – a bit too proud for that – but regretful. The air of words left unsaid.

Momo couldn’t just stand there.

“Roland,” Momo said suddenly, possessed by the ghost of a confident person. “I think you should let Sumire stay here.”

His political smile faltered.

“And why would I do that? You all have this handled, no?”

Teddy gave her a panicked look, his eyes shooting daggers.

“We do, obviously,” she clarified, clearing her throat. “But I’d feel better if we had two Holy Knights instead of one. You know what they say – one Holy Knight protects you for a night, two Holy Knights saves your ass during the next necromantic revolution…”

Roland stared at her blankly.

“I can’t recall a single soul ever saying that, no.”

“Oh, well. I hear it everyday.”

Momo looked sternly towards Teddy.

“Um, yeah, right,” Teddy muttered, shaking his head. “Jarva is big on that principle, he is.”

Roland groaned. He looked towards Sumire, who was watching the discussion unfold with tepid curiosity. Her facial expression was performing an odd cross between asleep and excited.

“I think it’s a grand idea,” she interjected, yawning loudly as she spoke. “You get to go on your silly little Quest, and I get to help out this fun bunch.”

The fun bunch in question – Momo, in her half-assed power pose, Teddy, whose face was melting, and Radu, who was trying to look small and unimportant in the corner – agreed with a fervent nod.

“Fine,” Roland rolled his eyes, waving his hand towards Sumire. “One less person that I have to compete with for a place on the Quest. Enjoy your stupid vacation.”

Sumire grinned giddily, trying and failing to hide her excitement. Teddy looked briefly delighted, then immediately dismayed, remembering just exactly what they had accomplished. Radu went through similar stages of grief, watching their perfect plan disintegrate as the rest of the knights rode out towards the dirt path.

—

“The plan was going perfectly!” Teddy growled, slamming his hand on the bar of the Warbler. “Now we have a Holy Knight sleeping on our pool table.”

True to form, Sumire was passed out on the billiards board, sleeping soundly with an eight-ball as a pillow.

“Unless you forgot, Coco, the plan was to fool them, not to invite them to live with us,” Radu deadpanned. “How are we supposed to keep her fooled?”

“I couldn’t just stand there and do nothing,” Momo crossed her arms, frowning. “She was being kept in that crew by force. Roland has some kind of power over her.”

“How the hell do you know that?” Teddy said, whispering harshly. He had suddenly remembered the slumbering knight’s uncanny ability to eavesdrop while asleep.

“Mindreading,” Momo shrugged. “It’s one of my Con Artists talents.”

Radu and Teddy shared a look, and then both sighed, shaking their heads.

“Momo…” Radu began, putting a scaly hand on her arm. “Mindreading is an infamously unreliable skill. You only see a sliver of the greater picture. Even the best Con Artist knows not to rely on it. After all, even if she and Roland aren’t on good terms, she’s still a Holy Knight.”

Momo played with her fingers, feeling a bit embarrassed. It had been a rash decision. She had quite literally invited the enemy in with open hands, contradicting the entire plan she had laid out for the last week. But Valerica had advised her to trust her gut – and her gut said that the cool pirate-knight lady was friend material.

Momo’s gut might have been slightly biased towards women with swords and mysterious pasts, but she chose to interpret Valerica’s advice in a way that validated her bad decision. She knew the Necromage, with her bauble addiction and famously naive entrepreneurial skills, would approve of that methodology.

“When she wakes up, we’re going to tell her the truth,” Momo said decisively, earning disbelieving looks from both her conversational partners. “If she tries to kill us after that, we subdue her. Otherwise, we’ve gained a friend, and a pretty powerful ally against Jarva.”

Radu and Teddy stared at her, speechless.

“I don’t know if you’re criminally insane or a mad genius,” Teddy muttered.

“I wonder that about Valerica all the time,” Momo whispered. “I think I might be hanging out with her too much.”

A pool ball slid loudly into a pocket, drawing the group’s attention back towards Sumire. The woman was still splayed on the table, eyes closed, but her twitching hand had accidentally sank a nine-ball. Her foot was playing for the opposite side, sleepily kicking around until it sank a two.

“I don’t like this,” Teddy grumbled. “But it’s your funeral.”

—

Just as Momo was about to wake Sumire from her pool game, two Couriers slapped her hard in the chest, setting her back down on her stool.

“God, the velocity of you things,” she muttered, staring down at the parchment.

WARNING: You lack a [Spymaster].

To appoint a [Spymaster], an individual with a DEX of at least 10 must accept your request for appointment.

WARNING: You lack a [Military Advisor].

To appoint a [Military Advisor], an individual with a STR of at least 10 must accept your request for appointment.

Ugh. These warnings had been harassing her all week. A Housecarl was just one of many court titles a Ruler was required to hand out. Valerica told her there was a way to opt out of these notifications, but helpfully disappeared in a puff of smoke before providing any further information.

She imagined Valerica had opted out of most system warnings while running the Dawn. She wasn’t sure if it counted her as “Ruler” of the sanctuary, but Momo was confident she didn’t have anything close to a Military Advisor or a Spymaster. A spy rodent, maybe.

“You look distressed,” Sumire observed, popping over the top of the parchment and startling Momo. Inhaling sharply, Momo quickly stuffed the parchment in her pockets.

“When did you wake up?” Momo squeaked. Sumire helped herself into the stool across from Momo, tapping the bar to get the barkeep’s attention.

“Wrong question,” Sumire laughed, her eyelashes fluttering. “I never really wake up. I just sort of float around the spectrum between reality and dreaming. It’s hard to tell which is which most of the time.”

“I wouldn’t mind living in a dream,” Momo whispered, her body relaxing slightly. “Most of my waking experience is just me wishing I was asleep.”

“What can I get ya?”

Lordas smiled weakly at the pair of them. It had been a moment since Momo last saw him, but he looked a bit more chipper than before. It seemed the influx of cash flowing into the Thieves Guild had graced him too, offering a fresh apron, some renovated floorboards, and new beer kegs to hold his toxic sludge – err, drinks.

“I’ll get a Fatal Fizzle,” Sumire ordered, pointing to the corresponding keg.

Lordas nodded, and then turned to Momo. “And you?”

“Do you have any Porkchop Martinis?”

Lordas gawked at her, disgusted. He clearly wasn’t familiar with the Nam’Dal delicacy.

“Real orders only, please.”

He turned on his heel before Momo could protest, setting off to fill Sumire’s order. The knight smirked at Momo’ deflated expression.

“So, I don’t think I caught your name,” Sumire said, tapping her knuckles along the countertop. It was a habit Momo noticed last night. She never seemed to be quite sitting still – twitching a leg, fidgeting a foot, rapping a knuckle. Ways to stay awake, Momo assumed. She’d employed the same tactics in History class.

“Momo,” she said, bracing herself for a bad reaction. It was probably not the right circumstance to reveal her identity, but at the very least she was surrounded by friends. “Some people call me the Ripper. Most people call me the small one over there.”

To Momo’s surprise, Sumire barely flinched.

Lordas slid the drink over the countertop. It was bright blue, and true to its name, fizzled.

“What kind of things do you rip?”

Sumire asked it coyly, sipping the drink as she smirked at Momo. Momo twiddled with her fingers, taken off guard with the casual response. She couldn’t read the knight one bit.

“Paper, mostly,” she confessed. “Especially these stupid couriers. They’re following me around like hungry puppies. I would much prefer actual hungry puppies.”

“It’s bad karma to ignore them, you know. The more you let pile up, the more Nether you attract. Although I suppose a necromancer would have no problem with that.”

She set down the glass.

“Do you have a problem with that?” Momo said, voice trembling.

“With karma? Oh, big problems. For a Holy Knight, I’m pretty much a walking Nether bag.”

“I meant more so with…”

“Necromancers?” Sumire grinned.

Now it was Momo’s turn to fidget. Her leg was bobbing uncontrollably on the stool. She tried to keep it under control, but the harder she tried the more anxious she got. This is not the cool and collected appearance I was hoping to give.

“There are worse people,” Sumire shrugged, and Momo let out a breath. “I’ve met plenty of shithead Holy Knights. Frankly, I’ve met mostly exclusively shithead Holy Knights. Gun-gun is the worst of them. Good thing you all have him locked up somewhere. You’re doing a public service.”

Momo’s eyes widened. “How did you know –”

“I trained with Gunther for five years in Holy Knight training,” Sumire laughed, finishing her drink. “He was basically my nemesis. I can tell an imitation bear from the real one in thirty seconds or less. I was just messing with your guy for the fun of it.”

Momo gaped. “You… knew all along?”

“Not really. I just guessed, then fell asleep, then made some more guesses. I was thinking of ratting you guys out to Roland, but then we got to talking…” Sumire’s eyes dipped curiously low on Momo’s face, and Momo’s cheeks went red. “I figured I’d play the wait and see approach.”

“Oh yeah?” Momo squeaked. “And what conclusion did you come to?”

Sumire lifted her finger and poked Momo on the forehead.

“That you know something I don’t.”

A note from villa1ny

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A Heart for a Fingertip

Before Momo could find out what Sumire meant, the knight’s face was squished into the bartop, her sniffles and snores echoing throughout the tavern.

“I see no one’s dead, then,” Teddy remarked, lifting an eyebrow at Momo.

Momo frowned. She slipped her arms under Sumire’s, but the girl was surprisingly heavy. Momo nearly toppled over under the weight of the fluffy Luhhka. She turned her head to Teddy, exasperated.

“Will you help me carry her?”

—

The Knight’s Hall – now renamed Dumpling Hall under Momo’s leadership – had a surprising number of empty rooms. Seeing as Vivienne had been much more interested in preparing for a necromantic takeover than running a government, most rooms were filled with sawdust and scrap metal, remnants of failed building expansions.

The first floor, which housed the former Judgment Room and the Banquet Hall, had several such rooms. To earn some goodwill with the knights, Momo had them cleared out to become sleeping chambers for the highest ranking officials – namely Gorbrius, who was still sour after her and Valerica catapulted his ass higher than the moon.

The second floor held even more vacant spaces. There were at least five large, empty chambers, each designed for a different function, or so Momo assumed. Some had wide, glass-paned windows, others were small, cramped, and brimming with expired alchemy materials. Empty wooden name plaques hung over the door to each room, almost begging to be assigned and labeled.

Momo was given her first clue as to the function of these rooms when she came upon the plaque Housecarl, scribbled in ink as if it was written by someone who lacked opposable thumbs. She strolled in curiously only to find Nooblin sleeping peacefully inside a fully assembled vivarium, splayed out on a heat rock, surrounded by insects and lizard-sized plants.

In the same way that Momo had arrived in her own chambers greeted by perfectly plush cat pillows, a canopy bed, and several nap-worthy couches, the Hall had seemingly awarded the gecko with a chambers befitting his title.

Momo assumed it would work the same with the rest.

—

“Do you want to be my Military Advisor?”

Sumire blinked up at her in confusion, still emerging from her latest sleep spell. Teddy had dropped her on one of Momo’s many couches, gave Momo a parting salute, and left the druid to anxiously wait for the knight’s nap to end.

“Your what?”

“Military advisor,” Momo repeated, quieter this time. She had been preparing to ask for a good twenty five minutes, building the courage while Sumire snored on the chaise lounge.

“What does that mean?”

“No idea. But I know that if you accept, the system will build you a room that’s perfect for you. I have zero idea how it works, but it gave my housecarl a perfectly decorated aquarium.”

“Does your housecarl keep fish, or something?” Sumire laughed sleepily, rising from the couch to inspect the room.

“No, but he is a lizard.”

Sumire stopped, cocking her head back towards Momo.

“What?”

“There’s a lot of that around here,” Momo mumbled. “My Chancellor is an inanimate golden ball named Excalibur.”

Sumire laughed. “Gods. You’re a very strange necromancer, Momo.”

Momo blushed, looking down at her feet.

Sumire strolled out of the room, beckoning Momo into the hallway.

“It’s refreshing.”

—

“Are you sure you like this one?” Momo frowned. “I feel like all the sunlight is sort of counterintuitive for someone who’s constantly asleep.”

Sumire laughed as she stroked her hand along one of the many window panes. Of all the rooms, this one seemed the least befitting. It was completely bathed in sunlight, and cluttered with old art supplies – rusty paint brushes and palettes. Momo had thought about making it her personal art studio. Not that she ever had the time for hobbies.

“I like the atmosphere. Plus, I don’t like being asleep. I need some place that encourages me to be awake, not the other way around,” she explained. She nudged one of the boxes of paint supplies. “And I used to be a [Painter], before everything…”

She trailed off as she looked out the window.

“It’s a very kind offer and all, Momo, but I can’t accept it. It’ll only be a week or two until I have to return to the capital and be Roland’s babysitter,” she rolled her eyes. “No one else around to change his diapers.”

Momo’s face screwed up in disgust at the imagery.

“Why? He seems like an idiot,” Momo said boldly, crossing her arms. “And you’re way stronger than him. You could probably slice and dice him with that sword of yours and serve him on a Subway sandwich.”

Sumire laughed, shaking her head. “I have no clue what you’re talking about, but I agree about the first part. I could deadlift the asshole. But he…”

“Knows something you wish he didn’t?” Momo guessed.

Sumire frowned. “Correct.”

“Is it really that bad?” Momo asked. Her legs tired from squatting in front of the sleeping knight for too long, she opted to sit. The knight joined her, the pair of them cross-legged across from each other on the wooden floorboards.

Sumire sighed, looking at the bustling town square through the window panes.

“Yes,” she said, not elaborating. A moment passed, and she switched course. “There’s a reason I don’t look like all the other knights. Most of the fools who enroll as pages have parents who were in the Dark Calamity. They’re all locals with an anti-necro stick up their ass. Not me. I’m from the Barium Sea.”

Oh my god, I was right. She totally is a pirate. Momo held in her excitement.

“My parents were sea scavengers,” she said, looking at her fingernails absentmindedly. “And before you assume pirate, it’s totally different. They blew up pirates, and then took their shit.”

Momo blinked at her. “Isn’t a pirate who blows up pirates still a pirate?”

Sumire smirked at her.

“Yes, but don’t let them hear you say it like that. It’s a very noble profession back where I’m from.”

“That’s so cool,” Momo said, hearts in her eyes.

“It was a pretty amazing childhood. It was just me, my parents, and my –”

Sumire frowned.

“Dog.”

Momo’s White Lie Detection pinged like crazy. Still, the knight was visibly uncomfortable, so Momo chose to drop it. She knew family could be a sore subject. Hers was still living a life on a different planet, thinking she was dead by cheeseburger.

“You had a sea dog?” Momo asked instead, ignoring the obvious deceit.

“Oh, a great one. His name was Flippers,” she smiled broadly. Momo couldn’t help but grin back. “We’d play catch all the time – I’d throw the ball off the plank, he’d go swim for it, then I’d use one of our nets to bring him back up to deck.”

“That sounds incredible,” Momo said wistfully. “My cat would rather die than get wet.”

“Exactly how many animals do you have?”

Momo grinned excitedly. “Oh, so many.”

A minute later, the room was full with a pack of Nether wolves, an ostrich, an undead cat, a gecko wearing an apron, and several rats that Momo had imported from the Dawn.

“Also, there’s a gerbil inside my heart,” Momo added helpfully, pointing to the middle of her chest. “His name is Biscuit.”

Sumire blinked at her, completely speechless.

Oh no. That was weird, wasn’t it? Girls don’t like girls with gerbils in their arteries.

After a long pause, Sumire reached out and placed her hand right over Momo’s heart.

“Is that a… wheel?”

—

Momo detailed her rise to power, explaining her journey from bone delivery girl to Ruler of Nam’Dal. She left out a few choice details – how she was summoned from Earth, Valerica’s greater plans for kingdom domination, the missing person case of Vivienne and Nia – but left the crucial parts in, like Dusk defeating a vampire, and flying out of dodge on an argentavis.

“Wow,” Sumire said, completely gobsmacked. “So you really got abducted by some insane lady, and immediately started doing shit for her?”

Momo frowned. “That’s not exactly how I’d phrase it.”

“It’s exactly how I’d phrase it, but hey, I don’t know your life,” Sumire laughed. “I’ve been in weirder situations with stranger people. My story unfolded in a pretty similar way, if I’m honest. If you told me when I was a kid that I’d end up a Holy Knight, I’d have skewered you in the liver.”

Momo grimaced. Sumire certainly had a way with descriptions.

Feeling a bit brave, Momo decided to lift the kettle on the topic one more time.

“So why are you, then?”

Sumire frowned, and sighed.

“Seems unfair that’d you drop your heart out to me and I’d give you only a fingertip. So, fine. Roland’s got dirt on me, obviously. He found me at a vulnerable time, recruited me into his order – the White Moon – and has me do all his dirty work, on the condition that he… keeps a secret for me. An important one.”

Sumire raised from the floor, dusting off her cloak.

“Ever since this silly ruckus about a Quest started, he’s given me a looser leash. He’s been waiting his turn to get Jarva to notice him, so now he’s totally obsessed with being the one to –”

She stopped, smiling.

“I probably shouldn’t say that.”

“To get the Oblivion Stone?” Momo added helpfully, much to Sumire’s surprise.

“How do you…?”

“Gun-Gun,” Momo grinned, laughing. After a mumbled of course, that traitor, Sumire laughed with her.

—

The full moon watched over the unlikely pair as they made their way to the Northern Gates. That part of the city was a no man’s land at night, with the only audible sounds being the rustling wind and their footsteps on the fresh pavement.

“Are you extra super sure you don’t want to be my Military Advisor?” Momo asked when they came to a stop by the entrance. Sumire’s horse neighed happily to see her, bucking its head affectionately. She greeted him with a scratch to his mane.

“Good boy, Flippers,” Sumire cooed.

“Like the dog?”

“Yep. This one’s technically Flippers the Second,” the knight said, wearing a sad smile. “But his full title is a bit of a mouthful.”

Sumire strolled up to Momo, and reached out a hand for hers.

“It’s been a pleasure,” Sumire said. “Momo the Ripper.”

“It has been… nice,” Momo said nervously, rubbing at her arm. The hand Sumire had taken was practically vibrating, Momo’s entire body itching with expectation. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this way. It was a whole new feeling – warm, wonderful and terrible at the same time.

After a too-long moment, Sumire let her hand go. She moved it cautiously to her belt, where she drew out her scimitar.

“You really are one of the most genuine people I’ve met since I landed on this shitty continent,” she smiled. Momo didn’t detect a lie – but suddenly, the tip of Sumire’s blade had found her neck. “It’s actually very annoying, considering what I have to do.”

“Sumire… what are you –” Momo choked out, her heart thumping in her chest.

"Sorry, Momo," she frowned. "Seriously, I am."

All at once, she felt a striking pain slash through her neck, and the feeling of disappearing into nothing.

—

“Oh Gods, Momo,” Valerica yelled, grasping Momo around the shoulders. “Did you hold the kitchen knife the wrong way again?”

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Spymaster

“I’ll kill her,” Valerica said, deadpan, and completely serious.

Momo waved her hands defensively, trying to calm the Necromage down.

“Seriously, it’s fine,” Momo insisted hoarsely, her hand wrapped protectively around her neck. Blood was still seeping out by the boatloads. She had tried to stifle it by casting [Dark Healing], but at her current level, it did very little. It mostly made her feel like she was about to throw up bugs.

“Let go of your neck,” Valerica ordered, biting her lip anxiously. Is she… actually worried about me? Momo flushed. “It would be delightful if I could apply this ointment before you keel over and die.”

Momo obliged, letting Valerica drag her dampened fingers around Momo’s throat. She would usually fizzle at the contact, but Sumire’s seconds-before betrayal was still sitting heavy in her stomach. She hadn’t even gotten a moment to process the blade going through her throat before she was laying flat on her ass in Valerica’s tower.

“Thank you. Your chances of survival have gone from one in a hundred to one in ten, at least,” Valerica hummed, applying a bandage to Momo’s throat. “Now, remind me of the girl’s name again?”

“Nice try," Momo coughed, not completely inspired by those odds. "I’m not going to let you kill her.”

“Why exactly are you trying to protect the woman who nearly murdered you?” Valerica asked, schooling her mouth into an inexpressive line. She was trying to hide it, but there was fury behind her eyes. They flashed bright, ruby red.

“I don’t think she wanted to murder me,” Momo mumbled, looking shamefully down at her hands. She knew defending her would-be murderer wasn’t a good look, but she couldn’t help it. “She was being compelled to. See, there’s this asshole knight, Roland. He’s controlling her.”

“They’re both dastardly servants of Kyros, Momo. I don’t care for the details of their social dynamics,” Valerica grumbled, turning her attention to her fingernails. She flashed them like talons. “Sounds like a knight in need of putting down.”

“She’s not like that, I promise. She’s really nice, actually.”

“You do realize you’re describing the woman who nearly filleted you like a fish?”

“Yes, yes, moving past that,” Momo grumbled, feeling the accusatory heat of Valerica’s gaze. “Wait, why did you summon me anyway? How did you know I was being attacked?”

Valerica waved towards her summoning stone. The block of citrine sat innocently in the corner.

“I like to keep an eye on my most valuable employees. Why else would I have you carry around that heavy rock in your pocket?”

Momo felt embarrassed, her cheeks reddening. Was she spying on me the entire time? She dug her hand into her cape pocket, and true enough, the pair-stone sat there. She had been carrying it around for good luck, mostly. She had no idea it actually let Valerica sense… things.

“Look, I don’t like being filleted like a fish either, but she’s too valuable to kill,” Momo mumbled after a moment, changing the topic. “She doesn’t care about the King, or the other Holy Knights. If we can take Roland out of the picture somehow, we could use her. Like a double agent spy situation.”

This perked Valerica’s attention. Her ruby eyes dulled back to their usual green.

“My dear Momo…” she sighed, patting the side of Momo’s cowl. “You’ve always been such a creative thinker. What would the Earthly expression be, hm, you think outside of the box? I always despised that expression – which box?”

“I don’t think it’s a specific –”

“But if what you say is true, you’re right,” Valerica tapped her chin. “With some proper retraining, she could be a valuable agent of Morgana. In any case, we will need to get to the Oblivion Stone before the knights do, and an insurance plan is never a bad bet.”

“Sure, yeah. Exactly,” Momo nodded, trying not to imagine what retraining meant. The nodding motion strained her neck, and she whined in pain.

Valerica’s hand flew to her neck, cupping the bottom of her chin.

“The offer to kill her still stands.”

“No killing needed,” Momo said, sighing. “Here, want a chocolate?”

—

“Meow.”

Dusk pounced on top of the sheets once more, her claws digging in. Despite her many efforts, the lump underneath did not stir. She kneaded the sheets once more, slapping the comforter. Still, nothing. Hours and hours of attempts, yet the tiny, motionless blob stayed as it was: tiny and motionless.

“Meow.”

The wriggling lump of blankets groaned.

“Dusk, stop it. I’m depressed, okay? This is called a mental health day.”

“Meow, meow.”

“Oh, come on. The city can run itself. Excalibur is way better at talking to people than I am. Teddy has the thieves under control. Gorbrius is doing whatever… he does. They don’t need me. I’m just a naive idiot who’d probably hand over the city keys to Jarva if he was nice to me.”

“Meow.”

With an annoyed sigh, Momo’s head popped out of the covers. Her hair was a complete bird’s nest, a disheveled maze of knots. Her eyes were underlined with eye-bags, the product of a severely interrupted sleep pattern. Between the thrumming pain in her neck and the overwhelming embarrassment of almost being murdered, she was having a bad time.

Momo leaned over and plucked a treat out of the knapsack she kept by her bedside. The bag was full of enchanted catnip. Valerica gifted it to her for cat training purposes, but Momo had mostly used it to distract Dusk from calling her out on her momentary mental health spiral.

“Here,” Momo tossed the treat towards the floor. Dusk nearly clawed her eye out jumping for it. “Enjoy that and give the meowing a rest, please.”

Just as she was about to slink back into the cuddly abyss, a knock came at the door.

“Lady Momo,” Excalibur shouted from the other side. “You have a visitor.”

“Who is it?” Momo croaked miserably. “Tell them to leave.”

“I’m not leaving. Actually, I’m coming in. Don’t be naked.”

The door creaked open abruptly, revealing Radu’s red face. A flicker in Momo’s chest lit up to see him. It had been 72 hours since she had seen anyone. After Valerica promised not to assassinate Sumire, she had dropped Momo back into her life, instructing her to get some bedrest. Momo had followed orders dutifully.

Probably too dutifully.

“You look like a bomb went off inside your hair,” Radu remarked, biting down a laugh. He slumped himself into one of Momo’s couches, putting his feet up.

“Sure, make yourself comfortable,” Momo grumbled.

“Thank you, I will,” he grinned. “Momo, you know when you won the election, that meant you actually have to run the city, right?”

“The city runs itself,” she said, slinking back down into her blanket fort. Only her head was viewable, making her look a bit like a floating egg.

“It really doesn’t. Since you entered your hibernation, Gorbrius was left to his own devices and decided to arrest Teddy, and now a gecko is the forerunner for a replacement guildmaster. A gecko, Momo.”

This grabbed Momo’s attention, her eyes widening.

“A gecko? Does it go by the name Nooblin?”

“Geckos can’t talk. How would we know what its name is?”

Momo sighed. “You’re a useless information gatherer. To think I was going to ask you if you wanted to be my Spymaster.”

At Momo’s words, a piece of parchment forcefully landed in Radu’s lap. He looked down at it, a smirk growing on his face.

“The Ruler of Nam’Dal has cordially invited you to become Spymaster…” he read aloud. “How considerate of them. I cordially accept.”

“Stupid illiterate system,” she groaned, throwing a fist upwards in the vein of an old man yelling at a cloud. “I said going to ask not I’m asking.”

You have successfully chosen a [Spymaster].   [Radu the Red Riptide] can appoint [Agents] which can be assigned to either protect your inner sanctum from treachery, or spy on foreign entities, such as cities or political figures. You can also assign him to [Decipher] hidden messages or do [Research Projects].

The parchment evaporated, and Momo could hear the faint sounds of construction coming from a room over.

—

True to her assumptions, the system got right to work.

By the time she dragged herself out of bed to see it, the room was already packed with new furnishings. Several large bookshelves carried encyclopedias of foreign languages, guides to common ciphers, and a few stray [Spy] Skill Books.

A wide oak table was littered with maps and blank decks of parchment, quills and inkwells. Crucially, the entire chamber was ambiently lit, creating an ambiance of mystery and intrigue.

“Okay, fine. This is really cool,” Momo admitted reluctantly. Radu was already busying himself with the skill books.

“These are worth a pretty penny,” he said, paging through them in reverie. “I’m flattered by all the nice decor, but you might end up emptying your vaults on a bunch of books I can’t read.”

“Emptying my vaults? What do you mean?”

Radu gave her a quizzical look.

“These rooms aren’t built from thin air. Did you not read the New Ruler’s Manual? When court chambers are constructed, it takes both building materials and money directly from your Holding.”

“Oh.”

That explains all the random building materials Vivienne had littering the first floor.

“If you’re not careful, you can accidentally go into debt. Or worse, the system will start borrowing building materials from already-constructed rooms. Trust me, you don’t want your Housecarl’s ceiling removed because you didn’t have enough wood for your Court Priestess.”

Momo frowned. “How do you know so much about this?”

Radu shrugged. “I used to be an intern for the Dragon of Drachenheim. He’s my great great uncle’s uncle, or whatever. I learned a lot before he tried to light me on fire.”

“I’ve heard that name before,” Momo frowned, the memory nibbling at her. “Wasn’t his vault robbed?”

Radu scowled. Clearly not a subject he wanted to go into. She made a mental note not to tell him that she had any association with the name Devola Wraith.

“Anyway,” Momo whistled, indiscreetly changing the topic. “Since you’re such an encyclopedia… Do you know where I can find an Oblivion Stone?

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A Discovery in Baryte

The crown jewel of the Spymaster’s lair was the birdbath. The antique marble sculpture, hollowed out at the top, contained not water, but Nether. Hidden in the darkest corner of the room, the only reason Momo noticed it was the sound it produced – the rhythmic hum only she could hear, due to her bugged-out Cultivator ability.

“I have no clue where to find the Oblivion Stone, but this thing can definitely help,” Radu said, swirling his scaly finger into the liquid. It glimmered gray, sticking to his finger as he twirled it. “It’s a Nether Pool. Ever heard of it?”

“It’s that thing Valerica used to spy on me,” Momo gasped, suddenly harboring an irrational annoyance at the inanimate object. “Sneaky little thing. Ever heard of consent?”

“It can’t hear you, Momo.”

“Oh, how convenient,” she grumbled, crossing her arms. “So just how would this little snooping device help us find the stone? Can we spy on it?”

“Kinda. It would take a ridiculously powerful mage to actually pinpoint an arbitrary rock, but given how powerful the Oblivion Artifact is, it’s probably giving off shockwaves of magic,” Radu considered, tapping his chin. “But if that’s the case, someone would have found it already…”

“So how does it work?” Momo asked, only partially listening. She had lost herself in the shimmering reflection, staring at her bedhead in horror. “I just stare at it and ask it to pretty please show me the magical power rock?”

Radu laughed. “No. You have to feed it Nether, for one. Two, you’ll need something to give it direction. If we were searching for you, for example, I’d pluck some of your hair off and drop it in there. But for a rock… I have no idea.”

Momo hummed, overwhelming curiosity once again winning against her natural apathy. Stupid intelligence points. Her embarrassment at being duped turned to anger. Sumire might not have cared about the quest – but Roland did. She’d find that stupid stone first, kick his ass, and then the sleepyhead knight would regret slice and dicing her. The perfect plan.

Also, Valerica would be pretty excited. That was always motivating.

“I think it’s time to talk to Gun-Gun,” she decided, tearing herself away from the birdpool. “While I do that, I want you to hire some, uh… agents. Steal some people from the Thieves Guild if you need to. I want them to try and track down the knights on the Nameless Quest. They’ll be looking for the stone, too.”

“Got it, boss,” Radu said, giving her a mocking thumbs up.

—

“Get this foul bird away from me before it chews my perfectly manicured fur off!”

The Valerica intimidation strategy had lost some of its luster with Gunther, so Momo was forced to pivot to other means of extracting information. She was also curious to try out her new staff. Thus, she found herself in a particularly amusing situation.

“I do not enjoy plucking at you much either,” Vicar answered, continuing to flutter around Gunther’s face, pecking wildly. “You taste like rotten cabbage and beer.”

The first thing she learned from her experiment – the raven could speak. Using the same magic that Momo did when she polymorphed, the words seemed to echo from the air around the animal. He had the voice of a disgruntled prince, and a weirdly British-sounding accent.

“Gods, fine! I’ll talk, I’ll talk! Get off of me!” Gunther said, furiously punching at the air around the bird.

With a squawk, the bird released him. It swooped around the room and landed on Momo’s shoulder.

“The target has been rendered prone, Your Majesty,” Vicar said.

“Thanks. You can just call me Momo, though.”

“I will not, Your Majesty.”

“I’m happy to call you Dimwit Necromancer Girl, if that helps,” Gunther grumbled. Vicar squawked at him threateningly, and he put both of his hands up in a white flag gesture.

“So, the Oblivion Stone,” Momo said, ignoring him. “Where is it? Why do the knights even know it exists? Did they figure out its location?”

“Slow down,” he grunted. “One, no. No one knows where it is. If we did, this Dark Calamity encore you two are playing at would be dust. Rumors say it washed up from the Barium Sea, but that’s a wide area. The knights will be picking sand out of their shoes for months trying to track it down.”

The Barium Sea. The wound in Momo’s neck pulsated just to hear it. Could Sumire be connected somehow? It was a reach, but it was possible. The woman obviously had a secret to hide. One that she was willing to kill to keep, obviously.

“Have you extracted all the necessary information from the subject, Your Majesty? Or should I continue my assault?” Vicar asked, staring menacingly at Gunther.

“I’m good, I think,” Momo said. “For now.”

“Thank the Gods,” Gunther groaned.

—

Momo was excited. She had a lead. Like a proper detective, she was sniffing her way through the case of the missing artifact.

Not only that – but she had a plan. While the knights were busy scouring hundreds of miles of land, Momo was going to narrow things down further.

If Radu had been correct, to pinpoint something with the Nether Pool, you had to offer it something made from the same material as the item you wanted to trace. Luckily, Momo knew one such Materials Expert.

“This is the most exciting thing anyone has ever asked me about,” Salvo cheered, unable to hide her giddiness as she hopped from foot to foot. “Gods, an Oblivion Stone. I can’t believe I’m even saying that word out loud.”

Momo poured some tea into a teacup for her and the bird. They stood across from each other in an otherwise desolate room – one of the other vacancies on Dumpling Hall’s second floor. The only remaining item in the abandoned space was a standing desk.

“I’m happy to hear that,” Momo smiled. The aroma of green tea filled the chamber, settling her nerves. “Do you know what it’s made of? The only information I have so far is that it washed up from the Barium Sea.”

Momo had tried grilling Valerica for further information, but the Necromage was ignoring her calls again. It seemed she only had time for her when she was on the verge of death. Either that, or she wanted to escape Devola’s jazz classes.

“All research on Oblivion Stones is purely mythological. No one in this day and age has ever actually seen one. The last known sighting was hundreds of thousands of years ago, when a random farmer who was tired of the Gods meddling with his crops discovered one, and created the Class System.”

“That’s how the class system was created?” Momo gaped, gobsmacked.

“According to myth,” Salvo shrugged. “That’s the reason Oblivion Stones are so unique – they allow mortals to create rules even the Gods themselves must follow.”

“What?” Momo blinked. “The Gods take instructions from some rock?”

“Not a rock,” Salvo glared. “Oblivion Stones are basically godly accidents. A chemical byproduct of all the magic flowing through the Nether. A very powerful byproduct. Lesser byproducts exist, like Sun Stones, or Death Stones. What makes Oblivion Stones special is that they’re a collection of all magics in one single entity. They’re not deterministic – they have infinite potential.”

“So many big words,” Momo mumbled. “Pretend I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Sorry, I got excited.”

“No shit,” Momo said, pointing to the bird’s shivering arm. “You look like you might explode.”

“Does this tea have caffeine in it? I think it’s the caffeine.”

“You haven’t even drank any of the tea yet, Salvo.”

“Oh.” The bird stared at her full mug. “Right.”

“So you were saying,” Momo smiled. “But with fewer confusing words, please.”

“Basically, Oblivion Stones give you the power of a God, but only for a fleeting moment. At least that's what the scholars say. No one really knows, I don’t think,” Salvo shrugged. “Unfortunately, even less research has been conducted on the material of an Oblivion Stone, so there’s not much I can offer you there for use in the Nether Pool.”

Momo frowned. So much for the purpose of this entire meeting.

“Wait,” Momo said, stopping Salvo before she could leave. Her severely underutilized intelligence points suddenly coalesced into an idea. “The rumors say the stone washed up from the Barium Sea. Barium’s a chemical, right? I think I remember that from Chemistry class. Could the stone be made of… barium?”

Salvo’s eyes lit up, her excited jittering increasing tenfold.

“The Barium Sea! Momo, you should have led with that!” she chastised, slapping Momo in the arm. “The Barium Sea is known for its toxic, nearly radioactive waters – only certain minerals could survive swimming in it. Most commonly, baryte. Gods – of course. Of course.”

Salvo dug into her backpack. She withdrew a book titled Mineral Fanatic, and started rabidly paging through it. Momo imagined the target audience of such a book was exclusively the bird sitting in front of her.

“Look, look,” Salvo insisted, shoving a page in front of Momo’s face.

Baryte

Found most commonly floating in large chunks throughout the Barium Sea, baryte is a white or colorless mineral. The mineral is a favorite among sea scavengers, sought after for its appearance and value.

The value of baryte comes from its ability to effectively store and contain all varieties of magic. One gram of baryte can store as much magic as 100,000 tempered potion bottles. As such, Expert mages are the most voracious users of baryte.

Sea scavengers. Momo’s mind immediately went back in time to her conversation with Sumire. Her parents had been sea scavengers. Not only that, but the white beads she wore in her hair looked uncannily similar in color to the drawing of baryte provided lower down on the page.

“It’s ability to effectively store and contain all varieties of magic…” Momo read aloud, processing the information. “Seems like the perfect material for an Oblivion Stone.”

“Exactly!” Salvo said, ripping the book from Momo’s face. “Oh, Momo, this is a breakthrough. Do you know how mad the other Materialmancers are going to be when they find out I discovered what an oblivion stone is made out of?”

“Slow down, Salvo,” Momo laughed nervously. “Let’s not tell the world quite yet, alright? I’d like to at least preserve the illusion that we have an advantage here.”

“Right, right,” she said, calming her feathers. “Corv is always telling me to pace myself. It’s just all so exciting. I wouldn’t be some part-time thief anymore, melting locks off safes. I’d be the premier scholar on mythological materials. Premier, you understand?”

“I promise you can keep the patent on this conversation,” Momo insisted. “Now, where exactly do I find baryte?”

Salvo hummed, tapping her chin.

“Do you know any high level mages with questionable amounts of money?”

Momo grinned.

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Return of the Mole

“Please state your name and business for the court,” Excalibur exclaimed, reigning over the chamber from his high wooden throne. The throne shared many similarities with a baby’s high chair, but Momo didn’t dare share that comparison outloud.

Momo sat beside the bauble, slumped leisurely on a throne of her own. Two days had passed since her conversation with Salvo, and Momo had made quick work of acquiring just the kind of wizard they required. A mage of great wealth, and terrible judgment.

“Viktor Mole, Great Wizard of Kalendale, at your service, my dear Chancellor,” the mage bowed with his usual extravagance. “I am here on request of Ruler Momo, bringing gifts of marvelous merit.”

The wizard gestured to a large leather pack on the ground beside him. The bag was curiously undulating, moving up and down as if containing a small beast. It was large enough to be a body bag, but too pristine to be involved in any murder. Momo’s nose had been well-acquainted with the smell of death by then, and she wasn’t getting any whiffs.

“You brought the goods?” she asked, leaning forward. “I didn’t expect it to… move.”

Viktor looked at her, puzzled. “Of course it moves.”

“Why would it move?” Momo said, dumbfounded. It’s a mineral.

“Because it’s a… chicken?”

As if summoned by a god, the chicken’s neck shot out of the bag.

“Bu-cauwk!” it yelled, and then cleared its throat, as if it had spoken incorrectly. “Bu-cauwk!”

The animal jumped out of its container and began to wildly sprint around the room. After many close calls with various pieces of furniture, it unluckily smacked itself into Excalibur’s high-chair. It fell backwards dramatically, as if shot.

“Baryte!” Viktor wailed, coming to the chicken’s aid. He held it like a baby in his arms, rocking the bird back and forth and cooing something incoherent. “Poor thing.”

“The chicken’s name is… Baryte?”

“Why of course!” Viktor said, staring daggers at Momo. “You knew that. You asked for him specifically, did you not?”

“I asked for baryte, not –” Momo paused, facepalming. “I see where this went wrong.”

—

“If you were asking for the crystal, you should have specified,” Viktor rolled his eyes. “But luckily for you, I always carry some spare baryte around. A wizard of my caliber would be a fool not to.”

Momo let out a sigh of relief. She had assumed correctly, then. The wizard was a reliable fool.

Salvo had gone on to explain that baryte was only useful for magical rituals that required an insane amount of mana – summoning heroes from other worlds, permanent polymorphs, turning beef hotdogs into cylinders of pure gold. Most wizards didn’t perform such things regularly, but hawkers would convince the naive and heavy-pocketed types to buy in bulk.

Naturally, the penny-pincher she was, Valerica had only bought as much baryte as she needed to summon Momo a few months before, and had none left laying around. Viktor, however, was the type to buy a gallon and use only a droplet. It was a miracle he still had any coin at all.

He placed a handful of the crystal in Momo’s hand. It was colored a stunning white. Just as Momo suspected, the same stunning white of Sumire’s beads, and her necklace and earrings.

“Thank you,” she said earnestly, pocketing the mineral.

“Anything for an old friend,” Viktor said, patting her hand lightly. “Speaking of old friends, I figure this is a great time to ask you for a small favor.”

Momo sighed. She should have seen this coming. She nodded, gesturing for him to continue.

“Ah, well, you see,” he stalled, his eyes dancing nervously around the room. “My introduction was a bit disingenuous. While I am still a Great Wizard, in the general sense, I have… parted ways with the University.”

“You were fired?”

“Such strong language,” he scoffed, waving her off. “It was an amicable, mutual decision. They simply decided they were no longer in need of my services, and I decided they were a bunch of foolhardy idiots in need of a visit from a few skeletons.”

Recalling Kalendale’s attitude towards necromancers, Momo could imagine how that went.

“I’m surprised they’re even still letting you live in town,” Momo glared.

“Well, about that…”

Momo blinked. “Are you… homeless, Viktor?”

“Homeless? Me? Never!” He boasted, cheeks reddening. “I am a man of the roads, a wizard of the people, a traveler, a nomad, a –”

Momo cut him off.

“Where are you living, Viktor?”

He averted his gaze.

“I have taken residence on a farm,” he said quietly. “I share a coop with a variety of other inhabitants, such as my dear friend Baryte. He’s a noisy one, but a loyal fellow.”

Momo stared at him, left momentarily speechless.

“I promise I don’t mean this maliciously,” Momo began, “but are you living in a chicken coop?”

Viktor crossed his arms, turning his nose up to the sky. Baryte squawked in the corner of the room, digging his head through some cat treats. Momo wasn’t sure if they were chicken-friendly, but she was tired of his near-permanent screeching.

“Many a great wizard has suffered a momentary fall from grace,” Viktor mumbled, answering her question. “So I come to you, my loyal friend, to remedy my position. Seeing as you are the ruler of this city, I am sure there is some work for a wizard of my expertise to do.”

Momo smiled. She knew Viktor had already suffered a grave blow to his ego to make such a request, so she thought it was only merciful to help him. Plus, she still needed a Court Sage. She’d need to put in some sort of failsafe so he wouldn’t go around betraying her again, but otherwise, it was a win-win.

“I think we can figure something out,” Momo laughed, and outstretched her hand. “Viktor Mole, I am appointing you to be my new Court Sage.”

—

You have successfully chosen a [Court Sage].   [Viktor Mole] will now conduct [Magic Research], educate lower-level [Mages], form a [Mage Circle] or [Mage College], and create [Skill Books].

—

“Momo, why is half of my ceiling missing?”

Radu stampeded into the new Wizard’s Chambers, coming to a halt when he was blinded by a ray of searing light. He covered his eyes frantically, yelping as he dodged out of the way of the burning light beam.

“Careful there, boy! I’m testing my new equipment!” Viktor shouted from the back of the room. He was seated, operating a mechanical contraption with two levers, a pedal, and a tiny, Barbie-sized wheel. The contraption connected to a large projector beam – the Sunbeam – and many smaller, adjustable beamers.

Next to him in the passenger-seat of the contraption sat Momo, who was preoccupied feeding Baryte a concerning amount of bird seed. The new room, sensing Viktor’s affection for the chicken, had provided four brimming barrels of it.

“Viktor, why did you name your chicken Baryte?” Momo asked, ignoring Radu’s bold entrance.

“He ate a good lump of it when I first met him,” Viktor grumbled, switching the Sunbeam off with a click. “I only had time to grab a few of my valuables before I was run out of town. Most of my wealth is in my baryte, so naturally I loaded every bag I could carry with the stuff.”

“I’m sorry – the chicken ate it? How does its stomach even process that?”

“Oh, it doesn’t. I expected the feathery beast to die within minutes, but that freak of nature in your lap survived. I actually think it might have evolved somehow. Sometimes I catch the bird levitating.”

Just as Viktor suggested, Momo found the bird floating out of her lap. She released her hold on it, and watched as it twirled in the air like an astronaut. It did a full rotation, continuing to chew as if nothing was out of the ordinary. A few feet away, Radu caught it in both hands, placing the chicken back on the ground in disbelief.

“Momo, remember when I warned you about going over your building material budget?” the lizard sighed, defeated by the insanity of the situation he walked into. “My room is a complete mess. It’s going to take double the amount of material to fix the mess this place caused.”

“Shambles smambles,” Viktor waved a hand. “This is a proper Wizard’s Office my boy. It requires the best of the best. With my teaching and research, we’ll earn back the budget of this room three-fold within a week.”

The room was indeed a magnificent thing. It was designed not just for one wizard, but for an entire classroom of students, with several cauldrons, writing desks, a boatload of alchemy ingredients, mana-powered mechanical gadgets, and a shelf of skill books that put Radu’s trove to shame.

“That better be true,” Radu sighed. He walked over to join them, inspecting the Sunbeam Projector which had nearly fried him to a crisp. “What is this thing?”

“A genuine, world-class Sunbeam Projector,” he patted the machine reverently. “It can generate Light Magic, and with the right calibration, even Holy Magic. It’s a fabulous beast. Project this thing on some baryte, and you’ve got yourself a truly powerful artifact.”

With the mention of the mineral, Momo dug her lump of baryte out of her pocket. She lifted it up to Radu, grinning widely.

“Time to put that Nether Pool to work, hm?”

A note from villa1ny

To get 21 chapters ahead right now, you can head over there!

Join the Discord / Momo cult here.

– Hold, Please

A note from villa1ny

Hey there - really sorry about the lack of chapter yesterday! For those who aren't in the Discord, I've had a really annoying flu for like a week, and it hasn't been letting up. Today is the first day that I feel like a normal human again, so I was able to get back to the writer's desk. Chapters will come regularly for the rest of the week, unless the flu returns for blood. Anyway, enjoy!

“Are we sure this isn’t just a regular birdbath?”

Momo and Radu hovered above the birdbath, blinking at the chunk of baryte that bobbed up and down in the dark waters. Six minutes had passed since Momo dunked it in. A whole lot of nothing had occurred since then.

“It should have done something by now,” Radu grumbled, poking at the crystal. “Did you attune to the Nether?”

“Wait, I have to do that?”

Radu stared at her.

“Um, yes? Do you not remember the entire set of instructions I gave you?”

“I wasn’t really paying attention,” Momo smiled apologetically. “You said baryte and my mind immediately went to the chicken.”

“Good Gods, you have the attention span of a fleshfly,” he said, shaking his head. “For the last time, focus on the Nether Pool, attune to it, and then it will show you the Resonance points.”

“Right,” Momo nodded. “Resonance points.”

Shoving her chicken-related thoughts into an imaginary chest, she closed her eyes. She hovered both her hands just above the birdbath and extended her mind, reaching towards the Nether with the core of her soul, her blood, her body, her heartbeat. She even pointed at it with her pinky fingers.

And there it was – the sound. The treble and bass. Completely silent to anyone else who listened, but to Momo, it was like sitting in a surround-sound theater.

Attuning with Nether magic was a bit like having tinnitus. When she blocked it out, it was nothing but a gentle hum; when she turned her attention to it, it sang out like an off-tune children’s choir.

“You’re doing something! Keep going!” Radu encouraged. His voice had faded behind the music, a barely audible squeak in a sea of sound. In response, she nodded, tightening her eyes and falling deeper into the resonance.

She moved her hand upwards, and the Nether followed. Liquid sprung out of the birdbath like a fountain, the bursting water hovering the baryte stone in midair. Next, she curled her hand into a fist. The Nether did the same, enveloping the baryte so it was no longer visible.

Despite the limited physical movement, the action drained her, sapping mana from her veins quicker than any ordinary spell. She was using the Nether like a surgical tool — coursing it through the mineral, analyzing it, intertwining with it. By the time she opened her eyes, she was nauseous and faint, a film grain painting over her vision.

“Nice work,” Radu celebrated, clapping her hard on the back. It took everything in her not to lose balance and slam headfirst into the birdbath. “The baryte completely dissolved.”

Once she got her footing back, she gazed into the pool. It didn’t look any different, except that the crystal was gone. It had been swallowed up, replaced with the tepid, motionless water from before.

“What now?” Momo asked weakly. “Isn’t it supposed to show us those… Resonance thingies?”

Radu nodded. “Put your hand in.”

She gave him a weird look, as if maybe he was just stringing her along for an elaborate prank, but she eventually complied. She lowered her hand into the gooey liquid, letting it envelop her fingers like it did the crystal.

The connection was immediate, running up her arm like an electric shock. She was instantly blinded. Reality shattered like glass, the environment collapsing around her. In its place was complete darkness. The same kind of darkness that Morgana had transported her to many weeks ago when she gave her that blessing.

Momo! I don’t recall summoning you here. Tell me, you didn’t die, did you?

Momo laughed. Ah, of course. The familiar voice echoed throughout her mind. Momo looked around her, searching for a sign of the Goddess. No physical embodiment arrived. Just a shrill voice speaking through a nonexistent loudspeaker.

It’s only 9 in the morning. No one should die this early in the day. Save it for a more dramatic hour, I say. Like 7 in the afternoon. That’s a fine hour to die.

“I’m not dead,” Momo clarified. She couldn’t hear her own voice, but Morgana’s answer confirmed that it had, in fact, traveled somehow. “At least, I don’t think I am.”

Ah, you’re not! My apologies. I’ll call off the funeral preparations then. A shame – I was already picking out my mourning tiara. Are you sure you’re not dead? It was a nice tiara.

The goddess’s voice trailed off and got harder to hear, as if she had stepped away to take a phone call. A bit of static overlaid her voice. It seemed that the Nether’s communications infrastructure had some faulty wiring.

Yes, Sheila – false alarm. No tiara. I know, I know. Don’t you dare give it to Electra. No. Sheila, you listen to me. If I catch Electra wearing it to Salazar’s funeral, I will make you wish you’d never been born. You know I’m uniquely good at that.

Momo gaped as she eavesdropped on the conversation. She froze at the mention of Salazar, keenly remembering her last run-in with the lizard.

“I’m sorry, did you say Salazar is dead?” she asked, unable to help herself.

Oh, Momo, you’re still on this line? Wait one second. I’m putting you on hold.

The Goddess hung up the proverbial phone, and a drill-like ringing sound blared through the darkness. After a few seconds, it stopped, and non-copyrighted elevator music began quietly echoing throughout the abyss.

“She can’t be serious,” Momo groaned. Unlike her last dip into the Nether, she didn’t seem to have a physical form this time. It was as if she had put on a VR headset, experiencing the sensations in a superficial manner, unable to move or tangibly interact.

She was being held hostage by a goddess and a terrible, mediocre soundtrack that was most likely being used by hundreds of thousands of amateur Youtubers.

Hello! I’m back. Sorry about that. To answer your question – of course Salazar isn’t dead. Gods can’t be killed. Well, unless. Nevermind. He’s not dead. But sometimes us Gods hold funerals for each other. It’s a cultural thing. A bit of ironic, playful fun. You wouldn’t get it, I’m afraid.

She was right. Momo did not get it. Neither did she want to.

“I was using a Nether Pool and it was supposed to show me where the Oblivion Stone is,” Momo interjected, trying to get in a word before the goddess left her in eternal waiting once again. “I put my hand in, and now I’m here. I can’t see anything or hear anything but your voice.”

Ah, the Oblivion Stone. Right. Right. Hm. I think I know what went wrong. As you can tell, the Nether is having some issues lately. Crossed wires, so to speak. Nothing to worry about, nothing to make one fear a world-ending catastrophe or apocalypse, at least not until next Friday. The electrician is busy on weekends so he hasn’t gotten around to inspecting things yet.

“What?” Momo blinked. At least she thought she blinked – both sides of her eyes were the same color. “How can Nether have… issues? Isn’t it just magic?”

Oh, dear. Every fiber in this universe is temperamental. It’s a miracle anything exists at all. Listen, I have to run. I’ll point you in the right direction before I go. Oh, and Momo?

A moment passed. Momo stared into the never-ending distance.

“Yeah?”

If you have the time, please do find that stone. If the universe is a knit sweater, think of that stone as the piece of yarn that could yank the whole thing out of the place, hm?

Before Momo could have time to respond, the darkness erupted into light.

A note from villa1ny

My friend Tev just released book 2 in the Prophecy Approved Companion LitRPG series, available now on KU and Audible. The cast of this wonderful series includes: a bard they found in the sewers. His name is Sewer Bard and in the audiobook version of book one he sounds like David Bowie from Labyrinth; a hot elf hunter who is accidentally a giant spider with screaming children’s faces stitched into her body because the body mesh didn’t update right, and Squiggles, a very cute team pet whom everyone loves. She gives great hugs. Don’t question this.

--

To get 21 chapters ahead right now, you can head over there!

Join the Discord / Momo cult here.

The Adventure Reluctantly Begins

“Whoa, Momo, are you okay?” Radu asked, helping her off the floor. She blinked, the darkness fading back into the dim light of the Spymaster’s chambers. The Nether had sucked her in, then spit her out.

“I’m not sure how to answer that,” she said honestly, brushing off her arms. The debris from the room’s half-crumbling ceiling had covered her in soot. “I got put on hold by a goddess, told that the universe was hanging on by a thread, and then instructed to find the Oblivion Stone, or else everything in existence might implode.”

“Typical day for you, then.”

“Exactly,” Momo sighed. “Did the pool do anything while I was gone?”

“Sure did. Take a look for yourself.”

Sure enough, Morgana had done her part. The pool had formed into a circular map of sorts, one that spanned the entire continent. It was similar to the map that Valerica had generated from Nether, only this one was not lit up with geographical landmarks, but specific, blinking dots.

“Those are the Resonance Points?” Momo ventured. Radu nodded.

“Each dot means that an aggressive amount of magic is reverberating from that point. Not only that, but the reverberations share an amplitude and wave shape to the rhythm of the baryte.”

Momo hummed. She had watched enough amateur Music Theory Youtube videos to know what meant, sort of. “So basically, they’re all singing the same song?”

Radu smirked. “That’s one way to think about it.”

Momo gazed into the glimmering waters. She identified three flashing points. The closest one to Nam’Dal was in the center of the continent, on a high mountain labeled Drachenberg. The next was to the northeast, a short distance from the Barium Coast. Finally, the remaining dot flashed from inside Jarvirium itself.

“How do we know which one is the Oblivion Stone?” Momo asked.

“We don’t. It could be any of them. Or none of them,” he shrugged. “But it’s probably best to assume that it’s one of them.”

“Beautifully said.”

“Shut up,” Radu rolled his eyes. “Also, you’re going to need a new Spymaster.”

Momo turned to him, giving a quizzical look. “What? I faint once and you’re quitting?”

“No,” he sighed. He pointed a finger straight into the Nether, smudging the dot that sat high above Drachenberg. “I’m quitting because you’re going to need my help when we get to Drachenheim. Unless you want to be my Grand-Uncle’s next toasted marshmallow.”

—

After some bickering, Momo gave in to Radu’s proposal. Radu would find a temporary replacement for himself from the Thieves Guild, and Momo would offload her responsibilities to Excalibur, making him the B.I.C (Bauble In Charge) while they were gone. The rest would be left to Viktor, as Nooblin was quite busy with his political campaigning for guildmaster.

“It feels wrong leaving the city behind like this,” Momo frowned as she slid into her clogs. “It feels like I’m back in high school doing a group project, but I’m the useless one who won’t respond in the groupchat.”

Dusk blinked at her, meowing in confusion.

“I know you have no idea what I’m talking about, but it gets lonely being the only… Earthling around,” Momo sighed. “The translation is that I feel like I’m disappointing everyone. I just started this whole Rule the City Thing, and now I’m already running off to do something else. It’s not what Momo the Ripper would do. It’s classic old Momo behavior.”

Dusk whipped her tail back and forth briskly. It was a habitual tick she did every time she disagreed with Momo. The faster the tail wag, the more ardent she was in her disagreement. It was as if the cat was speaking in all caps.

“I know, I’m doing it to save the world, or to help Valerica, or whatever. It still feels shitty.”

Momo sighed, squatting on the floor. Dusk curled around her leg and purred.

—

Holding the ends of her cape tightly to her chest, Momo looked back at the city she was leaving. Snow was dropping leisurely from the clouds above, painting the pavement in white. The holidays had gone and went through Nam’Dal like a stampeding herd, leaving the scattered remnants of wreaths and tea lights.

She sat and let the snow coalesce around her, appreciating the quiet scenery. By the time Radu arrived, she was halfway towards becoming a snowman. Her shirt and hat were water-repelling, so she could enjoy the blanket of white without fearing the damp consequences.

“Exhibiting normal behavior as always, I see,” Radu laughed, dusting snow off her cowl. Momo frowned at him. As she was about to defend her snow-meditation, she noticed a crowd of people forming behind the lizard. Slow and apprehensive, the citizens of Nam’Dal, carrying roses and lilies, violets and oranges, and all assortments of parting goods, crowded the plaza outside the Northern gates.

“What is everyone doing here?” she asked Radu, pulling hard at his sleeve. “Why are they carrying all those pretty things?”

“For you, idiot.”

Momo swallowed, her heart swelling.

“What?”

The first member of the public to present themselves in front of Momo was a scrawny human child, no older than nine. He was wearing Morgana’s crest, embroidered into a leather workman’s uniform. The uniform was stained with bright hues, purples and pinks and greens, as if it had been dunked mistakenly in tie-dye.

“Miss Lady Ruler,” he said nervously. He kneeled and held out his palms to reveal a small potion bottle. It was translucent, and within it, red liquid bubbled. “I’m Gojo, Son of Mojo. We’re alchemists, and we’d like you to have this.”

His parents – a human man and a frog-headed woman – looked on proudly from behind. Momo allowed a moment to contemplate their relationship, but was quickly torn away by the pleading eyes of little Gojo. Blushing red in embarrassment, she took the potion bottle from his hands.

You have acquired a [Potent Potion of Healing].

This potion will instantly heal the recipient for 50 HP.

“Thank you, Gojo,” she said sheepishly, examining the parchment. That was a hefty amount of Health Points. “But I don’t understand. I’m leaving. Why are you giving me this?”

“What a very stupid thing to say, Miss Ruler. Without you, my dad would have been sent to the capital,” Gojo insisted, flailing his hands animatedly. “And without my dad, we wouldn’t be able to keep the shop, and without the shop, Nam’Dal would have no potions. No potions!”

“Ah. That makes perfect sense,” Momo said, her reasoning skills perfectly on par with the nine year old’s. “I’m happy I could prevent that terrible outcome, Gojo.”

Gojo jumped at her unexpectedly, tightly twisting his arms around her middle. The hug was intense but brief, nearly knocking the wind out of her before he scurried back towards his parents.

The potion bottle was hardly the last parting gift she received. It was followed by all sorts of enchanted bouquets and mana-enhancing berries, engraved daggers, family heirlooms, and extravagant hats. She thanked each and every person equally, blushing profusely with every gift.

Nearly an hour passed before the crowd receded.

“Is this how celebrities feel?” Momo coughed, her throat hoarse from how many thank you’s she’d doled out in the last sixty minutes. She was now buried not in snow, but in a mountain of knick-knacks and sentimental items. “I feel like I just got blasted by a love meteor.”

Radu laughed. “I told you the people love you. Most leaders in Alois are real dirtbags. It doesn’t take much more than a dab of kindness to have the whole city groveling at your feet.”

Momo frowned. “That’s sad, Radu.”

“Didn’t say it wasn’t.”

A long silence hung in the air between them. Looking past the gates, Momo gazed at the winding dirt road ahead. She decided, then and there, that there was no way in Heaven, Hell, or the goddamn Nether that she was letting the King get to that stone first.

—

As Nightmare trotted enthusiastically towards the falling sun, the mountains began to move closer and closer. Little light was left in the sky, but what illumination remained lit up a temple which reigned high above everything – a white and red building that sat, like a watching god, at the edge of the mountain’s peak.

The road split at the foot of the mountain. The dirt road continued on the level ground, while a divergent path twisted like a serpent up the mountain, lit by lanterns and accompanied by stone totems for as high as the eye could see. A little wooden shack with a red flag marked the beginning of the mountainous pathway. The shack had a single, muggy window.

“Let me guess,” Momo said, looking upwards. “There’s no elevator?”

Radu ignored her, trotting past on his own horse towards the wooden shack. That was answer enough. Momo followed. To her surprise, he didn’t walk past the shack, but came to a stop at it. He disembarked his horse and gazed through the window. He made a disgruntled sound, looking towards Momo.

“My stupid cousin,” he grumbled. “The so-called Head of Tourism. He’s supposed to man this shack day and night, but there’s no sign of him. And we won’t be let into Drachenheim without a Visitor’s Pass.”

“A Visitor’s Pass?” Momo tilted her head. “What is that, like a Visa? This is a city, isn’t it? Not some sort of island nation.”

Radu laughed. “Oh, Momo. I sometimes forget how little you know about this place.”

Instead of elaborating, he rattled the door knob. When it didn’t open, he took a set of lockpicks out of his bundle, and kneeled by the door. Momo gaped as he fiddled with the lock, tinkering with it and cursing under his breath until she heard a faint click.

“I still got it,” he grinned, and beckoned Momo with a hand. “Come on, thief in training, we don’t have all day.”

A note from villa1ny

To get 22 chapters ahead right now, you can head over there!

Join the Discord / Momo cult here.

Forever Springtime

“What the hell.”

The artist in Momo recoiled, her entire body writhing in intellectual pain. The shack was plastered with drawings. Comically bad drawings. Pinned to every wooden plank were amateur sketches of a lizard girl with blue scales and green eyes, colored in with what seemed to be crayon.

“Your cousin needs to be reported to the local police,” Momo mumbled in disbelief, picking one of the drawings off the wall. “This is obsessive.”

Radu ignored her, too busy tearing through his cousin’s belongings. He rabidly opened boxes and sifted through paper. Momo would have worried that the rummaging would make their breakin obvious, but the place was already a mess. A stubby chair was the only visible furniture in the entire room, the rest covered in paper and dust.

“Where are the passes? I can’t believe he hasn’t been fired yet,” Radu grumbled. He got to the bottom of one box, found nothing, and proceeded onto the next. While Radu ravaged, Momo inspected the drawing in her hand. This one was a rendition of the same female lizard, but this time she was dressed in a summer gown, wearing sandals and a sunhat.

At the bottom of the sketch, the artist signed his name – B. O. Beeswax.

“What kind of name is Beeswax?”

Radu stopped rummaging, cocking his head back towards her. “It’s a family name. My dimwit cousin’s mother’s name, to be exact. Lizards have matrilineal inheritance, so the women of the Beeswax go back farther than the Class System.”

“Huh. The more you know,” she blinked, reading the name over again. “And what about the first two initials? B.O?”

“Bartholomew Odysseus,” Radu said with a sour tone.

“His full name is Bartholomew Odysseus Beeswax?”

“Unfortunately. Imagine how I felt hearing it my whole childhood,” Radu rolled his eyes. He opened a small cabinet in the back of the cabin, easily picking off the lock and discarding it to the side. He stuck his hand in blindly and writhed around, his eyes widening as his claws landed on something familiar. “Aha!”

He produced a set of paper slips. They were tied together with a piece of string, packaged as a set. They reminded Momo of a cross between an airplane boarding pass and a passage from the Bible. The words Drachenheim Visitor’s Pass were printed on the top left, and the rest of the slip was concerned with informing visitors of all of Drachenheim’s rules and regulations.

“Take this and guard it with your life,” Radu said, half-sarcastic. He handed Momo a pass, and stuffed the rest of the bundle in his bag. After that, he finally took a look around the room, clocking the concerning amount of lizard art. “Gods, he never got over that crush, did he.”

“Is this a real person?” Momo stressed, immediately worried for the woman that was being depicted. “I was hoping it was some kind of fanart.”

“Fanart? What? No, this is my cousin’s terrible attempt at drawing Lily. She grew up just down the way from both of us. She’s from a competing family in Drachenheim, the Shellcrackers. The Beeswax and the Shellcrackers have been diametrically opposed for centuries, so our uncle always yelled at Barthy for having a crush on her.”

“Wait,” Momo said, waving her hands in front of her face. “Is the Dragon of Drachenheim’s last name also Beeswax?”

“Of course it is,” Radu looked at her quizzically. “What else would it be?”

—

An odd phenomenon occurred about halfway up the mountain.

It was nearing the end of February – or at least what Momo had deemed to be February, as she hadn’t yet dared to ask how they measured years – and frost still clung to the weeds. Trees were leafless, bushes were soggy, and everything natural was still in that phase of looking rather dead and depressed.

This all changed halfway up to Drachenheim.

Trees came into full bloom. Purple and red blossoms showered the roads with color. Nightmare looked like an eldritch horror compared to the newly resuscitated landscape.

“What just happened?” Momo asked, whipping her head around in every direction. It was as if someone turned a camera filter on, swiping from Gothic Winter Nightmare to Fun Summer Sensation.

“My uncle’s [Forever Spring] effect. Everything in a 2000 meter radius from him can never wilt or decay,” Radu explained. “Drachenheim is the sunniest, breeziest mountaintop town in all of Alois. Snow melts within seconds.”

“Wow,” Momo murmured, staring around in reverie.

It’s like they took Florida and put it on Mount Everest.

—

Momo was a sweating mess by the time they reached the village gates. The entrance was a needed reprieve from the sun, with a wide array of cherry blossom trees shading the entire area. The entrance consisted of a pair of golden gates, and a set of stone totems which mirrored the ones that were scattered along the mountainside pathway. Ten scaled warriors, standing poised and at the ready, stood by the totems.

Seeing them, Radu grimaced. He pulled his cowl over his head, trying his best to look invisible. Momo knew that impulse well.

“Don’t talk to them,” he urged, whispering. “Especially the short one.”

Momo’s eyes fell on the smallest of the bunch. He stood near the middle, looking a bit like a hotdog wrapped in plate metal. Momo didn’t need to stand close to feel the pure rage wafting off of him. She knew the type well. He had a severe case of Angry Chihuahua Syndrome.

“What’s his deal?” Momo whispered back.

“He was first in line for the throne, but then the Dragon’s wife, the Beeswax woman, had a girl. So she’s first up now. You know, matrilineal inheritance, and all that.”

“Ah. That explains the perpetually pissed look.”

Radu swallowed down a laugh and shook his head. He reluctantly led Momo up to the gate, which was guarded predominantly by two reptiles – one burly, with wrestler arms, and one frail, with big, blinking eyes.

“Passes?” the burly one asked, voice as gruff as he looked. He flexed his arms in a show of intimidation, but Momo had to stop herself from laughing. She had never pictured a buff gecko-man before, much less ever dreamed of seeing one, and yet here one stood. He had the coat of a leopard gecko, with yellow skin and black spots.

“Here,” Radu said, using a distinctly lower voice than usual. He had his hood covering his eyes, his head tilted downwards. He planted a pass in the gecko’s hand, and Momo did the same.

The man inspected the pass, whipping his head up to look at Radu several times and squinting.

“These are void,” the gecko said, jutting the passes back to him. He highlighted a date on the bottom. Momo couldn’t understand the date format, but she imagined it had already passed. “Expired. You must request new ones.”

“New ones?” Radu’s voice heightened. “But we just got these an hour ago. It’d take forever to go back down that mountain and get another.”

“Doesn’t matter. Can’t let you in.”

The gecko crossed his arms, frowning firmly. Radu sighed.

“I didn’t want to have to do this…” Radu grumbled, and reached back into his sack. He pulled out a pass that looked similar to the rest, but was colored fully red. In blocky letters at the top, it said Drachenheim Resident Pass. Underneath it, it spelled out Radu’s full name: Radulsius Red.

“Radulsius?” Momo giggled. All three lizards stared at her with scowls. She quickly stopped laughing.

“Radulsius,” the burly gecko greeted, his expression softening. “I see you are tired of running. Good. Your punishment will be severe, of course, but it is honorable that you have returned to receive it.”

Momo’s eyes widened as she looked at Radu, who avoided her gaze. Punishment? Severe?

“Yeah, yeah,” Radu waved his hand. “Just let me in, Basimo.”

“You are very brave,” whispered the frailer lizard, whose big eyes gleamed as they stared at Radu. “The Great Dragon will not be merciful.”

Radu grimaced, but said nothing. Momo was welcomed as a guest to Radulsius, and the two of them were allowed to enter through the gates. The entrance opened to Drachenheim’s central hub, a timid, windy district, where cherry blossom trees swayed vigorously but never lost a single branch or bloom.

The hub consisted of a central fountain made of exquisitely carved stone, depicting the face of what Momo assumed to be the Dragon of Drachenheim. He looked a bit like a lizard halfling, but broader in the face. Sharper features. No eyebrows. Curiously, no water spurted out of the fountain, despite the design accommodating it.

“What’s with the fountain?” Momo asked. “The Dragon seems like the kind of guy who wants to show off. I’m surprised there’s no water running.”

“It’s not a water fountain, it’s a flame fountain, and it only comes on at night time.”

“A flame fountain?” Momo repeated, fearful. “Scary.”

“Well, they pray to Salazar here, so what do you expect?” Radu laughed.

Momo’s entire body deflated.

“Not him.”

Radu cocked an eyebrow. “You got a problem with The Highest Dragon?”

“No,” Momo sagged. “But he has a problem with me.”

Momo explained the story in full as they passed by the fountain, delving deeper into town. The village was densely packed with small dwellings, each constructed from a stone base, wood paneled walls, and curved rooftops. The houses vaguely reminded Momo of the photos her dad would hang around the house – frayed and smudged polaroids of her family’s early visits to Korea, back when Momo was too little to remember.

Stone totems were another popular feature of each residence. Either at the front door or in the garden, a small totem – shaped like a lizard, or something lizard-esque – would stand guard. Momo thought they were awfully cute, despite their serious expressions. They reminded her of the hotdog-shaped guard at the front gates.

“So, how exactly are we going to find the Oblivion Stone?” Momo asked as they turned a corner into a garden. Stepping over sunflowers and lilies, Momo followed Radu through the weeds towards a larger building. It looked like some sort of inn.

“Old fashioned sleuthing, of course,” Radu winked.

“Okay then,” Momo sing-songed, stepping in front of Radu and cutting off his trajectory. He came to a halt, startled. “As my first act as detective, I’ll need you to answer a few questions, Radulsius.”

He rolled his eyes. “We don’t have time for this, Momo. We have to get in and out of town before my uncle takes the time out of his busy schedule to murder me.”

“Aha! So you are in danger,” Momo said, poking Radu’s chest as if she had just solved some great mystery. “Just as I thought. The clues are adding up.”

“What clues? We got here like four hours ago.”

“The clues, Radulsius,” Momo tutted. “So why exactly does the Dragon want to murder you? I assume it has something to do with the heist that Devola and Olivia performed…”

Radu tilted his head. “Why do you know their names?”

Momo blushed. “Um, research. Sleuthing.”

“Right. Let me guess, Devola is a friend of yours, isn’t she?”

“Absolutely not. Never heard of her.”

“You just said her name.”

Momo blinked stupidly, figuring silence was her best savior.

“Whatever, I don’t actually care. Yes, that heist is why he wants to kill me. I was supposed to be guarding the vaults that day, but Barthy convinced me to ditch and…”

Radu rolled his eyes, recoiling in embarrassment.

“And he dared me to ask out Lily’s sister, Sidney. Sidney said no, Magelegs broke into the vaults, and I got viciously fired all in one day. You might refer to it as a low point.”

Momo gaped. “Oh, that’s really bad.”

“Thanks.”

“No! No, I mean. Not that bad. I’ve had worse Tuesdays,” Momo said sympathetically. She really had. Besides the heist part, that sounded like the average amount of embarrassment she faced per week in college.

“Whatever, now you know,” Radu sighed, sidestepping Momo and heading towards the inn with a renewed urgency. “Let’s just get to the inn before I get [Dragon Breath]’d into oblivion.”

As Radu stalked away, a piece of parchment plummeted through the cherry blossom trees,

Congratulations! For using your persuasive ability to get a close friend to reveal a sizzling secret, you have reached level 3 in [Con Artist].

You have gained the passive skill [Quiet Footsteps].

[Quiet Footsteps]: As long as you are wearing light footwear, your footsteps make very little noise. People with very high perception can still notice them. At higher levels, this skill can be upgraded to [Silent Footsteps].

Momo gawked at the page. Persuasive ability? Maybe those extra Charisma points were working. She hadn’t really thought about it, but talking had become a whole lot easier for her. Unlike before, when she could convert only 10% of her thoughts into actual sentences, she was now gliding through banter with ease.

Also, it sure was easier to get [Con Artist] levels than [Corrupted Druid] ones. The amount of experience it took to gain levels in a Novice class was astronomically lower than an Intermediate one. The moment she upgraded from [Necromage Initiate] to [Corrupted Druid], her progression had slowed to a near-halt.

Taking over the capital had helped a bit, but she’d need to talk to Valerica for a more reliable way to receive quests. The Necromage was so frequently out of town – and even more frequently uninterested in talking about anything Momo wanted to bring up – that it was hard to get her to sit down and write down quest descriptions. Consequently, Momo was missing out on a lot of experience.

She huffed, tossing the parchment into thin air and watching it evaporate. It was fine. She’d find the Oblivion Stone, wish for like 100,000 million experience points, and then something as silly as a quest wouldn’t matter.

She wordlessly transformed her pants into brown slacks, embodying her best Sherlock Holmes, and decided she'd need to go get a trench coat before this whole plan went up in flames.

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– Lizard Wizard

“Radu, is that you?”

The barmaid manning the front desk was a lizard with brilliant blue scales, shining eyes and an over-expressive face. Momo’s first thought went to Bartholomew’s drawings. Could this be her?

“In the flesh,” Radu said with a grin. The barmaid squealed, rounding the table to give Radu a hug. To Momo’s surprise, she lifted up the lizard with ease, spinning him around like Valerica loved to do to her. Radu enjoyed it similarly – which was to say, not at all.

“You’re still way too strong, Lily,” Radu groaned, holding his head. “Those biceps should be considered registered weapons.”

“They are. The Dragon has them on his list of personal valuables,” she smirked.

Radu shook his head, and then gestured to Momo. “This is my traveling companion, The Ripper. You can call her Momo, though.”

Lily sized her up. Momo flushed under the attention, looking down at her feet as the lizard raked her eyes up and down her frail form. Momo could see why Bartholomew had a crush. Shiny scales weren't exactly Momo’s thing, but the woman certainly had presence.

Lily reached out her hand. “Pleased, Ripper.”

“Momo’s just fine,” Momo laughed nervously.

“Momo, then. Welcome to Drachenheim. Make yourself at home, but I’d appreciate it if you'd keep your cat out of my kitchen.”

Momo looked behind Lily just in time to catch Dusk flying from a table in the adjoined room, a fish head caught greedily in her jaws. A lizard outfitted in an apron and a chef’s hat chased the cat through the door into the parlor, waving a broomstick and shouting profanities.

“Dusk, give that back!” Momo commanded, grimacing as the cat slammed into the parlor wall. The fish head squashed into the wallpaper, its juices staining the decorative paper with gore.

Seeing Momo’s exasperation, the cat meowed apologetically. Dusk’s undead soul bond to Momo combined with her naturally chaotic feline personality frequently resulted in unfortunate conclusions.

“Do you have a sponge?” Momo asked weakly.

—

Kneeling on the dining table, Momo scrubbed at the bloodied wall as she eavesdropped on nearby conversation. Half of her was cleaning up out of courtesy, the other half out of reconnaissance. There was nothing like being the fly on the wall – or being the Momo scrubbing one – to perform some proper sleuthing.

While Radu caught up with Lily by the bar, several townspeople filtered in. The work day in Drachenheim seemed to end earlier than most. The sun was still shining when the lizards came to shoot the shit and swallow down beers. Most of the visitors were steelworkers, forge-working types. It made sense, Momo supposed, considering Salazar’s domains.

The forge workers' conversation was hardly that interesting. They debated the best materials to use for light armor, the superior fire salts to use for crafting. Momo was sure Salvo would have had a heyday there, but she wasn’t sure how the lizards would feel about having a bird around.

“I see you hired some help, Shellcracker. Didn’t know they were renting out humans these days.”

Momo sniffed, the air suddenly reeking of burnt toast. She cocked her head to notice a new lizard entering the foyer. He was taller than most, dressed in elegant robes of white and red. Hiding behind him was the sausage-lizard, looking as pissed as ever. From the way Lily regarded both of them, they weren’t here for pleasantries.

“Beeswax,” Lily greeted bitterly. “What do you want?”

“Oh, just a drink,” he shrugged. “Three sharp limescales. Put it on my father’s tab.”

Lily stared at him for a moment skeptically, but when he made no intention of leaving, she sighed and walked towards the back of the room. The Beeswax man slowly craned his head towards Radu, who had gone silent.

“The boy prodigy has finally returned, I see,” the lizard observed icily. “Travel looks bad on you. Your scales are dim, like the skin of a pig. When was the last time you took a proper bath, Radulsius?”

Radu ignored him, quietly sipping on his drink.

“Oh, so you still think you’re better than us, is that right? The High Dragon’s favorite nephew turned runaway traitor. Such an uppity attitude seems misplaced now, does it not?”

Radu finally turned towards him, rolling his eyes.

“Oh shut up, Bartholomew. I’m not the one drawing those pisspoor sketches and hanging them up like fine art in the tourist shack I abandoned. Speaking of drawings, maybe Lily wants to see one?”

Bartholomew fumed with anger, a firespark lighting from his tail, dark plumes of smoke gathering around his scales. He flew up from his seat, grabbing Radu by the neck and hoisting him upwards.

“Shut up, you lying freak,” Bartholomew shouted. “I’m no longer the naive little lizard I was before. Unlike you, The Dragon has recognized my work and promoted me. I am now his Court Sage, responsible for educating the populace, and protecting our people from the likes of you.”

He's the Court Sage? So that makes him... a Lizard Wizard?

Momo laughed to herself. Meanwhile, going white in the face from the lack of oxygen, Radu’s eyes bored into hers.

“Ah, how sweet of daddy to give you the keys to the kingdom,” Radu croaked, emphasizing keys with the last of his breath. Following Radu's gaze, Momo found the keyring dangling precariously from Bartholomew’s satchel. Momo gaped back at Radu. Clearly, the lizard wanted her to swipe it.

The only problem was she was several feet away. It wouldn’t exactly look normal for her to approach them mid-chokehold. Really, any movement at all could raise suspicion. She did have that skill in Pickpocketing from [Nimble Fingers], but it wasn’t any kind of guarantee.

“This damned cat!” Lily groaned, slapping at Dusk with a handrag. She had returned from the kitchen with a plate of sizzling green brews. One hand balanced the platter, the other accosted Dusk as the cat jumped around the floorboards, mouth full of fish bones.

Bartholomew’s grip weakened as the cat caught his attention. Momo inhaled. Go time.

“Bad cat,” Momo said, wagging her finger at Dusk as she descended the table. Bartholomew’s eyes followed her as she jogged towards the bar and scooped Dusk off the ground. With the naughty cat in hand, she fell into the barstool just beside the hotdog-shaped lizard, sliding out of view of Bartholomew.

“What is this nonsense? Let him go!” Lily commanded in disbelief, finally taking notice of the altercation between the two. Seeing Lily, Bartholomew immediately softened, grunting in annoyance as he let Radu fall back into his seat. Radu took a long, exaggerated breath, panting for emphasis.

While Bartholomew was preoccupied with Lily’s glare, Momo’s eyes fell to his keyring. It was well-within grabbing distance now. Of course, there was one remaining obstacle: the round-faced lizard staring daggers at her, fumes shooting out of his ears. He tore his gaze away from her momentarily to grab one of the limescales, and Momo seized the moment.

“Bite his ankles,” she whispered. “Then run.”

Dusk immediately lit up, gleeful to be given a task that was well-aligned with her destructive, chaotic impulses. The cat bounced from her lap onto the floor, and started immediately raging a war against the lizard’s uncovered ankles. Momo had noticed that his pants were a bit too short for him – over-tailored to make up for his size – and his boots a bit too low, leaving his ankles vulnerable.

“Something’s attacking me!” the lizard squealed, launching out of his seat. Dusk continued unperturbed, biting ravenously as the lizard began running in circles, hopping from one leg to the other helplessly.

“That damn cat,” Lily sighed, clearly exhausted.

With the full attention on Dusk, Momo prayed to whatever God was watching and plucked the keys from his pouch, keeping her hand below the counter so Lily couldn’t notice. The keys jingled slightly, and Momo held her breath, waiting for Bartholomew to turn around and smack her sideways.

No smack came. Bartholomew’s gaze remained pinned to the center of the room, smirking slightly at the display. The small lizard’s screams were too overpowering, drowning out every other noise in the bar.

Momo slipped the keys into her bag.

“Alright, Dusk, you’re done! You’re sleeping in the streets tonight, no tuna dinner!” she exclaimed, getting up from her seat and waving her hands around dramatically. The cat immediately stopped its grand attack, following Momo’s second instruction and high-tailing it out of the inn. She left a wailing hotdog in her wake, crumpled on the floor in despair.

“Out of towners,” Lily shook her head. “Always trouble.”

—

Things quickly died down after the cat-caused commotion. With Lily around, Bartholomew seemed less likely to choke Radu to death, and with a quick, annoyed sip from his glass, he grabbed his older brother and set out back towards the windy roads.

“If you two still want a place to stay, you’re paying double,” Lily said as she mopped the floors. The last of the guests left after Bartholomew, leaving the place empty and covered with smashed bottles and abandoned canteens.

“We’ll pay triple,” Momo insisted, feeling genuinely bad for the chaos she caused.

Lily turned towards her and smiled. “Modest personality, big pockets. My kind of girl.”

After paying for the night, Radu and Momo walked down the hallways to find rooms 004 and 005, respectively. Leaning on the doorframe, Radu eyed her pouch, smirking.

“Nice work, sleuth.”

“You mean pickpocket,” she crossed her arms, annoyed. “I don’t like stealing, especially from people who have an affinity for choking out my friends. This better be for a good reason.”

“Of course it is,” Radu grinned. “Remember that promotion he mentioned?”

“Court Sage?”

“Precisely,” he nodded. “And what does a Court Sage have? Storage for magical items, right in my uncle’s pagoda. If the Oblivion Stone is here – which, Gods, I hope it isn’t – then I bet you it’s there. My dimwit cousin is just the kind to have a magical God stone on his hands and have no idea.”

“That makes sense,” Momo nodded slowly. As she thought about it further, she grimaced. “So that means…”

“We’re breaking in,” Radu grinned. “Magelegs style.”

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– A Pagoda Heist

The party of sleuths reached the pagoda under moonlight, summiting the peak just as the sun slid over the horizon. Witnessing it in full now, Momo was blown away by just how unique the tower was from the architecture of the medieval villages that sat below it. The pagoda was five levels tall, with long, protruding eaves shading the ground below it. It was constructed of enchanted wood, painted red and white, and topped with the sculpted head of Salazar.

The eyes of the sculpted head were eerily lifelike. Momo felt as if it was tracing her movements, its chalky white pupils unblinking as it watched her and Radu creep towards the southern entrance of the tower.

“I really don’t like the vibes of this place,” Momo whispered as she looked over her shoulder, confirming for the hundredth time that they weren’t being followed. Nothing sat behind them but an army of stone totems. The sculptures guarded the winding path from the inn up towards the pagoda, which sat at the highest point in the village.

Having previously worked in the pagoda for several months, Radu luckily had a good understanding of the premises. The southern entrance – the garden entrance – was the least guarded, as it was seen as a place for meditation and ceremony. A strict no combat doctrine applied to the lush area, with its magical blooms and snaking, flame-stemmed plants.

Worship stations were set up every few meters, consisting of a small water bath, a mat for kneeling and praying, a matchbox, and five or so unlit candles. Small busts of Salazar dotted the gardens, peeking out of the ground like marble moles, scaring the daylights out of Momo every time she crossed one.

“Where are the guards?” Momo said as they approached the door. “I haven’t seen a single one.”

“There’ll be none in the garden at night. Two will be posted immediately inside the entrance, then half a dozen will be standing outside the Dragon’s War Room, which we’ll have to pass to get to the Sage’s quarters.”

“How in the hell are we going to sneak by half a dozen guards?”

“By being sneaky,” Radu smirked.

They climbed down a small, ivy-covered staircase, which ended at a large door.

“Morgue Keeper comes through here often at night. Teddy’s been teaching me some amateur shapeshifting, so I think I can pose as the Mortician for a few minutes while we pass by the guards,” Radu explained, jostling the stolen keyring out of his satchel.

“And what am I supposed to do, exactly?”

Radu frowned. “I’m happy to go alone. I know this place like the back of my hand, it won’t take me long. You can stand here and guard the door to make sure no one follows me in.”

“Are you serious? No way.” Momo gaped. “I’m coming with you.”

“Yeah?” Radu raised his eyebrows in disbelief. “And how exactly are you going to explain what you, a random human girl, are doing traipsing around the Dragon of Drachenheim’s pagoda?”

Momo frowned. She didn’t exactly have any polymorphs as convenient for this situation as lizard mage, but she’d make do. Normally, she’d be happy to wait outside, take a nap in the bushes, and let someone else do the dirty work – but this was her mission. Not only had a literal goddess tasked her with it, but more importantly, Valerica had.

“[Polymorph - Merlin],” she cast, and within seconds, she was sitting on Radu’s shoulder, chirping away inconspicuously. “How’s this for undercover?”

Radu shook his head. “Fine.”

Radu slung his bag under his clothes, murmuring an incantation. His face began to boil, his stature shifting in a scoliotic lean. Muddied black robes grew over his shoulders, a dark cowl covering his face. He coughed violently, and it sounded like something had died in his throat.

It was thoroughly authentic. Momo was impressed.

With the transformation complete, he reached down to grab a fallen branch. Brushing some of the weeds off the surface, he used it as a makeshift walking stick, and hobbled towards the door.

“Hide in my pocket,” he instructed, his voice suddenly gruff and old. Momo obliged, ducking into one of the wide pockets of his new undertaker garb. She watched as he unlocked the door with ease, pushing it open to reveal a wide storage room. As predicted, two guards meandered around, chatting in low tones as he entered.

“Archibald, you’re in early,” one of the guards remarked as Radu closed the door behind himself. The guard flicked a cigarette to the floor and ground it under his pointed boot. “What’d you make of the body? Figure out the cause of death yet?”

Cause of death? Momo froze, ducking her head further into the pocket. Had there been a lizard murder?

Radu paused, similarly caught off guard by the question. Luckily, he could play it off for old age.

“Not yet,” he said after a long moment. “It’s an odd case.”

“Terrifically odd,” the other guard chimed in. “The boy comes in saying he took a magical rock off some trespasser, hands it over to old Bartholomew, and next day he’s dead. Or they say he’s dead, nobody knows. Nobody’s seen the body except old Archibald over there. The mother’s stricken, of course, but the Dragon has no time to hear out the pleas and hearsay of some Shellcracker woman.”

The words magical rock reverberated around Momo’s tiny, birdly skull. She couldn’t help but ruffle her feathers, and she felt Radu do the same. The lizard bobbed on his feet, one of his nervous ticks. The back-and-forth sensation started giving Momo motion sickness.

“Other guards are saying it’s some kind of conspiracy, as if Barthy killed the boy. I think it’s a load of scales. Come on, we all know Barthy. He’s all talk, no talons. Not to mention he’s had a thing for that Shellcracker girl forever. Why would he kill one of her little cousins?”

“That’s the truth, Phineas. It just don’t add up.”

As the guards discussed, Radu slipped away. With no fresh gossip to deliver to them, they didn’t seem too bothered by his leaving. He turned right, moving past bags of dirt, seeds, and gardening equipment to ascend a nearby staircase. He took the staircase two floors up, until he reached the desired hallway.

Unlike the storage room in the basement, the second floor mimicked the exterior architecture of the building – stunning, ornate walls colored red and white. Patterns of fire-breathing dragons colored the wallpaper, golden trimmings ran across the baseboards. Momo watched all of it pass by with her beak wide open, staring in awe as she bobbed up and down in Radu’s pocket.

“I can’t believe Barthy would murder a kid,” Radu said tensely, his teeth gritted. “I didn’t think he had it in him. But you heard them – a magical rock? If he was going to do something so despicable, something like the Oblivion Stone would be reason enough for him.”

“But they said he might not be dead, didn’t they?” Momo said, ever the optimist. “They said no one’s seen the body except the guy you’re cosplaying as.”

“Let’s hope that’s true. Archy’s not just the undertaker, he’s also the Court Physician. He handles both – the living bodies and the unliving ones,” Radu sighed as he stalked down the corridor. Larger than life paintings of red-scaled lizards adorned the walls.

The hallway opened up into a modest foyer. Just as he had predicted, three guards were posted at the entrance to an adjoining room, and three others marched around the foyer, walking in tight, choreographed circles. They wore comically theatrical outfits: red hats that were nearly a foot tall, with white ribbons descending from the top, and matching cuirasses.

“Halt, trespasser!” one of the circle-walkers exclaimed. He stopped his choreography before the others could notice, and the two others stumbled behind him like dominos. Their hats fell over their eyes, and they knocked heads, groaning loudly as they fell to the floor.

“Idiots,” one of the door-watchers sighed as the guards scrambled off of the floor. “It’s only Archibald. Let him pass.”

Radu tipped his head in thanks and continued forward, but the one that had originally called him to stop blocked his path, sidestepping in his way. The guard’s high-hat drooped ominously, creating a shadow over the two of them.

“No one but the Court Sage and the Dragon are allowed to continue this way after sundown. It is the law, and the law applies to all members of the Court. Even you, Archibald.”

“It’s about the fell boy’s health,” Radu explained. “I have an urgent message to deliver to Bartholomew.”

“Gods, loosen up, Ezekiel. Let the man pass,” the door-guard insisted.

Ezekiel frowned. “I will not loosen up. The Dragon was very specific about his rules and regulations. Trespassers will not be allowed, no ifs and buts about it. Even further, Bartholomew did not mention awaiting a message from you.”

Radu paused. Momo cowered in his pocket, staring upwards at the towering guard-lizard. I don’t like this. Radu only had so long on the amateur polymorph spell, and they couldn’t waste any more time being interrogated by these tophat wearing guardsmen.

“This is a matter of life or death, Ezekiel. Do you want the Dragon to hear about this?

“Hear about what? Me letting in his expired excuse for a physician, against my better judgment? I think not. The life of a Shellcracker boy makes no difference to me, and no difference to him.”

The room fell silent.

“I won’t have blood on my hands. You can try to stop me, but I don’t think the Dragon will like having two deaths on his doorstep when zero would do,” Radu said icily, gritting his teeth and blowing past Ezekiel, shoulder checking him as he walked.

“Oh no you don’t.”

Ezekiel brandished his sword, turning on his heel to point it at Radu. Radu froze, and he tilted his head downwards. Momo could see the fear in his eyes. He had been putting on a magnificent, awe-inspiring show – but a trembling young lizard still sat beneath the disguise. Momo couldn’t imagine the terror he was feeling, sitting in the belly of the beast that was once his family, and now threatened his life.

She had to do something.

Fluttering her wings at max velocity, she shot out of Radu's pocket, did a U-turn in the air, and stared Ezekiel straight in the eye.

“[Taunt]!”

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– Oblivion Dust

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“Gods, who let a damned bird in here?” the door guard shouted.

Momo risked a look backwards. Luckily, her plan had worked: Ezekiel’s eyes were stuck to her like glue, blazing ruby red. His full attention had been ripped from Radu and placed firmly on her, or rather Biscuit, who somehow, somewhere in her tiny, polymorphed heart, had still managed to fire off the skill.

Momo ducked out of the way as the tip of Ezekiel’s sword flew towards her, nearly chopping her tail-feathers off. She squealed and sputtered, diving down the hallway that they had come from.

Ezekiel followed her with the passion of a racehorse.

“I’m going to skewer you, you stupid fowl!” he raged, his heavy boots stomping furiously down the corridor. The enchanted paintings that colored the wall swayed as he stampeded, years of Beeswax ancestors frowning in contempt – and possibly motion sickness.

The lizard was surprisingly fast, but Momo the Merlin was faster. She dove down two floors of staircases with ease, taking time to breathe as she watched Ezekiel stumble downwards.

“Oh, hell,” he growled, and stopped in his tracks. Momo furrowed her furry eyebrows as he reached into his pockets, extracting something that looked like a package of darts.

Oh no.

“Try and outrun this aim, you bastard!”

With barely any time to react, a dart flew directly into Momo’s wing. She cried out in anguish, immediately falling to the ground below her. She tried to flutter her wings again, but pain rocketed up her arm with every sweep. It was like trying to do jumping jacks with a broken leg.

“Gotcha, sucker! Oh yeah!” Ezekiel cheered, pumping the air with his fist. “They don’t call me the ten year running champion of the Dragonscale Inn Darts Tournament for nothing, do they?”

Distracted by his own ego, Ezekiel failed to notice Momo duck behind a bag of soil. Blinking back tears, she limped as far away from the staircase as she could, swiveling between bags like a canine athlete in an obstacle course.

“Where’d the damn flappy thing go?” Ezekiel bellowed. “I wasn’t done with you yet!”

Limping along at full speed, she made it to the main storage room. She hid behind a plump bag of manure as Ezekiel stalked down the remainder of the stairs. The two guards from before were still in their places, gossiping idly as Ezekiel strolled in, sword raised.

“Have you two seen a bird?” he said rabidly. “Ye tall, ye wide?”

“Did it steal your grandpa’s ashes or something? Why are you hunting a bird instead of guarding the entrance?”

Ezekiel scowled, stepping towards them menacingly. “Don’t be fooled, it’s no ordinary bird. It’s an evil, despicable bird. You all should drop your posts right now and get looking for it. Don’t want this getting back to the Dragon.”

“Get back what? That we dropped everything to search for a wee bird?” the guard scoffed. “You’ve gone mad.”

Ezekiel stepped forward, and Momo’s breath caught in her throat. His foot stood mere centimeters from where she was hiding. He peered downwards, turning his head slowly to search the area. By her unreliable calculations, she only had a few seconds before he spotted her.

She looked around frantically, hunting for a better hiding place. Unfortunately, [Taunt] had done an excellent job of distracting him from Radu, but it had also turned him into a single minded bird murderer. He was panting like a hungry dog, eyes red like a proper smoker.

To Momo’s relief, a small mountain of dirt had leaked out from the bag beside her. Better yet, it looked about big enough for her to hole her way into unnoticed. She shuffled towards it, trying not to breathe in the rank smell of manure as she shoved her head inside. Her feet and damaged wing followed quickly, and dirt fell behind her, disguising her entrance.

Everything went briefly quiet. Too quiet, before the sharp, audible rip of torn fabric made Momo snort in a bundle of dirt. Manure went up her nose and straight to her brainstem. Her eyes bulged out of her skull, and it took every cell in her body not to have an abusive coughing fit.

From the sound of it, Ezekiel was plowing through the room like a possessed tractor. He ravaged bag after bag, creating mountains of manure, toppling crates, and shattering milk bottles as he tore his way through the storage room. Judging by the annoyed murmurs which turned into shouts, the other guards weren’t enthused.

“Stop it! You’re making a damned mess,” one of the guards warned. “The Dragon isn’t going to be happy when his ceremonial garden is in shambles because the caretaker’s shovel was buried under a mountain of cow shit.”

The ripping and shaking momentarily stopped. Their warning had given Ezekiel pause, the threat of the Dragon’s furor scaring him straight. At least that’s what Momo assumed. She was completely blinded by dirt, and barely able to breathe without choking.

“Fine,” Ezekiel said after a moment, stopping his assault. “But if you see a bird here, I pray you won’t be merciful. Give it the full wrath of the Dragon, you hear me?”

“Sure will, boss.”

After a while, Ezekiel’s grumbling strayed off into the distance. Momo heard his loud footsteps ascend the staircase, headed back to his post.

She would have let out a breath of relief, but she wasn’t interested in adding more moisture to her current situation.

With her body still mostly intact – and her dignity hanging by a thread – she emerged from the manure. It left her absolutely covered, her wings caked. She suddenly sympathized way more with Corv after his unfortunate giant dog licking incident.

“What a nutjob. Can’t believe The Dragon even keeps him around.”

“You know what they say. Keep your friends close, keep your local village psychopath closer.”

Momo limped until she reached the side-corridor which led to the staircase. Seeing as it was out of the guard’s purview, and Ezekiel had vanished back upstairs, she decided it was a good enough place as any to transform out of bird-mode. Sitting herself in a dark corner of the room, she let her arms and legs expand into their normal proportions.

“Ouch,” she groaned quietly, feeling pain spread throughout her arm as it locked back into place. She experimentally lifted it upwards, but quickly learned how stupid that experiment was. It was definitely broken.

Touching her fingers to her forearm, she cast [Dark Healing]. The relief was immediate. She nearly moaned, resting her head against the cold, cobbled wall as solace washed over her. Her arm felt moveable again, but she could already feel her stomach cramping, her skin turning damp with sweat. It was like swapping an injury for mild food poisoning.

Steeling herself, she rose from the ground. She had to find Radu.

—

Momo had a terrible idea.

Desperate to avoid another dart to the arm, she didn’t want to directly fight any of the guards. But the five redhats remained, blocking the Sage’s quarters and marching obediently to their own drum. The only solution she saw was to create a diversion – something scary enough to drive them out of the room, but not scary enough to accidentally slaughter them.

So, naturally, she settled on the ostrich.

Spewing out from the Nether, the monstrous bird blinked into existence in the hallway. Momo made herself small in the corner as she whispered her plan to her summoned minion: terrorize the guards, then run down the hallway. If they don’t follow, repeat the plan.

It went better than expected.

“The dastardly bird evolved!”

Ezekiel gawked at it with absolute terror. The other guards wore similar, unbelieving expressions.

“I warned you all! The bird was not just a measly thing, but a monstrous concoction from the Nether!” Ezekiel insisted, raising his sword towards Big Bird. The ostrich sniffed at it experimentally, licking its lips.

“Settle down,” one of the door guards said, in a voice which didn’t inspire much confidence. “It’s just an illusion. Or, or… a spirit. A spirit sent to us by the Dragon.”

"Lies! It's real, so very real, and it's going to -"

The ostrich nipped at Ezekiel cutting him off and grabbing him by the collar. The ostrich lifted him up and shook him, freeing the sword from his hand.

"He's got me! The demon has me in its jowls! I'm finished!" Ezekeil screamed.

The ostrich dashed down the hallway, the guard swaying from his beak. All four other guards ran after it, screaming in a mixture of fright and terror as they chased the beast down the stairwell.

As the last of them turned the corner to the stairs, Momo broke into a sprint. She dashed through the foyer, hopping and jumping up the stairs towards the Sage’s quarters. The door to the room was open just a smidge, and Momo could hear faint whispering coming from inside.

Momo yanked it open, flung herself inside, then shut it firmly behind her.

“Dear Salazar!” Radu screamed, nearly jumping out of his skeleton. “Ever heard of knocking? I thought you were one of those guards.”

“I’ll try that next time when I’m not afraid for my life.”

He rolled his eyes, taking a deep breath. As he did, Momo’s eyes raked around the room. This Sage’s quarters made Viktor’s look like a burial site. The room was completely decked out in jewel stones, artificing equipment, altars, alchemy supplies, and even a bed, made of obsidian. Unlike a typical bed, this one had handcuffs – and ankle cuffs – built in.

“I do not want to know what that’s about,” Momo said, averting her gaze.

“You might have to,” Radu sighed, getting up from the floor and approaching the bed. He ran his hand along it, and white dust glimmered on his palm. “Recognize this color? It’s baryte dust. I can’t find any sign of the Oblivion Stone in here except on that table.”

Momo reluctantly stood by his side. From closer up, she noticed that the restraints looked improperly attached. They weren’t built into the bed – which was more of an operating table – but instead haphazardly attached by soldering.

It wasn’t something she’d typically notice, but she had a personal vendetta against asymmetry, and that engineering job was about pisspoor as it came.

“Is Bartholomew some kind of engineer?” she said, running her fingers along the attachment.

Radu gave her a befuddled look. “He tinkered with things when we were kids, but he wasn’t exactly competing with Dwarven engineering, no.”

“Could he solder something? With magic, maybe?”

Radu shrugged. “Probably, why?”

Momo frowned, looking at the distance between the ankle cuffs and the wrist cuffs. It was an oddly short distance. It wouldn’t fit any regular sized adult, but a kid – maybe.

Then it clicked.

“Radu,” Momo said, going pale. “Do you know what happens when you touch an Oblivion Stone?”

Radu shrugged. “Different myths say different things. Most agree that you enter a trance, and that only those who can overcome the trance are allowed to access the power within.”

Momo grabbed his arm, staring urgently into his eyes.

“We have to find that Shellcracker kid.”

A note from villa1ny

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Join the Discord / Momo cult here.

– Archibald & The Squirrely Escape

Momo pressed her ear to the door. She could hear faint grumbling – the unmistakable sounds of a hard fought victory against a wild Nether ostrich. Momo would have mourned the loss of Big Bird, but she knew better. Killing summons merely unsummoned them, transporting their soul back into the unwieldy Nether.

“They’re coming,” Momo warned Radu. “Which way is Archibald’s office?”

“It’s a medical hut just outside the garden. We actually passed by it on our way up.”

Momo nodded, taking one more look at the room behind them.

“And you’re sure the stone isn’t in here somewhere?”

“I searched every nook and cranny. My cousin isn’t exactly a meticulous guy, either. There’s no way he could hide a God Object in plain sight.”

Momo sighed. “Too bad. Not that Morgana would ever make something so convenient for me.”

Radu joined her by the door, pushing it open slightly. He peered outwards, finding the five red-topped guardsmen back in their stations They all looked worse for wear, their hats dented, their uniforms blasted with black ash.

It was as if they had been struck by a small meteor.

“Can you bird up again?” Radu asked. "We could try the same strategy."

“I don’t know if I have the mana,” Momo mumbled. “But I can try. [Polymorph - Merlin].”

Instead of growing feathers, she grew violently ill. Her hands flew to her knees, her head rocketing into the doorway. She groaned involuntarily, flopping backwards onto the floor.

“Urgh. Nope.”

Dark Healing sucks.

“What was that noise?” Ezekiel called out. His voice was hoarse, broken. He had cry-screamed enough in the past thirty minutes to turn his throat to a desert. “Another bird?”

Radu’s eyes flew to Momo. Without pretense, he heaved her up from the floor. She complained loudly, her head still spinning.

“We have to go. Now.”

Paying no mind to the consequences, they flew out of the room. Momo followed Radu blindly to the left, her brain still pulsing. They hurdled down a hallway that looked much like the others – golden-rimmed, ornate, full of judgmental relatives.

Momo panted for dear life, the wind still knocked out of her.

“Shit,” Radu groaned as they reached the end of the hallway. It was a dead end. “I forgot there’s no exit this way.”

Through her haze, Momo squinted at the wall. A peculiarly large painting hung on it. The rim of it was bronze, not gold, and badly tarnished. It looked more like a stage prop than a real frame.

“Move the thing,” she said, waving her hands manically. “The frame. Try moving the frame.”

He looked at her like she was crazy. “I can’t move my ancestors, Momo. They’ll curse me for eternity.”

The woman depicted in the painting wore a tight-sitting bun, wrinkly cheeks, heavily made up eyebrows, and a scowl to rival even Sera’s. Momo was certain Radu was correct. She looked like just the kind of person to foster some magic-backed generational trauma.

“Fine, she can curse me instead,” Momo sighed, stepping up to the painting and reaching for it with both hands. Lifting it upwards, the woman’s scowl deepened, and she raised her teacup menacingly at Momo. Luckily, she was restrained to the dimensions of her painting.

“Sorry, Ms. Beeswax.”

A soft click came from behind the painting.

Momo set the heavy frame aside on the floor, groaning under its weight. Her arm was still pulsing mildly from the dart incident, and flexing it hurt like hell.

“I heard a click,” Momo said, grinning despite the pain. “Did I unlock the secret passageway thing?”

Radu scoffed, gesturing to the absence of any dramatic passageway reveals. Before Momo could give him attitude, the sound of voices echoed down the corridor. The redhats were coming. Not urgently, as they were still beaten and bruised – both in ego and in a more physical sense – and took their time hobbling along to investigate.

“Wait,” Radu paused, eyes widening. His eyes fell to the red carpet beneath them. He kneeled down, beginning to roll it up from the edge. After a moment, it revealed the bare floorboards beneath.

And, conveniently: a square trapdoor, with a moveable latch.

“You’re a genius, Ripper,” he laughed, more manic than relieved. He moved the latch and it gave way, the previous locking mechanism disabled by the painting. A ladder connected from the top of the trapdoor to the bottom of a darkly lit underground passageway.

Hearing Ezekeiel’s inane babbling about bird-revenge get closer and closer, Momo wasted no time. She slipped onto the ladder and slid down like an acrobat, leaving Radu gaping in the hallway above. Sliding down the ladder was easier than climbing, and her levels in [Corrupted Druid] had bolstered her dexterity to that of an eight-year old gymnast.

She landed ungracefully in a heap at the bottom. Gymnast, maybe. Ballerina, not so much.

The tunnel was pitch black, smelling of wine and root vegetables. A cellar.

Radu followed quickly, making sure to re-lock the hatch as he descended. He landed nearly on top of her, the two squabbling about in the dark until they could re-establish their personal boundaries.

“Aren’t they just going to follow us down?” Momo asked, peering upwards. Or at least, she thought it was upwards.

“Probably, but that lock should give them some trouble. The Dragon doesn’t take kindly to his guards destroying the place, even when an intruder is involved.”

“Okay,” she sighed. Using her hands to guide her, she walked apprehensively through the dark. Her ankles bumped up with crates of wine bottles, but luckily nothing shattered. “You wouldn’t happen to have something as convenient as a light spell, would you?”

“Why would [Con Artist] have a light spell?”

“Why doesn’t everyone have a light spell?” Momo grumbled. “I just feel like a society with magic should have figured out that problem by now.”

“You’d be surprised to know that even societies with all the tools to solve their problems rarely do,” Radu laughed.

Momo groaned, not in the mood to hear his philosophical quips. The pair of them walked side by side, slowly tiptoeing around fragile containers. Eventually, they reached a dead end: a door, by the feel of it, something wooden, with a knob.

Momo twisted the knob, and light flashed into the cellar.

“Why, look at that, Roderick, we’ve got visitors.”

When Momo’s eyes adjusted, she nearly fainted at the surprise. A red squirrel, with glasses, was staring up at her. A small knapsack was attached to its back, and a brown bucket hat sat atop its pointy ears. Two small holes were cut out of the hat to allow the ears to protrude.

Standing next to the squirrel was a lizard man in black robes and a hood. He was perched over, barely able to stand. His scales were leathery and wrinkled. He had every marking of the disguise that Radu was wearing earlier.

“Archibald,” Radu grinned, stepping in front of Momo and stretching his hands towards the elderly man. The lizard raised his eyes to see him, a slow, surprised smile growing on his lips.

“Radulsius? Is that you?”

“None other. And I told you, it’s Radu.”

Is this Radu’s Dumbledore? Momo stared at the two as they embraced. Radu hung on to him for several seconds. He came away from the hug with a sad, nostalgic look in his eyes. Momo frowned. She was unused to seeing the lizard look so small, frail, and vulnerable. That was her job.

“Come in, come in,” Archibald beckoned. “Is that companion of yours alive? I couldn’t quite tell.”

“Eh,” Radu shrugged. “Barely.”

Momo gawked at him, all the pity draining from her body. She followed him in, wagging an accusatory finger.

“I’ll have you know I'm the most alive formerly-dead person on this plane of existence.”

—

Archibald’s lab had none of the trappings of a typical Earthly doctor’s office. It was brimming mainly with medicinal plants and herbs, accompanied by sunlamps which hung like ivy from the shallow ceiling. Jars labeled mugwort, metal needles, and small bamboo cups all sat around a large table.

In a brightly lit corner of the room was a boy. He was motionless, static. Momo’s heart dropped.

“Is he dead?” she asked weakly, starting to shake.

“Who, the boy?” Archibald said, as if they were discussing the weather. “No, no. Merely frozen.”

Archibald guided them over to the bed where the boy was laying. Unlike the one in Bartholomew’s office, it had a proper mattress. A thin one, but a mattress nonetheless. He was covered in blankets, a heat pad applied on his forehead. The squirrel, who Momo assumed was named Roderick, jumped up on the bedside and poked his snout at the boy’s cheek.

“What’s the verdict, Roderick? Has the medicine done any good?”

The squirrel waved its fluffy tail in the air.

“Ah, scales,” Archibald frowned, sounding dour. “The moxibustion should have worked. I was hoping to wake him without any magical interventions, but leaving him like this doesn’t do any good either. A nap should never overstay its welcome.”

“Now that’s a problem I can understand,” Momo mumbled. “What happened to him?”

Archibald gave her a look. He stared at her long and hard, as if discerning something.

“To tell you the truth, I’m not so sure. Bartholomew brought him to me saying he’s suffering from baryte poisoning. It happens, of course, but…”

“But?”

“But nothing,” he said gruffly, looking once again at the boy. “Baryte poisoning is serious, but treatable. But if this was something greater than typical baryte… The use of magic could do worse than harm him, it could kill him.”

Momo went white as a ghost.

“Please don’t kill him,” she squeaked, barely thinking as the next words left her mouth. “If the baryte he encountered was an oblivion stone, would that affect things?”

“By Salazar!” Archibald said, his hand flying to his chest. He coughed loudly, and Radu instinctively reached for him, stabilizing his back. “You must tell me you’re joking, child.”

“She’s not,” Radu grimaced. “We think Bartholomew might have gotten his hands on one, and then tested it on the kid.”

“Tested it? What would he be doing testing a God Stone on some child?”

Radu shrugged. “Barthy’s an idiot. Maybe he wanted to see what would happen before trying it on himself? Oblivion stones are known to be temperamental like that. Kid’s probably lucky he only came away from it with a case of stasis.”

Archibald shook his head, sighing. “This is a catastrophe. Roderick, fetch me my parchment. I must write to the Dragon at once. Once I’ve finished, take it directly to his chambers.”

“Whoa, whoa,” Radu said, eyes gone wide. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Do you really trust the Dragon with the Oblivion stone, Archy? We both know what he’s capable of. Nearly chopped my tail off as I was leaving, and he’ll probably have my head on a platter if he catches me this time.”

Archibald gave him a stern look. “I trust him with it more than I trust it with Bartholomew.”

“Point taken.”

“You can trust it with us, though,” Momo said, blinking hopefully. “We’re certified good people.”

“I wouldn’t trust the Oblivion Stone with anyone, much less a necromancer with a dart in her arm,” Archibald said, plucking the remnants of the dart out of her. “No offense, dear.”

She winced, jumping up and down as the pain came and went.

“You don’t have to trust it with us, alright?” Radu said. “Just give us a day to try and track it down. If you tell the Dragon, he’ll raise a high alert and Barthy will probably stow the stone away somewhere, or do something even stupider, like throw it into a cave of goblins.”

Archibald considered it, looking between the two of them.

“Fine,” he said with a sigh. “But only for the sake of my patient. It’s only a theory, but I think I could use the original stone to try and wake him up. An old-fashioned [Madman’s Revival].”

Archibald snapped twice, and Roderick climbed up onto his shoulder.

“Just one condition,” Archibald said, raising an eyebrow. “To make sure you don’t go running off with the thing, Roderick will accompany you. Deal?”

Momo squealed happily, clapping her hands.

“Mega deal,” she grinned. “Does he happen to eat cat food?”

A note from villa1ny

To get 23 chapters ahead right now, you can head over there!

Join the Discord / Momo cult here.

– Most Unqualified Jeopardy Contestant

A note from villa1ny

AAaanndd we're back! Took a quick Easter break to be with family, but we're back to our regularly scheduled programming now. And celebrating 100 chapters, on top of it all! Thanks for waiting!

They returned to the inn just in time for Momo’s daily dose of mortification.

After sneaking out of Archibald's hut and back into the garden, the way back was simple enough. The guards had been too embarrassed and too confused to raise alarm about the small bird invasion, so there was no extra trouble on the winding roads down towards the inn. What waited inside the inn itself, however, was a different question.

“During the Dark Calamity War, this historical figure gave a new meaning to the phrase friendly fire. They became famous for tricking two hundred Holy Knights into fighting their own reflections, resulting in one of the King’s most embarrassing losses.”

A stubby, blue-scaled man sat on a curved stage at the end of the inn. He was holding a pinecone – apparently enchanted to work as a microphone – and bellowing questions to a fanatic audience. Chairs and tables were nearly keeling over under the weight of sixty or so drunk tavern goers.

“Looks like we got new players,” the blue-scaled man grinned wolfishly. “You know what that means, everyone. Double points, double buckets!”

The entire room turned to her and chanted “double points, double buckets!” as Momo’s face drained of color. The whoops and wallops did not cease even as she tried backing away slowly towards the kitchen. Radu caught her wrist, giving her a pitying look. She wasn’t getting out of this.

“Come on now, newcomer. The rules are the rules. Every late participant has the chance to double their pot o’ gold – or face the consequences,” he gestured ominously to a bucket sitting at the edge of the stage. “So try your luck. Gimme an answer.”

Momo blinked at Radu helplessly. The lizard made a zipping motion across his lips.

“Don’t go askin’ a friend, or else you’ll get –”

The audience interrupted him, screaming “double buckets!”

Momo whimpered.

“What was the question?”

The announcer sighed, shaking his head dramatically. “I’ll repeat it only once, ‘cause you’re new, but don’t go around thinking this is the standard!”

He repeated the question. Momo had even less of an idea than the first time. Going by the sheer number of knights involved, it was probably a powerful mage – and given that it was an attack against the knights, it was probably… Valerica.

Or Sera. Or, the… other one. She couldn’t remember his name.

“Time’s a tickin’, girl, and the bucket’s a’ wiggling!”

Momo’s eyes snapped to the bucket. She was horrified to find that wiggling was not some kind of local expression. The wooden bucket was indeed bobbing back and forth – nearly tipping over with rabid excitement. A bit of red liquid sloshed out of it.

“Oh god,” Momo blinked. “I don’t know.”

“Not an answer, girl, try again! Say it right! Who is…”

Momo’s mind went blank. The entire room stared at her in silently rapt attention, like a bunch of coyotes stalking after prey.

Momo felt like the most underprepared Jeopardy contestant in the universe.

“Who is…” she swallowed. “Sera?”

The room erupted in cackling laughter, shortly followed by a rhythmic drumming on the tables. That can’t be good. Cheeks burning, her eyes found the announcer. He was shaking his head slowly, a smirk growing on his features.

“Double bucket it is, then. The answer was Azrael.”

Stirred by some unseeable force, the bucket sprung into action. It hopped up and down as if possessed, its lid slapping open and closed like the jaws of a wild animal. Petrified and yet still not wanting to insult local customs, Momo remained motionless. She looked frantically to Radu for any kind of helpful signal.

“It won’t hurt anything but your dignity,” Radu whispered, then took a large step back. “Also, don’t get offended by this, but you’re going to need a shower before I talk to you again.”

Momo opened her mouth, but the bucket had already besieged her. The destruction was sudden and absolute – her hair, robes, and shoes all doused in a putrid red. Luckily for her, she had become inured to the usual disgusting smells. Something as measly as… soggy ketchup?... was barely perceivable.

Nevertheless, the crowd roared uncontrollably. The announcer continued on to the next question, the bucket rejoined him on the stage, and Momo stood, soaked in hamburger condiment.

Lily leaned over the bartop. She gave Momo an amused smile, and handed her a towel.

“Showers are that way.”

—

As she lathered shampoo in her hair, Momo returned to her most base human instinct – contemplating one’s greatest problems while being berated by a stream of hot water. And God, the water was hot, nearly scalding. A small fire-breathing reptile in the corner of the room continually puffed into a steam pipe, presumably heating the water as it came in from the stream outside.

The problem Momo resolved to think about was that small, nearly unmentionable one that Morgana eluded to days before – the apparent complete unraveling of the universe. It had nagged at her ever since she came off their transuniversal phone call. The Goddess had been predictably blasé about it, but Momo’s incessantly anxious brain couldn’t let go.

Her stupid intelligence points couldn’t help themselves. She was morbidly curious. From what she could gather so far, the universe created magic, magic created chaos, and an overabundance of chaos created Oblivion Stones. So if the universe were to create an unusual amount of chaos…

She shivered just thinking about it.

And then she kept shivering. She frowned. The water had run cold. The lizard had apparently gone on lunch break, leaving the stream unattended. It went from lava to ice in seconds, and she desperately used the last of the mild water to wash the product from her hair.

Stepping out of the shower, she wrapped herself snuggly in the towel, and shook out the dampness from her hair like a dog after a dip in the pond. It was getting ridiculously long and unmanageable, badly in need of a trim. She’d ask Valerica to cut it, but she didn’t trust that woman within five feet of her with a pair of scissors.

A knock came at the bathroom door.

“Momo,” Radu whispered harshly, panic evident in his voice. “We’ve got a situation.”

—

Still wet as a dog, Momo shuffled into her clogs and robes and followed Radu back into the dining area. The trivia night had concluded, meaning over half the guests had retreated home. The few who remained nursed beers in tight circles, speaking quietly. They all had their eyes on a point of interest in the center of the room.

The attention getter was none other than Bartholomew himself. He was about three entire feet taller than when Momo last saw him. His sinewy, wizardly physique had transformed into a hulking, scaled monstrosity. He had discarded his white robes for a new, XXL set, which still managed to ride at his ankles.

“Oh my god,” Momo said, at a loss for words. “I see what you meant about a situation.”

Bartholomew spotted Momo and scowled.

“I demand to see Lily,” he said. “Present her to me.”

Momo just stared at him blankly as he spoke. She noticed another change in his appearance – a lack of white gloves. He had been wearing them the last time they spoke.

She supposed that they were what he used to handle the baryte without touching it directly. With the gloves on, he could have easily used it on the Shellcracker kid without feeling the effects himself. Momo would have expected that seeing the kid’s reaction to the stone would have sufficiently scared him off, but…

“Dude, what happened to you?” Radu asked, addressing the elephant in the room.

“What happened to me? Oh, Radulsius,” Bartholomew stepped forward, looming over Radu like a walking mountain. “Naive, talentless Radulsius. I saw an opportunity, and I took it. Now I have the power of the Gods, the muscles of Salazar, and you have… oh, I know, an imminent death sentence.”

“Are you serious? Did you –” Radu lowered his voice, horror dripping from his expression. “Did you seriously use the Oblivion Stone to get ripped?”

Bartholomew laughed hysterically, nearly maniacally. His neck muscles rippled as he threw his head back. The noise attracted the attention of the kitchen staff, and several heads popped out from the doorframe, Lily’s included. Her eyes widened as she took in Bartholomew’s new form, her jaw going slack.

“Silly cousin. I didn’t need an entire stone to reach my full potential. I absorbed but a lowly shard,” he grinned, a malignant glint in his eye. He produced a small sliver of baryte from his pocket. Momo gawked at it. It looked lifeless, somehow. Drained. “But with this new power, I’ll have no trouble seeking out the rest.”

“You’re insane,” Radu shook his head. He pointed a finger at Bartholomew’s chest, chastising. “A sliver of that rock and your body is about to explode at the seams. If you direct the full gamut of the… stone’s power into your mortal form, it’s worse than a death sentence. I thought you were smart enough to know that, Barthy.”

Bartholomew snarled at him, ignoring his words and pushing Radu out of the way. The simple shove sent Radu flying into the wall. He groaned loudly as he slid along the wooden boards.

“Lily,” Bartholomew said as he approached the bartender, his scowl flipping to a grin. “What do you think of my new form? Desirable, isn’t it?”

Lily emerged from the kitchen with a gobsmacked expression. She looked to Momo, then to Radu, then finally at Bartholomew. Desire was the last thing burning in her eyes.

“You look like you drank too many Strength potions,” she said, gritting her teeth.

Bartholomew rolled his eyes. “This new power can hardly be categorized under such simple terms like Strength. This is Salazar’s power, directly infused into my veins. You’re talking to a walking god, Lily.”

“I’d be more impressed to be talking to a walking slice of salmon.”

Bartholomew scowled. The fire spark that lit his tail turned into a bonfire. Smoke erupted from it, floating up to the ceiling and collecting like smog. The patrons stared worriedly up at the wooden trappings.

“Don’t you dare burn down my inn,” Lily growled, attempting to shove Bartholomew backwards. He didn’t budge. Lily tried again, using the full strength of her muscles. Still, he was immoveable. He just smirked at her, lashing his tail side to side.

“Impressive, isn’t it? Everything you built here could come crumbling down in seconds, and all I have to do is whip my tail around like a dog.”

A part of the ceiling began to whine, specks of orange flicking across the boards. Momo suspected that, given the fiery gifts of its patrons, the wood was enchanted against such attacks. But the power that Bartholomew absorbed most likely exceeded the spell. The energy he was giving off was palpable, like an enclosed forest fire.

“Quiet your tail, sit down, and drink a tall glass of water, Barthy,” she commanded. Momo could tell she was losing her edge, her strong facade starting to falter.

With a crunch, a piece of wood splintered off the wooden beams of the ceiling. It fell to the floor at Momo’s feet. It was burnt at the edges, smoldering. The flicks of flame curled around Momo’s clogs but didn’t seep inwards. In fact, the flame did more than recede – it recoiled away from her feet as if allergic.

Oh right, Momo thought, her eyes growing big in memory. She remembered the words the courier had used to describe her clogs – so fire resistant that they could walk on lava.

Another blistering plank flew from the ceiling, landing squarely in the middle of one of the tables. Horrified, the gameshow announcer set down his beer and grabbed his bucket from off the table. Tipping his hat towards Lily, he whispered adieu, and walked briskly out of the exit.

“That’s right, you cowering fools. Run in the face of my power,” Bartholomew grinned, raising his hands up and clapping. “Run before your silly little inn collapses on you.”

Momo stepped over the plank in front of her and silently headed towards the lizard.

“Spray the ceilings,” Lily commanded towards the kitchen. At her direction, a series of lizard chefs emerged from the kitchen like a line of ants. Water essence swirled around them. Raising their hands upward, the magic converted to water and shot at the ceiling like a fire hose. It cooled the embers.

“You’re only slowing the inevitable, Lily.” Bartholomew shook his head. He reached forward and picked up two of the chefs by their collars, tossing them over his shoulder with ease. They screamed as they crash landed into tables full of guests – guests which screamed in return, and then shot from their seats, streaming out of the inn like tributaries.

From behind the lizard, Momo reached for a medium sized elastic band which lay on the bartop. Bartholomew failed to notice as she pocketed it. She slipped off her clogs and picked them up.

“I didn’t know the stone also had the power to turn you into a cartoon villain,” Momo mumbled as she held the clogs on either side of Bartholomew’s tail. Before he could whip around and retort, she slammed them together right over the lit flame.

The flame died out instantly, erupting in a puff of smoke.

She tied the band around them just in time for him to turn.

“What did you do…” he began, eyes blazing with steroid-fueled fury, “to my tail?!”

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– Lizard Soap Opera

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Some fan art of Momo and Dusk from specracer29 in the Discord server. So cute, right?

Momo learned two things in rapid succession. One, lizards do not like their tail being touched – and two, it was probably not the best idea to pick a fight with someone who had just touched a shard of Oblivion.

It turned out to be a lot like picking a fight with a miniature Godzilla.

As he turned towards Momo, Bartholomew grew three sizes. His head nearly erupted through the roof, his feet denting the floorboards. His body parts grew disproportionately, his shoulders widening to the width of a canoe while his head stayed the size of a basketball.

He looked like something Momo would have drawn in middle school, before she was ever introduced to the concept of anatomy.

A few seconds later, he had reached his final size. It was like three basketball players stacked on each other’s shoulders and zipped up into a lizard suit. If it wasn’t such a dire situation, Momo would have ripped out her art notebook and got to documenting such a physical irregularity.

From above, Bartholomew slammed his fist into his open palm, and looked down at Momo.

“Prepare yourself, human. I’m going to pummel you now.”

Momo shrieked. Bartholomew swung.

Luckily, he was wildly unused to his new dimensions. His fist flew over Momo’s shoulder and tunneled into the floorboards. The wood splintered and erupted like a volcano, showering the kitchen staff in a flurry of wood chips. Bartholomew grunted, withdrawing it with ease, and reared up his fist again.

“Are you watching this, Lily?” he turned his head back, smirking at the terrified woman. “This is how a god squashes bugs.”

“No," she shouted. "This is how a little boy holds an inn-destroying temper tantrum!”

He ignored her, flying his fist towards Momo again. This time, she was ready – ducking out of the way as his pinky finger drilled another hole in the floor. Her dexterity allowed her to outmaneuver such a big, hulking enemy, especially one that was barely used to his own hands.

I have to spend my mana carefully, Momo thought as Bartholomew withdrew his fist from the floor again. He was big, and probably had an astronomical amount of Health Points, but he wasn’t actually Salazar. He was a mortal, and mortals were always, always fallible.

And if Momo knew one thing about mortals, even scaly, magical steroid-sniffing ones, it was that there was no greater kryptonite than the girl you’ve had a decades-long unrequited crush on.

Momo jumped over the blazing debris towards Lily. The remaining chefs cowered behind the lizard as she glared at Bartholomew, her hands perched defiantly on her hips. Radu was still recovering from the direct hit he suffered, straining as he joined Momo's side.

“Okay team, let’s talk enemy weaknesses,” Momo said, doing her best soccer coach impression. “How do we take this big boy down?”

“I am not a boy, I am a pure construction of fire-touched muscle,” Bartholomew groaned, fire erupting from his jaws. Thick smoke puffed through the air around the inn, smoldering the walls.

He turned on his heel and began bumbling towards them, but stopped when Lily obstructed his pathway. “Move it, Shellcracker!”

“I will not move it, Beeswax,” Lily scowled, venom dripping from her voice. She grabbed a frying pan from the floor next to her, and raised it menacingly towards Bartholomew. “You will stand down.”

Damn, Momo thought, smiling dopily. I never knew someone could make a frying pan look threatening.

Bartholomew scowled down at her, but Momo noticed a glint of genuine vulnerability in his eye. Momo could recognize it anywhere. It was that final plea to be noticed, considered, taken seriously.

“Is this not enough for you Lily? I reached the highest prestige in the Dragon’s Court, I became the wisest mage in all of Drachenheim, and now I am not just brains – but brawn. Rippling muscle. Height beyond imagination. What more could you possibly need?”

“Oh, I don’t know, how about a conversation, Barthy!” Lily yelled back, slapping uselessly at his leg with the frying pan. It was like the fly biting at the heels of a mountain. “It was different when we were kids. We’d race each other up and down the mountain, count dragonflies, talk about moving to the mage’s university down in Kalendale. You were actually interesting back then.”

“Be sensible. We're adults. There are expectations put upon us by our bloodlines, our houses. Those things are beneath me now,” Bartholomew spat. “Beneath you, beneath both of us. We could rule the Dragon’s Court together. Be the most powerful couple in Drachenheim. Spite our family's feuds.”

As the two talked, Momo shared a look with Radu. He got what she was transmitting – act while he’s distracted. Momo ducked down behind Lily, army crawling silently behind the bar as the two lizards bickered. Radu followed quickly behind, until the two of them were crawling side by side.

“Do you see his pouch? The one we stole the keys from?” Radu whispered, looking upwards.

Momo’s followed his gaze, finding the bandolier. It remained its original size, but it was now hanging from a much higher distance. Definitely not reachable, even by Momo's dexterity-fueled high jumps.

Radu continued, “He put the shard in there, right? If we can manage to get it away from him, this is all over. Assuming the changes aren’t permanent yet.”

“Wait, really? That simple?” Momo said, eyes widening. “That’s a lot riding on an assumption.”

“It’s really – probably – that simple. Well,” Radu paused. “If you consider taking candy away from a giant, jacked baby simple.”

Momo’s eyes settled on the pouch. She knew what she had to do.

Bird mode.

“[Polymorph - Merlin],” she whispered.

Shooting out like a speeding bullet, Momo did a semicircle around the burning inn, trying not to breathe in the smog as she headed for the bag. Bartholomew was too large – and too absorbed in convincing the woman whose inn he was burning down to marry him – to notice as Momo perched onto the button of his pouch.

“You don’t understand the life we could have, Lily. You and me, and this entire realm. Most don’t know that the Dragon is ill. Barely skin and scales. And with my new power, I can seize the throne by simply wanting to,” Bartholomew said. As he did, he kneeled down, trying to get eye-level with Lily. “Is that still not enough for you? An entire realm for you to rule?”

Momo wobbled as the lizard kneeled, fluttering as she lost her footing.

“Of course it isn’t,” Lily said. Her face had turned from angry to somber. “I just want what every girl wants. I want to lean over the bar counter and feel my heart flutter as I draw my hand over yours. I want to drink a beer and laugh. I want you to tell me about the book that kept you up last night. I don’t want to conquer a realm. I want to talk about politics and throw axes at passing birds.”

Ignoring the threatening aura of that last comment, Momo continued her siege on the pouch. With a bit of trial and error, she bit her beak into the leather cover, moving it aside so the button came undone. Almost there.

“But Lily…” Bartholomew trailed off. Despite his egregious features and burning irises, he softened. “Any man can give you that. If I was just to just sit and drink beer and read books, I would be no stronger competition than any other lizard at this bar. I’d be a fool.”

With the button undone, the satchel opened. Momo internally cheered as the dark pouch revealed the small, drained shard of baryte. Still, a flicker of white magic danced from inside of it. Momo could hear a slight hum emanating from its center. The same hum which she heard call from the Nether – an orchestra of impossible possibility.

In the faint noise of the background, Momo could hear Lily crying.

“I want a fool, Bartholomew,” she whispered. “I want someone who’s foolish enough to ignore the stupid bloodlines, and just be kind to me."

"Oh, Lily..."

Momo opened her beak, and took the shard. Before she could think about the possible ramifications of holding it in her de-facto mouth, she fluttered out of the satchel.

The effects were immediate.

Before Bartholomew could reply to Lily’s plea, a scream erupted from his throat. It was as cold and violent a scream as Momo had ever heard, his entire body bubbling like stew until he collapsed flat on the floor, a shell of his former Godzilla self. Lily flew to him, checking his pulse as he lay there, motionless.

“Barthy! Don’t die, you stupid meathead!”

Momo landed beside Radu, who was still cowering behind the countertop. She demorphed from her bird form, and the shard fell from her beak to the floor. A stream of white fog flowed out of Bartholomew, flowing like streams of blinding light back into the shard.

The shard, revitalized, glowed bright white.

“I feel like I just watched a full episode of a lizard soap opera,” Momo mumbled.

—

Sitting on the decomposing edge of a barstool, Momo received an unexpected visit from an old friend.

Despite the ceiling containing several new gaping holes, the courier decided to create its own – bursting through an unharmed section of the inn, much to Lily’s chagrin, and flying into Momo’s hands. She caught it, thanking Morgana for the gift of these evolved reflexes.

For pickpocketing a Shard of Oblivion, you have reached level 4 in [Con Artist]

Your skill [White Lie Detection] has upgraded to a 30% chance to tell if someone is fibbing. You have also gained the passive skill [Innocent Look].

[Innocent Look]: No matter your appearance, you will now give others a vibe of innocence. Awww, look – it’s working already! You’d never deceive or murder anyone, no, never – not cute little you!

“This is a stupid skill,” Momo grumbled. “I already have this skill, like, innately.”

“The system doesn’t know that,” Radu laughed. He sat next to her at the bar, nursing his injured arm. They were both sipping Limescale Sours, courtesy of Lily, while the kitchen staff swept up as much debris as they could manage.

“I feel like it does. Isn’t this system just the Gods making fun of us all, anyway?” Momo said, raising an eyebrow. “I feel like I’m just progressing further towards some big punchline.”

“Sure, maybe it was a joke thousands of years ago. They stopped fooling around and automated it a long time ago, and only interfere when they’re feeling feisty,” Radu shrugged, then backpedaled. “To be fair, they are frequently feeling feisty.”

“Get those rancid cuffs off of me,” Bartholomew barked. Momo and Radu turned their heads.

Standing in the center of the burnt chaos was the instigator himself, surrounded on all sides by the Dragon’s men. Lily had called for the Guard shortly after he awoke.

Of course, she had first made sure to give him a piece of her mind, a mildly confusing kiss on his cheek, and then decided he would have to sit in jail for a few years – to, in her words, 'work on his personality.'

It was not a decision he agreed with.

“No can do, Barthy,” a guard said, shaking his head. “Destruction of property and unlawful use of ancient magic for personal gain? You’re looking at a severe demotion and some major jail time.”

“We’ll see about that,” the lizard seethed as they dragged him out of the door. Before he was completely out of earshot, he turned back towards Lily and yelled, “wait for me!”

“I’d rather wait for a pig to get a university degree,” Lily grumbled, grabbing another broom and helping the kitchen staff.

Momo turned towards the bartop. Laying on top of it was a glimmering shard, completely replenished and restored. Rodrick sat just a centimeter away, eyes wide watchful. No one else was getting their grubby little hands on the thing under his watch. At least that’s what his very expressive, squirrely face said.

“Enough dilly dallying with you two,” Lily said, her commanding voice jolting both Radu and Momo out of their peaceful stupor. “Get that stone over to Archibald!”

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Even The Universe Has Daddy Issues

A note from villa1ny

Shoutout alert! My friend Alix has a new series out, called   Magidex Academy. It's great. Monster taming & magic academy? what's not to love. Check it out.

It was a quick sprint back to the medical hut, and luckily, Archibald had already prepared the needed ingredients for the ritual. Momo had expected the conventional components – mana potions, inkwells, sacrificial bones, paint brushes for drawing summoning circles.

Momo should have known better. This wasn’t Kansas – or Morgana’s Dawn – anymore.

Her gaze fixed on the items displayed atop Archibald's instrument tray – a plain rag, a haiku scribbled messily on parchment, a peculiar green hat, a maraca, and two fried eggs with a slice of sizzling bacon. The smell was enriching, clouding the room with the scent of warm breakfast.

“So how exactly does a [Madman’s Revival] work again?” Momo mumbled.

Archibald said nothing. Radu was even less helpful. He just smirked at her and said “watch.”

Holding the Oblivion Shard firmly in his gloved hand, Archibald retrieved the haiku from the tray and raked his eyes over the page. He muttered the brief verse quietly under his breath, enunciating each word. Finally, content with his pronunciation, he turned to Radu.

“Radulsius, dear boy, please begin shaking the instrument,” he instructed. With a sigh, Radu picked up the maraca and began shaking it unenthusiastically. It rattled like a metronome as Archibald donned the emerald hat, pulling it snugly over his cowled head.

“I’d still love an explanation,” Momo said quietly, looking worriedly between Archibald, Radu, and the comatose lizard boy. Archibald paid her no mind, continuing on as if it was a perfectly normal series of actions.

He reached for the platter of breakfast food and laid it on the boy’s stomach.

“You know, haikus are one of the universe’s longest standing art forms,” Archibald said as he tucked a napkin under the boy’s chin. “Some say that magic was born of two gods having a haiku competition over dinner, and one recited a verse so beautiful and precise, that it accidentally gave way to Creation itself.”

“Wow,” Momo said. “It somehow doesn’t surprise me that the underlying logic of the universe is the product of a poetry pissing contest.”

“Mm, quite,” he agreed, making a hand motion towards Radu that translated to shake it like you mean it. “The origin of the phrase poetic justice actually comes from this same myth. These two gods – widely believed to be Morgana and Kyros – could never get along, and were always having these petty contests. In turn, they accidentally produced a magic system of which they were now both the caretakers and custodians, forcing them to collaborate to keep utter chaos from unfolding.”

Momo’s eyes widened. “You mean Morgana and Kyros are basically the mother and father of… everything?”

“Yes,” he hummed. “It’s quite an amusing way to see Chaos, really. The universe was simply born a child of divorce.”

Wow, Momo thought, blinking at him stupidly, even the universe has daddy issues.

No wonder it was coming apart at the seams.

“Alright, now I will perform the spell. Radulsius, it is crucial you keep the rhythm.”

Radu nodded, shaking the maraca no differently than he did before.

Archibald placed the Oblivion Shard on the napkin below the boy’s chin, and cleared his throat.

“The world was muted,

While you slept,

Lost in slumber,

Breakfast brings you back.”

White essence clouded around Archibald as he performed the haiku. A moment later, it slithered through the air and tunneled into the shard of Oblivion. The stone glowed so brightly that the crevices and cracks dissipated, giving way to a singular white.

“[Madman’s Revival],” Archibald sang, clapping his hands together in an applause.

With a sharp exhale, the boy’s eyes shot open and he raised like the dead. His torso flew up, and the shard of Oblivion crash landed onto a wiggly egg yolk.

“Miraculous!” Archibald cheered, giving the boy a hard slap on the back. “Welcome back, Florian! Don’t go touching any more all-powerful God stones, eh?”

Florian blinked, his jaw slack as he looked at the scene around him. Momo imagined this was pretty much exactly how she looked when she woke up in a pile of hay in the Dawn’s cellar.

“Radu, why don’t you put some water on?” Archibald said, smiling broadly. “Every good resuscitation ends with a hot kettle of tea.”

—

Momo grinned dopily, blinking slowly as she downed the last of her mug.

“Man, what kind of tea is this?” Momo said, her words slurring. “It’s wonderful.”

“Sunflower tea,” Archibald smiled. Momo squinted at him. The lighting conditions hadn’t gotten any worse, but it was as if her eyes suddenly required a much heavier prescription. His face looked so squishy. “It’s medicinal. Helps victims of various traumas – like horse carriage crashes, mana-induced brain injuries, comas – calm their mind and refocus on the present.”

Holy shit, Momo thought, her eyes widening. I finally found this world’s version of my ADHD medication.

“Where can I get some?” she asked urgently, rising from her seat.

“It’s illegal to sell in most cities under Jarva’s rule, unfortunately,” he frowned. “Of course, Drachenheim isn’t subject to the King’s doctrine due to our sovereignty agreement. So best to stock up on it while you’re here.”

Momo nodded. She’d most definitely be stocking up.

To her right, the boy, Florian, had begun to similarly relax. He stretched his arms above his head and yawned.

“Seriously? You just slept for twenty four hours and now you’re tired?” Radu laughed.

“Comas are exhausting,” he said, taking another long sip of his tea. “Plus, I’m still tired from my fight with that trespasser. He really didn’t want to let that stone go.”

Momo’s ears perked up, her sleuth hat falling back on.

“Right, the trespasser you stole the stone from…” Radu said, eyes narrowing. “Was he arrested? Would we be able to speak with him?”

“You could speak at him, not sure he’ll do a whole lot of speaking himself,” Florian shrugged. “He’s the type to talk with his fists, that one. Gave me a nasty nab in the jaw, but I bit him back. That floored the guy. These teeth are stronger than any pair of knuckles, I’ll tell you that.”

The scrawny boy opened his mouth like they were at the dentist, pointing to his angular canines. Momo shivered. He wasn’t boasting – they were as sharp as knives. And weirdly bespeckled.

“Thanks for the display, Florian,” Radu rolled his eyes. “Archibald, I don’t think you’re done with this one. Kid’s got a few cavities to fill.”

“Do not.”

“Do so.”

Momo put her face in her hands.

“Where is this jailhouse, exactly?”

—

They made a quick pit stop at the inn to pick up Dusk as well as check on the progress of the reconstruction project. With the Dragon’s blessing, the work on the inn had started almost immediately. Several groups of construction workers carrying – and more than often levitating – tree trunks and stumps passed them by as they headed towards the prison.

News of the Oblivion Shard had spread quickly through town, and Momo felt the presence of eyes watching her back as they walked the trails. It didn’t surprise her. Bartholomew’s power had been brief and embarrassing, but it had been memorable – and power like that always attracted interest. Very often the wrong kind of interest.

Despite her concerns, they made it to the jailhouse without any desperate acts of thievery. This wasn’t Nam’Dal, after all. Crimes were actually punished, instead of praised. It was an odd concept for Momo to wrap her head around, but she found herself grateful for the semblance of order and peace that the Dragon encouraged in his domain.

—

The jailhouse sat at the outskirts of the village, on one of the lower foothills of the mountain. It stood alone among a mass of trees, a wooden building hidden among outgrowths of brush. Behind the building was an enclosed section. It had high gates, presumably to stop prisoners from just wandering off.

A singular guard stood inside the wall of the entrance, his body obfuscated. All Momo could see was his red-tipped hat, the same as the goons at the building.

“Password.”

“Password? What?” Radu groaned. “What do you mean, password?”

“Correct password, thank you.”

The doors shuttered open.

“Wait, I’m confused,” Momo said as they walked through. “What was the password?”

“The password was what do you mean, password.”

“Isn’t that password really easy to guess by accident?”

“This place isn’t exactly high-security,” Radu shrugged, leading Momo through the corridors. The place was dark, illuminated by only a few torches. They passed by a few cells – all empty – until they reached another door. This one wasn’t locked, and when they opened it, sunlight greeted them again.

High walls did, however.

It seemed that the inmates liked to spend their time outdoors. All ten or so of them were dispersed around the grounds, some playing checkers, rolling dice, doing pushups, or sweet talking guards. Momo spotted Bartholomew first – the hardest one to miss, given that he was also the loudest.

“I demand to speak to the Dragon himself,” he said, growling at the guard. His hands were cuffed around his back, a punishment unique to only him, and Momo could guess why. “This is an unjust penalty. I am the Court Sage, goddamnit, not a common reptile.”

“Not anymore you aren’t,” the guard laughed. “Now you’re as common as the rest of us. Now stop bothering me before I extend your sentence again. Each time you annoy me it’s getting longer.”

“Unacceptable! Tyranny! Dictatorship!” Bartholomew barked. The guard shook his head.

Unwilling to get involved in that mess, Momo sought out one of the more placid looking prisoners. He looked the silent type, with large biceps, a muscular face, and most saliently – non-reptilian features. He looked human, with tan skin and full eyebrows. In fact, he had a very similar complexion to Sumire.

She looked to his left earlobe, and noticed a white pearl, the color of baryte, sticking out of it.

Momo frowned.

“You think that’s our guy?” Radu whispered.

“Ugh. Worse. I know that’s our guy.”

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Sea Chess

Momo knew it wasn’t exactly like she and Sumire were going steady. Two conversations, a few drinks, one murder attempt – it didn’t necessarily mean anything. But that didn’t stop her from feeling awfully nervous as she approached Sumire’s possible relative. Her body trembled from toe to temple, and she shoved her hands in her pockets to disguise her nervous fidgeting.

“Hello there,” Radu greeted. Noticing Momo’s sudden apprehension, he took the lead. “I’m Radu. This is my assistant detective Momo, and we’re here to ask you a few questions.”

Momo glared at him. Assistant detective?

Spite won out against anxiety, and she cleared her throat.

“Detective Momo, pleased to meet you,” she bowed.

With his arms crossed, the man silently evaluated the pair before him, scanning them from head to toe. After a moment, he grunted. The verdict was apparent—they had lost. They did not pose a threat, but they also did not pose as worthy conversation partners.

Ignoring them, he sat in the grass.

Momo noticed a set of chess pieces that had been abandoned there. He was clearly fond of them, a small smile playing at his lips as he reviewed the state of the game. Peering closer, Momo realized that it wasn’t quite chess. The original game had been altered, reduced to a bastardized version with only six pieces on each side: two knights, one king, one queen, and two pawns, along with a pair of dice.

And – notably – no board. He played with the pieces like a child might play with dolls, dancing them along through the weeds. The rules of the game were unclear. There seemed to be a setup phase, where he’d place the pieces in certain formations, a die rolling phase, which would decide… something, and then an action phase, in which he’d change the formation of the pieces again.

Momo observed intently as the man rolled a six-sided die, which ultimately landed on the number two. He grunted in response – the first sign of any noticeable emotion. He clearly wasn’t happy with that turn of events. Momo watched intently, morbidly curious as to what would happen next.

That Sunflower Tea ADHD potion sure is kicking, she thought as she watched him set up the knights in opposing positions. It was as if they were about to joust. Nothing has been this interesting in months.

The man picked up one of the knights, holding him in a steady fist. Momo swallowed hard in anticipation, sweat trickling down from her brow.

He then promptly smashed the knight over the head of his opponent.

Some sort of magic came into play as the pieces collided – the attacked knight crumbling to dust, shattered to imperceptible clay pieces. Momo gaped at the carnage as the victorious knight stood on the ashes of its fallen opponent. The tiny clay horse neighed wildly.

The man rolled the die several more times, each time resulting in a duel with a different outcome. Finally, after a few rounds – in which Momo watched the match with a ridiculous intensity, and Radu watched her with impatience – the match seemingly completed. Only one piece, the pawn, remained.

The man grunted, satisfied.

With the match complete, the pieces returned from the ashes. They re-assembled themselves with the ease of an IKEA manual, the neck of the horse leaning down to scoop up its own head, the crown of the queen crawling up the hem of her dress.

Momo let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. She had been watching the match like it was the finale of her favorite drama. The tension it carefully threaded was nothing short of showstopping – theatrical, macabre, blood-pumping. If this was how men felt while watching football, she finally understood the devotion.

She had to learn how to play.

Falling to her knees, she looked the man straight in the eyes.

“Will you teach me?”

“Momo, what are you –” Radu interjected.

“Radu, shut up,” she said, waving her hand up at him. “If I beat you at this game, will you speak to us?”

He looked up at her, shock evident in his expression. He frowned.

Still, something clicked. After a few moments, he finally spoke up.

“You think you can win?” he laughed. His voice was as smooth as a river, melodious just like Sumire’s.

“Definitely not,” Momo mumbled. “But I need to try.”

—

“This is Sea Chess. It is what we play under the deck, once the day's plundering is done,” he explained, gesturing to the pieces. “Forget everything you know about Land Chess.” He pointed to the knight, “this is the Pirate,” he pointed to the pawn, “this is the Deckhand,” he pointed to the King, “this is a Sea Captain,” he pointed to the queen, “and this is a Sea Siren.”

Momo nodded enthusiastically. She already liked this version of chess way better. Less pieces, fewer rules, cooler names. She wasn’t sure why the pirate would have a horse, though – but she chose to let that be for the time being.

“The rules are simple. At the beginning of the round, we’ll count to three, and you choose a piece to put in front. This is your fighter. If we choose the same fighter, then we will both need to throw dice. Whoever’s score is higher wins. Otherwise, pirate beats deckhand, captain beats pirate, siren beats captain, and deckhand beats siren. We play for three rounds.”

Momo frowned. “Why would a deckhand beat a siren?”

He laughed. “‘Cause the deckhands are smart enough to wear earplugs,” he explained, as if it was obvious. "Someone's gotta mop the boat while the captain is wandering off to get eaten alive."

Momo blinked. Right.

“Okay,” she said slowly, examining her pieces. “Let's do this.”

—

If Alois had a God of Luck, it felt like he had very abruptly decided to turn on Momo.

She groaned as the man’s pirate slapped her deckhand silly, sending him flying high above the grass as he crumbled into dust. Momo had to clasp her hands around his ashes before he went flying with the wind towards the Dragon's Pagoda.

“This is abusive,” she grumbled. “Tell your crew to chill out.”

“It’s just a game,” he said, grinning widely as he relaxed on his elbows, laying in the grass. "And they're just pawns, not people."

“Well, for a bunch of brainless pawns, they're starting to get real condescending,” Momo crossed her arms defiantly. “How are my pieces supposed to win if you’re crushing their ego that hard?”

“Place them better, I guess?”

Momo rolled her eyes.

“Listen, little lady, you’ve played enough. I’ll talk. I’m not the type to go around embarrassing young women for the fun of it,” he said. Momo’s frown turned to a scowl. She was not allowing her [Pitied] skill to ruin this for her – she was winning.

“No way. You’re not allowed to say a word until I’ve turned your Siren to ash.”

“Wait, Momo, what?” Radu said, desperation coloring his voice. “The man offered to talk to us!”

“As a pity favor,” Momo grumbled. “Not happening. Sir, tell your crew to shape up, because my guys are about to wipe the floor with you.”

Momo’s pieces, only freshly reconstructed, cowered behind her. They shook their heads no furiously. One of them waved a white flag.

“Come on guys,” she frowned. “We’re not winning with that attitude.”

After a few minutes of coaxing and pep talks, her pieces took the dirt stage once again.

“Alright guys,” she said, rubbing her hands together. “We got this.”

The pieces did not seem to agree. Her deckhand was sobbing. Her pirate was laying flat in the grass. Her siren was suffering from a soar throat.

Momo sighed.

“Okay, on three,” the man grinned. “One… two…”

Momo saw his hand itch towards his deckhand, and Momo impulsively threw her pirate up. He snickered, changing the direction of his palm at the last moment, and placed his captain.

“Damn it,” she groaned, gritting her teeth as her pirate shrieked. The captain chased him a good ways around the dirt until finally landing the killing blow. When the round ended, the piece didn’t even bother fully regenerating – standing next to Momo with a gaping hole in his chest.

“Two more rounds, you still got time.”

“Not with my luck,” Momo grumbled.

This time, she didn’t fall for his maneuver. She saw him reach for his deckhand, but instead of playing her pirate, she played the siren instead. He twitched and played his captain once again.

“Got you!” Momo cheered, jumping up excitedly as her siren wailed his captain to death.

“Lucky strike,” he rolled his eyes. “Last round determines things.”

As the pieces regenerated, time slowed for Momo. She could feel Biscuit pattering in her chest, her breath falling out of her lungs. She could see the man’s steady hand reach for his captain, but something about it was off. She was sure he wouldn’t try to play the same dupe twice – but what if.

She was done with leaving things up to chance. Closing her eyes, she cast [Silent Mindreader]. The man’s thoughts reverberated around her skull on a tiny speakerphone.

"She better not remember the earplugs."

Momo’s eyes widened. Time sped back up, and she urgently reached for her deckhand.

He played his siren.

“Yes!” Momo cried out. Her deckhand did an easy circle around the siren, stabbing her in the back with a clay dagger. His siren crumpled to the ground, and the man stared at her with a gaping expression. For several seconds, he didn’t speak. Momo wondered briefly if she’d gone too far – embarrassed their target beyond speech.

“Momo, was it?” he said, after an overly long minute. He outstretched a hand. “Akram, Captain of the Barium Barge."

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Momo's Quandary

“The Barium Barge?” Momo emphasized. “As in the Barium Sea, that kind of Barium?”

Akram snickered. “Astute. I see why they promoted you to detective.”

Momo flushed, embarrassed. “Well, that’s – whatever. Radu, jot that down. Suspect name: Akram, Captain of the Barium Barge, a vessel of the Barium Sea, which might share a connection to our previous suspect…”

The lizard glared at her. “Previous suspect? Who exactly is our previous suspect? Also, I’m not exactly sure what the crime is.”

She turned to him, narrowing her eyes. She mimed the act of gliding a pen over pretend paper. The message landed, and he glared at her. “Am I your secretary? I don’t just carry sheets of parchment around.”

Momo groaned, reaching into her bag. Blood spluttered out as she grabbed her art notebook. Luckily, she had gone to the local Nam’Dal Enchantress to put a [Blood Repelling] enchantment on all her frequented items, including her notebook and her gloves. Both survived unscathed, but the grass below looked like the sight of a massacre.

She turned around to see Akram looking at her with a horrified expression. His entire face had gone uncannily pale.

“Are you keeping a corpse in that bag?”

Momo flushed deeper. “Oh, sorry. No, no. I forget this isn’t normal for other people. Neculai blessed this stupid bag, so now it spurts blood on everything I put in it. No human sacrifices in there, I promise.”

He gave her a slow nod, relaxing slightly, but not completely. His knuckles were still white.

Momo paged to the back of her journal and tore out a few pieces of paper. Laying them on top of the book to act as a flat writing surface, she handed it to Radu. He took it reluctantly, rolling his eyes and fetching a quill from his own satchel. Akram watched their exchange with amusement.

Momo cleared her throat. She rolled back her memory tape to an episode of CSI: Miami and tried to embody her best impression of a cold-hearted, off-the-books investigator. The type to drink espresso coffee, take long walks down rainy alleyways, and harbor simmering, sexual undercurrents with their career-long nemesis.

“Momo,” Radu tapped the quill to the notebook. “Are you with us?”

“Oh. Sorry. I guess that tea must have worn off.”

Radu sighed. Momo returned her attention to Akram, who was looking at her oddly.

“Okay. First question,” Momo straightened her collar. “Why were you trespassing in Drachenheim? Did you not have a visitor’s pass?”

Despite his placid appearance, Momo could tell the question irked him. “You landed folk and your trespassing. I didn’t know I was on private grounds. In the Barium Sea, everything is everyone’s – including your ladies, your gents, and your loot,” he smirked, and Momo blushed. “I was on my way to see a friend when suddenly I was getting backhanded by some lizard child.”

Bullshit. Something in Momo’s mind stirred, her [White Lie Detection] buzzing. She doubted it was the first portion of the sentence – he looked confident enough in that – so it had to be something near the end.

“You weren’t going to see a friend,” she frowned, throwing it out there. Akram’s eyebrows rose slightly, giving her a reason to push forward. “What were you really doing? It’s not exactly easy to accidentally trespass here. You have to climb a whole mountain, and the whole way up is marked with totems and flags. If you’re making that trek, you know exactly where you’re headed.”

Akram’s lip twitched. Momo held herself back from fist-pumping the air. She had him. Thank you, Con Artist superpowers.

“You are quite a keen little mage. I did know where I was going. I am a navigator, after all.” He motioned his hands like turning the wheel of a sailboat. “In truth – I didn’t realize I needed a pass to enter here. There was supposedly a Visitors’ Shack at the foot of the mountain, but I saw no man there,” he shrugged. Radu mouthed stupid Bartholomew under his breath. “I have heard you can sell goods here that you can not sell elsewhere. I was hoping to rid myself of something, that is all.”

Momo squinted. Rid himself of what? The shard? She wasn’t sure if it was smart to reveal that she had it with her. She didn’t exactly want to return it – even if that was technically stealing.

Momo’s morals weren’t the strongest ever since she met Valerica. The Necromage was counting on her to get the Oblivion Stone before Jarva did, and that meant having the whole stone.

“What were you trying to sell?” she asked, deciding to play it safe.

“A shard of baryte,” he shrugged. Momo’s eyes widened. She hadn’t expected him to be so forthright. “I am from the Barium Sea, what else would I sell? This shard is a bit unusual – not conventional Expert Grade like we sell in bulk – so I thought I could get a good price here in Drachenheim. Simple as that.”

Momo hummed. None of her sensors were going off, but then again, they only had a 30% chance of catching lies anyway.

“Why is the shard unusual?” Momo pressed. “What’s different about it?”

He narrowed his eyes. “As I said, it’s not a traditional Expert grade.”

“So what kind of grade is it?”

Akram looked away. He studied the chess set for a few moments, taking a breath in.

“The Barium Sea is an unusual place, my friend. Among us sea scavengers, it is known that very occasionally – once in a thousand years – we will fish out a very special catch. Baryte of great, unspeakable power. It is too dangerous to sell to civilians, so we separate it into pieces. Sell those off instead.”

Momo’s heart picked up. “You separate it? How? And how many pieces?”

“There’s a special tool for it. It’s called an [Abyssal Scythe],” he moved his hands upwards then sharply down, pretending to slice into something. “Typically, the Scythe can cut a stone of that power only three times. Then it must recharge for many years. When it is recharged, we cut it again. A shard must be sufficiently small to be sold, so that it cannot upset the balance.”

Three times. Just like the three Resonance Points. Momo looked to Radu, who seemed to have come to the same conclusion. He had sketched a small map, just like the one present in the Nether pool, with the three corresponding dots. Above each, he wrote Shard of Oblivion.

“I don’t get it,” Momo tapped her chin. “Why don’t the sea scavengers just use the whole stone for themselves? Or sell it as one piece? Seems a lot more profitable.”

Akram looked at her sternly. “Ever since the dawn of the first stone, we have sworn not to use it for personal gain. You may see us as just pirates – but us sea scavengers are guardians of the water, protectors of the Barium Sea. The Goddess Nerida makes sure of this. She cannot be swayed by the disease of War and Ego that the other Gods suffer from.”

Disease of War and Ego? Momo wouldn’t say it out loud – but that disease was certainly a pandemic in the pantheon. She could still remember Morgana and Salazar discussing a Holy War over scallops like it was nothing more than the weather.

Momo nodded, urging Akram to continue.

“As for profit…” he trailed off. “By the same laws, we are not allowed to sell the stone whole. Its power could tear holes through the seas, cause tsunamis to rise and take entire continents below the shore. Your culture calls it an Oblivion Stone, we call it an Ending Stone. To use it means to usher in the end.”

Momo swallowed. “That doesn’t sound optimal, no.”

“It is not.”

The two stared at each other for a moment. The tension was thick and awkward. The only noise came from Radu’s quill as it squibbled away furiously.

“So, random question. Totally unrelated,” Momo said, finally. “What amount of the Oblivion Stone were you planning to sell when you arrived here? A fifth? A sixth? A… third?”

His face flushed. He raised himself up from his leaning position, his hands turning from comfortably open palms to fists. He didn’t look angry – there was no fire in his eyes – but he did look worried. Severely so.

“We are only allowed to sell a twelfth or greater. Anything more dense is…”

“Then is there a reason you brought a third with you?”

He gritted his teeth, and leaned forward menacingly towards Momo. “How do you know that?”

Momo dug the shard out of her pocket, lifting it up to the light. It was about the height of two quarters lying side by side, and thick as a set of toothpicks.

Radu looked at her, horrified. He began to interrupt her, but she flew a hand up.

“There are three places on this continent containing shards of the Oblivion Stone. One is in Jarvirium, the other is by the Coast, and one is here. And I could be stupidly wrong – but I think I’m stupidly right,” Momo said, and then pointed to the white earring protruding out of his ear. “I think the lizard snatched one of your shards, and the other one is in your ear. Cute earring, by the way.”

He stared at her in utter speechless disbelief.

After a moment, he laughed. “That’s quite the theory.”

Momo looked bashfully down at her hands and shrugged. “I’m new to this whole detective thing, but I actually believed everything I just said. Crazy, right? The only part I’m still trying to figure out is how many of the beads in Sumire’s hair were actually the Oblivion Stone, or just porcelain.”

“Did you just say… Sumire?”

Momo looked up to see his mouth agape. His hand had flown to the earring possessively, as if muscle reflex. His eyes hadn’t left the shard in Momo’s hand.

“Oh, you know her?” Momo grinned. “She’s fun. I didn’t appreciate her trying to kill me, but that’s a hazard of the job, I guess. Are you guys related? I didn’t want to assume. I know how annoying it is when people assume. But are you? I didn’t want to accidentally insult her brother, or her uncle —”

“Slow down,” he laughed, the fear falling off of him. Momo’s babbling had that effect. “Neither. We’re cousins. She used to work on my ship. Not a glowing recommendation that she tried to kill you, but I know she lives a very different life these days. Hangs out with the wrong sort.”

“The Holy Knightly kind of sort,” Momo muttered.

“Exactly,” he grimaced. “A right band of lunatics. The type to abuse Sumire’s knowledge of the Oblivion Stone to try and meld together the pieces themselves. Normally, that process is blocked because no one but the Barium Sea Scavengers know which baryte is Oblivion Baryte, or where the shards are located. But if they have one of us on their side…”

Akram turned to his chess pieces. He took his Sea Captain and knocked it into his deckhand. Then into another deckhand. He kept knocking the pieces over until only the Sea Captain and the Siren remained, the rest a pile of ash.

“Power is meant to be distributed. That’s the point of the [Class System]. Morgana and Kyros will wage their war of wars until the entire land lies in dust. It is imperative we do not let that happen.”

Momo swallowed. The irony was not lost on her that she was given the exact same mission as the Holy Knights. Valerica had been clear – their goal was to get the stone for themselves, the whole stone, and use it to gain the advantage in the war against Kyros. Kyros wasn’t exactly a Great Guy, using Jarva like a puppet to oppress necromancers and the like, so Momo could, theoretically, get behind that idea.

But it dawned on Momo then that she didn’t exactly know what kind of advantage Morgana had in mind to create. If the myths were true – and the Oblivion Stone could create any new law of the universe, one that even gods themselves couldn’t meddle with – it could be used as much for good as it could for complete, terrible nonsense.

Obviously.

For the first time since she landed in Alois, Momo wasn’t sure if following orders was the right thing to do.

Stupid intelligence points.

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– Universe Implosion Prevention Committee

Facing a mounting existential crisis, Momo pinched Radu’s arm. She gave Akram a polite look.

“One moment, please.”

Dragging Radu stage left, a small way away from the confused pirate, Momo sighed, raking her fingers through her hair. A morality-fueled migraine was bubbling. Luckily for them, Akram was imprisoned, so he – and his extremely powerful earring – were going nowhere fast.

Radu gave her a bewildered look.

“Are you… good?”

“No,” she sagged. Honesty is the best policy. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

Seeing Momo deflate, Radu’s annoyed frown faded. “Really? You didn’t even need me over there. Crazy to think I was once the [Con Artist], and you were the one deluding yourself into thinking you were some kind of goody two shoes. You had him like puddy in your hands.”

Her frown deepened. “That’s the problem. I am a goody two shoes. I’m not like you or Teddy. I can’t just… steal things. I’m not about to pluck the earring off his ear, say thank you very much, have a great day, and leave him falsely imprisoned.”

Radu laughed. “That would be funny, though.”

She glared at him.

“Okay, okay. I mean his cousin literally tried to kill you, so I’m not sure why you’re so loyal.”

“Yeah, well, there’s more context than that…” she grumbled. There wasn’t. “I just think, maybe… maybe we should bring him along. He wants to keep the stone out of Kyros’ hands just as much as we do, and he knows stuff about it that we don’t.”

Momo refrained from mentioning that she thought having Akram nearby might help in her super secret plan to get Sumire to not murder her the next time they ran into each other. After all – one murder offense was excusable, two was beyond the pale.

“You’re the boss, Ripper,” Radu laughed. “That doesn’t change the fact that he’ll definitely try and stop you from putting the stone back together and using it for whatever fun nefarious purposes Morgana has, but I’ll let you make that mistake for yourself.”

Momo groaned. There was nothing worse than when Radu was right.

—

“We have a proposal for you.”

Momo and Radu stood before Akram, who towered over them at his full height. The height difference was almost comical – like two girl scouts trying to sell cookies to a passing giant.

“Oh yeah?” Akram asked, tucking his chess pieces into his pockets. “And what would that be?”

“We’ll break you out of here, and in return, you’ll help us track down the rest of the Oblivion Stone,” Momo explained.

Akram looked skeptical, shaking his head firmly.

“I cannot condone the actions of someone who wishes to rebuild the Ending Stone. Nerida would look down poorly on me for making a decision so selfishly.”

He crossed his arms, expression firm. Momo felt like she was trying to persuade a brick wall.

Backpedal, Momo, backpedal.

“It wouldn’t be selfish! Listen, I’m on your side. I don’t want total universe-destroying chaos, either,” she said, making an explosive gesture with her hands. “Totally not my ballgame.”

As Momo insisted, she grabbed a candy out of her back pocket. She was glad she had restocked at Nam’Dal’s confectionery before leaving. “Here, have one of these.”

“Are you attempting to drug me into going along with you, my friend?” he said, plucking the chocolate out of her hands. He unfurled it from the wrapper. “It is curious that you’d be so straightforward about it.”

“No drugs, I promise,” Momo shook her head furiously. “I’m as straight edge as they come.”

She didn’t want to steal the earrings off his ears – but she wasn’t above using a little candy to guide him in the right direction. Momo still wasn’t evil incarnate by any means, but she had spent a lot of time around the Queen of Decay and Emotional Manipulation.

“I suppose I don’t have much to lose,” he shrugged, popping it in his mouth. As he chewed, his mouth upturned into an impressed smile. He closed his eyes, sighing pleasantly. “Oh, chocolate. I didn’t know they made it around here. Not quite as good as the sea salted stuff – but it’ll do. You have any more?”

Momo grinned. This just got easy.

—

After helping himself to six more of the delicacies, Akram was about as emotionally pliable as cooked pasta. Momo and him had diverted from serious topics to stories of sea scavenger traditions – how the Barium Barge would often host parties, rob their guests blind, and then their guests would return the favor the next week.

“In other cultures, they call it bartering,” he grinned, face flushed from the sugar. “But we’ve got it figured out. Why trade goods the boring way when you could earn experience points in [Scavenging] while you do it?”

Momo gaped. “That’s genius. Why hadn’t I thought of that? Radu, we could just go back and forth stealing from each other and get experience for it!”

Radu rolled his eyes. “That’s not how that works, Momo. The Gods have laws in place to make sure people can’t cheat the system like that. I can’t imagine that actually works, Akram.”

“Oh, lizard friend, these laws do not apply in the Barium Sea,” he grinned. “Nerida has arranged special privileges for us. As long as we keep up our end of the bargain and safeguard the Ending Stone, we can enjoy a host of powerful loopholes. Of course, one must make sure not to step outside the lines, or else…”

The sentence trailed off, and he schooled his face into a line. Momo leaned in, curious to hear what else he had to say, but he quickly pivoted.

“I have decided to go with you all,” he nodded, to Momo’s joy. “I see that you share a common interest in preserving the sanctity of our world. This pleases me.”

“Great coincidence, it pleases me too,” Momo grinned, sticking out her hand. “Welcome to the Universe Implosion Prevention Committee. UIPC for short.”

—

Then there was the matter of escaping prison.

Luckily, Momo and Radu were nothing short of experts in the field.

“What if we just walked out?” Momo said, waving towards the entrance. “The security here seems, no offense, terrible.”

Radu contemplated it. The guards in the outdoor area were still fully occupied with Bartholomew, whose personality was certainly not showing signs of improvement.

If Momo had learned anything from playing Capture the Flag back in elementary school – sometimes the best strategy was to calmly walk across the line, act like you knew what you were doing, and then whistle your way back, carrying the flag the whole way.

Radu shrugged, and started walking.

Drawing as little attention to themselves as possible, the trio crossed the threshold back into the main holding cell area. The door closed behind them with a dramatic clap, draping them in shadow. Save for the soft light of the torches, the cloisters were pitch black.

“Are you sure that little firecracker lizard isn’t hiding in here somewhere?” Akram grumbled, padding slowly behind the pair. Compared to Momo and Radu’s light footsteps, Akram’s sea-hardened Cavalier boots echoed loudly down the hallways.

“Not yet, but those cannonball boots might tip him off,” Radu muttered. Akram looked sheepishly down at his feet. “Momo, are you sure he’s sneaky enough to join our squad?”

“Squad? Since when was this a squad? There are no sneakiness pre-requirements,” Momo said, tilting her head out towards the entrance to check for guards. Only the one at the door remained. “All you need to be in the UIPC is a good attitude.”

The group came to a halt by the entrance. Momo and Radu made Akram stay a few feet back, hidden in the shadows. It didn’t seem to make much of a difference. The guard didn’t even look up from his cubicle, too absorbed by the book he was reading – A Loveable Lizard’s Guide to Wooing Your Soulmate.

“Wow, even lizards can’t escape the self-help book industry,” Momo mumbled.

“What was that?” the guard said, risking a quick look to his side. “What do you need, human?”

Radu cut Momo off, stepping forward. “We’re done here. Let us out, please?”

Momo could practically hear Persuasion Check: Failed. The guard’s side eye turned into a full on examination. He pushed his hat backwards and opened his beady eyes wide, staring at them with two full moons of white.

“A prisoner walking out of prison,” he hummed. Momo swallowed hard, looking frantically to her side. Akram wasn’t there – still hidden many feet behind, his back to the wall. “Aren’t you a wanted man, Radulsius? I thought the rumors were false, but seems not. You’ve returned for punishment after all.”

“Oh ho ho, big misunderstanding,” Radu laughed nervously. “The Dragon and I worked that out.”

“Haven’t heard anything about that,” the guard said lowly. His eyes darted to the side, where a big red button labeled ESCAPE ATTEMPT sat on his control panel. “Not sure I can trust the word of a traitor, now can I?”

“Excuse me, sir,” Momo jutted in, pushing Radu to the side. “You know, you seem like a really sweet guy. Those scales, those bright eyes… Have you found yourself a girlfriend yet? I mean I’m sure you have, but I thought I’d ask.”

The guard blushed hotly, his hat falling completely off his head. His spindly hands scrambled to put it back on, tucking it behind his ears.

“Oh, you flatter me,” he whispered, concealing his book to the side. “But I don’t date human girls.”

“Oh, I wasn’t asking for me. I know this woman, Lily? Owns the inn in town? Her former flame just fizzled, and I think she’s on the market for someone new. Someone reliable. Sturdy. Good job, open heart, a good sense of humor…” Momo continued listing qualities as his pupils expanded. “Do you think you’d know a lizard who’d be interested?”

“I just might, yes, yes!” he squeaked. “You tell her a lizard by the name of Bulli would love to take her on a fine date to the gardens. We will – well, they will – have tea and biscuits and watch the Firespit Fountain as it lights up with the stars. Tell her this Bulli fella has a great job, too. Pays all his bills right on time.”

Momo nodded eagerly as he went on and on. After a full minute of detailing this imaginative date, Momo was actually considering letting Lily know about him. He was certainly an upgrade from mouthy Bartholomew.

“Anyways, let me stop my babbling,” he said, scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment. “I’ll let you on out, sorry for the trouble.”

He pressed down on the button next to ESCAPE ATTEMPT, and the doors began to slide open. Light bathed the corridors, trailing along the floor towards Akram. Momo looked to Radu. Bulli’s attention was still fully focused on them, beaming up like a kid at a candy store.

Momo poked at Radu’s side, talking quietly. “Give me some of that blank parchment from earlier.”

Wordlessly, Radu fished it out of his pants pocket and handed it over. It still had a few odd scribbles here and there, but it wasn’t suspicious enough to give anything away. Momo handed it over to Bulli.

“Can you write your full name and address down?” she smiled softly. “For Lily, in case she wants to stop by and say hello. You know, before your date.”

He nodded enthusiastically, and Momo let out a breath of relief. He directed all of his attention towards the parchment and carefully inscribed each letter, paying meticulous attention to every detail.

Momo nodded towards Akram, and mouthed “go.”

He got the signal, noisily shooting out of the gates and taking a sharp left, out of view from Bulli’s cubicle. By the time Bulli processed the sound, Akram was already camped out behind a nearby bush. Only the tips of his boots stuck out.

“What was that?” Bulli asked, bemused, as he handed over the piece of paper.

“Oh, you know,” Momo shrugged. “Birds.”

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– Uncle's In Town

After sneaking out of the jailhouse, Momo, Radu, and Akram decided to keep to the backroads around the mountain. Unpopulated but dense with foliage, the roads were littered with pollen and tree twigs. The trails, with their proximity to the forest floor, were used to carry up lumber for construction. The fresh work on the inn made it so every step Momo took, splinters threatened to pierce through the soles of her clogs.

Momo sniffled as they settled down in the grass, her nose ruddy red. Spring was always her worst season. She was allergic to pretty much every flowering tree in San Fran, and the blooms of Drachenheim seemed to be no less merciful. The vista sort of made up for it – with their feet dangling over a high cliff, Momo could see snow-topped trees for miles and miles.

It was hard to imagine that winter raged on below. She could see the violent winds gusting about the trees, but as soon as the unwieldy weather tried to breach the mountain, it died out in a blink. The eternal sunshine of Drachenheim was as beautiful and lovely as it was monotonous and terrifying – like living in the Truman Show.

Of course, there was no barrier powerful enough to stop the Courier. The parchment carried on a gust of wind that seemed to defy all laws of physics, breaching the bubble and skyrocketing into her lap. Momo eyed it, askance.

For sneaking your way out of prison for the third… fourth… Gods, is it the fifth time? You have reached level 5 in [Con Artist]. You have gained the skill [Charmer], because we think your social finesse could still use some work.

[Charmer]: Every time you <@@#@#!> This skill can be cast silently.

Great. Another bugged out catastrophe. She flipped the page, not surprised to find what lay on the other side.

Hi Momo! This is Morgana (again). Sorry about your skill. I’ll sort that out this time, I promise. Listen, the electrician never came. Apparently he got lost on Earth and got addicted to American Football, now he’s stuck in some dive bar permanently heckling waitresses and yelling at the television screen every time there's a commercial break. It’s a whole thing.

So, as you would assume: no electrician, no fixed wiring. Things are getting aggressively confused around here. And not in the fun, flirty way. A live whale interrupted an ice hockey match this morning. Then, on my way to my scheduled nail appointment, a volcano erupted and covered the salon in lava. Do you know how hard it’s going to be to find another place that does soft gel? The Nether is boundless, but not that boundless.

It’s imperative you find that stone soon. A little birdie told me it might be a bit scattered around. Don’t let that worry you. Nether is like permaglue – it can make broken things new again.

You just focus on finding the thing. And when you do, I trust you’ll know what to do. Wink wink.

Cheers,

Oh, and watch your back out there in Dragon-land. Salazar woke up from the dead again, and the curse I put on his disciples will probably lift one of these days. If my watch is correct – it will run out in about, oh, 5 minutes?

Cheers again,

Morgana

She read it, stopping to sigh and groan throughout the entire letter. Morgana.

“Five minutes,” she said, repeating the goddess's words. “Radu, do you have any active curses?”

From his perch next to her, feet dangling above the forest abyss, the lizard looked at her strangely. She couldn’t blame him. “Active curses? What, why?”

“Messages from above,” Momo flicked her wrist upwards. Thinking about it further, she lowered her hand. “Or below. I’m still unclear on where exactly the Gods live.”

“You should really brush up on your mythology,” Radu sighed. A courier appeared in his hands, and he looked mildly startled. “Wait, how did I not notice this? I’ve had a debuff on me. Something called [Sorry Lizards, This One’s For Salazar]. The description is all… confusing.”

“Yup. Definitely the one I'm looking for.”

Momo peered over Radu’s shoulder, examining the paper. Where Momo expected to see roman characters, was instead a hand-drawn, stick figure diagram of - and this was a generous interpretation - Morgana laughing while Salazar was being lowered into a casket. A tombstone sits between them labeled ‘Sal’.

“They have a really weird sense of humor,” Momo muttered. "I can't tell if this is supposed to be a joke, a threat, or... flirting."

“Whatever it is, it's above my paygrade,” he shook his head. He flipped to the next page. “Oh, it seems to be some sort of debuff that scales by level. So lizards at an extremely high level – like Salazar, I guess, since he’s the highest of all – would suffer the most, and those at Expert and Excalibur would feel it quite a bit. Since I’m only an Intermediate, I barely noticed it.”

Momo hummed. “So are there any Excalibur lizards?”

“Probably a few,” Radu shrugged. “But the only one I’ve ever met is my uncle.”

Momo’s throat went dry.

“Wait. The Dragon is… an Excalibur? I thought only Necromancers and Holy Knights could get to that rank?”

Radu laughed. “Seriously? You’ve got to get out of your bubble a little. Once Morgana opened up the possibility, all of the Gods were quick to appoint their own Best of the Best. You just don’t hear about them as much because most stayed neutral during the war, like my uncle did.”

“Neutral? Seriously?” Momo frowned. “Didn’t Morgana and Kyros try to get them involved?”

“Those two run their own race,” Radu shook his head. “Most of the other gods try to stay out of their business. At least that’s how it seems from down here. But I doubt it’ll stay like that forever. All it takes is for one of them to get desperate, and suddenly it’ll be an all out Holy War…”

Radu laughed, as if it was a joke. Momo swallowed.

“Right.”

Before Momo could slip back into existential crisis mode, Akram hollered over to them. He looked distressed, his eyes planted on the sky above. His finger was pointing at something.

“Hey, guys? Is that... normal?”

As if on cue, an eardrum-annihilating roar filled the sky. Dark clouds streamed in overhead, blocking out the sunlight and draping everything in firetruck red. Sirens might as well have been blaring, because Momo’s ears rang like a concert junkie as she stared upwards.

A giant, red beast rocketed like a torpedo overhead, curling around the cliffside until it landed at a clearing just beside the jailhouse. The creature left a crater in the field, filling the space with dense, red mist. For many seconds, Momo couldn’t make out a single feature of it – the fog so dense that it made the entire cliffside appear like a bloodied crevice.

“Shit,” Radu coughed. “The debuff just ran out.”

The creature began to take steps towards them. Momo couldn’t see it, but she could feel it – the rock trembling underfoot, the entire mountain creaking like an old rocking chair. She reached for Radu’s hand in the mist, holding onto it tightly. Akram filed in behind them, draping his arms around their shoulders like a hockey coach.

“We need to move,” he whispered. “Even through the mist, I can sense its aura. This creature is far beyond our capabilities.”

I didn't have to sense anything to tell you that, Momo thought, her legs trembling.

“There’s no way we’re escaping him. He can see through the mist, fly faster than a missile, and shoot lava beams out of his eyeballs,” Radu muttered. “Also, he’s my uncle. So you don’t have to call him a creature.”

In a giant rush of wind, the three of them toppled over. Momo groaned in pain as her back got thrown into Radu’s knee, Akram’s elbow jutting into her side. On the upside – the mist had parted, revealing a straight path of vision towards the looming dragon. And Gods, he was much larger in person. He made Akram look like a smurf.

The lizard walked on all fours as he slithered towards them, his motions almost snake-like. As he approached, he lifted himself to walk on only two, his hands dangling like t-rex arms. His face was much like the sculpted version in the fountain – flat and reptilian, with hints of humanity around the cheekbones.

“Nephew,” he greeted, reaching his short arms out. His voice was honeyed and smooth. The kind of voice that feels like a condescending smile. “I must say, when I heard you dared to show your face here, I at first didn’t believe the rumors. But you don’t look a day different than you did when you high-tailed it out of my house, your glittery newborn scales vanishing into smoke as my vault was raided.”

Radu began to crawl backwards, terror etched into his face. The Dragon walked leisurely towards him, making no fast movements. Still, Radu’s fear prevented him from creating any distance between them. Akram and Momo were no help either, completely stupefied.

There wasn’t exactly a rulebook for dealing with Excalibur Fire Lizards.

“Uncle…” Radu said slowly, his voice hitching. “I promise it was a misunderstanding. I know I was stupid, but Barthy put me up to this dare. A dumb, idiotic dare. I had no idea those two were planning a heist.”

The Dragon abruptly dropped to his feet, his snout landing a centimeter away from Radu’s. He reminded Momo of the lizard from Mulan, only the size of two elephants.

“Oh, silly boy, I know that,” he grinned. His gleaming white teeth were the size of Momo’s hands. They all tapered to an edge – sharp as blades. “All that’s in the past now. What matters in this very moment – in this breath shared between you and I – is that you do one thing for me. One small favor."

Radu's scales had gone white. He could barely articulate his mouth. "Yes?"

"No more running, Radu. You must finally accept your appointment as my rightful heir.”

Momo's jaw nearly fell out of her face.

“What?”

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Ending the Matriarchy

The Dragon’s throne room was a picture of wealth-obsessed majesty. Piles of gold coins formed small mountains behind the ruby red royal seat. Animated portraits of ancestors hung above, in large, 7 foot frames. Notably, they were almost all women. Queens from across the ages – dressed in all forms of royal attire, from platemail to dainty dresses, sat atop the same throne.

As Radu entered, they sniveled and turned their backs. Some of them began hotly gossiping, leaning their heads into other paintings to whisper things amongst themselves. These women couldn't have known each other in life, but memorialized on the wall, they tattled like siblings. Momo couldn’t hear what they were saying, but the egregious amount of side-eye spoke for itself.

“What’s with the attitude?” Momo whispered to Radu, pointing to the back-turned queens. "The girls are not happy with you."

“Drachenheim is a eras-long matriarchy, remember? So none of them like the Dragon much,” he said. “Or me, by extension.” His tone was avoidant and defeated. His eyes were averted towards the ground, watching his own footsteps as they reluctantly trailed into the auditorium.

The dragon slithered just above the ground towards the throne, the sound of his footsteps barely audible. He seemed to have the power to affect the gravity around him – lightening its effects, or doubling them. The guards were utterly obedient in his presence, falling over themselves to bow or stumble backwards. It was clear he demanded a certain level of loyalty.

What Momo wasn’t certain about yet was how he demanded it – from inspiring fear, or something else. She really couldn’t clock his vibe.

The Dragon’s court sat in seats adjacent to the throne. The two chairs most immediate to him were notably vacant. Archibald sat in one seat, far to the left, and upon seeing Radu, looked nauseated with worry.

A single woman stood a few feet from the throne, wearing a bored expression. Momo didn’t recognize her. She seemed about the same age as Lily, except with vibrant red scales instead of blue. A Beeswax one, then. Momo had begun to be able to differentiate between the ridiculously named clans. The Beeswax had red scales, and the Shellcrackers predominantly had blue.

If Momo remembered correctly, there was a single girl in line for the throne of Drachenheim, about the same age as Radu. This girl didn’t look much like a princess though. Momo could have easily mistaken her for a common adventurer, with the leather garb and fur boots. With a bow slung over her shoulder, she seemed much more likely to go hunt elk than run a mountaintop city.

Not that Momo necessarily looked like much of a ruler herself. She internally chastised herself for having made such superficial assumptions. You can’t judge a book by its cover – or a lizard by her clothes.

“May I present to the court, Radulsius Red.”

The Dragon announced Radu as he curled around his throne. He didn’t quite sit in it, instead opting to snake around it like ivy up a tree. The eyes of the guards, and of the girl, fell pointedly upon Radu. Momo could feel how uncomfortable he was – she knew that kind of body language intimately. His entire being was screaming to find an escape plan.

While the rest of the room looked at Radu mostly in bewilderment, the girl’s expression was different. She seemed vacant, almost a little bit guilty. Momo had the urge to try her [Silent Mindreader] ability on her, but refrained. She didn’t know when this would turn sideways, and she needed to conserve her mana.

“As you all know, my dear wife, Elidora Beeswax, was given to the Nether sixteen years ago,” he looked regretfully towards the seat next to him, which lay empty. “By our laws, this left the throne to the next female in line. Elidora had no sisters, and our youngest, Cordelia, merely an infant, was not yet old enough to rule. As such, I was forced to ascend the seat and become The Dragon of Drachenheim.”

The guards nodded along, absorbed as if this was the first time they’d heard this information. Momo got the impression that the Dragon liked to retell it – either out of genuine grief, or some kind of dramatic effect. Either way, the girl, Cordelia, seemed to grow in annoyance the more he belabored it. She played with the belt loops of her pants, toying at them nervously.

The women on the wall shook their heads disapprovingly. Momo couldn't imagine ruling a nation while surrounded by a group of permanently disapproving relatives. Back on Earth, she could barely do dishes with her mom hovering over her shoulder.

The Dragon didn't seem perturbed. He continued on, gesturing to the woman standing beside him.

“Cordelia is now of age to ascend the throne, and I am ready to step down, as destiny wills. However, there is only one problem – Cordelia has rejected queenhood.”

The girl blushed as the guards gasped. Among them, the smallest of the Beeswax boys – the hot-dog shaped runt of the pack, and second-in-line to the throne – jumped forward. His ankles were still covered in bandages where Dusk had ravaged them.

“Father!” he said, gasping for breath almost immediately. He fell to his knees. “Father, do not let Cordelia's inability concern you for even a minute. I accept the role. I will graciously and humbly become the next Dragon. You can count on me for your loyalty, Father.”

Cordelia rolled her eyes at him. The Dragon upturned his snout.

“Silence, son. It is not your time.”

The stubby lizard fell even further to the floor. He performed a full body bow, his hands gripping the cold stone. “Father, believe me this, I am ready. I have prepared my full life to follow in your footsteps. I am prepared to give my life for the throne –”

“Did I not say silence?”

The air chilled as the words left the Dragon’s mouth. At his words, the runt let out a squeak. He quickly got to his feet, scurrying backwards behind the others.

Fear it is, then, Momo thought, swallowing.

“As I was saying,” the Dragon hissed. “Cordelia has decided she does not want to ascend the throne. I have tried for years to persuade her, but she is unwavering. Her decision has invoked the Queenless Principle, Dragons 23:22, which states that if the willing next-in-line female rejects queenhood, and she is unmarried, then the current ruler may pick upon his or her subjects to nominate a new heir.”

“Pick me, please,” the runt lizard squeaked from behind the rest, chastised but still adamant. The Dragon firmly ignored him, instead focusing on Radu. Momo could already see what was coming. The rest of the room slowly caught on as well, following the Dragon's gaze.

“I have selected Radulsius Red, my nephew, for this position. The princess agrees with my choice, and hers is the only approval I deem necessary,” he clarified, as the guards began to loudly talk amongst themselves. This didn't seem like a popular decision. “And since Radu is a former convict, under Dragons 42:49, I may compel him to do whatever I please, including compelling him to ascend the throne.”

“Sir,” Archibald intervened, stepping out of his seat. “Why would you force him? You have several capable sons.”

“Yes, father! Very capable!”

“This is your third warning, Bugsly,” the Dragon growled. “As I said, I require no one else’s input. Radulsius, despite his betrayal, carries the blood of Salazar. This blood, and blood alone, gives him the ability to become an Excalibur. My rank is the only reason Drachenheim retains its privileges as an individual state within the Kingdom. If we want to retain those privileges, we must have an Excalibur leading us.”

“That blood theory is bullshit, and you know it,” Radu muttered. The cork finally popped. Momo looked at him, surprised, as his hands turned to fists. “Anyone Salazar wants to become an Excalibur could become one. Just because he decided to make the sky rain red when I was born doesn’t mean I’m some kind of chosen one. He probably just felt like a little blood rain that day.”

“Don't be ignorant. That is precisely what it means, my boy. It says, in Dragons 32:33 – When blood rains, Salazar speaks. How can you refute such an obvious thing?”

“He could have been speaking about plenty of things.”

“Ah, right, because the Gods have time to send us signs from above about their tea being too hot, or their door hinges being too creaky,” the Dragon laughed. “This is no coincidence.”

Morgana has sent me personal letters about her nail polish chipping, Momo thought. Either the Goddess of Death, Decay, The Nether, and apparently co-parent of All Existence had way too much time on her hands, or Salazar was just a bad people manager.

“Plenty of babies were born the same day as I was. I went to school with a Shellcracker kid that has my same exact birthday. Don’t see why he can’t be king instead,” Radu suggested.

“Because he is not a Beeswax. The rain falls red, not blue, for a reason.”

It seemed to be a moot point. For as many logical fallacies as Radu threw at him, the Dragon threw them right back. He was choosing – forcing – Radu, and there was no other way about it. Ultimately, after a few more minutes of useless discourse, Radu threw up his hands.

“So, what if I say no? What happens then?”

“Then I deliver the punishment I should have dealt when you let Magelegs steal my treasure,” the Dragon said, unwinding himself from the throne and looming large over Radu. “I suppose you know what that punishment is.”

Fire glowed around the Dragon, heating the air like the inside of an oven. Momo didn’t have to hear the punishment to figure out what it was. The Dragon didn’t seem like the kind of guy to be into rehabilitation. It also explained why the jailhouse was so small and understaffed.

No need for jail when the death sentence will do. Momo gulped. Man, Valerica was right. Every other ruler in Alois is just the worst ever.

“I know what the punishment is.” Radu’s throat bobbed. The reign of audacity had ended for him, fight-or-flight once again becoming the dominant emotion.

“Good, good.” The Dragon circled him. Radu’s eyes followed his form as it curled around him, constricting like a snake. The Dragon placed his arms around Radu’s back, pulling him in for an odd kind of embrace. “I know you’ll choose correctly, my heir. Wouldn’t want your comrades to suffer punishment by association, would you?”

Radu’s eyes found Momo’s, and her stomach dropped. He wore a look she had never seen before. Something too considering, overly thoughtful. It didn't fit him. She couldn't let him make this choice on her behalf. She shook her head no.

They could find a way out of this. They always found a way.

Radu looked away.

“Okay,” Radu said. “I’ll do it. You’ve given me no choice. I’ll be your heir. But… there’s something I have to finish first.”

Cordelia’s face fell. She wore a bittersweet expression – something between relief and concern. At Radu’s agreement, she stalked past him, slamming the door behind her as she left the chamber. The Dragon paid her no mind, bearing his teeth in a rabid grin as he unwinded himself from Radu.

He slid around the room in celebration, whistling until he came to stop at his new heir's face.

“I knew you’d come to your senses. What is your condition, boy? Tell me. What deed must you finish?”

Radu shook his head and sighed. After a moment, he looked at Momo. For the first time in hours, a genuine smile crept up his lips. It was small, barely-there, but it was something. A life line.

“I’m part of this organization. The Universe Implosion Prevention Committee,” he said with a smirk, and Momo’s heart bloomed. “We have some business to finish first. And before you ask what business – the title is self-explanatory.”

The Dragon hummed, nodding thoughtfully. "I see."

After a long moment, he responded. "I will give you a month.”

Radu didn’t bother to look at him as he spoke. He was talking only to Momo, smiling that same, arrogant smile that he gave her when they first met.

“Good. Knowing us, that’s all we’ll need.”

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– The Golems of the Under-Canals

Silence hung like sloths from trees, inexplicably tired and slow, as Radu, Akram, and Momo walked the paths out of Drachenheim. Momo had come far in her conversational skills, but nothing yet had prepared her to breach the subject of being unwillingly nominated as King of Dragons.

“So,” Momo broke the silence as they rounded the corner towards the center of town. The awkward tension was killing her slowly – like a fatal, anxiety-inducing poison. “How we feeling?”

To Momo’s great dismay, Radu didn’t respond. They wordlessly curled around the fountain, wild jets of fire spurting out of the dragon’s sculpted nostrils. Cherry blossoms, perpetually falling over Drachenheim, were incinerated the moment they made contact with the stream. Momo tried her best to avoid the flying ashen debris.

Radu sat down on one of the benches surrounding the fountain. Akram and Momo stopped in their tracks, exchanged a worried glance, and then sat with him. With still not a word out of the lizard’s mouth, Momo glanced around. A bakery – Reptilian Delights – sat just across the fountain. Through the steam floating off the water, Momo could make out a tall, blue-scaled man with a twirled mustache tossing loaves of uneaten bread into a dumpster.

“That’s a crime against humanity,” Momo muttered. “No perfectly good loaf of bread should ever go uneaten.”

This seemed to drag Radu up from his depressed stupor. Momo thought it might. She had a habit of saying ridiculous things – and he had a habit of finding them intensely amusing. He looked at the dumpster, his frown wavering.

“This place is masterfully wasteful,” he exhaled. Momo smiled just to hear his voice. “I once saw my uncle toss out an entire shipment of apples because they were the wrong shade of red.”

“Wow. And what exactly is the correct shade of red?”

Radu smirked. “Take a guess. How would a narcissist determine the best color in existence?”

Momo thought about it, narrowing her eyes. Then it clicked.

“It’s the color of his scales, isn’t it?”

Radu’s smirk broke out into a grin. “Precisely. He held each apple up to his face, had Cordelia tell him if it matched, and then all of the too-reds or the not-red-enoughs got tossed in the Rotten barrel. He put me in charge of taking them out to the trash pits, so naturally I took an accidental left turn and gave them to the local bakery. Got three pies coincidentally delivered to me the next week.”

Momo eyed him with awe. “That’s genius. I want a free pie loophole.”

Akram laughed. “For a prince, you’ve got quite the naughty streak.”

“Naughty streak?” Momo raised her eyebrows. “He’s a whole criminal. It’s more like a naughty career at this point.”

“Well, there’s organized crime and then there’s disorganized crime, friend,” Akram said seriously, his eyebrows flattening. “It’s only naughty if it's disorganized. If you’ve got all your thefts in a neatly dotted line, then it’s just doing business.”

“Are you sure you’re not from Nam’Dal?” Radu said, grin widening. “You’d make a promising recruit. Got all the basics down – gaslighting, fistfighting, sneaking out of prison.”

“No can do,” Akram shook his head. “Thieving is no fun if the floor isn’t moving. I like my heists wet, and constantly threatened by high tide.”

Radu shook his head. “Yeah, we’re definitely different people.”

“I agree, we definitely are. I like my heists nonexistent, and my stealing minimal,” Momo mumbled. “I’m really wasted as a con artist. I could do so well as whatever the opposite class is – maybe a Constantly Conned Artist? It would even merge well with my minor class.”

“A Constantly Conned Artist? So you’d gain experience points by doing what, exactly? Being constantly duped?”

“Exactly,” she nodded seriously. “Imagine how fast I could level up if I just surrounded myself with a bunch of you thieves. You could sell me every scam in the book, I’d keep falling for them, and I’d be an Excalibur in no time. Now that’s smart.”

“We have different definitions of smart, Momo.”

Momo shrugged. “One of them’s right, and the other one’s yours.”

The three of them laughed as the stars flickered. After a while, Momo convinced the two of them to go on a quick, celebratory heist in the bakery’s dumpster. They stuffed as many bread rolls as they could in their satchels, walked out through the pearly gates, and headed for the open road.

—

A problem arose as problems often did for Momo – immediately.

Riding on horseback to Drachenheim had been fine, given the distance, but the next closest Resonance Point was practically in a different solar system. It’d easily take two weeks on horse.

“I’m not sure why we didn’t realize this beforehand,” Momo muttered. “Well, actually. I know why. I failed middle school geography. But I thought you were supposed to be the one with spatial recognition.”

Radu glared at her. “I thought you had some sort of magical, Valerica-inspired plan to get us there. Like maybe broomsticks would drop out of the sky and we could ride them to the capital.”

“Don’t you think I would have shared that plan with you?”

“This committee isn’t built on communication,” Radu crossed his arms. “It’s built on a lot of baseless luck and occasional gifts from Morgana.”

Momo stared at him. He wasn’t wrong.

“There is another way,” Akram said, interrupting their squabble. He seemed a bit reluctant to speak, but even more reluctant to hear them continuing to grumble at each other. “I did not get here by horse or by foot. There is a network of traders who require fast movement throughout the continent to sell our wares at marketable rates – such as myself. Have you heard of the underground canals?”

“I’ve heard of them,” Radu tapped his chin. “I thought it was a myth, though. Underground rivers that can carry boats like missiles. Cave ogres are said to operate the canals in exchange for tolls.”

“Correct, except for a few details,” Akram said. He dug into his pack, extracting a small, rolled up piece of parchment. He blew on it lightly, and it glowed red, unwinding into a scroll. Momo and Radu gathered to peer over his shoulders like school children.

Momo squinted. It was a map of Alois, sort of. It looked like it had been drawn in the 1st century, the ink faded, and the lines drawn like soundwaves – bumpy and unpredictable. A squiggly blue line ran from right under Drachenheim to the Barium Coast, right around where the second Resonance Point reverberated.

Momo pointed to the spot. “Is this one of the canals?”

Akram nodded. He ran his finger along it, and the blue line came to life. The sounds of rushing water bounded off the page, his fingertip suddenly damp. Tiny boats emerged from the parchment, sailing along the tide until they reached the coast.

“Problem is, I only have one ticket.”

He rolled up the parchment and tucked it back into his bandolier.

“Can’t we buy tickets once we’re down there?”

“Perhaps. Radu called the operators cave ogres – that’s not true. They’re ancient water mages, older than any living human. Golems is the Aloisian word for them. They’re very protective of the waterways, and choosy when it comes to customers. You guys will have to prove yourselves to gain entrance.”

Momo deflated. She never liked that phrase.

“And how exactly does one prove themselves to an ancient… golem?” Radu squinted.

Akram grinned.

“Don’t worry, nothing too hard. You’ve just got to get your sailing license.”

—

Momo and Radu left their horses to graze at a nearby farm. Momo paid the resident farmer a hefty sum to feed Radu’s horse, and an even heftier bonus fee to not tell the local earl that an undead horse named Nightmare was running around his backyard.

After making sure the steeds were in good hands, they followed Akram’s lead around the base of Drachenberg, through thickets of trees. Momo’s allergies clocked up to a ten as they schlepped across the forest floor. She sneezed on just about every inch of available bark, going red and puffy in the cheeks. The winter air helped a bit, but the residual spring heat was still close, allowing the plants to bloom obnoxiously.

“This is the worst combination of weather ever,” she wheezed. “It's as cold as winter but I’m still allergic to everything that can photosynthesize.”

“Photowhat?” Radu turned his head. Akram stalked ahead, using his map as a guide. He was following a faint trail of footsteps on the ground. They looked like the imprints of an animal.

“Nevermind,” Momo sagged.

Just as Momo’s immune system was about to collapse, they reached a curious dent in the base of the mountain. Jagged rock stuck out like set pieces, forming an odd ridge. Beneath the ridge, the mountain sagged inwards, the stone shimmering like it was wet. But it hadn’t rained. The only thing falling from the sky was the downcast cherry blossoms.

“A magic barrier,” Radu guessed. Akram nodded. “I can’t believe this was hiding under my hometown the entire time and I had no idea. You’d think someone would have discovered it by now.”

“It’s not so easy to discover. Can’t break the seal without a ticket, and can’t get a ticket without knowing someone with a ticket,” Akram shrugged. So it’s some kind of exclusive merchant’s club. Momo was excited. She had never been part of any exclusive clubs as a kid – maybe the exclusive club of being the only child of immigrants in her entire high school class, but that wasn’t a fun exclusive club.

Akram took out one of his chess pieces. It was the Sea Siren.

“Do we really have time for chess?” Radu frowned.

“I do,” Momo grinned. She began walking towards him, but Akram put up a hand, mouthing wait.

Just as he did, the shimmering rock flickered. The siren began to sing her shrill song, screaming at the top of her tiny, clay lungs. The rocks responded in kind – shaking like a trembling chihuahua. The mountain’s foundation began to splinter, cracks running like rivers below the ridge. With a fragmenting crack, the stone gave way, bursting into pieces like a stick of dynamite had been set off beneath it.

“Duck!” Akram yelled. Momo threw herself out of the way, shielding herself behind a tree trunk. Radu had opted for the curl up in a ball method, laying in a hump of rock debris. Akram had remained standing, holding the chess piece in front of his face. The stone had simply flown around him like a rock in a river.

Thump. Thump.

Momo heard the footsteps before she saw it. Like the sound of a tree falling in the forest, two rounded circles of stone emerged from the hole. Their footsteps came at a regular, metronomic rate – slow, steady, absolutely terrifying. Her legs shaking, Momo reared her head around the tree trunk.

“Friends, may I introduce you to the Golems of the Under-Canals,” Akram bowed. “Golems, I request that you do not kill my friends.”

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– Formula 1 Gondola Racing

The Golems of the Under-Canals were walking boulders – man-shaped hunks of rock. They reminded Momo of the drawings she did back in grade school. That transitional period between stick figures and genuine attempts at anatomy, where her scribbles looked more like Muppets than people.

Looking at the abominations of rock, she found herself oddly smiling. One of those sock puppet drawings had become her childhood magnum opus: The Guy. The inspirationally titled finger art painting was Momo’s third-grade debut into human anatomy. Most of her art pre-Guy had been exclusively in the domain of cats, dogs, and the occasional raccoon she found lurking in their backyard. Sensing budding talent, her art teacher urged her to get out of her comfort zone. Go beyond whiskers and paw prints.

Momo took the plunge, and The Guy was born.

But like most great artists – she was not recognized in her time. Her misadventure into human anatomy had produced a monstrosity so terrifying that her teacher had called home, warning her parents of a possibly brewing mental health crisis.

Her father’s English had still been rocky at the time – barely conversational. He misunderstood the phone call to be an accomplishment, that Momo had done something so worthwhile, so beyond the pale, that her teacher thought her brain was unusual. “Unusually good, yes?” her father had said with a grin, winking at Momo as he dangled the landline by his ear.

Without discussion, he displayed The Guy on their fridge for the next fifteen years.

“Momo, are you crying?” Radu interjected, equal parts concerned and bewildered. It drew Momo out of her reverie, and she frantically rubbed at her eyes. Shit. She hadn’t thought of her parents in months – too busy saving her own ass or saving the world. It was easy to dwell on the reasons she wanted to run away from their expectations, but on rare, totally inconvenient occasions, the good memories came at her like knives.

“It’s allergies,” she responded. It probably was. Spring had always been the time where she spent the most time inside the house – helplessly doted on by her parents for her stingy eyes and runny nose.

A piece of parchment flopped itself on her head.

Momo squinted. “What could this possibly be –?”

[Pitied]   has been activated.

Momo glared. She raised her head slowly towards the golems, who – despite their lack of eyes – were giving her the saddest stare they could manage. One was approaching her like they might a kitten, with a lowered posture, and an outreached blocky hand.

“This one may pass,” it bellowed, in a voice like a megaphone.

“I do not want to get an entrance ticket out of pity,” she grumbled. Radu and Akram both gave her equally stern stares – silently communicating: take the opportunity, idiot.

The golem ignored her, wrapping its hand around her back and urging her forward. Reluctantly, Momo sighed and began walking towards the entrance. Akram and Radu began to follow suit. As Radu neared the gaping mountain door, the second golem’s foot landed in his way.

“This one must prove itself,” it announced. “It must steer its own boat.”

Radu scoffed. “She gets to walk right in after crying a little bit, and I have to pass some trial?”

Sudden, oppressive energy resonated from the golem, as if gravity had been turned up several notches. “You will not speak of the small one in that way,” it stated. Radu nodded obediently.

“Sure, yes, sure. I’ll drive the boat.”

“Good.” The energy receded. “You can proceed.”

Radu took the opportunity, jogging in front of both of them into the darkness. Akram gave Momo a look, and they both laughed.

—

It was like Venice, but underground.

Not that Momo had ever been to Venice. But it was the only comparison her earthling brain could think to make. Ghostly white gondolas moved sluggishly down the canals, lit by infrequently placed lanterns. The canals were impossibly narrow, sitting between slabs of rock.

“They’re all empty,” Momo noted as they walked in. The boats lacked both passengers and pilots. It was like she was standing by a water ride at Disney World – the boats simply dragged along an intended path, operated by an unseen force. Also like an amusement ride, they appeared one after another, curling around a corner as if they had just gone on a short loop.

“They’re Mirage Boats,” Akram said as he stopped on the edge of the rock. A swirl of rope was tied around a rock post, and he began to unwind it. “It’s a type of Water magic. They’re made of the current itself, infinitely restockable, always flowing.”

“[Anchor],” he commanded, flinging the rope towards one of the oncoming gondolas. The rope came to life, slinging around one of the boat’s attachments. It tied a knot around it, and Akram pulled back, hauling the gondola towards them. It floated weightlessly, barely rippling across the stream.

The golems watched from a short distance. Momo noticed that the wall behind them had been reassembled, sealing the entrance. No turning back now.

Akram stepped onto the stern of the gondola, and grabbed an oar which had been stowed inside. He nodded to the two of them to join him, and Momo nodded quickly, wobbling inside with the help of Akram’s steadying hand. Radu came last, constantly eyeing the golems as he slipped into the final seat of the boat.

“The lizard must steer,” the golems repeated. “Or the boat will not move.”

“Jeez, these guys are adamant,” Radu mumbled.

Akram shook his head, handing the oar the Radu. “You heard them,” he said with a raise of his eyebrows. “Long, smooth strokes now. Manage the forcola, and push the oar against the side of the boat to turn. Most of all, remember the golden rule – don’t let the oar slip in the water.”

Radu rolled his eyes. “This stream is moving at the pace of a snail. I don’t see what the melodrama is about.” He hauled the oar upwards, and then shoved it into the water. The motion was about as graceful as a rat driving a four-wheeler, and the water splashed into the boat. Akram grumbled, shaking the water from his boots.

“Slow strokes,” Akram repeated as he unanchored the boat. The rope slipped off, and the gondola began to drift forward. “If you have the impulse to go faster, don’t. You’ll see why in a second.”

“In case you forgot, I only have a month to prevent universe implosion,” Radu said. He plunged the oar into the water again, stroking at a steep angle. The boat rushed forward, catching acceleration like an athlete on an adrenaline rush. The rapid change in velocity throttled them backwards. Momo and Akram slid to the edge of the boat, backs hitting against wood. Radu nearly lost his footing.

Akram groaned. “I said slowly!”

“I didn’t know I was operating a magic missile!” he yelled back, wobbling from foot to foot as the gondola shot down the stream. Even with no paddle in the water, the boat sustained its speed – racing like a speedcar down an endless waterway. The lights of the lanterns came so fast that it felt like they were being illuminated by blinking siren lights.

“Listen, you have to attune to the oar!” Akram yelled over the wind. “This is a good start, but we’ll need to go even faster than this. And there’s a turn coming up –”

“A turn?!”

Sure enough, at the far edge of their sight, the stream curved around a ridge of rock. “Oh Gods, that’s not good.” Radu frantically grabbed his oar, hovering it above the rushing streams. His hands were shaking.

“We’re going to die,” he cried out, barely able to keep his feet on the ground. He refused to lower the oar any further. “I’m going to crash us into that rock wall, and we’re going to splatter like flies!”

“I’m not dying again, Radu!” Momo squealed. Her knuckles were turning white as they curled around the edge of the boat. “Just do what he said – put it by the edge of the boat and make the turn!”

“You say that like it’s easy,” he squealed, just as the rock wall came upon them. With no other option at hand, he plunged the oar back down, planting his feet in a long stance for support. The oar nearly snapped as the gondola pressed against it, pivoting hard to the right. The boat angled down, water lapping in like a small tsunami.

Akram wove his hands frantically. “That’s enough! That’s enough!”

Radu screamed as he tore the oar from the water, collapsing backwards. The boat leveled itself, moving swiftly around the turn and back on course. Momo let out an enormous breath.

“God,” she inhaled. “We nearly became pancakes.”

“You’re telling me,” Radu coughed as he steadied himself. He got back up and dipped the oar cautiously in again. “Steady now, you crazy thing,” he muttered as he stroked into the water gently. The gondola accepted it – keeping its speed as he paddled.

Momo risked a look to her right. The rock wall was speeding past so fast she could barely make out a single crevice. It all blurred into a singular gray. The lights above, too, had stopped jittering. At their high speed, the dim light became a constant. It reminded Momo of driving on the highway at night, looking out at the barrier between the road and the leaves.

“Alright,” Akram sighed, stretching his limbs and relaxing into the cot. “Now just a few more hours of this, and we’re as good as there.”

Radu turned his head back slowly, gaping.

“Hours?!”

A note from villa1ny

To get 26 chapters ahead right now, you can head over there!

Join the Discord / Momo cult here.

Doubletimer

Once they got in the groove of it, riding the stream became muscle memory. The tight curves came at a certain set frequency - every thirty minutes or so - and Radu became comfortable at maneuvering around them. It was as steady as a vehicle could be while racing down a gondola highway.

Akram broke out a book, paging through something old and worn. Momo took Dusk out of her backpack and fed her some canned Demonic Tuna. Radu kept his hands steady on the oar, and occasionally spun into a story about his childhood in Drachenheim. Momo could tell he still didn’t want to broach the topic of his eventual reign – but at least he was talking again.

The minutes turned into hours, and soon enough, they were nearing the end. Akram nudged Momo. He had pulled out his map of the Under-Canals.

“We’re nearly to Mekna,” he said, pointing to the city on the far east of the continent. A small depiction of their boat had traveled far upstream, nearly settling in the city. “Finding the shards there will be difficult. Holders of Oblivion Shards are not allowed to know each other by name, another safety precaution, so it'll be hard to tell.”

“That’s annoying,” Momo crossed her arms. “So there’s zero way to narrow it down?”

Akram rolled up the map and tucked it back in his bag. He screwed up his face into a troubled expression. Momo could tell sharing this information didn’t come naturally to him.

“It is in Nerida’s interests for me to safeguard the stone at all costs, so I will share this information with you. But I must tell you now, if you intend to return the Oblivion Stone to its natural state…” he looked up from his lap, his face turning stern. “I will be forced to stop you.”

Momo’s lip trembled. “Totally. Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Hoping it would help, Momo silently cast [Charmer], the skill without a description. From the name, she assumed it would do something to help her case. Some kind of persuasion bonus. The results were unclear: he studied her face for several moments, expression unchanging.

A long half-minute later, he ultimately nodded, looking again towards the stream.

“There is an insignia. Two open hands curling around a glowing, white orb. Only those who are allowed to hold and sell Oblivion-grade baryte will have this insignia. Not all who have the insignia will actually have the shards at a given time. It only means they're allowed to. So it will narrow our search, but not completely."

"Ah," Momo said, absorbing the information. "Good to know, thanks."

Akram nodded solemnly, keeping his eyes on the stream.

Momo saw something appear in the corner of her eye, floating just below her feet. She leaned over to look at it. It was a piece of parchment – a courier.

Congratulations!You have gained the personal skill [Doubletimer]. This is a passive skill.

[Doubletimer]: You like to run with the hares and hunt with the hounds. You’ve gained this skill because you frequently play both sides of an argument, not really committing to one or another. You now have a 50% higher chance of convincing someone that you’re on their side when you’re not, but now you also have a -25% chance of convincing someone that you’re on their side even when you are. So your friends now trust you less, and your enemies trust you more. Wahoo!

Momo despaired. Your friends now trust you less. This was absolutely not her intention. Yes, she had been fence-riding and tip-toeing through pretty much every conversation since she arrived in Alois, but she didn’t like that the system picked up on it.

Who exactly counted as a friend, and who counted as an enemy, anyway? she thought.People in Alois were just untrustworthy by default. The last friend Momo tried to make nearly split her neck open. The only friend who hadn’t tried to stab her in the back at least once was Dusk – and only because that cat was chained to her soul, or something.

Maybe Valerica, too, unless you classify wage theft as bad friend behavior.

She looked towards Radu, who was smiling to himself as he curled the oar against the boat. She’d like to think he counted, too. He had stood by her side – for the most part – through thick and thin, following along with her stupid, thoughtless plans and social anxiety-inspired meltdowns. Not to mention the whole coup d'état ordeal.

Friends who take down governments together, stay together.

After a few more minutes of musing, Akram interrupted Momo's thoughts.

“We’re here,” Akram said with a grin, setting down his book and pointing forward. Momo could see an unfamiliar stretch of rock surging towards them. Several gondolas were stationed by the jetty, bobbing quietly up and down.

“Great, wonderful. How in the hell do I stop this thing?” Radu asked, his fists tightening protectively around the oar.

Akram joined Radu by the stern, patting him hard on the back. “Simple. Throw the oar in the water.”

Radu’s eyes bulged. “You’ve got to be kidding. Wasn’t that the main rule of gondola operation? The oar stays inside the boat?”

“Main rule of operation, yes. But we’d like the boat to stop operating. I suggest you listen to me before we end up as – what was it that Momo said – pancakes?”

The jetty was nearly upon them when Radu squealed, tossing the oar into the stream. The ghostly wood disappeared on contact with the water, and the gondola turned from a racecar to a kayak. The team desperately grasped at the edges of the boat as the momentum tried to throw them overboard.

Radu and Akram held on, but Momo’s strength wasn’t sufficient. She screamed as she was flung like a paper plane onto the jetty, rolling onto the deck of rock until she hit a wall. She heard something audibly crack, her back aching.

She groaned. “I hate sailing.”

—

The jetty was empty except for a small merchant shack. Constructed of nails and thin wooden boards, the shack looked like it was constantly built and rebuilt – a mobile operation. Sitting behind the booth was an old man with a long white beard and tapered ears. He coughed loudly as they approached, clearing his throat until they acknowledged him.

“Not today, Licky,” Akram said, waving the man off. Momo nursed her swollen back as she saw the elderly man frown at him, raising up a small, wrinkled fist.

“Always the same story from you, Akram. No time for an old man. Disgracious. What would your parents say?”

“They’d tell me to put a bucket on your head and rob you blind.”

Licky turned bright red. “Disgracious, I tell you! Terrible manners, even for a sea scavenger. It’s only polite to browse my wares. Precious wares, they are. Only the best for the traveling salesman. Here I have backpacks of all assortments, suitcases, pet carriers, evolution stones…”

“Evolution stones?” Momo perked up. “Do you have any Death Stones on sale?”

Akram gave her a warning glare. He lowered his tone to a whisper. “Don’t give into him. He jacks up the prices like crazy. Total ripoff.”

“This guy?” Momo whispered back, pointing a thumb at the decrepit shack. “It looks like he owns like, six pieces of gold total. His store is basically falling apart.”

“Right. And you’re just the type to fall for his whole scheme. He tries to look poor for a reason. Uses his [Pitied] skill to the maximum effect, bargaining for totally unreasonable prices.”

Momo gasped. Someone else with the [Pitied] skill? She would never have dreamed of using it so nefariously. She was both impressed and horrified. She briefly considered adding it to her own list of tricks – but she didn’t want to end up with any more skills like the one she got on the boat.

“Here you are, miss,” Licky produced a smooth, black stone and set it on his table. “A genuine Death Stone. It’ll only be ten thousand gold for you today. First time buyer discount.”

Momo approached the stone, eyeing its shiny surface. She picked it up and weighed it in her hands.

Then the price tag sank in.

“I’m sorry – did you say ten thousand?”

Licky nodded. “These stones are incredibly rare, miss. Such a dense concentration of Death magic only happens around haunted graveyards and fresh massacres. Old Licky has to charge a high price tag for acquiring something so dangerous.”

“That... makes sense,” Momo hummed. It was a price she could theoretically afford, having inherited all of Nam’Dal’s money. She had emptied most of the vaults on building rooms for her court, but she was pretty sure there was enough left to justify the purchase. And it would be beneficial to Momo to have the strongest companion possible, after all.

“Don’t you dare take that offer, Momo,” Akram said gruffly. “I can get you the same for under a thousand on the surface. Just ignore the old man and we’ll be on our way.”

Licky scowled at him, pointing an aggravated finger. “Trying to take business away from a poor old man. Cruel! Just cruel!”

Momo felt suddenly, implausibly bad for him. It was an overwhelming feeling, as if she’d just watched his whole family get crushed by a bulldozer. Tears pricked in her eyes.

She was about to make him an offer of twice what he asked for, but then she realized.

It’s his [Pitied] skill.

She shook her head, trying to free herself from it.

“Come on,” Akram said, grabbing her arm forcibly. He dragged her flailing form towards the cave entrance, ignoring her even as she insisted on paying him.

—

It was much easier to leave the Under-Canals than to enter them. Just like at the Drachenheim end, two stone golems guarded the entrance. But when the party approached them, they parted immediately, the rock wall crumbling and releasing them back into the wild.

The wild of Mekna was certainly not the wild of Drachenheim.

They emerged, like before, from a cavern entrance – but instead of falling into dense woodlands, they escaped into a sea of yellow. The sky was bluer here, wider somehow, and the land was bordered by water. The first thing Momo felt was the sand. The impossibly small grains sprinkled into her clogs as she walked. It was scorching hot.

“This sand is evil,” Momo grumbled as they walked to the coastline. "But the water is beautiful." The sea gleamed under the morning sun — stretching for miles and miles, endless. She could see the faint outline of ships, much larger than gondolas, bobbing in the distance.

“A work of art, isn’t she?” Akram said, gesturing to the open water. He walked barefoot in the sand, tying his boots to his backpack. Momo could tell he was much more relaxed here than back in Drachenheim. His eyes were closed, his smile seemingly permanent.

“How are your feet not burning?”

“One of Nerida’s many blessings. Heat-resistant toes.”

Momo laughed. Akram smiled.

They walked until they spotted the town. The beach they had emerged on connected upwards towards a hill. Sitting on the hill was a modest settlement, surrounded by a wooden picket fence. Trading booths like Licky’s sat on the outside of the fence. Most of them were occupied by hawkers – traders with attached caravans who tended to yell slogan after slogan, shelling goods like they chanted sea shanties.

“Buy a flying pegasus! Wings of holy magic, soar throughout the skies!” one sing-songed as they walked towards the front gates. Momo looked towards him, and was surprised to see a small assortment of donkey-like animals sitting in a pen. They had thin gray wings, and three horns sticking out of their forehead.

“Oh my god,” she stopped in her tracks. “Can they really fly?”

“Sure they can,” Radu smirked. “If you count chickens as flying animals.”

Momo frowned. “I don’t appreciate the sarcasm.”

“Don’t get caught up with any of the sales pitches they give you here,” Akram instructed. “There are no trading regulations here in Mekna. No laws about false marketing. Everyone who purchases here is a professional trader, so they’ve got a pre-trained eye for bullshit. You don’t.”

“That’s terrible,” Momo muttered, deflated. “I really wanted a flying pegasus.”

Akram laughed. “The good news is they do exist. But those donkeys probably only have about a twelfth of pegasus blood in them. We call ‘em neighbees. Like Radu said – they’re the chickens of flying horses.”

Momo watched as one of them fluttered upwards, then promptly fell down, splashing into a pond of murky water.

“I want one anyway,” she mumbled. “They’re cute.”

“Later,” Radu rolled his eyes, dragging Momo away from the pen. “I’ve got one month, remember? The malfunctioning pegasi will be here after we save the universe.”

Momo sighed. “Fine.”

A note from villa1ny

To get 26 chapters ahead right now, you can head over there!

Join the Discord / Momo cult here.

– The Squawking Gull Cafe

After tearing an unwilling Momo away from the neighbees, the party proceeded to the entrance gates. The gates were thin and weathered – molding wooden planks and degraded iron bands. The wooden stakes of the surrounding fence were similarly rotten. It was obvious that the traders put more time and money into their extravagant booths than in their surroundings.

“Trader’s emblem, please,” requested the singular guard. He was a man-sized frog, green skin, forked tongue and all, dressed in a shawl and ripped leggings. He didn’t seem particularly threatening, with no weapons on hand except the rock he was gripping tightly in his webbed fingers.

Momo stared at him in disbelief. She thought she had seen the whole of the halfling population, but it appeared the birds and the lizards were only a small sampling. The half-animal kingdom seemed to have a far greater presence in Alois than she was expecting.

“Akram, Captain of the Barium Barge, at your service.”

Akram flashed the emblem on his sleeve, and the guard nodded. He pulled a lever, and the city gates opened with a dramatic woosh. The hawkers standing behind them immediately took notice. The neighbee-seller spun his booth’s mechanical wheels into motion, and the donkey pen began to stumble towards them. It was like a petting zoo on wheels.

“Hurry in, then!” the frog man commanded, shooing them inside. Momo jogged inwards, risking a look behind her just in time to see the donkey pen crash into the front gates. The wooden panels splintered and creaked, and the donkeys whined. The poor things.

“How dare you!” the hawker cried out, banging his fist on the gate. “I have just as much a right to sell my wares inside as a couple of sea-farers do. Discrimination, that’s all this is.”

“Don’t try me with those lies. You know the rules, Dundra. No animals heavier than 200 kg have been permitted within the city walls since the Demonic Doe Incident.”

“My pegasi are a sweet old harmless bunch, nothing like those drugged out deer. Come on, you let me in, you can have a whole litter of my flyers.”

With her ear pressed to the gates, Momo could hear the frog snort.

“If I wanted to move at the pace of a snail and hover about three feet off the ground, I’d install a saddle on one of my geese. Get lost before I throw my rock at ya.”

The hawker, defeated, retreated from the gates. With the fight over, Momo turned back towards the rest of her odd group. Radu and Akram were pouring over a pinboard a few feet away. It was littered with advertisements.

“Ten dragon eggs for ten gold coins, sale ends imminently, buy now or I’ll release the dragons…” Akram muttered, reading off one of the papers.

“Do you like seagulls? How about the ladies? The Squawking Gull Cafe offers sea-side delicacies served to you by the most beautiful women of the Barium Coast. Treat yourself to a chocolate croissant and a rollocking good time for only sixteen gold an hour,” Radu said, growing increasingly uncomfortable the further he read.

“I’m sorry, is that a seagull-themed brothel?” Momo snatched the paper off the pinboard, looking at it in disgust. “Also, pay by the hour seems like a weird business model for an erotic restaurant.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Akram took the paper out of her hands. “The Squawking Gull is way more than that. You can’t get better food anywhere in Mekna, and the service is unbeatable.” He blushed. “I meant the food service. It’s not actually a brothel. The women just dress up as scantily-clad seagulls.”

Momo was about to go on a tirade until she realized that it was essentially an Aloisian version of Hooters. Earth wasn’t exactly setting an inspiring example.

She surveyed the pinboard herself, keeping an eye out for anything suspicious.

“What’s this?” Something caught her eye, and she lifted the red piece of parchment off the board. “Immense power for a fraction of the price. Tired of grinding for levels? Cheat the system and gain the power of the gods. Refunds not available. Sudden death insurance not included.”

She listed off the rest of the disclaimers. Akram and Radu shook their heads.

“Looks like this is going to be easier than we thought,” Radu said. “Where’s our miraculous seller located?”

Momo frowned. No – frowned is too polite. She did something she rarely did. She scowled. She read the location off the page.

“Private Room #3 at the Squawking Gull Cafe.”

—

Mekna was a sprawling, sea-side playground. It extended off the base of the hill and reigned over the beach, supported by giant stone pillars. Very few genuine buildings populated it. Mobile merchant shacks with insane signs and colorful flurries sat up and down the avenues.

The shacks were, of course, inhabited by hawkers. The ones inside the city were slightly more reserved than those lurking outside, but not by much. It was common for a seller to stand outside his stall like an Air Dancer at a car dealership, undulating unnaturally as he spun signs around.

Each sign usually listed an item and an amount: 50kg combusting cardboard, or 300kg polka-dotted cannons. Momo found herself itching to check out each and every last stall.

“Mekna Gazette – all the news King Jarva doesn’t want you to hear!”

The town crier, a green reptile, held a stack of newspapers under his arm. They also gathered around his feet, crumpled and stepped on. He seemed to shell them out like candy. When he was lucky enough to find a paying customer, a passing trader might hand him some coin, grab a gazette, read a single article, and then throw it to the wind.

Using her improved reflexes, Momo was able to grab one of the flying papers.

“Damn, you’ve gotten fast,” Radu muttered as Momo popped the Gazette open.

“Thank you for noticing. I work out.”

“No, you really don’t.”

Momo ignored him.

MEKNA GAZETTE

DAY 52 OF WINTER, YEAR 2023

MAGICAL TURBULENCE: EXPERTS WEIGH IN ON WHAT’S GOING ON

Written by Kelly Kraken

For many months now, magic users have achieved unexpected results from spells that used to be reliable: crop-watering spells that accidentally summon demonic dandelions, wooden chests that are swallowing politicians, black holes opening in grandma’s kitchen. The people are rightfully concerned. Luckily, the newly-appointed High Dancer of Brulane, Devola Wraith, has offered some theories as to why this is happening.

“The universe is getting bored,” she said, tapping a quill to her chin. “We haven’t been giving it a good enough show. No good   drama. Wars used to be waged every day, and now we’re lucky to have one a century. The chaos demands some conflict. It’s simple!”

“Oh my god, Devola got a feature in this,” Momo gasped. She quickly remembered that Radu and Devola didn’t exactly have the best history, and stuffed the gazette in her backpack.

“What was that?” Radu asked.

“Nothing.”

—

Squawking Gull Cafe sat on the farthest perch in the city, directly above the coastline. The view was breathtaking – giant glass panes peering down into the endless water. Despite her reservations, she was quite excited to get a seat by the windows. They waited in a queue for about sixteen minutes until they eventually made it to the front, a hostess greeting them.

“Squawkity squawk, welcome visitors!” the woman greeted. She was wearing a mask over her head – a larger than life, cartoonish seagull. She looked like an entertainer at Disney. “You’re just in time for the lunch special. A full platter of crabs, mussels, and fried clams, for only an extra fifty coins.”

Momo’s mouth watered.

“Yes, that – absolutely,” she stuttered.

“Fantastic, and that will be three patrons?” the woman said. Despite the mask, the rest of her body was remarkably human. She had tanned skin, and wore a one-piece swimsuit, with a white shawl hanging over. A Malibu Bird-barbie.

“Yep,” Momo slid the money out of her pocket, and threw in a hefty tip for the hostess. “Can we get a window seat?”

—

“Look at you and your endless pockets, Miss Richy Rich,” Radu commented as the hostess guided them to the finest table they had available. It was in the outdoor section, on an overlook just above the sea. A pretty, pink umbrella shaded their table.

“Hey, I earned this money the American way,” Momo said as she hopped into one of the matching pink beach chairs. “By doing very little and inheriting a whole lot.”

“American? What is that?”

Momo sighed. “An odd little place I used to live. Don’t worry about it.”

A waitress joined them soon after. She was dressed similarly to the hostess, in a swimsuit with a white linen robe, beach sandals and a seagull mask. The one difference is she wasn’t human. Her skin was leathery and green, either a lizard or some kind of amphibian. Her name tag read Lila.

“Hi there, Lila,” Radu greeted, smiling a little shyly. “Can we get three Shrimp Cocktails?”

“Certainly. The chef is already preparing your lunch special. Is there anything else I can start you with? Any special services?”

Momo’s smile faltered. She glared at Akram. He had distinctly promised this wasn’t a brothel.

“Yes, actually. We’d like to talk to the gentleman in Room #3,” Akram said, ignoring Momo’s glare. “Could you get him for us?”

Momo blinked. Oh. That kind of service.

“Absolutely. He does charge an extra fee to come to your table personally. Is that alright?”

Akram looked at Momo. She shrugged. Radu mouthed Richy Rich again.

“That’s fine.”

The waitress nodded and waddled away.

“An elderly man in a suit with a legion of young women behind him isn’t about to join our lunch, is he?” Momo asked pointedly, staring at Akram. He just laughed, throwing his head back.

“You’ve got quite the sense of humor, you know that?”

The waitress delivered their shrimp cocktails shortly after. Momo ate the shrimp off of hers, abandoning the drink, while Radu and Akram clinked their glasses, downing their drinks – and Momo’s – in under a minute. The sun landed hotly on the deck, and the refreshments helped stave away imminent dehydration.

The deck door slid open again. Momo expected another waitress, and she went to ask for a fresh glass of lemon water. She held her tongue when she saw the real visitor: a man, with a snorkel over his face, an inflatable donut hugging his middle, and two radioactively sunburned feet.

With a grunt, he pulled the snorkel off, revealing the world’s most awkward face tan.

“You called?”

A note from villa1ny

in case you were curious what "neighbees" looked like, it's something like this:

– It’s Hardly a Queendom Without an Army

As the gentleman walked towards them, a waitress hobbled quickly behind. She was carrying a giant yellow beach chair, which she placed a few feet from their table. The merchant handed her his snorkel, grunted “the sharks weren’t out today,” and sat, propping his red feet on the table.

Wasting no time, Momo flashed his advertisement from the pinboard. She knew this place charged by the hour – and despite her new riches, her parents had forever gifted her with the hustler mindset. “Hi there. We heard you’re selling a very powerful item. We’re interested.”

He huffed, rubbing his eyes. Even his corneas looked sunburnt.

“No can do, little lady. I’m afraid I just parted with that item a few hours ago.” He didn’t look enthused about it, his lip twitching. He continued staring off at the shore. “Glad to sell you something else for half price, though. Enchanted sun hats. Water-breathing goggles. And before you ask – the goggles can breathe water. They don’t let you breathe water. Common misconception.”

“Parted with it?” Momo ignored the sales pitch, her hands gripping the edge of the table. “To who, exactly?”

“Customer confidentiality, lass. Can’t share that. Anywho, did you all order some food? My stomach’s growling. Went fishing for my own catch this morning, but nothing good is out there.”

Momo paused. “Fishing? Weren’t you… snorkeling?”

“Sure as hell was,” he patted his inflatable donut. It squeaked like a sick animal. “Men these days don’t fish with their hands anymore. They use silly, feminine things like nets. Rods. A real man uses his own two hands – punches the daylights out of a trout and serves it up hot for dinner.”

That’s a new brand of masculinity, Momo thought. Fish punching.

“I don’t think this is our man, Momo,” Akram remarked, not hiding his distaste. “Wouldn’t know what do with baryte if it was staring him right in the face.”

The man scoffed, his face reddening. “Oh yeah? Tell that to the chunk of change sitting in my room. I sold that sliver of baryte for more coin than a genuine pegasus. The stupid knight who bought it didn’t even bother to haggle.”

A knight. Momo went pale. Radu and Akram had the same thought, the trio all looking at each other in distress. Jarva’s men had already gotten to it.

“You said you sold it a few hours ago?” Momo said weakly.

“Sure did. Was the easiest sale of my life. This idiot blonde prince and his narcoleptic sidekick. You should have seen the grin on his face when I handed it over. Now that’s a happy customer.”

“Holy shit,” Momo shot up from her seat. “Sumire.”

“Looks like he finally got his chance on the Quest,” Radu laughed as he grabbed their belongings, hauling them onto his back. Momo was already halfway through the sliding glass door. The man whipped his head around, bewildered.

“Wait a minute! You haven’t even bought anything yet!”

Akram shot him a smile.

“Sorry, man. Good luck with the handfishing.”

—

Momo barreled down the sand-dusted streets like a misguided bullet. Mekna was still a cacophony of visual noise – hawkers in swimsuits, fish hats, and whacky aprons, with their equally audacious carts and magical boomboxes. It was hard for Momo to hold a single thought in her head.

“You’re not getting away this time,” she muttered to herself.

She cast [Focus], tuning everything out but the idea of that fluffy luhkka, and Roland’s stupid hair. It had the intended effect. All she could hear was the sea, and Radu’s exhausted footsteps trailing behind her.

“Momo, slow down,” Radu pleaded. He was weighed down by Momo’s backpack, barely able to keep pace. “We have to think strategically about this.”

“I – I have to talk to her,” Momo mumbled, not slowing her strut in the least. “We can’t let Roland use her to complete the stone.”

“I’m with you there,” Akram said. Unlike Radu, he easily kept pace with Momo. He wasn’t even jogging, he just walked with his unusually tall legs. “I’m excited to catch up with my little cousin.”

He ground his fist into his open palm. Momo didn’t like the connotation that it had.

Lucky for Sumire, and unluckily for Momo, there was no sight of the knights. They checked every inch of the small town until the sun began to slide over the horizon. And Mekna was no New York – it certainly slept at night. The hecklers receded into sleeping bags. The neighbees snored loudly in their pens. The marketplace all but died under the moonlight.

“There’s fresh horse tracks here,” Radu observed, squatting in the sand by the horse stable. It sat just by the city gates, a small distance from the neighbee pen. “Like, really fresh. They might have just left.”

Groaning, Momo sank to the ground. It wasn’t a pleasant place to sit by any means. It smelled like manure and damp grass. But she couldn’t help it. It felt as if her emotions had been stepped on by a giant, uncaring hoof.

She dug out the shard from her pocket, holding it in her gloved hand. Its opaque, creamy surface gleamed back at her. I can’t believe this stupid little mineral has the world in such a twist, she thought, sighing. She stared up at the sky.

That’s when it caught her attention.

There was a hole.

A hole, sitting right in the stars. Unlike the rest of the black sky, it was white. As if someone had opened up Photoshop, circled a small, lopsided area with the lasso tool, and filled it with the paint bucket. The white wasn’t luminous – it didn’t give off any special sort of light, like a moon or a star. It just… was. And what it was, was extremely disconcerting.

She pointed upwards. “Am I going crazy, or do you guys see that too?”

Akram and Radu gazed up, their eyes widening in tandem.

“Did the sky just… rip open?” Radu said, blinking slowly.

“It’s as if someone took a blade to it,” Akram added.

“It’s the Nether,” Momo said softly, remembering Morgana’s warning. “The sweater is coming undone.”

—

With no leads other than the capital of Jarvirium, the trio decided to stay in Mekna for the night. The lodging was comfortable, if a little sandy, but the sleep was more than necessary – even if half of Momo’s dreams were getting her neck sliced open by a certain Holy Knight.

Eventually, morning dawned, the hawkers returned to their caravans. Momo showered off an evening of sweat-inducing nightmares, slipped into her clothes, and reached for her backpack.

Sitting at the foot of her bed, she stared at her summoning stone.

“I need to talk to you,” she whispered, and then swallowed. “On my terms this time.”

Using her [Nether Cultivator] skill, she funneled energy into the crystal. Please work, she thought, as she visualized Valerica in her tower. The vision suddenly went from abstract to vivid – feeble outlines turned to striking colors. She could practically feel the velvety fabric of the Necromage’s robes, the thin cloth of her wide-brimmed hat.

“Momo,” Valerica turned to her, surprised. It was as if Momo was studying a painterly rendition of the woman, nearly photorealistic, but still a bit surreal. “Great timing as always, dear.”

With an abrupt pop, the artistic portrait became reality. A falling sensation took Momo, funneling her through a tunnel of Nether and pushing her out the other side – on cold, stone floors. This wasn’t Valerica’s tower. They were below-ground, it seemed. No windows. Just candles and bones and ghostly wisps.

Momo almost smiled. It was nostalgic.

Momo looked up to see Valerica sitting cross-legged, a circle of skulls around her. She had been meditating. Probably communing with Morgana, judging by the centerpiece of the ring – a small statuette, strewn in blood. Typical Goddess of Death and Decay decor.

“Valerica,” Momo cleared her throat, gathering herself from the floor. “I need to talk to you.”

“Of course, of course,” Valerica said, beckoning her as if she had planned the entire interaction. Momo cautiously stepped over the bone ring, sitting next to Valerica in the center.

Valerica gently set the statuette of Morgana down. She smiled at Momo. “It’s about time we caught up. I was thinking of sending you a notice by undead pigeon, but I wasn’t sure of your exact location. Didn’t want the poor bird circling all of Alois until its bones fell out.”

“That wouldn’t be good, no,” Momo laughed lightly, blushing under Valerica's smile. She had so much confidence going into the interaction, but it quickly dwindled to nothing as soon as the woman looked at her. It was those eyes. They were bewitching – or perhaps just witching. Two hexes painted on green eyes.

Moving, as she often did, from one tangent to the next, Valerica pinched Momo's shoulder. “Let’s get the small talk out of the way, then. How’s the Oblivion Stone quest going?”

That counts as small talk? Momo thought, blinking stupidly. She suddenly dreaded whatever bigger talking points Valerica had up her sleeve.

“Not great, if I’m being honest,” Momo confessed, producing a sliver of baryte from her pocket. “This is about a sixth of it, I think? And then my friend Akram is wearing some of it on his ears, which he refuses to give me. Doesn’t want me making a World-Ending wish, or whatever. And we had a lead about the rest of the stone, but then Sumire made off with it.”

Valerica’s face fell. “Sumire. That was that terrible murderer’s name. You’re telling me she has the rest of the Oblivion Stone?”

“Probably,” Momo swallowed, regretting her level of detail. “I still don’t want you to kill her.”

“Kill? Who said anything about killing?”

“Um… you? Like a week ago?”

“I’d never act so rashly, Momo. I’m a woman of strategy,” Valerica waved her off, laughing. “Don’t sell yourself short – this is great news. You have half of it yourself, either in your pocket or on your compatriot’s earlobe, and the other half remains with this Sumire. That means the discovery phase is over. We have a singular target.”

Momo perked up. When she put it that way, the situation did sound a lot less hopeless. Valerica really had a knack for turning fatal pessimism into delirious optimism in under two sentences.

But there was one remaining problem.

“Even if that’s true, Sumire is on her way back to Jarvirium," Momo said, deflating slightly. "Kicking Sera out of her seat in Nam’Dal is one thing, but how exactly are we supposed to raid the King of Alois’s capital city?”

Valerica smiled broadly, flashing her fangs. She looked positively energized by the thought.

“With a positive attitude, Momo,” she said. “And a truly disturbing amount of skeletons.”

Valerica snapped her fingers, and the dimly lit room brightened. Rings of torches lit in succession, lighting the chamber in successive halos of light. The chamber slowly revealed itself to be much larger than it let on - and absolutely drowning in the undead.

And not your average undead either – lizard skeletons standing at ten feet tall; orcs with red eyes and rippling muscles; hunched over creatures built of Nether, with spindly black tails and forked tongues.

An entire army, dwelling in silence.

“Oh my god,” Momo gaped. The true size of the room was that of a football field.

“It’s hardly a Queendom without an army,” Valerica shrugged. She picked up the statuette of Morgana, and got to her feet. “Come, dear. Small talk’s over now. Time to really catch up.”

A note from villa1ny

Did you miss Valerica? I did. Writing her gives me an instant 100% serotonin boost.

If you want to read 26 chapters ahead, it's on Ms. Patreon.

– The Wild, Wild West

Valerica led Momo through the legion of motionless undead, weaving around them as if they were mannequins in a retail store. They reached the dead-end of the chamber, and Valerica laid her hand on the wall. It glowed red, and the wall sizzled.

The scorched stone responded with a ghostly hiss, and then began to recede into the ground.

“The door is activated by a temperature of exactly 1000 degrees,” Valerica explained, as if she was touring Momo around a newly renovated kitchen. “If you ever need to access it, there’s always a special password.”

She leaned towards Momo’s right ear, whispered “show me the skeletons,” and strode out towards the open field that waited beyond.

Momo was immediately grateful that Valerica was not born into an era that required advanced cybersecurity. Her password manager would be a royal disaster.

—

If Morgana’s Dawn was a fort – then this was a proper estate. The yard in front of the skeleton-containing keep was boundless, featuring a sprawling garden, copious barns, grazing cows (of the skeletal variety), and several farmhands.

Looking above her, Momo could see that the tower Valerica had been inhabiting was connected to the keep, looming high above the fields and the bordering forests.

“Where exactly are we?” Momo asked as she followed Valerica towards the garden. It wasn’t really a garden in the typical ‘bored housewife obsessively plants daffodils’ type sense, but more a proper crop patch, monitored by several scarecrows and a magical sprinkling system.

“Oh, nowhere really,” Valerica grinned, basking in the sunlight. “Just an uninhabited forest in Alois’s wild, wild West. Here, try one of my squashes. They’re heavenly.”

The crop patch was populated with pumpkin-like vegetables. The pumpkins had the texture and feel of the vegetable, but were visually very different – colored black and white like round skeletons. It was as if a grade schooler had painted them for Halloween.

“It’s an experience patch,” Valerica said, plucking a squash from the ground and handing it to Momo. “Free, delicious XP. Don’t mind the squealing noise when you eat them.”

Her stomach growling, Momo studied the odd vegetable. Can’t be any worse than what she’s fed me before, Momo thought. She took an experimental bite of the black-and-white squash. It tasted surprisingly buttery, as if it had been freshly microwaved.

As she swallowed, a piece of parchment tunneled out of the ground like a mole.

125 experience points gained in [Corrupted Druid].

“Huh,” Momo remarked, picking up the parchment and taking another bite. “That’s amazing. I can just gain experience from eating?”

“Wonderful, aren’t they? My bedside book as of late has been Raising Undead: An Intro to Corpse Farming. At first I was just skimming it to fend off the boredom, but then I got my first round of seedlings, tended to them for a bit, and voilà.”

Momo’s stomach made a worrying gnashing sound. She held it, and another courier tunneled out of the ground.

Congratulations! You sure like to dance with death. You have gained the personal skill [Poison Resistance I].

Momo frowned, and looked at Valerica. “Are you sure you’re not trying to kill me?”

“Building up your immune system is quite the opposite of killing you, my dear Momo.”

Not completely satisfied with that answer, Momo set down the rest of the squash. At her current level, 125 experience points just wasn’t enough to justify continual self-poisoning. Although acquiring Poison Resistance as a skill was a nice bonus, she was sure Valerica would just use it as an excuse to continue upping her dose until she had unwillingly reached [Poison Resistance IV].

One of Valerica’s farmhands – a skeleton chewing a bundle of wheat head – strode by on his plow, two skeletal horses leading it. Valerica flashed him a smile and a thumbs up, watching proudly as he made room for the next set of undead seedlings to be planted.

Meanwhile, the patch’s resident scarecrow started engaging in a heated conversation with the crow it was trying to stave off, waving its stuffed hands rabidly at the bird. The raven cawed in return, stamping the scarecrow’s eyes with its talons.

“Is… everything here undead?” Momo said, tentatively stepping over the squash. She was scared they were about to come alive and bite her ankles.

“Of course. I don’t dabble with the living, too much drama. I tried hiring a living farm manager at first, but his poison resistance was pitifully low,” Valerica sighed. “I told him not to sample the product, but he couldn’t resist. Now he’s my undead farm manager.”

She pointed to a man in the far distance. He was leaning on the fence, a straw hat draped over his gaunt cheeks. He was counting banknotes. From the color of them, they had to be in the thousands. Momo’s eyes widened.

“While you’ve been growing our Queendom’s capital of Nam’Dal, I’ve been busy growing our ranks on the western front. I started by summoning a swath of weaker undead, thousands of toy soldiers, but then I figured – how do I create an army where every soldier is as strong as a knight?”

Valerica led her towards the first barn. Momo realized it was the exact barn they had back in the Dawn – only it had been renovated, with several additions added: a second floor, a porch, a horse stable. Momo grinned as she recognized the faces of her cow friends, sleeping peacefully with their stomachs sagging out.

The deck consisted of a jacket pole and two rocking chairs. Valerica grabbed a straw hat off the pole and dipped into one of the chairs, beckoning Momo into the other one. Momo couldn’t help but smile in amusement. Valerica looked like a certified Kentucky farmer. All she’d need was a little southern drawl, a bible, and a shepherd dog to order around and she’d fit right in.

“You were saying?” Momo encouraged her. The Necromage had trailed off, distracted by her farm. Momo could tell she felt a sense of motherly ownership over it – the way she doted on her farmhands, poured over her crops, sat politely in her chair.

Valerica laughed, drawing her attention back towards Momo. “Right. So, as an Excalibur, I can summon large numbers of petty undead – but I’m no god – I can’t make an unbeatable, all-powerful legion. But I realized, that’s no matter. No class or rank could replace my priceless talent for workplace management.”

She waved towards her fields. Momo noticed that the scarecrow had left its post and was now roaming freely through the fields, watering crops with a watering can. A crowd of undead farmhands were picking black radishes out of soil. A murder of crows was pecking at weeds.

“The lesser undead – my wonderful farmhands – grow the experience plants, which they then feed to the greater undead, the soldiers from the fort. While undead cannot engage in the mortal class system, they can gain pure experience, which will grow their base stats,” Valerica explained, reclining in her chair and placing the straw hat over her eyes. “And all I have to do is sit back, relax, and sunbathe.”

This is a big change from her cave-dwelling lifestyle, Momo thought. Still, it was genius. Valerica had created a self-sufficient experience farm which trained soldiers without committing them to a single bit of combat.

“So…” Momo blinked, trying to process everything she heard. “You’ve essentially trained an unstoppable force to overtake Jarva’s kingdom?”

Valerica sighed. She hoisted her legs up into her chair, hugging them around her knees. It was the sweetest and most unassuming version of her that Momo had ever seen – dressed in a straw hat, a short sundress, with her feet tucked beneath her lap. Despite everything, it somehow suited her.

“Overtaking the kingdom might be a stretch. They still haven’t reached their full potential. But time is of the essence, and luckily we possess a tool far greater than any army,” Valerica gave her a peachy smile. “You, my dear. My unstoppable force of nature.”

Momo looked down at herself. She had been swinging her feet back and forth, nearly sending her clogs through the air and into the closest pumpkin patch.

“I know you believe that,” for whatever insane reason, Momo wanted to add. “But I’m not sure, Valerica. I’m at a dead end. Sumire has the rest of the stone, and she’s headed to the capital. Without an army…”

“I said my army wasn’t ready to overtake Jarvirium just yet. We must bide some time. But you don’t need to overtake it, Momo. Not yet. You said it yourself – all you need is the Oblivion Stone. And was I not honest the day that I picked you from the Nether? I picked you because you’re unassuming, Momo. Small. Quaint. A fly on the wall. Adorable,” Valerica grinned. “If anyone can sneak into the lair of the King and pluck the God Stone out of his quarters, it’s you.”

Momo stared at her like she was insane.

“You really think I can perform a literal heist on the capital?”

“I know you can,” Valerica winked. “We both do.”

She pointed towards the skies. Momo inferred what she meant.

“Speaking of that,” Momo cleared her throat. She stared at the statuette of Morgana that was sitting by Valerica’s feet, still dripping in blood. “I was hoping to talk to her.”

A note from villa1ny

Farmer Valerica art, because of course:

Support the undead farm and read 27 chapters ahead on Patreon.

– Strawberry Cream Cheese Bagel

Momo wasn’t sure where she got the confidence, or the stupidity, to demand a conversation with the famed Queen of the Afterlife, Coparent of Everything, but she did. She absolutely did.

And now she was wobbling in a rocking chair, a statuette of Morgana in her lap, a gaping white hole in the sky, and Valerica was whistling a butchered version of the Final Jeopardy tune.

“Just tap her head,” Valerica mimed the movement for Momo. “She put me on hold an hour ago, so perhaps she’s back now. Something about the universe and a knit sweater… I know I mix my metaphors, but she’s on a whole other level of cosmic nonsense. It’s inspirational, really.”

Valerica laughed to herself and tipped the straw hat over her face again. A few seconds later, she was snoring. What was really inspirational was the speed in which she could go from lucid to asleep. Only Sumire could rival her.

Throwing caution to the wind, Momo tapped Morgana’s head.

—

“What can I get you?”

“Oh, I’ll take the Extra Spicy Italian, vegan. Make sure it’s the vegetable paddy, too. No soy. It upsets my stomach.”

Momo’s vision turned from black to brown to blazing red, finally settling on the completely un-radiant landscape of a Subway sandwich shop. She was laying face flat on a sticky tabletop, the thick aroma of deli meats wafting through the air.

A woman, dressed in a black, satin gown, had her finger pressed to the glass dividing the employees from the public. Her breath was fogging up the glass.

“Can you pick up the pace a little?” she asked, worrying her lip. “I don’t mean to rush you, I’m just worried the Nether will get a little finicky, and I’ll never get my sandwich. It wouldn’t be the first time this week.”

“Of course, ma’am.”

A man with a walrus head loaded the baguette up with ingredients. He fitted the sandwich into a bag, and rang up the register.

“That’ll be… money,” he said, pulling a small lever. Ka-ching. The register opened, then closed. Then promptly exploded into confetti. “Would you like to pay by cash or card?”

“Card,” the woman said. Her side profile became visible as she reached for her pocketbook. It was Morgana – with her raven hair and sloping nose. She extracted a credit card and laid it on the table. “Here you are. How much was it again?”

“Money, I think?” He scratched his blue head. “Sorry. I don’t feel so good. Been working since 6AM, and this shift has been brutal. Every hour or so I switch jobs – started at Disney World in Florida, then the one in Paris, then a boutique in Stockholm, and now I’m working a Subway. I think. I’m only guessing by the sandwiches.”

“Sounds awfully confusing, dear,” Morgana said sympathetically. “Let me give you a tip. Here.”

She placed the card on the table and it produced a soft buzzing noise. He thanked her profusely, she nodded, taking her sandwich to sit. She joined Momo at her table in the far corner.

“Momo,” she said, biting into it with a pleased hum. “You’re looking sharp. I like the clogs.”

Before Momo could reply, the scene changed. The Subway lights flashed into the dim fluorescent bulbs of a downtown metro station. Subway to a subway. Their dining table had transformed into an equally sticky bench. It was louder now, brimming with hurried voices. Frantic footsteps and screeching metal echoed down the corridors.

“Oh, thank the Nether, my sandwich is still with us,” she groaned, taking another bite. A stream of passengers exited from the train cart, parting around them like they were a rock in a river.

“Morgana, thanks for making the time to talk to me,” Momo’s voice wavered. She looked around them, endlessly confused. “I’m sorry, but – what’s happening?”

“Did you not receive my memo?”

“Memo? Yes, I did. I think. The thing about the electrician, right? Look, I’ve been trying to put the stone back together, but it’s not so easy. The Barium Sea scavengers cut it up into lots of parts, and this girl Sumire has the missing half of it, and she’s in Jarvirium, which, as you know, is probably a super sketchy place for a necromancer to be walking around in –”

Morgana swallowed the last piece of sandwich. She made a disgruntled noise.

“Delicious. How unfortunate that it’s probably the only meal I’ll have the pleasure of eating this week,” she sighed. She checked her watch. It was an archaic thing – with only a singular hand, which ticked every so often, at its leisure. “I think we have about an hour and a half until the Nether completely collapses. That’s not so much time, Momo.”

Momo paled, her mouth falling open. “What?”

“In Nether Standard Time, of course. It’ll be much different on Alois. Plenty of time for you to get that whole Oblivion Stone business sorted,” she assured her, patting Momo on the shoulder.

“That’s what I’m trying to talk to you about,” Momo said, her voice small but persistent. “When I get the stone – if I get the stone – what do I do with it? I don’t know what to wish for. I’m just a girl from Earth. I don’t know how to fix the Nether.”

“Earth,” Morgana’s eyes widened slightly. She smiled. “Right. I remember now.”

The trains around them stilled. Travelers froze mid-movement, their knees hanging in the air. The only noticeable movement was a rat – unaffected by the magic – who looked skeptically at them as he nibbled at a piece of discarded pizza. He shoved an entire piece of pepperoni in his cheeks.

“This was the New York City metro, circa, err, 2017,” Morgana said, pointing to a digital display. It read out the current time and date. “I used to come to New York a lot back then.” She sighed, nostalgic. “There’s nothing like the strawberry cream cheese from Bagel Emporium.”

“You… visited Earth? How?”

“I used to have a lot more time on my hands before Kyros slacked off,” she said bitterly. “I thought I was giving him the hard job when I tasked him with being the God of Morality. Turns out nothing is easier than pointing at what you don’t like and going ‘this is bad, everyone hate this.”

God of Morality? That’s his domain? That explained why the entirety of Alois was obsessed with Holy Knights as Good and necromancers as Bad and Evil. If you control the narrative of the universe, it’s pretty easy to sway things your way.

Momo’s brain pulsed unpleasantly. She was getting another intellectual migraine.

“If he’s the God of Morality, then what is your job, exactly?”

“Everything else,” Morgana sighed. She rolled her sandwich wrapper into a ball and chucked it at the motionless train. It stalled mid-air. “I thought I could handle it – everything, that is – but it turns out when your electrician is out of town, and you don’t know the first thing about quantum intermolecular universe engineering, everything goes down the drain fast. Real fast.”

Momo felt an entirely odd emotion to feel about a god – pity. Morgana looked like any other downcast New Yorker, sitting tired and dejected, staring at a train that was broken, yet still passing her by.

“What about the other gods? Can’t they help?”

“Ugh, them. I tried that method. I'm at a stalemate. Half the pantheon supports me, the other half cowers in fear of Kyros. No one wants to be deemed the bad guy by The Singular Best Good Guy In Existence. It’s a losing game.”

Momo felt rage building within her. In the oddest of neurological connections, she saw her own grandmother’s features pass over Morgana’s face. She had heard this story before.

“But if I got the Oblivion Stone, I could fix it, right? Sway them against him somehow?”

Morgana shrugged. Her perky façade had faded, leaving a dejected ghost in its wake.

“Maybe. I’m not sure there’s any wish you could make – any law you could introduce – that could stop this from happening again. I try to deny it, but I’m overwhelmed. The other gods grow complicit in their domains, fat in their riches. But any time the threads of the Nether start to fray, it is me, alone, who deals with the consequences.”

A long silence hung over them. The rat finished off the slice of pizza, ducking under the train tracks and burrowing into a hole in the foundation.

Momo’s hands turned to fists.

“No.”

Morgana’s eyebrows rose. She turned to her smaller companion.

“No?”

“No,” Momo reiterated. Tears threatened her eyes, and she rubbed at them uselessly. “I’m going to fix this. And I know exactly how.”

The motors resumed their hum, and the trains whirred back into motion.

—

A blackbird landed on the deck, chirping softly as Momo regained consciousness.

A piece of parchment was laying on her stomach. It was dotted with those familiar koi fish.

Morgana’s Blessings

I: [Primordial Knowledge]

II: [Nether Immunity]

III: [Strawberry Cream Cheese Bagel]

IV: ???

V: ???

[Strawberry Cream Cheese Bagel]: A taste of home. A blessing modeled after Morgana’s favorite snack, this item is a one-time use consumable. It will boost a stat of your choice by 5 points.

“Huh,” Momo said, mind still reeling. “Interesting.”

A shadow in the shape of a straw hat draped over Momo.

“A bagel? Oh, you’re one very lucky girl,” Valerica teased. “Come, your summoning stone has been buzzing for hours. I think your lizard misses you.”

A note from villa1ny

– New Quest: The Oblivion Heist

The memory of her conversation with Morgana sitting at the forefront of her mind, Momo's anxiety briefly melted away as she entered the barn’s second floor addition. It was a sight to behold, and Valerica was obviously proud of it. She grinned at her, whispering “isn’t it sublime?”

And it was; the floors were covered end-to-end in plush, red rugs. There were brilliant tapestries hung from every wall corner, lamps made of jade and sinew. A small shrine to Valerica's baubles.

“Rugs made of authentic Demon Sheep wool,” she emphasized, beckoning Momo towards a sofa. If Momo admired nothing else about Valerica, she admired her commitment to the principle of Intermittent Sitting. That between activities – and often important, life-altering conversations – one should find a new place to sit, drink a beverage, and laze around. Staying in one place was drab, sitting in a menagerie of locations was luxurious.

An oak coffee table sat in front of the sofa, and Momo’s summoning stone sat atop the coffee table. It was buzzing like an iPhone on vibrate mode.

“Ugh, I wish I could turn that thing off. I'm not ready to leave yet,” Momo sighed, putting her feet up on the coffee table. “I wish I could just stay here forever.”

“Oh, Momo. Once the war is won, I welcome you to," Valerica said in a slow, ridiculous drawl, smiling with her fangs. "We can grow old here together, watch the cows graze, the scarecrows squawk. There’s nothing more a woman could wish for than a little company and the wide open, undead wilderness.”

Momo blushed profusely.

That doesn't sound like such a bad life.

They sat in silence for a while, the only noise being the stone trembling on the tabletop. The sight of it reminded Momo of the conversation she just had with Morgana, universes away. The empty, defeated look on the Goddess’s face as she stared at the passing train.

Momo gripped the arm of the couch.

I’m going to fix this.

“I know what I’m going to do with the Oblivion Stone.”

Valerica opened her eyes. “Oh?”

“Yeah. I have an… idea. A way to help Morgana.“

“Does it involve stabbing Kyros with many tiny, but fearsome daggers?”

"Um, not quite."

Momo straightened her back. It was objectively an insane idea – but it was something.

“I’m going to hire a new Nether Electrician.”

“A…" Valerica squinted at her, uncharacteristically confused. "What?”

“Oh. Well. Morgana has been going on and on about this electrician guy – the one who got stuck on Earth, obsessively watching football. Apparently he’s the only one who can repair the Nether, cross the right wires, keep the chaos in check. It's a big, important job, but the doop refuses to show up for work.”

Understanding dawned across Valerica's phase, and she frowned. “Ah, yes, now I know who you’re talking about. Brady. That’s the name I hear he goes by now. His former name was Dragos. Dreadful man, terrible fashion sense, but uncannily good at what he did. He was the Lesser God of the Nether. Morgana’s errand boy.”

“Lesser God?" Momo squinted. "I didn’t know they had those. I thought it was an all-powerful or nothing type situation.”

“Mm. On Earth, you all refer to them as angels. They’re deities who were blessed with a fraction of the power of a proper god, but unlike proper gods, they can walk the mortal plane. They usually don’t, though. Brady is an egregious example.”

“Uh huh. So is Nether Electrician like, a class?" Momo quirked her head. "Is there a way I could evolve Corrupted Druid into it?”

“Ah, not quite. Lesser Gods, like Gods, are part of the God System. It’s separate from the mortal system we participate in. Participation in one system negates the other.”

“What if… it didn’t?" Momo said, the thoughts slowly connecting. "What if I used the Oblivion Stone to create a path between the two?”

Valerica’s eyes widened. She was unusually silent.

“That would be quite… astonishing.”

Momo nodded, her excitement growing. It hadn’t seemed plausible before, but now she had a trajectory. A real plan. “I could make it so the next tier after Excalibur is Lesser God, but only for classes under Morgana's domain. A streamlined way for necromancers to ascend to petty godhood, or whatever. I wouldn’t be able to jump power levels right away, but you could. You’d be able to climb the ladder immediately, become the new Nether Plumber, and help Morgana out on her home turf.”

“Oh, Momo,” Valerica was… blushing? Momo had never seen her do that before. Her face had gone prettily red, her smile slim. “What a devilish, cunning, irreprensible idea.”

Momo looked away. Coming from Valerica, that was the ultimate compliment.

“It could work,” Momo said, hands balling into fists. “It could really work. I just need to ask you a small favor.”

—

You have accepted the quest [The Oblivion Heist] given by questgiver [Valerica].

Quest completion condition: Steal the remaining shards of the Oblivion Stone.

Bonus objective: Merge the Oblivion Stone back together.

Quest rewards:

- 50,000 XP in [Corrupted Druid]

- Skill Book (Expert-grade)

- Skill Book (Excalibur-grade)

- Bonus reward: Oblivion Stone

—

“I miss when my quests were like – kill vampire in cave,” Momo grumbled, reviewing the quest from the floor of the inn. After talking through a few more practicalities, Valerica sent Momo on her way back to Mekna. The stone popped her back out onto the inn floor, quest parchment in tow.

Bang. Bang.

Momo’s attention flicked to the door. A loud knocking came from the other side.

“Momo, we’re about to break this door down,” Radu’s muffled voice yelled. “I know how you feel about extended naps, but the literal sky is falling.”

What? Momo stumbled forward. Her legs still numb from interdimensional travel, she crawled to the door, unlocking it with a pained flick of her wrist.

“Okay, here we go –” Radu’s foot, which had been meant for the door, flew forward. He rolled into Momo’s room, flew right past her, and knocked his head on a table leg. He groaned.

“Nice one, lizard brains,” Akram smirked.

“Shut up.”

“Happy to see you’re still alive, Ripper girl,” Akram offered her a hand. Momo took it gladly, sighing as she regained her footing. Teleportation fatigue was like jet lag on steroids. “Me and the prince-to-be were starting to get concerned. If the meteor shower didn’t wake you up, it's hard to know what would.”

“Stop calling me that,” Radu grumbled, holding a hand to his head. “Great. I’m definitely suffering some internal bleeding.”

Ignoring Radu’s complaints, Momo gaped at Akram.

“I’m sorry – Meteor shower?”

He shrugged. “That’s what the locals are calling it. I think they’re wrong. It looks more like a cloud fall. My ancestors spoke of it. In times of the Ending Stone, clouds fall from the sky, like lumps of godly white.”

“That sounds terrifying.”

“It is.”

Out of nowhere, the inn trembled. As if an earthquake had struck it, the walls shook, the bed frame whined, and the glass panes of the windows shattered. Momo grabbed Akram’s arm out of impulse. The man was supernaturally steady.

After a minute, the quaking stopped. An opaque, white mass had fallen just outside the window.

“Oh my god, it’s giant gelato,” Momo said, disbelieving. “It looks so light and fluffy.”

“It’s a lot denser than it looks,” Akram said, leading Momo forward towards the window. “Clouds are just vapor up in the skies, but during a cloud fall, they accumulate a lot of mass as they drop.”

“I tried punching one. It was like fistfighting a brick wall,” Radu added. He hadn’t made it off the floor yet, still nursing his invisible wounds. “If that thing is blocking our exit out of the inn, we’re totally stuck.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Akram laughed. He rolled up his sleeves, and aimed his open hand at the window. Blue light pulsed from his palm. “[Dehumidify].”

The light enveloped the cloud. Seconds later, its opaque surface turned translucent. Momo could see the faces of hawkers, their feet pedaling fast as their caravans bobbed behind them. It was total, unmitigated chaos in the streets. Clouds had crushed buildings completely, toppled stalls, broken the locks off of pens.

“Oh no,” Momo panicked. “The neighbees.”

She climbed out of the window, easily pushing through the cloud. It was like walking through a sauna. She emerged on the other side damper than before, her too-long hair sticking to her neck like damp spaghetti.

She looked towards the entrance gates. As she feared, the donkey pen had been abandoned. Its owner had gone running for the hills when the clouds began to fall. The neighbees had huddled together in a corner, squeamishly trembling as they stared at the white mass that had befallen their brethren.

Momo tugged at Akram’s sleeve. “That one’s hoof is stuck underneath.” She pointed to the single neighbee which had been caught under the white mass. Its right leg was pinned underneath it, the rest of it thrashing and gnawing at the air.

“The skill has a five minute cooldown.”

“That’s not enough time,” Momo insisted, crestfallen. She took matters into her own hands and stalked towards the pen, taking a knee by the fallen not-pegasus. It looked at her with big, swollen eyes, bleating helplessly. “You poor thing. Let’s get you out of here.”

She wound both hands around the neighbee’s ankle, tugging softly. Unfortunately, it was just as Radu said. The cloud was unbelievably heavy. She groaned, straining every tendon in her body to lift the sphere of white off of the donkey’s ankle.

She cried, her arms failing her. She wasn’t strong enough.

“Stupid, evil, massive gelato.”

Closing her eyes, she imagined a version of herself who was strong enough to lift it. A cross between herself, a WWE wrestler, and Machamp from Pokemon FireRed – ripped muscles, giant forearms. An unhealthy relationship with whey protein.

“[Summon Lesser Familiar],” she mumbled.

After a few, somber moments, Momo opened her eyes. She was immediately aghast. The monstrosity was far beyond her Frankensteinian fears. It was a bastardized version of herself: purple-gray skin, hooded eyes, and arm muscles the size of Venus.

Even the donkey, crushed under the cloud, was moved to terrified speechlessness.

The Nether Momo breathed heavily, staring at her with absent eyes. Momo gulped.

“Steroids Momo, please lift the cloud,” she ordered.

The beast didn’t even nod – it just went to work. With a strained moan, it heaved the cloud upwards, deadlifting it. The neighbee was able to escape, freeing its ankle and wailing as it scurried away towards its pack.

A courier greeted Momo just as her summon dispersed.

Congratulations! What a display that was. For summoning a Lesser Nether Momo (Deadlifter Variant) to free a struggling creature, you have reached level 8 in [Corrupted Druid].

[Dark Healing] has been upgraded to [Dark Healing II]. It now heals for 50 HP instead of 20. The unsavory side effects remain… unsavory.

[Polymorph - Tree Stump] has been upgraded to [Polymorph - Tree]. You can now choose whether to transform into a meager stump, or a blossoming cherry blossom tree. No Demonic All-Powerful Trees, though. That’s for later.

[Bestiary] has been upgraded to [Automatic Bestiary]. When you focus on an animal, or a summoned creature, you will immediately identify it. To avoid wasting too much paper, you’ll receive this information intravenously*

*Warning: Intravenous courier distribution is a prototype feature. Dragos was supposed to finish it last month, but you know how that story ends. Please send any bug reports to The Skeeviest Dive Bar in Southie, Boston.

Momo sighed. The [Dark Healing] upgrade was useful, but the Tree one was… less so. Now that she could fly using [Polymorph - Merlin], there was no need to abuse the tree polymorph for crash landings. Still – she was sure, in the infinite weirdness that was Alois, that it would come in handy eventually.

It was the [Bestiary] upgrade that intrigued her the most. Specifically the wording, and more so, the warning. Intravenously – what the hell was that supposed to mean? Her curiosity got the better of her, and she walked up to the mountain of neighbees. She honed in on the squealing, injured donkey at the bottom.

Type: Neighbee. Name: Unnamed. Level 0.

HP: 12 / 35

Only one twelfth pegasi, the creatures colloquially known as neighbees are four-legged mammals from the Meridian Planes. The wings, an evolutionary remnant of their purebreed ancestors, no longer serve any function. While they aren’t as useful as a pegasus, neighbees are hardy, and fiercely loyal sidekicks who have a soft spot for sweets.

Momo’s skin crawled as she heard the information dictated to her. It was as if she was listening to a poorly narrated audiobook. The voice seemed artificially generated – like someone had run Megan Fox’s interview recordings through a poorly tuned machine learning model.

Still, it was better than a piece of paper hurtling at her at German autobahn speeds every time she looked at an animal.

Its health is awfully low, Momo thought. If it got struck by another falling cloud, it would be toast.

“C’mere,” she cood. She dug a cat treat out of her pocket and offered it to the donkey-thing. It sniffed it apprehensively, smacking its lips. After a moment of consideration, it took the snack.

With the creature sufficiently distracted, Momo took the opportunity to press her hands softly on the neighbee’s side.

“[Dark Healing].”

Wisps of dark magic curled around the beast. Too concerned with the sugary snack Momo gave it, the neighbee barely noticed as the spell melted into its fur. Only after it was finished eating did it turn to Momo, peering at her gratefully.

Another courier bounced off the nearby cloud, landing in front of Momo. It seemed not-Megan Fox would only be delivering extraneous information.

You have gained a new companion creature: Neighbee, Level 0.

Do you wish to name it?

A quill was attached. Momo grabbed it just as she heard Radu laughing behind her.

“Clouds are falling out of the sky, and you’re still more concerned with the life of a donkey.”

Momo gave him a sour look. She scribbled a name on the page.

The name has been chosen: Lizard Eater.

“Lizard Eater,” Momo instructed, petting the neighbee behind the ears. “I present to you, your first meal,” she pointed at Radu. “Bon Appetit.”

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– Kami’s Redoubt

The party gathered themselves on the beach. The clouds refused to fall on the sandy shores, so all of Mekna’s merchants hauled their goods there. High tide painted their carts wet and soggy, but it was better than the alternative – crushed under a 15,000 pound cloud.

In the meantime, Lizard Eater and Dusk formed a fast friendship. The neighbee loved burying seashells in the sand, and Dusk loved digging them up. The two weaved between carts, stealing bits and bobs from unsuspecting merchants. They looked like a spinoff of Tom and Jerry – or whatever you might title a show about a flying donkey and his undead cat.

Akram was sitting in the sand, his map of the Under-Canals spread out over his lap. Radu stood over his shoulder, an angry bump protruding from his skull. Momo tried not to laugh.

“Our best bet is riding the canals until we hit Kami’s Redoubt.” Akram pointed to a landmark in the north, an hour outside of Jarvirium. It was a speck compared to the sprawling capital city. “The capital will be heavily guarded – and Jarva’s hounds can smell necromancy a mile away. Kami’s is a criminal outpost just outside the city. We can get fitting disguises there.”

“Wait.” Radu froze. “Kami as in, like, the Kami?”

“Which other Kami is there?”

“Who is Kami?” Momo said, staring in bewilderment at both of them.

“Kami is an Excalibur Phantom Thief. Notably, Mordecai’s only Excalibur,” Radu emphasized the point with some bitterness. “He was the mastermind of the infamous Magelegs Company. Of course, most people only know Magelegs because of Olivia Magelegs. She was meant to be the first Excalibur, but her untimely death put Kami second in line.”

“God, that name,” Momo bit down on her lip, trying not to laugh. “Was her last name really Magelegs? It’s just so ridiculous.”

“That’s your takeaway?”

“Sorry. Excalibur thief, got it. And I’m guessing his rank is why he gets to have an outpost near Jarvirium without Jarva breathing down his neck?”

“Exactly,” Akram said with a nod. “Just like Radu’s impotent uncle, he was impartial during the Dark Calamity. He went awol for a few years, but now he’s back. Some rumors say he’s planning an attack on the capital, others say he’s Jarva’s new dog on a leash. Either way, his outpost is a safer bet for us than waltzing into the capital.”

“That’s for sure,” Radu added, grumbling. Momo could tell he was annoyed that Akram knew more than him about the whereabouts of this Phantom Thief. Seeing as Mordecai was technically Radu’s god of choice, it probably stung that he had such little communication with him.

Not everyone could be as… hands on as Morgana, Momo supposed.

"Alright, then. Let's head out," Momo said, with the two others offering a nod. Just as she was about to whistle for Dusk, a courier peaked out from under the sands.

Congratulations! Your animal companions Lizard Eater and Dusk have had a successful co-training session. Lizard Eater is now a level 1 [Companion]. Dusk is now a level 4 [Phantom].

Lizard Eater learned the skill [Dig].

Dusk learned the skill   [High Jump].

“Wait, what?” Momo remarked, watching as the parchment disintegrated. “All it took for Dusk to level up again was to have her play with a donkey for thirty minutes?”

“Beasts gain most of their experience in training and in battle,” Akram said, matter-of-fact. It made Momo think of Sumire’s seadog, Flippers. She wondered if Akram had trained him much. “If your companion hasn’t been leveling, it means she hasn’t been getting her claws dirty.”

“But I don’t want her to get hurt,” Momo frowned. “She’s just a cat.”

“Isn’t she an undead cat, though?” Radu asked, judgment dripping from his voice. “She can’t even die. All you have to do is raise her from the dead again.”

“Okay, well, yeah. But that doesn’t mean I want to watch her bones get tossed around,” Momo crossed her arms. “If I could evolve her into something a little bit stronger, then I’d feel better about using her like a proper battle cat. But Akram still hasn’t gotten the Death Stone he promised me.”

Akram huffed. He looked away, a guilty look on his face. He had promised.

“I’m a man of my word, Ripper. We’ll get one for you at Kami’s.”

“Fine,” Momo said, and beckoned for Dusk. The cat jumped onto her shoulder, falling along her neck like a scarf. “Until then, the cat stays inside the bag.”

—

One, minor miscalculation – while the Big Bloody Backpack might have fit a cat, a flying donkey was another matter entirely.

“Sit down, Lizard Eater,” Momo pleaded, dragging the neighbee’s butt onto the floor of the boat for the hundredth time. The animal was apparently scared of rushing water, and had continually been trying to float upwards. The problem with floating on a moving vehicle, of course, is that the vehicle will move on without you.

Luckily, Momo had cat treats. Many cat treats. The donkey was quite fond of them, and after an hour of coaching, it had reliably learned the “sit” command. All Momo had to do was make a fist, and the creature would lie flat on the boat, its thin tail wagging back and forth obediently.

“I’ve heard of seadogs, but never sea donkeys,” Radu muttered. He was sitting at the other end of the boat, staring in annoyance at the creature. Ever since Lizard Eater had received his name, he had also developed a characteristic hatred for Radu, and would bark and whine at him every time he got close.

Radu, of course, hated this. Momo thought it was hilarious.

“It’ll be best to keep a low profile when we arrive,” Akram suggested, his fingers tightly coiled on the oar. “The place is crawling with lowlifes, but they all have the same sort of profile. They’re either broke chumps who couldn’t make it in Nam’Dal, or conniving locals looking to recruit you into a pyramid scheme. Don’t trust a soul.”

Momo nodded. “Okay, so this place is basically like, Nam’Dal's House of Rejects?”

“Pretty much. Of course, the Thieves Guild in Nam’Dal has suffered in recent years. Lots of thieves defected looking to make better coin, and gathered at Kami’s. It’s possible that he’s masterminding a new group here. A new generation of the Magelegs Company.”

“Hopefully with a more menacing name this time,” Momo laughed.

“You really aren’t from around here, are you, Momo?” Radu shook his head. “The name Magelegs sends a shiver down the spine of just about every man, woman, lizard or gnome in Alois. She’s a literal King Killer.”

“And her son is a literal Massive Brat,” Momo deadpanned. She wondered how poor Trent was doing at Devola’s Dance School. Maybe he was top of his Ballet class at this point. “She couldn’t have been that bad. Her best friend is a crazy woman with emotionally-controlled hair.”

“Sure, Momo. Stay delusional.”

The ride continued for several more hours, and Momo eventually seized the opportunity to nap. They arrived just a few minutes before sundown, at a dock similar to the one in Mekna. This one was fully abandoned, not a merchant or scam artist in sight – just cobwebbed planks of wood dancing on the water.

“So, to review our plan,” Akram cleared his throat, stopping them all before the exit. Two stone golems stood over him, leery of the sea scavenger. “We get in, we stay discreet, and we grab a Potion of Concealing Death for the foul-smelling one.”

Momo glared at him. “For the last time, I do not smell bad. You should smell my boss.”

“Comparison is the thief of reality, Momo,” Akram said, scrunching his nose. “And you smell like a decomposing skeleton. Most likely because you let one lay around your neck.”

Dusk meowed at him. Lizard Eater took that as a command, and snarled at his ankles.

“Down, boy,” Akram urged. “Momo, keep your pets in order.”

“They’re not pets, they’re companions. I don’t own them. They do what they want.”

Akram sighed. Radu smirked at him.

“Welcome to my life, man.”

—

Kami’s Redoubt was barely an outpost. It was an encampment at best, an assembly of in-betweeners, a few bottles of ale, a pile of firewood, and a lot of loose chickens. It sat in the low woods below the towering capital, surrounded by spiked fences, and no obvious entrances or exits.

Luckily, they didn’t arrive by conventional means. The Under-Canal’s exit required climbing up a ladder and emerging through a sewer grate. Momo's was greeted firstly by the outsole of a shoe.

“Someone nearly stepped on me,” Momo hissed, ducking her head back into the grate. Radu and Akram, sitting just below her on the ladder, peered their heads up. She had lost a game of rock, paper, scissors, and was forced to go first.

Then again, Akram got stuck with a donkey hauled over his shoulder, so there were worse fates.

“Well, tough luck. Now move, before this thing decides it needs a bathroom break!”

Momo huffed, not loving Akram’s tone. But she understood the urgency. She wouldn’t want to be a donkey litter box, either.

Poking her head out of the grate, she surveyed for any more murderous footsteps. The coast was clear, so she rolled out.

“Oh, yuck,” she groaned. Her perfectly executed roll landed her in a perfectly muddy puddle. Her cloak and clogs were both doused in brown. Her hair – which was ten days passed needing a wash – suffered equally. A passing elderly woman looked onto her with pity, and flicked a gold coin her way.

Momo grimaced.

“Alright, boy, go dig some holes, or whatever,” Akram said as he lowered Lizard Eater to the ground. The donkey neighed eagerly and trotted towards Momo, flinging mud in every which direction. Momo cringed as the neighbee began licking her face clean, its tongue as bristly as a cat's.

“Gross.”

“You’re the one who wanted him.” Radu snickered.

Momo collected herself, and insisted Akram take them wherever she could find a bath. The encampment didn’t have much that resembled an inn, but it did have an outdoor shower. A slim, metal pole surrounded by a thicket of trees. The privacy was severely lacking, and the water pressure was less than great, but it had to do.

“Dusk, stand guard and make sure no one snoops on me.”

The cat nodded, and her and Lizard Eater stood by as she washed the dirt out of her hair. There was no soap or shampoo, but even having clean water seemed to be a luxury in these woods.

“Nein, Flocke. Bleib. Bleib.”

Momo jumped when she heard the voice. It was sudden – quiet, but close by. She turned her head to see Lizard Eater growling incessantly at nothing. There was no one there but the trees.

“What is it, Liz?” Momo asked the neighbee. The donkey continued salivating at the air, completely rabid. His eyes were focused on a singular target – something straight ahead of him.

One of the trees shuttered, wobbling back and forth. Its leaves brushed against the trunk roughly, the branches trembling. Something large had passed behind, but Momo didn’t spot a single movement.

The trees were unspeakably tall, so whatever had made them move had to be big.

Really big.

“Oh shit,” Momo said, lip trembling. “You two, get behind me. Right now.”

Dusk dashed behind Momo's leg. Lizard Eater stood his post, growling at the air.

The voice came again, closer now. “Flocke, I said bleib. Bleib, for God’s sake.”

Three more trees trembled. A flash of something large and dark shot between them, weaving like a serpent through vines. Fruits fell like hail as the creature bumped against the trees, enormous crabapples littering the forest floor.

Momo’s body went cold as ice, completely frigid. Stupid brain. Do something.

“[Summon Nether Wolf Pack],” she mumbled, grabbing the cold metal of the showerhead.

Six jets of Nether erupted around Momo in a circle. Their black bodies turned to fur, and then to fangs.

“Flocke, fuss!”

The wolf pack came to life just as the hidden creature came to a startling halt, finally heeding the command of its invisible master. In its stasis, the moonlight finally dawned over the beast, revealing its true form.

Momo blinked, speechless.

Standing in front of her was none other than a giant, enormous…

German Shepherd.

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– Naked and Afraid

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Book 2 just completed on Patreon! :D

“Oh god. Good puppy, yup. Very good. Stay right there, don’t move an inch,” Momo whimpered. Its giant tongue protruded from its mouth, panting playfully. She backed up, urging her wolves to do the same. She was sure they could do a number on the giant hound if she ordered them to, but the shepherd didn’t look like it was rearing to fight.

“Finally, you big bumblehead,” the quiet voice spoke. It, too, revealed itself – a frail woman, with emaciated arms, tapered ears. An elf? She had two daggers stowed on either side of her belt, and wore tattered fabric robes. She glared at the dog with annoyance, but quite a bit of endearment as well.

It occurred to Momo then just how naked she was.

“Oh shit,” she squealed, covering herself. The woman took notice of her then, glancing at her with slanted eyes. Her face was more human than it was anything else, but her features were extraordinarily sharp, pointed. Even her smile looked like it could cut glass.

“Wolves, please grab me my clothes,” Momo urged as the woman started to approach her. The elf walked like a beanstalk, with long, jagged movements. The wolves did as Momo said, snatching her damp clothes in their maws and tossing them at Momo’s feet. Momo scrambled to fit into her pants as the woman joined her under the showerhead.

“New in town, hmm?”

Momo blushed profusely, still naked on the top half. She turned away from the woman, mumbling apologies under her breath, and dragged the rest of her clothes on.

“So modest. You obviously aren’t from here.”

“Sorry, just one second –”

“Flocke, hier.”

The ground shook below them as the shepherd emerged from the trees, its tail wagging violently. Blooms and branches showered the dog’s fur, giving him the appearance of a truck-sized forest spirit.

“Your dog is… ridiculously big,” Momo said helpfully, finally finding her voice after feeling sufficiently modest. “Also, are you speaking to him in German?”

The elf gave her a perplexed look. “German? What is German? No, this is the language of the Other-World. Urth. The mystical breeder who gave me Flocke told me that he was summoned from there. That’s why he was so expensive.”

Momo gawked at the dog. “You’re telling me he’s from Earth?”

Great. This is only other person from Earth I’ve met, and it’s not even a person.

“Urth, yes. Although I’m starting to doubt if he was worth the price,” she muttered. Flocke grinned at her unknowingly, blinking his giant puppy dog eyes. He was the biggest baby Momo had ever seen – more adorable than threatening. “He’s about as violent as a dandelion. At least his size scares off most would-be thieves.”

“Was he always that big?”

“No. He was the size of a regular dog when I got him, but the breeder warned me that beings from the Other-World can react unnaturally to our systems. I tried evolving him with a Nature Stone, thinking it’d give him more bite, but then he grew to the size of a small mountain,” she sighed. “Serves me right for not reading the fineprint on the adoption papers.”

She gazed up at the dog, and shook her head. Looking back at Momo, she eyed the two animals behind her – an undead cat, licking its bony paw, and a teeth-baring donkey. She lifted a curious eyebrow.

“Seems you’re equally blessed in the odd animal department.” She squatted on the ground and reached out a hand to Lizard Eater. He growled at it briefly, watching it travel, before calming down as she stroked the top of his head. He immediately mewled, ears perking.

“Not much of a guard donkey, are you?” Momo berated him softly. Turning back to the woman, she noticed that the elf’s frown had turned to a smile. A smile that only got broader as the neighbee’s wings fluttered, obviously enjoying the attention. Momo felt her nerves calm.

She had found a like-minded soul – a fellow animal-appreciator.

“I’m Kasula,” the woman said, offering her free hand. “Kami’s guard dog. Which makes Flocke Kami’s guard dog’s guard dog,” she laughed to herself, and then sighed. “I was hoping having this beast around would make my job easier, but the opposite is true. Now I'm a part-time bodyguard, part-time doggyguard. This is the second time this week he’s run off into the woods.”

Momo laughed at her odd phrasing, but the mention of her occupation took her off guard. This woman wasn’t just a meandering wood elf. She was somebody around here. “So you protect Kami? That sounds like a big job. A scary job.”

Kasula shrugged, giving Lizard one final scritch before straightening herself. She casually perched her hands on both her daggers.

“It’s not scary when you know what you’re doing,” she said, and gave Momo a meaningful glance. Roughly translated, Momo interpreted that as – don’t mess with me, and I won’t have to kill you in your sleep. “Anyway, it’s always nice to meet a fellow friend of beasts. If you’re looking to make some coin, I’ve been trying to hire a real dogsitter.”

Momo brightened, sensing an opportunity. “You mentioned evolving your dog with a Nature Stone. Do you happen to have any Death Stones? I’ve been wanting to evolve my cat, but I’m no expert on this kind of stuff.”

Kasula paused. She eyed Dusk, giving her a proper onceover.

“Death Stones are worth some serious coin,” Kasula said, trailing off. “But… I really do need a dogsitter. Kami’s got a big meeting coming up tomorrow – something real under wraps, so consider that confidential – and I need someone to look over Flocke while I escort him. If you can do that, I can get you a Death Stone.”

Momo grinned, reaching her hand out to shake the elf’s.

“You’ve got a deal.”

—

“This is not what I meant by discreet.”

Akram grimaced as three full gallons of water fell from Flocke’s maw, dousing the pirate from head to toe. Momo would laugh, but she knew she was likely the next victim.

They were standing on the rim of Flocke’s makeshift water bowl – the local pond. The dog had been steadily slurping for the past half an hour, and Momo was beginning to worry that he might completely drain the camp of its local water source.

“Why in the world would you agree to this?” Radu groaned, stroking a brush over Flocke’s leg. It was apparently enchanted with some sort of Calming enchantment – a magical brand of doggy anxiety medication – which allowed him to be around strangers without causing a small excitement-fueled earthquake.

“Before you call me dumb, hear me out,” Momo said, currently residing at another of the dog’s vibrating legs. Her and Radu were on brushing duty; Akram was on leash duty. He had tied it around several trees, and then around his own belt for leverage. “Here’s the important part – his owner is Kami’s personal bodyguard.”

“Are you kidding?” Akram grunted, phyiscally exhausted. “Were you even listening when I said we should keep a low profile? What if Kami’s working for the King? We don’t want him to find out we’re here. That’s a real heist-ruiner.”

“But… puppy,” Momo crossed her arms, gesturing upwards. “And also, that’s the point. Kami has a big meeting coming up tomorrow, something in Jarvirium. Him and his bodyguard being out of town gives us an opportunity to snoop around his hideout and find out what the situation is.”

“You want to break in to an Excalibur thief’s hideout?”

Momo shrugged. “It only seems sensible. If he’s working with the King, he probably knows the whereabouts of the remaining Oblivion Shards. If he’s working against the King, whatever plans and schemes he’s cooking could help us infiltrate Jarvirium. And if anyone gets suspicious, I’ll just say I’m Flocke’s babysitter. It’s foolproof.”

Akram and Radu shared a look, then sighed.

“My friend,” Radu began, shaking his head. “There’s foolproof, and then there’s Momo foolproof. Whenever you’re involved, I can count on the plan going anywhere except its intended destination.”

“Rude.”

“And accurate,” Radu laughed. “Now come on, what’s next on this big baby’s to-do list?”

Kasula had provided Momo with a thorough breakdown of Flocke’s daily routine. It typically started with a two-hour romp through the woods, a water break at the pond, and then culminated with a steak dinner outside Kami’s tent.

This was the crux of Momo’s plan.

Tomorrow evening, while the dog was busy chowing down, she and Radu could sneak into the tent, peruse a little bit, and then make a swift exit just as the dog finished dinner. They’d take whatever they found, buy the potions they needed, receive the Death Stone, and then be on their merry way to the capital.

As she said – foolproof.

—

Kami’s tent was situated at the outskirts of town, in a small glade surrounded by dense woodlands. A winding and confusing path led them there, littered with red herrings, booby traps, and obvious misdirections.

They had encountered several signs sporting variations of TURN BACK NOW and WARNING: CERTAIN DEATH AWAITS. One particularly artistic sign featured a drawing of a snake swallowing a passing traveler whole.

It was clear that the thief did not enjoy visitors.

But it was hard to be deterred with giant, terminally aloof dog leading the way. The only murder attempts so far were Flocke’s wagging tail harassing the local flora.

“I think we’re here,” Momo whispered, catching sight of a cloud of smoke. Behind a wooden fence, a campfire was raging. Pots and rods for cooking hung just above the it. The body of a fish was skewered through by a pike, and a large pile of steaks sat on sizzling pans.

It smelled like a summer pot luck. The rich aroma of meat and spices made Momo nostalgic for life back in her parents' kitchen - in that way that only good food could.

A bulky, aproned man was stirring broth over the flame. This must be the chef Kasula mentioned, Momo thought. He had the body of a wrestler and the posture of a gorilla, hunched over and swearing to himself. He let the soup simmer briefly, muttered something else, and then flipped one of the massive steaks with an oversized spatula.

“Stupid dog,” he muttered, loud enough for them to hear. “Eats more meat than a village of people. This big gig better work, or we’ll go bankrupt by next summer.”

Flocke, as if summoned, trotted over to the chef, knocking over several barrels as he went. The chef groaned, straightening the barrels and fruitlessly slapping at one of Flocke’s massive paws. To the dog, it was like the bite of a fruit fly. His tail wagged incessently, nose already sniffing at the cooking beef.

Seeing no use in hiding themselves, Momo and her companions followed behind the dog, standing awkwardly around the fire. The chef barely acknowledged them, not looking up from his cooking as he spoke.

“Heard about you, new dogsitter,” he grunted. Closer up, Momo could see that his skin was green, and glimmering with sweat. “Don’t expect a free meal. The steaks are for the useless hound, the soup’s for Gita, and the rest is for the kids.”

There were easily ten portions set aside for these kids. It made Momo wonder just how many children he was feeding. A glance at the tents strewn around the camp gave her an idea. There was easily sixteen of them, each of them double-bunked.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sir,” she said, laughing nervously. “These are my companions. If you don’t mind, we’re just going to run a quick errand while Flocke eats. Akram will make sure he doesn’t knock over any trees.”

The man looked up from his soup.

“Errand?” he said, and scowled. “What kind of errand?”

Shit.

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“Errand?” he said, and scowled. “What kind of errand?”

–

Panicked, Momo looked towards Radu.

“A chew toy,” Radu interjected, in a tone so matter-of-fact that it almost convinced Momo. “Flocke gets antsy if he doesn’t have his chew toy. Coco here left it back at the pond.”

The man’s scowl lessened. He looked partially convinced, but an element of skepticism remained. “The chew toy needs two of you to fetch it?”

“It’s a large chew toy,” Radu said, nodding towards the massive dog. “As you can imagine.”

The man grunted up at the dog, who was already slobbering all over the cooking meat.

“Fine. Just make sure he sits in the corner, away from the food. It doesn’t cook right with his drool all over it.” He waved towards a clearing near the tents. The glade had two large indents in the ground, the shape of dog paws.

“Of course,” Momo bowed. “Hier, Flocke, sitz!”

Momo never thought her one year of high school German would come in handy in Alois, but nothing surprised her anymore. After a long, annoyed whine, the dog obeyed, its tail flicking as it sat itself in its designated crater. Momo gave him a good rub on the ankles, murmuring, “brave hund, ja.”

“Akram, keep him out of the frying pan, will ya?” Radu asked with a grin. The pirate groaned. He dragged a stool through the dirt to sit by Flocke, tying the dog’s leash around one of the legs of the stool. He did it more for the symbolism of control than anything else.

With the chef satisfied, Momo turned to Radu, and the two formed a huddle just out of earshot.

“He’s suspicious of us,” Momo whispered. "This isn't going to be as easy as I thought."

“Well, duh,” Radu glared at her. “An errand, really? I told you the plan was Momo foolproof – not real people foolproof. If we head towards the tent now, I have no doubt he’ll send a kitchen knife sailing after us.”

Momo grimaced. He was right. Kami’s tent stood mere feet from fire. It was a large, multi-roomed enclosure of green canvas, pinned to the ground by metal stakes. There was only one accessible entrance, the one closest to the fire, and it was tied loosely with a piece of rope. A sliver of light escaped from it.

“The tie on the tent flaps is kind of loose,” Momo noted.

A field mouse scurried in through the bottom with no issue, and the chef didn’t blink an eyelash. Momo narrowed her eyes. If the mouse had no trouble getting through, it meant it wasn’t magically protected.

“A small animal could get through there just fine."

“I know what you’re thinking, Momo. We can’t just send in Dusk,” Radu said, shaking his head, and Momo deflated. “I admit that she’s smart – well, smart for a cat with no living brain cells – but she wouldn’t know what she was looking for. Even if she did stumble across something useful, she wouldn’t be able to explain it to us afterwards.”

“Explain it to you. She and I have our own very strong method of communication.”

“You meowing at her whenever she does something bad is not a form of communication.”

“It’s more communication than most adult relationships have,” Momo muttered. She glanced at the tent again, and noticed a small bird peeking its head inside. “Wait. We don’t need Dusk. I can just go in there myself.”

“Look, Momo, I know you think you’re sneaky, but you’re not that sneaky –”

Before Radu could finish, Momo grabbed his sleeve, pulling him in the opposite direction of the tent. She led him behind one of the trees just off the side of the road, out of the chef’s purview.

He frowned, disoriented. “What are you doing?”

“Birding up,” Momo said, grinning at her own joke. “[Polymorph - Merlin].”

—

Leaving Radu at his post in the woods, Momo wasted no time in infiltrating. The cook didn’t give her a second glance as she shimmied through the space between the tent flaps, the tent’s foyer coming into view.

Oh wow. Momo swallowed. We hit the jackpot.

If Kami was conducting some kind of elaborate scheme, this was certainly the room to conduct it in. The foyer served as a fully-equipped war room: a broad table for drafting plans, shelves brimming with maps and skill books, a weapon rack of glittering daggers. In the far corner of the room, there was a sizable chest, hidden partially by a bear pelt.

“Alright, Momo, [Focus],” she whispered, letting the spell wash over her. She padded around the room, internally making note of her strategy. Keep your eyes peeled for the crucial stuff – secret entryways into Jarvirium, dirt on the King… secret info on Sumire.

She fluttered onto the desk. At her current size, it was as wide as the ocean, a sea of dusty maps. One of them was a map of the full continent of Alois, another was a local regional map, covering the area from Kami’s encampment all the way to Jarvirium, and the land that lay in between.

Momo peered closer at that one, widening her beady eyes.

Double jackpot, she thought, hopping happily from foot to foot. Just as she suspected, Kami had outlined a few distinct paths of transit between the capital and the encampment. Two were conventional roads, winding across the woodlands and entering the capital through the back gates. From Kami’s scribbled notes, the backroads featured much fewer guards, but a few flying snipers.

Momo didn’t like the term flying snipers.

She eyed the third path. Weirdly, it seemed the most direct of the three. It connected straight from Kami’s own tent to the Holy Knight barracks. That’s where Sumire would be. The only problem – the path wasn’t a secret entrance at all. It was a private entrance. As Kami inscribed next to it, Roland will meet us here and escort us in.

Roland.

Every molecule in Momo’s tiny body boiled. That idiot knight. Sumire’s captor. Either Kami was playing him, or the two of them had established some sort of deal to let the thief directly inside the capital. A personal escort.

“Does the King know about this?” Momo muttered to herself, pacing over the map. That third path had to be where Kami and Kasula were today – meeting Roland just outside the city gates. “But what could Roland want with a thief? Is this about the Oblivion Stone?”

Momo groaned. Nothing added up. Still, it was vital information. While they wouldn’t be able to use the third path, they could still make an effort with the other two. Plus, now they knew for sure that the thief was making some sort of play. She just didn’t know what it was yet.

She searched the rest of the table, but there was nothing of interest.

“Alright, the hound’s dinner is served!” the chef shouted from outside the tent. Momo heard Flocke howl in excitement, his giant feet pattering like minor earthquakes against the ground.

Judging by the speed at which he drank that pond dry, Momo most likely only had a few more minutes. She fluttered off the table, peering into the adjoining rooms. There was a master bedroom, outfitted in animal pelts and taxidermized trophies, and a small natural bath.

All in all, nothing that screamed vital heist information.

Then there was the chest. It was made of a thick, hardy wood, and locked with an iron key-lock. It wasn’t magically protected, and it was sitting fairly obviously in the corner of the room, so Momo doubted it was anything special. If a thief hid his valuables in broad daylight, he’d be a pretty shoddy thief.

Still, Momo’s lizard-brain couldn’t help but wonder.

Remembering her little trick from months ago – when she used her bugged out [Nether Cultivator] skill to break birds out of cages – Momo wondered if she could do the same with the pesky lock. She hadn’t tried being a Nether Jedi again since her stint in the Banquet Hall, but this was as good of an excuse as any to work on her skill with Nether manipulation.

Focusing her mind, she generated a pulsing sphere of Nether before her. She directed it onto the lock, and the gooey blackness attached like a magnet. It compacted, slithering into the mechanism. As if the Nether was an extension of herself, Momo could feel the exact dimensions of the lock, its form shaping around her.

“Alright, get this mutt out of here before he eats more than those steaks!”

The chef’s shrill voice tore her from her trance. She flinched, and the Nether faltered, slipping out of the lock. The technique required her full attention, and a large swath of her Mana. She could feel herself being drained for as long as she suspended the Nether in the air.

I don’t have long, she thought, squinting hard as she manipulated the Nether back into the lock. If she twisted it just so, using the Nether as a makeshift key…

Click.

“Yes!” she chirped.

“Sorry, bud, but this food ain’t yours,” Akram grunted. His voice was strained, as if he was using the full force of his body to stop a titan from devouring a village. “I wish your friends were back with that chew toy.”

The subtext was obvious. Momo had to move fast. She nudged the lock off, carrying it in her beak to the ground. Her celebration might have been too premature – she still had the massive lid of the chest to lift, and she was still nothing but a small, winged animal.

She couldn’t risk transforming back into a human. She wouldn’t have enough Mana to turn back. She grunted, straining as she extracted the Nether out of the lock on the ground. As the Nether spread across the lip of the chest, a tension headache began building just below her brow, a gentle thump, thump, thump radiating in her head.

“Just a little more,” she panted, grabbing hold of the lid with the Nether. Pain struck her like a pointed arrow as she thrust it upward. With the last of her Mana, Momo managed to get the lid in a fixed position.

She blew out a relieved breath, sighing.

“If that dog drinks even a teaspoon of my kid’s soup, I’m sending him to the King’s prison,” the chef roared, much to Momo’s chagrin. Akram was doing a good job stalling, but an equally good job enraging the cook.

Alright, let’s see if this was worth the ruckus. She fluttered upwards, and landed in the chest.

Suddenly, a familiar voice echoed in her ear. And not the Megan Fox-esque one.

A wearer has found the bracelet! Oh, great wearer, don me around your wrist and taste eternal power! Flee your mortal wounds! Immortality, Charisma, Charm – be forever endowed by the sanguine sensation of Neculaiiiii.

Groaning, Momo let her head fall onto the bracelet. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

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— Two Heists

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The black bracelet was engraved with the markings of the God of Bloodlust: droplets of blood, long, coiling tentacles. It immediately reminded her of the vocal necklace she found in the vampire’s lair. It spoke in the same demanding tone, too–insistent and possessive.

The necklace was currently burning a hole in a wooden box back in Nam’Dal, a remnant of Valerica’s great U-Hauling of Morgana’s Dawn into their new capital. Momo hadn’t given it a second thought since then. With Excalibur around, her limit on talking inanimate objects was at its cap of 1/1.

Do you know my brother? It asked. Momo had been ready to grab the region map under her beak and fly, but that question gave her pause. We are part of a set – The Blood Immortality Set. Individually, we are strong, but together? You would be deeply unwise to leave us apart.

Momo knew it was stupid to trust a sales pitch coming from a talking bracelet, but…

“Fine,” Momo said, grabbing the bracelet under her beak. “If you shut up, I’ll take you home.”

Oh, yes! The wearer accepts the mark of blood immortality! Ah, glorious day, I will soon be reunited with you, my sanguine brother!

“That doesn’t sound like shutting up.”

Sorry, my liege.

—

With the map and the bracelet under her beak, Momo popped her head out of the front tent flap. She encountered a scene of great strife before her – Akram, sweating out of every pore, his muscles strained against Flocke’s useless leash as the dog loomed over the chef, smiling giddily. The chef, in turn, was waving a frying pan at him and yelling obscenities.

“Useless dog,” he yelled, striking the frying pan at the air. Flocke was far too tall for him to reach, so the action was more metaphorical than threatening. “You better leave that soup alone, or I’m grabbing my machete!”

Walking briskly to the side of the tent, Momo morphed out of her bird form, inhaling long and hard as her possessions dropped into her lap. Spotting her, Radu shuffled over.

“You took forever,” he urged, pointing towards the dog. “The dog is about to nibble that orc’s head off, and Akram is finding out just how useless sea-faring muscle is against a seven ton shepherd.”

“Chill out, it was worth it,” Momo mumbled, producing the goods. She pocketed the bracelet, not wanting to explain that one now, and offered the map to Radu. He took it begrudgingly and studied it.

“Damn,” he said. “I hate admitting this, but you were right. I’m glad you went in there. We should get back to the main camp and look this over.”

“Told you so –”

“Nevermind the machete, I’m grabbing my rocket launcher!”

“Okay,” Momo swallowed. “Gloating can wait until later. Let’s go.”

—

Flocke had taken a liking to Momo, so it only took a few nien’s and hier’s until the dog let up on the soup, and fell in line back towards camp. Alleviating the shepherd-caused duress luckily offset any suspicion about Momo and Radu’s whereabouts, and they got back on the road without any interrogation.

“It was a win-win,” Momo said, recounting the infiltration.

“For everyone but me, maybe,” Akram grumbled. He took a swig from his flask.

They were sitting around a different fire, far from Kami’s tent, at the Redoubt’s public camping grounds. It was sparsely occupied during the day, with only a few drunkards and traveling merchants loitering around. A few had approached them at first, but Akram scared them off with a few choice expressions.

After a quick rest, Momo busied herself making a chew toy for Flocke out of pure Nether. She figured nothing was more pliable than the material of the universe – and the dog agreed. He happily chomped at the air every time the toy flung in and out of existence.

“So Kami’s teaming up with one of Jarva’s knuckleheaded knights…” Radu assessed, peering over the map. He sat shoulder to shoulder with Akram, the two of them looking like dressed up boy scouts.

“Or running a scheme on him,” Akram suggested.

“Well, he’s definitely running a scheme. He’s an Excalibur thief – if he wasn’t running something, he’d be a disgrace to Mordecai,” Radu said. “It’s just a matter of what the scheme is, and if it’s to our benefit, or against it. What do you think, Momo?”

Momo’s gaze had been fixated at the sky. The glaring white tear had been expanding ever since it appeared, and she had begun to notice something odd coalescing around it. White vapor, like a giant, malleable cloud, was accumulating around it.

“Momo,” Radu reiterated with a grunt.

“Huh? Sorry,” Momo smiled guiltily, drawing her eyes away. “You actually want my opinion? That’s new.” It was. Radu and her had a (mostly) friendly rivalry going on – but he very rarely actually came to her with questions. He more typically just accepted whatever stupid direction she pointed him in next.

“This is your master plan,” he shrugged. “You’re the tactician. On the spectrum of Con Artists, I’m more of a doer. If Akram here is the muscle, I’m the muscle’s sneaky sidekick, and you’re the brains. A very easily distracted brain – but still, you’ve got a talent for it. Well, not a talent, but you’ve got the skill points. High intelligence isn’t exactly a thiefly pursuit.”

Momo was speechless. That was the most honest compliment he’d ever given her.

“Radu…” she trailed off, tears pricking in her eyes. Stupid tears. “You think I’m intelligent?”

“Don’t make it weird.”

“I’m not making it weird,” she said, clearing her throat. “But okay. If you guys believe in me, then… let’s do this. Let’s crash his heist with our heist, and see who wins. A team of misfits and an undead cat, or an Excalibur thief with a decade of experience.”

Akram grinned, jutting his flask into the middle.

“Cheers to that,” he said. Momo grabbed her half-broken hip flask and clinked it. Radu did the same.

“On three, cheers to the Universe Implosion Prevention Committee,” she said.

“I’m not cheersing to that,” Radu grumbled.

“I’ll cheers to anything that lets me drink the rest of my tequila,” Akram said. “One, two, three…”

“Universe Implosion Prevention Committee!” Momo sang.

“Not dying!” Radu chipped in.

—

Kasula instructed Momo to meet her at the edge of town, by something called the Last Joke statue. True to its name, Momo and Flocke found themselves at a small dirt glade, standing in front of a eight-foot tall depiction of a comedian on a stage, getting stabbed in the back by a thief wearing a pig mask.

Momo squatted by the statue’s plaque. It read The Last Joke Was On Him, Oink Oink!

“What the hell is this?” Momo mumbled. Flocke, to his part, just panted happily.

“The last leader of this colony,” Kasula said, appearing from behind the statue. Momo swallowed sharply, trying not to show her surprise. “Before this was Kami’s Redoubt, it was Spinicker’s Stage. It was a private campsite run by this absolute egomaniac – he’d make people pay to camp here, and then force them to watch him perform every night. His set was atrocious.”

“So someone eventually murdered him, and then they made a statue about it?” Momo said, her voice wavering. The thief looked relaxed, almost too relaxed, as she sauntered to the front of Momo. Kasula leaned casually on the statue, her head resting on the dead man’s back.

“Yep,” she said. “So then it was No One’s Stage, Thank the Gods for a while – that was what everybody referred to it as – until Kami came into town, set up camp, and rebranded it as a safe haven for thieves and degenerates. He started running a few jobs here, attracted some talent, and then hired me as his bodyguard.”

“And Flocke as his doggyguard,” Momo added, trying to turn her attention towards the dog. It worked – Kasula immediately grinned, giving him a good rub on the paw. The dog licked her happily, slathering her whole body. She didn’t even seem to mind this time.

“He looks happy,” she said, a hint of approval gracing her voice. “Thanks for taking care of him. It was a huge relief off my shoulders while I was escorting Kami into town. The whole thing went on without a hitch – which, thank the Gods – because I really need that paycheck.”

“I’m really glad to hear that,” Momo said. She sensed that they had wandered back into safe territory, so she put on her best impression of a down-on-their-luck thief and risked a question. “I’m a bit loose for cash myself. Is there anything I can get in on?”

Kasula paused her petting, and gave Momo a skeptical glance.

“Are you a nark?”

“A nark? I have no idea what a nark is,” Momo laughed nervously. That must have been a terrible thief impression, she thought as she took a step back, and Kasula took a step forward, her hand flying to her left dagger.

“I never got your name, what was it again?” Kasula said, taking another step. She unsheathed her dagger and held it casually by her side, slowly encroaching upon Momo. The elf’s half-moon eyes expanded, her pupils dilating.

“It’s – it’s Momo,” she stuttered. “Please don’t kill me. I’d really like to be friends. I don’t know any other dog-moms around here, and I know I technically have a cat and a donkey, but animal ownership is its own beast, and I really wanted someone who could relate.”

Kasula laughed. “Kill you? Why would I kill you? Just because you broke into Kami’s tent using one of the dumbest, boldest, most hilarious strategies I’ve ever seen?”

Momo went pale. Oh no.

“How?” Momo said weakly, forgetting to defend herself.

“The only place I escorted Kami yesterday was into a tree above camp,” she said, side-stepping past Momo and using her dagger to cut a molding leaf off of Flocke’s fur. “Flocke kept smelling us and causing a whole ruckus – it nearly ruined our plan – but luckily Ribeye’s acting chops weren’t as rusty as I thought they were. He put on a whole show for you all. The perfect scene to conduct a test.”

Ribeye. That had to be the chef.

“A… test?” Momo stared at her stupidly. “You were testing us?”

“Of course. We’ve heard many whispers of you, Momo the Ripper, oh great leader of Nam’Dal,” she said, grinning widely. “When I spotted you entering town through that sewer grate, Kami tasked me with monitoring you. When we heard your pack scheming to infiltrate the campsite, we thought it’d be a perfect opportunity for a little test.”

“And I passed, I hope?” Momo said, her cheeks burning bright red.

“More than passed!” Kasula said, cutting another bundle of leaves off of Flocke’s fur. The dog shook himself, blowing a great gust of wind into Momo’s hair. “Oh, Flocke, nein.” She turned to Momo, sheathing her dagger. “You even passed Kami’s extra objective – stealing the bracelet. The reward is: you get to keep it, and your life. Ba-ding. Congrats.”

Unable to believe what she was hearing, Momo just laughed awkwardly.

“So you’re not teaming up with Roland?”

“Teaming up? With a knight?” Kasula scowled. “Kami wouldn’t dream of it. No – Roland is a fool. We’re using him to gain access to the city, simple as that. Mordecai has his eye on a certain treasure of the King’s, and I’m told Morgana has her eye on a certain other treasure. Something that starts with O.”

Momo nodded slowly. “The Oblivion Stone.”

Kasula hummed. “So it’s true. Crazy. Isn’t it crazy, Flocke?”

Flocke chomped on his Nether chew toy happily. Kasula shook her head.

“So, wait,” Momo said. “If I’m hearing this right – you’re not going to kill me for robbing you, and you actually want to… work together?”

“Like you said, animal parents have to stick together,” Kasula said, sticking her hand out. It was still sticky with Flocke’s saliva. “Partners?”

Momo grinned. She took it without a second thought, shaking it firmly.

“Partners.”

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– Call Me Boss

The plan was relatively simple – team U.I.P.C would disguise themselves as Kami’s associates and join them at their meeting with Roland, sneak into the Holy Knight Barracks, locate Sumire and the rest of the Oblivion Shards, and most importantly: not to get in Kami’s way.

“Did she mention what exactly the treasure was that they intend to steal?” Radu asked as they walked back towards Kami’s tent. Akram and him had been initially suspicious of the partnership, but with no other easy way into the capital – unless you considered walking past 'flying snipers' easy – it seemed worth a chance.

“No,” Momo shrugged. “But I didn’t want to press my luck. I was just excited she wasn’t trying to stab me.”

“Fair enough.”

“Speaking of treasure,” Momo said, extracting the vampiric bracelet from her pocket. “Do I have to wear something to know its properties? I’m not really keen on putting this on, but I am curious.”

“What the hell is that? Those markings…” Radu trailed off, intrigued. He stopped in his tracks and took the bracelet out of her hand, staring at it intently. “Usually you’d have to put it on to know, but I have the [Identify] skill. It’s a Con Artist skill, so you should get it eventually.”

As he said it aloud, a piece of parchment dotted with the symbols of Mordecai rushed down from the skies. He took it nonchalantly, skimmed it, and then handed it to Momo.

Bracelet of Blood Immortality

Blood Immortality Set (1 / 3) (Legendary)

The Blood Immortality Set originally belonged to Elvira, Lesser God of Bloodlust. Her plague upon Alois in the year 352 ushered in the Era of Blood Tyranny. During this period, vampires were at the height of their power; the entirety of Alois’s ruling class consisted of nightwalkers.

The Era ended when the Hero of the Sun, Aloysius, a disciple of Kyros, pierced Elvira through the heart and forced her to return to the Nether. Her accessories – the Blood Immortality Set – were then awarded to the Holy Knights to protect. Over time, they have been reclaimed by vampires, or sold to thieves.

Requirements:

- 25 Intelligence

- Major or Minor Class blessed by Neculai

Effects:

- Unknown

- Unknown

- Unknown

So I’d have to be a vampire to wear this, basically, Momo thought, skimming the requirements. She frowned, not sure if she was relieved or disappointed.

“You stole that from Kami, didn’t you?” Radu asked. “Didn’t Kasula want it back?”

“Apparently not. She said it was a bonus reward along with the Death Stone,” Momo shrugged. “I don’t think he wanted it in the first place – and I don’t blame him, the thing never stops talking. Elvira must have gone insane wearing this all the time.”

“Weird,” Radu said, taking the parchment from her and giving it a second glance. “This is a Legendary set, so it has to be worth quite a bit of money. I guess it’s hard to find a buyer, though, given the Neculai requirement. Not many vampires are great business partners.”

“Huge surprise,” Momo said, shaking her head. “Are there any Neculai-blessed classes that don’t require becoming a bloodsucker?”

“I… don’t think so,” Radu said, narrowing his eyes. “Your class options are based primarily on your actions, so you’d have to do something he approves of to get one of his classes. That typically involves drinking blood, I’d assume.”

Momo grumbled. “Only drinking blood? Is that really his whole domain?”

“Pretty much.”

Momo sighed.

—

“So, wait, you’re not a chef?”

Momo stared in disbelief at the orc, who had traded his apron for an equally dainty set of robes. They were floral raiments patterned with painterly roses and daisies, reminiscent of a bathrobe Momo might have found in the maternity section of Mallmart.

“Of course I am,” Ribeye said, scowling. “You’re talking to Kami’s chef and resident Mist Illusionist.”

“Mist Illusionist?” Momo paused. “I haven’t heard of that class before. What deity is that under?”

“Morgana and Ormar,” he said, crossing his arms defiantly. “Don’t get it twisted – I’m no necromancer. I just move Nether around. Like all orcs worth their salt, my real loyalty lies with Ormar, God of the Mists.”

“I’m sorry, he’s the God of Mist?” Momo said, speaking quietly. “I assumed mist might be included under Nerida’s whole domain, given that she’s basically Goddess of Water, and mist is basically just spooky water vapor, but –”

He balled his hand into a fist and pointed it dangerously close to Momo’s nose.

“Not mist, idiot. The Mists. The spiritual homeland of the orcs,” he growled. He looked towards the apathetic elf beside him. “Are we sure we want to work with someone so ignorant, Kasula? We risk our own dignity.”

Kasula laughed, knocking him lightly with her hip. “Be nice. Momo’s not from here, either.”

“Is that so?” Ribeye peered at her, his big, brown eyes like piercing nail guns. “That explains the accent. You curl your r’s in a way I’ve only heard once before – from that fella selling dogs.” He turned to Kasula, his scowl widening. “The one you got your useless mutt from.”

“The mystical breeder?” Momo asked, startled. Could he be from Earth too?

“Oh Ribeye, stop making up tales. It’s not Momo’s fault your ears are failing you, ” Kasula chastised, rolling her eyes. “The breeder was a regular old merchant from Jarvirium. Momo sounds nothing like him. Her accent is definitely more Vagrant Dunes, a little hoarse and small from all the throat-scalding sand.”

Momo’s initial excitement immediately evaporated. Wonderful. It had never occurred to her that she might have an Earthly accent. The people in Alois did talk a little weird, but she was used to hearing a wide range of pronunciations. She was from California – where everyone talked a little weird.

Now that she thought about it, she never even questioned how she understood people in a foreign country on a foreign planet to begin with. Like, why would they be speaking English, of all languages? She wasn’t so American as to assume that it was the language of the universe.

She swallowed. Unless.

Was Alois colonized by Europe, too?

Giving Kasula and Ribeye a polite smile, Momo pulled Radu roughly to the side.

“Radu,” she said, speaking with the urgency of someone who was trying to avoid another existential crisis. “What language am I talking in right now?”

He gave her that look that roughly translated to: are you going insane?

“Common tongue,” he said, after a moment of consideration. “Do I want to know why you’re asking me?”

“Common tongue?” she asked, gaining no insight whatsoever. “Does everyone in Alois speak that?”

“No. But everyone in Jarva’s empire does, more or less. It’s the official language,” he said, speaking with an increasingly condescending tone. “You know, I was being polite and not asking where you’re from – but now I’m starting to wonder if it’s within this galaxy.”

Momo swallowed nervously.

“We can talk about it later,” she said, diverting the topic. I’m going to have to quiz Valerica about this, Momo thought. Radu and a bunch of strangers she was going to rob the throne with weren’t exactly the best candidates for cultural education.

“Okay,” he said, shaking his head. “Whatever you say, weirdo.”

Their conversation reaching an abrupt end, they returned to the group. Ribeye was busy tending to one of the children he spoke about earlier – a half-foot tall runt of an orc, with an adorable face and a single lock of hair. He had him cradled under one arm, and another swaddled baby strapped to his back in a sling.

“He looks like a struggling single mother of five,” Momo whispered to Radu. The lizard laughed.

“Try twenty-five,” he said, pointing to the toddlers waddling out of their tents. “And certifiably not single.” He moved his hand an inch, gesturing towards a short, frightening orc woman with a baby on her back, front, and head. That had to be Gita, Momo guessed.

Ribeye and Gita. What a power couple.

Her insatiable curiosity getting the better of her, Momo leaned over to Kasula. “I don’t want to be impolite, but is there a… reason they have so many children?”

The elf smirked at her. “They're not his. Ribeye conveniently left Daycare Operator out of his role description earlier. For every thief Kami employs, he offers a special daycare service. A lot of employers around Alois don’t realize how hard it is for working mothers and fathers to handle thievery and childcare. We attract the best talent by managing both.”

“That’s…” Momo blinked. “That’s incredible.”

“It’s the least we can do. When we’re off on missions, Ribeye’s wife handles things. Otherwise, they run the daycare together.”

“Amazing.”

“It really is,” Kasula said, grinning. “Now, it’s about time I introduce you to the boss, is it not?”

—

Kasula made Momo and the rest of them wait in the tent’s foyer as she fetched Kami from the adjoining bedroom. Tapestries had been rolled down to bisect the two rooms, with only small slivers of light escaping between. It created an air of mystery that left Momo wobbling anxiously from foot to foot.

While she couldn't see the thief, she could hear a cold, rugged voice murmur from the bedroom. The type of voice you’d expect from a war veteran, or a car mechanic. He didn’t use many words, just uttering grunts and affirmations.

After a few moments, the tapestries parted with a flourish.

“Oh my god,” Momo muttered, her voice barely audible. She didn’t want to offend him, but she also couldn’t help herself but ask. “Why are you… a lemur?”

Radu slapped her on the arm. Kami’s apathetic expression turned to a smirk.

The Excalibur thief was indeed, as Momo expertly observed, a lemur. With tear-shaped white tattoos around his eyes, a red belly, and a long, bushy tail, the rogue stood at no more than two feet tall. He wore a trench coat, tailored to his size, and a tan newsboy cap. A toolbelt surrounded his middle. In his right hand, he was holding a smoking pipe.

Okay, not just a lemur – a British, Sherlock Holmes-esque lemur.

He took a long drag of the pipe, smoke billowing out of his barely-there lips.

“A red-bellied lemur, actually,” he corrected, coughing politely. “But you can just call me boss.”

– Watch out for the Tsunami

After a round of greetings, they gathered around the key fixture of the war room – the tent’s central table. Everyone but Kami settled into stools or folding chairs. The lemur opted instead to stand atop the maps, strutting back and forth and blowing smoke from his pipe as he got Momo’s team up to speed.

“So, as you know, we’ve bamboozled the fool knight, Roland,” he said. Puff. Momo coughed, the cancerous vapor swelling from his pipe. “The knight believes that we are helping him to track down the remaining shards of the Oblivion Stone. As Momo has informed us, she retains these shards. The knight’s assistant, Sumire, retains the rest.”

“And we should trust that you’re not just delivering us into the open hands of the enemy because…?” Radu questioned, ever-skeptical.

The lemur gave him a hardened stare. He removed his newsboy cap, pressing it to his chest.

“You have my vow,” he said, bowing. “Also, as Mordecai’s premier servant, I am not to interfere with Morgana’s plans. The two have formed an alliance to remove Jarva from power, so I must honor that.”

“A vow from a thief,” Akram laughed. “Are we going to take that?”

Kami turned on his furry heel, shooting Akram a serious look. For a creature that stood no taller than a toddler, the expression carried a terrifying amount of menace.

“Yes, yes you will,” he said, impatiently dragging his pipe upwards. Puff. “Now, let’s not waste more time. We are to meet Roland this afternoon at the edge of the forest, where my territory ends. My troupe will cover for you for as long as it takes us to enter the barracks. After that, you’re on your own.”

“Fine by me,” Akram said. “You hunt your treasure, we’ll hunt ours.”

“Exactly,” Kami said, hopping off the table and into Kasula’s lap. The elf winced as the lemur used her like a stepping stone, prancing off of her and onto the floor.

Momo’s eyes tracked him as he padded to an arbitrary place on the floor. He pulled back the edge of a tapestry, revealing the dirt underneath. He dug his paws through it like a speed drill.

“Aha,” he said, producing a thread-wrapped scroll.

He jumped back onto the table, and unfurled it. Momo leaned in, raking her eyes over the archaic drawings inscribed on the parchment. It was a depiction of a ghostly creature, an unsymmetric phantom arranged like two children on Halloween draped under a bedsheet. It seemed mostly benign until Momo saw the small, fanged teeth protruding from the center.

Under it, written in long, prancing cursive, was: wraith.

He flipped the scroll. On the back half was a weapon schematic. It was a small weapon with a blunt head sitting on the end of a curved handle. Hundreds of small, shimmering wraith teeth hung like Christmas lights off the head of the mace.

“I weighed the consequences of divulging the treasure to you, but ultimately, I came to the conclusion that it is better that you know upfront, so you don’t accidentally steal it yourselves,” Kami said, narrowly eyeing Radu. The lizard rolled his eyes, looking away. “The King is in possession of one of my dear friend Olivia Magelegs’ last valuables, the Wraith Mace.”

The name immediately reminded Momo of Devola. She remembered that the Necrodancer got her last name from Magelegs, who gave her a wraith tooth bracelet from the Dragon’s vault. It seemed that, for whatever reason, the Dark Thief had an affinity for wraith-type artifacts.

“What’s the deal with wraiths, exactly?” Momo asked quietly. She didn’t want to overemphasize just how foreign she was, but she liked to know what she was dealing with. “Did they go extinct, or something? Olivia seemed obsessed with them.”

“You really don’t know anything about the Mists, do you?” Ribeye butted in with a sigh. “Wraiths are far from extinct – they are in abundance in my homeland. They are the protectors of our domain, trained to target any trespasser.” With a grimace, he added, “as a consequence, their teeth are considered grand prizes to foreign poachers.”

“And Olivia was a… foreign poacher?”

Ribeye bared his teeth. “Don’t you dare. She was nothing of the sort. She treasured the wraiths the way they deserved – stealing their remnants from ungrateful lords, like Jarva’s father.”

“Right,” Momo said, swallowing. “Of course. Sorry.”

He glared at her.

“Enough,” Kami said, coming in between the two. Ribeye backed off, and Momo let out a sigh of relief. “The time for discussion is over. The sun’s reaching twilight, and we have a fool of a knight to dupe.”

—

As Kami suggested, where his land ended, Jarvirium quickly began.

The outskirts of Kami’s Redoubt ended at a stream. The rushing water separated the dense forests from the clean-cut grass on the other side. The freshly trimmed weeds sat for just a few inches before high stone walls spurted up from the ground – the capital’s first layer of defense.

Momo had done as Akram had advised, drinking down several Potions of Concealing Death. Of course, that was only half the work – Roland would demand they lift any masks, so any and all disguises had to be thorough. Momo would enter in her bird form, and Radu would polymorph his face into the visage of one of Kami’s lesser thieves.

Akram borrowed some Lesser Polymorph Cream from Kami. When applied to the face, it gave the wearer a temporary disguise for six hours. Unlike Momo and Radu, he didn’t have as much to worry about when it wore off. Unlike thieves and necros – sea scavengers weren’t a hunted people inside the city. Once he was back to wearing his usual face, he’d just stick to a basic story: the seas were too brisk, so he was doing some light shopping while the tides died down. Sweet and simple.

“And when the facade wears off in front of Sumire?” Momo asked him quietly. She had already turned into her Merlin form, and was sitting atop his shoulder like a companionable hawk. “What then?”

He shrugged the shoulder that wasn’t holding her. “I’ll say hello to my little cousin. And if she wants to hand over her earrings to the knights, I’ll put a stop to it. Reminding the young and the naive of the Sea Scavenger’s Promise is just part of my job as captain of the Barge.”

And what’s going to happen when I’m the one taking the earrings from her? Momo thought, her stomach twisting unpleasantly. The weight of their inevitable conflict had gotten heavier and heavier to bear as the days went by. She had grown fond of Akram and his stupidly proud self. She didn’t want to betray his trust.

Luckily, she wasn’t left with much time to further contemplate her morals – the rushing stream had begun to bubble. A shadowy facade rose just below its surface. With a burst of water, a wooden canoe split the tides. Two inhabitants sat inside it, each cloaked in heavy robes. One of them had their hand raised, a sphere of water pulsing from it.

“Speak of the she-devil,” Kami muttered. “Positions, everyone.”

The thieving troupe assumed a relaxed stance as the boat finished its landing. It was skidding just above the water, indifferent to the rushing currents. It’s the same magic from the Under-Canals, Momo noted – a type of advanced Water spell that allowed the user to seamlessly propel a vehicle against the tide.

The first figure doffed his hat, revealing a mop of disheveled blonde hair. Momo’s beak twitched. Roland. He groaned as he disembarked the boat, instantly shedding the heavy robes. They were water-repelling, like a scuba-suit, and seemingly very strenuous to wear.

“Terrible form of travel,” he whined. “Just horrendous. Never doing it again.”

“Good, because I’m never driving you again,” added a female voice, which Momo instantly recognized to be Sumire’s. She continued casting the spell as she left the vehicle, only canceling it once they had retrieved their bags. When the orb of water left her hand, the vehicle submerged itself once again, falling through the waves as if they were an endless pit.

“Don’t give me that attitude,” Roland said with a scowl. He straightened his clothes, which had been thrown about underneath the robes. To Momo’s surprise, he wasn’t wearing armor – but instead, a suit and tie. “There’s a reason Jarva doesn’t employ Water mages. It’s a nausea-inducing form of locomotion.”

“Or maybe he just can’t handle a little motion sickness,” Sumire said, removing her own hood. Her braids spilled out like streams. Momo’s eyes immediately searched for the beads of white – but they were absent. She had replaced both her earrings and her hair beads with blue pieces of jewelry.

Momo’s heart sank. This wasn’t going to be as easy as it could have been.

Still, she resented the way her heart leapt seeing the woman again. She missed her hooded eyes, sleepy smirk, dimpled smile. For a woman who had sliced her open like a fish, she was just so damn alluring.

Like Roland, Sumire removed the robes and let them fall to the wayside. The luhkka was still tucked snugly around her. Momo wondered if she always wore it, and if there was any way it could be removed.

Not for any specific reason, of course. God – focus, Momo.

“Kami,” Roland greeted, not bothering to stick out a hand. The lemur gave him a nod of recognition. “Glad to see you’re on time, but those are hardly the clothes to wear to a ball. Do you not own a suit?”

For the first time, Momo heard Kami laugh. The lemur’s entire body shook with it.

“I’m not a knight, Roland. I don’t own a wardrobe of fanciful clothing. If you wanted me to purchase something for the occasion, you should be paying me extra.”

“Paying you extra? I am already paying you a ridiculous fee. And blending in with the crowd is part of the task. If you’re going to find the shards at the ball, you will have to be discreet.”

The ball? Momo gave a sidelong glance to Kami. He hadn’t mentioned anything about a ball. Judging from Roland’s suit, she was imagining nothing short of a Viennese opera. Waltz, champagne, royalty. The whole nine yards.

Kami had mentioned giving Roland some sort of false lead. If Momo were to guess, he probably tipped the knight off about someone at the dance having the rest of the stone. If that were true, it was a solid red herring. It would preoccupy Roland while the thieves went rooting around the place.

Roland huffed. “This is ridiculous. The ball is in four hours, and you and your mutts are dressed like street rabble. We’ll have to stop by the garment district and get you all sorted.”

Not even bothering to check them, Roland beckoned them with a hand towards the stream.

“Sumire, please make this quick,” he said, grabbing his water-resistant cloak. Instead of putting it on, he just held it in front of himself like a shield, cowering behind it.

“Fine,” Sumire said.

She turned around to face the rest of them, and smirked. She had that same mischievous glint in her eye Momo remembered fondly – like a kid who just stole a handful of candy.

“Watch out for the tsunami, boys.”

– A Bit of a Cupcake Situation

The stream was not a stream.

It was a gate. A façade – a watery falsehood that painted a boundary between the woods and the capital. This became abundantly clear as Sumire twisted her wrist. The river followed her motion, spiraling like a hurricane as it turned from a mellow brook into a voracious whirlpool.

“Gods,” Kami remarked, uncharacteristically impressed. “Now that is magic.”

The spinning tides twirled endlessly, producing an ongoing crush, crush, crush that was so deafening that Momo held her wings over her ears. It brought Momo back to her childhood, standing by the Pacific Ocean in her flip-flops and realizing that the body of water before her was much bigger, and much more powerful, than the bathtub she swam in at home.

It was one of those moments where you realize just how defenseless and small you are. Momo had those moments almost every Tuesday, but the ocean gave it a grander scale.

Momo looked over to Sumire, who seemed to share in her nostalgic reverie. The pirate-knight’s face was contorted into something awestruck, as if she couldn’t believe her own power. Momo had experienced that quite a lot since landing in Alois – the ridiculous realization that you could bend the whims of the world with just a flick of the wrist, a specially placed fingertip.

“It never gets old,” Sumire said, talking to nobody in particular, even though Momo had the uncanny sensation like she was reading her mind.

Momo had a sudden, wrenching feeling that she wanted to take Sumire to the Pacific Ocean.

Sumire made a fist, and the noise ceased. The water had crystallized into an immobile form on the surface of the river. It no longer looked like a whirlpool, but a painting of one – motionless, but vividly blue. It shimmered under the low light.

Everyone stared at it in complete awe. Well, everyone except Roland.

“I don’t see why you made us use that blasted canoe if this was an option,” Roland seethed, not hiding his disdain. He was already zipping himself back into his water-repelling robes, taking care that each lock of his hair was protected from the threat of dampness.

“What can I say, I missed sailing,” Sumire laughed, taking obvious pleasure from his disdain.

The knight huffed, dipping an experimental toe into the pool. It sank straight through.

“So it works like any old portal?” He dipped his foot in and out, looking a bit frightened. “I just step through it, and end up on the other side, good as new?”

“Good as new,” she echoed, her devious grin remaining in place. “I promise, there’s no suit-eating sharks or tie-devouring koi fish hiding in there. You’ll be just fine.”

Roland glared at her. Momo decided she loved this woman, just a little bit. A healthy amount.

“Fine,” Roland said, steeling himself. He took a deep breath in, and then jumped into the water.

There was no splash. It was like descending into a Super Mario tube.

“Damn,” Akram whispered under his breath, so just Momo could hear. “A true [Tide Portal]. That’s some expert-grade stuff. She’s really grown since the Barge.”

Sumire’s eyebrow flicked up, and she turned towards Akram. “Did you say something?”

Akram blushed. “Only that I want to go next.” He stepped forward, and dived straight in. Momo squawked like a bird in an oil spill as they descended into darkness.

—

The other side of the darkness was a cobblestone street.

Momo’s feathery cheek smacked the pavement, racketing pain all the way down to her talons.

“Good as new my ass,” Ribeye groaned. The chef-turned-mage had suffered the same fate, his posterior sticking in the air, his forehead glued to the ground. “That trickster pirate gave us a bumpy ride on purpose.”

“Trickster pirate knight, thank you very much,” Sumire corrected. She was standing above them, suffering no ailments except eternal sleepiness. Momo could see another drowsy spell hitting her, her eyelids fluttering closed. “Roland, I’m going to need a quick siesta. Why don’t you take the boys shopping, and me and the ladies will hit the boutiques.”

Roland made a disgusted sound.

“I’m not some kind of amateur stylist,” he spat. “I’m a Holy Knight of the King’s Lesser Lesser Court. I have better things to do. The garment district is just a quick walk from here. I trust you can find them all suitable outfits.”

“Hm. Thought about it – the answer’s still no,” Sumire said with a shrug, pulling at Kasula’s sleeve. “I’m a Holy Knight, too, but more importantly, I need a nap. If you want them dressed for the dance, you’ll have to do it yourself.”

“Sumire, I swear to Kyros.”

Sumire was already a block ahead of him, pulling a confused Kasula behind her like an accessory. Roland looked like his head was about to burst.

“Relax, big guy,” Akram assured, giving him a firm pat on the back. “We’re all adults here. We can manage to buy a few suits. Isn’t that right, Kami?”

“Certifiably,” Kami said. “I must inform you that I will be invoicing you for the extra costs, though. Suits do not commonly come in my size, so I will have to go to a lemur-friendly tailor, and that’ll be an extra fee on top of my usual costs…”

Roland’s hands raked down his face, and he groaned.

“Gods. Fine. Fine. I don’t care. The opera guests arrive at eight. Be there by then, find the rest of the stupid stone, and I’ll pay you more than you can dream of.”

“Deal,” Kami said, offering a paw. “Now, kid, where did your bird go?”

—

“I’m not sure if they have gowns in bird sizes,” Kasula said as she drew the curtains over the changing room.

Sumire had guided them to Vibrant Vestments, a high-end dress shop at the corner of the street. She then happily plopped herself on top of one of the display shelves, and started snoring. Kasula was forced - not unhappily - to take things into her own hands, grabbing a few choice dresses off the hangers.

“Will they even let a bird into an opera house?” Momo whispered. She remembered just how good Sumire’s hearing was while she was asleep, and she didn’t want to test things. “Also, why are we going to an opera house, exactly? I thought we were supposed to be sneaking into the barracks.”

Kasula shedded her ragged thief robes, exposing her taunt, ghastly skin. Her chest was unexpectedly riddled with scars and punctured tissue. Momo quickly apologized, feeling like she was violating something, and fluttered to the corner, staring pointedly at the dust gathering there.

“Ah, I forgot your issues with nudity,” Kasula laughed, dodging Momo's question. “So modest. Us elves don’t have the same conceptions about our bodies. Flesh is flesh. True intimacy lies in the mind. At least, I think that’s how the old line goes. I was hardly a good listener when the forest elder was giving his lectures. Too busy picking pockets and flicking chewed tobacco at the boys.”

“Charming,” Momo deadpanned, continuing to stare at dust.

From outside the stall, Sumire snorted. Momo found herself charmed by it.

“How’s this one look?”

Momo turned her head around cautiously. Luckily, the elf was no longer naked. Unluckily, she looked… absolutely ridiculous. She had donned a full-out ball gown, crimped around the waist, bursting like a cupcake from the hip down. The elf’s naturally slim figure only made it appear more ridiculous, as she was practically drowning in it.

“How do you think it looks?” Momo asked instead.

Kasula eyed herself in the full body mirror.

“I think I look like a rapidly melting popsicle.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that…” Momo said, trying to be polite. Even so, she struggled to find the words to articulate it politely. “You look more like a… cupcake with a birthday candle in it.”

Kasula whipped her head around, scowling. “That’s supposed to be better?”

“It’s not worse!”

“It’s absolutely worse.”

Sumire snorted herself awake, chiming in helpfully with an “I’m awake, let me see!” After sharing a brief, apprehensive look with Momo, Kasula slid the curtains apart.

Sumire’s smirk said more than words could convey.

“Don’t you dare speak,” Kasula said, gritting her teeth. “I’m going to change.”

“I’m sorry, friend, but I have to agree with the bird,” Sumire said, looking Momo directly in the eye. Momo’s heart nearly stopped in her chest. “It’s a bit of a cupcake situation.”

A note from villa1ny

To get to the end of Book 2 now, you can head over there!

Join the Discord / Momo cult here.

– Welcome to New Jarv City, Baby

The trio just stood there, staring at each other blankly. After a moment, Kasula laughed nervously, trying to play it off. It didn’t work. Sumire’s gaze was still pinned to Momo.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Kasula said. She turned away, beginning to undress herself from the cupcake. “It’s just a bird. It can’t speak.”

“Plenty of birds can speak,” Sumire said as she slowly crept towards Momo. “Halfling birds, naturally, because they’re more people than parrot, but also parrots, coincidentally, as well as squee-squawkers, and my favorite, sea ravens. I had a pet one of those once. Its coloring was wild. Had this crazy bright red head like a bottle cap. You could spot it from ten miles away.”

Sumire squatted down in the corner of the dressing room and patted the top of Momo’s head.

“Taught it to say lots of fun things – like walk the plank and die, traitor.” She smiled nostalgically. “My sea dog Flippers had a lot of fun with it, too. The raven would fling an old fish head off the deck, Flippers would swim for it, and then they’d repeat the process again and again. It was like having a pet for my pet. Never was quite sure who owned who, though.”

Kasula nodded along, a bewildered look on her face as she put on the next dress. “Uh huh,” she said, trying to keep Sumire in her drowsy, dreamless sleep-state. It was a smart strategy. The knight was already drifting off again. After only a moment, her eyes closed. She had fallen asleep in a squat, hand motionless on Momo’s skull, breathing quietly.

“There she goes,” Kasula said under her breath, giving Momo a relieved look. Momo shared her relief, but didn’t dare say so. “Well then, I think I’m going to go with this one – no use fussing over finding the best look for a ball I intend to rob blind.”

The dress in question was quite the upgrade. It ran down Kasula’s body like a river, fitting her slim form in all the right ways. It even had pockets.

Momo raised one of her wings in a thumbs up. Sumire snored in her ear.

—

They all reconvened at the garment district’s central square. It was a densely packed zone, teeming with folk of all creeds and colors: halflings, orcs, elves, dwarves, and the occasional, but rare, human. From what Momo could tell, the district sat at the very last ring of the circular city, the capital’s innards heavily guarded by parades of knights and enchanted stone walls.

Kasula carried two bags with her, one for herself, and another for Momo, containing a so-called backup dress, in case she was forced to abandon bird mode. Momo had squawked against it, but the elf insisted. It was a pretty thing, much too pretty for Momo, with frills and lace and color. Bright blue, to be exact. Icey, snow queen blue. Not the beloved black-gray Momo adored.

The men of the party – for as much as a genderless lemur and a boyish lizard could constitute the human gender construct of men – were all dressed to the nines in black tuxedos. Or, at least, approximations of them. Radu’s had an opening in the back for his tail to fit through, and Kami’s seemed to be cut from the sleeve of an actual tuxedo, and hemmed to fit around his tiny legs.

Akram and Ribeye’s suits were normal, for the most part, except one glaring problem: they were entirely too small. Both of the men suffered from the same two ailments: being stupidly muscular, and not caring if their clothes fight them right. The result was an outfit choice that left absolutely nothing to the imagination – as if they were posing for one of those housewife-beloved firefighter calendars. All that was missing was the red lingerie.

“I see the ladies have returned,” Kami remarked, brushing the fur on his head backwards. He had it styled dramatically in a mohawk, the hair gel so dense and obvious that it glittered in the sun.

“I must say, you’re looking dashing, Kami,” Kasula snorted. “Who knew you could clean up like that.”

“I wish I could say the same,” the lemur said, side-eyeing her ragged robes. “I do hope you intend to wear that dress on your body, and not just wave it around in a backpack all night.”

“Oh, shove it,” she grumbled. “I didn’t want to get the dress all dirty. These streets aren’t exactly swept regularly. Our campsite is sitting on literal dirt, and it still has fewer worms crawling in it than the average brick in this place.”

Looking around, Momo could see what she meant. The cobblestone streets were caked with grime. Every pipe was perpetually leaky, every rodent plump and feral. There was no cleanup crew here, only busybodied merchants and consumers eager to get back to the deeper, and likely cleanlier, trenches of the city.

“You’re all going to need these,” Sumire interjected, holding out thin slips of paper. They looked like the tickets Momo used to win at Chuck E. Cheese, red and haughty and a bit emotionally manipulative. When Kasula took one, a piece of parchment spawned next to it. Momo looked at it from over her shoulder.

You have acquired an [Opera Ticket].

[Opera Ticket]: Grants entrance to the Royal Ball of Jarvirium, hosted by the Lesser Lesser Knight’s Court. This ticket admits only one guest. Guests are not allowed to be of the following classes: necromancers, necromages, necrodancers, necroknights, necrothieves, or any other classes which enjoy the necro prefix. If the guest is discovered to be of one of these classes, they will face the King’s Penalty. For the unacquainted – that means death.

“Wonderful,” Momo mumbled into the elf’s ear. Kasula smirked.

“So thieves are allowed, then?” Kami asked, inspecting the ticket.

“Technically, yes,” Sumire said. “But if you are discovered to be one, I am sure the general constitutional rules of Jarvirium will kick in, and you will be kicked out. See, this event is hosted by the Lesser Lesser Knight’s Court, which is exclusively made up of egotistical idiots who aren’t talented enough to make it to the Lesser Knight’s Court. They won’t be keen on anyone trying to ruin their event, or even more importantly, their image.”

“Isn’t Roland in the Lesser Lesser Knight’s Court?” Radu asked.

“Yes, he absolutely is,” Sumire grinned.

Momo’s beak upturned in a smile. If one thing was truly admirable about Sumire, it was her dedication to ragging on Roland whenever possible.

—

True to Momo’s assumption, the garment district was a pariah of a block, with guards and gates at every corner blocking them from proceeding into the capital proper. Lines longer than Los Angeles traffic jams winded around the block – sweaty queues of citizens with bursting shopping bags desperate to re-enter a more civilized layer of Jarvirium.

“Gods, I’m just about ready to unleash a tidal wave and make this all go a lot faster,” Sumire groaned as they pushed their way to the head of the line. Momo was eternally grateful she had chosen to bird up beforehand, because nothing was worse for her than a bunch of sweaty, angry bodies in tight spaces.

After Ribeye threatened enough people with his frying pan, they made some progress. Kami traveled on Kasula’s other shoulder, curling up into a scarf-like formation. At first, Momo didn’t get why – but she quickly realized that not many talking lemurs were prancing around the town. She didn’t know if Kami’s identity was common knowledge, but it would soon become so if enough people saw him.

“Halt there, citizens,” a knight at the gate insisted. He was a squirrely guy – not a squirrel, which must be noted – but the type of human who still looked remarkably like they did as an infant, big-eyed and like they might squeal at any moment. “Demonstrate your papers.”

“No papers needed,” Sumire said, pushing to the front of the group. “It’s me. Let us through.”

“I don’t know a me,” he said, squinting. “Official documents only, or I'll call the big guard. You don't want me to call the big guard.”

Sumire blinked at him. Although nothing changed about her outward appearance, Momo could practically visualize the angry torrent of fire that was seething beneath the surface. If there was one thing Momo knew about perpetual insomniacs – it was that they weren’t known for their even keeled tempers.

“I’ll say it one more time,” Sumire repeated, tone unchanging. “Let us through.”

“No can do, missy,” he whistled. “Now turn around, and get lost. You’re obviously not from here, anyway.”

Oh god. Momo swallowed. Her eyes dipped down to Sumire’s hands, which had balled into fists – blue energy dancing like electricity around her fingers. The chances of a tidal wave bursting through the crowd had just jumped from ten percent to absolutely imminent.

“These should do the trick,” Kasula said, quickly interrupting the volcano eruption next to her. She handed the Opera Ticket to the guard. “No, we’re not locals, so no Jarvirium identification. We’re all here for the ball, specially invited by the Lesser Knights. If I may be so brave to assume, you are not even part of the Lesser Lesser Lesser division, so I’d suggest you let us in, before your superiors hear about this.”

The knight paled, his skin going even whiter than Momo thought possible. He looked to Sumire, then to the rest of them, the error of his ways quickly dawning.

“My apologies, madam, I didn’t realize,” he said quickly, waving his hand upwards in some sort of hurried signal. “Please don’t mention it to nobody. I’m real sorry, the sorriest. Look, I’m letting you in this minute, alright? Go right through, proceed down the main street, and there’ll be the ball. Goodbye, goodbye.”

The gates behind him began to creak open an inch, and he unhooked the rope which separated the queue from the knight brigade. Kasula gave him a condescending – and slightly terrifying – smile, and the rest of the party hurried behind her through the gates. They shut tightly and quickly as soon as the last foot entered, leaving no room for prying intruders.

They let out a collective sigh.

"We're in," Kami said, jumping off Kasula's shoulders and gesturing upwards. "Of course, now that the easy part's over, the real work begins."

Momo’s eyes followed his gaze, and - oh. If the garment district was the deserted suburbs of New Jersey, then they had finally reached Manhattan. Skyscrapers of white-painted stone shot into the sky, disappearing behind the clouds. Each carried a larger than life banner of the king himself, a portrait of the man that Momo had been seeing in her nightmares ever since she came here.

And, oh, Gods – for the highest disciple of the God of Light and Morality and Goodness, he was the most terrifying creature Momo had ever laid her dainty brown eyes on.

A note from villa1ny

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– Death Row Fight Ring

Momo’s entire body recoiled at the realization.

The king of Jarvirium was an octopus.

Well – at least his head was an octopus. A lumpy body, probing eyes, and eight long arms, all shaded purple, protruded from his neck where his skull should be. The rest of him was remarkably human, with all the normal limbs in their normal places. He was dressed in white papal robes and a matching mitre, looking like some artist’’s attempt at pope-defamation art.

On each banner, Jarva stood just behind the throne, hands placed on either side of it. Sitting on the throne, with his leg flung up nonchalantly, was the prince. Apparently, his mother’s gene pool hadn’t been much help; his face was no less disturbingly fishy than his father’s. The only difference was in color. Instead of purple, his flesh was pink.

“I’m gonna be sick,” Momo mumbled into Akram’s ear, suddenly nauseous. “And they think necromancers are nasty? I’d rather cuddle with a hundred corpses than that thing.”

“Thing?” Akram narrowed his eyes at her. “What are you talking about?”

“The King. And his seafood son.”

“I’d be careful who you’re calling seafood,” Akram warned, rolling his eyes. “Octopi are the holiest of celestial beings. Each one of their legs represents a different doctrine of Kyrosian philosophy. The first leg is Piety, the second, Undying Loyalty…”

“Stop. Please, stop. How has Morgana not killed this guy yet?”

The God of Morality and Holiness. What a load of crap. Momo imagined the most annoying boy in her high school being given the power to determine what was Good and what was Evil. She internally recoiled, skin crawling as she imagined a society that worshiped the Oakland Raiders, Kombucha, and wearing basketball shorts during the winter.

“Poor Morgana.”

With their Opera Tickets, the party had no problem progressing into the inner reaches of the city. As Momo suspected, the capital was arranged like a layer cake. Accessing each layer required a certain level of authorization – basic citizenship got you into the first five, and, when lacking that, the Opera Ticket permitted entry into the first six.

They were currently in ring three, un-inspirationally named the Lesser Dwelling Zone. Like its predecessors, this layer wasn't particularly inspiring. It was purely residential, small in square footage but ridiculously dense. Apartment buildings made of corrugated metal sheets loomed high in the sky, stacked for hundreds and hundreds of levels. No transit up and down, no magical floating platforms, no modern day elevators.

Just stairs. It seemed that half the commute to your job was descending down a never ending fire escape. The winged inhabitants got lucky – they could nose dive down, and flutter back up. Everyone else had calves that bulged bigger than boulders, and the most miserable expressions Momo had ever seen on commuters. And she had driven in Boston, once.

Momo decided that if she lived here, she would be homeless – on purpose. Using her druid powers, she could tame the local feral rat population, make them bring her pillows and a sleeping bag, and tough it out on the streets. The buildings blocked out the sun anyway, and the climate was brisk but temperate. Optimal living conditions.

“I’m surprised there aren’t more people on the streets here,” she said to Akram. “It seems way more comfortable than climbing twenty stories to sleep on a mattress.”

“Oh, there are,” he said. “But street spots cost way more than apartment spots. You just don’t see anyone because it’s during the workday. The homeless – or the nomadic streethomed, as they call themselves here – will show up after hours. They’re a pretentious bunch, with their mobile sun-producing tents and white-collar suits.”

“That’s… insane,” Momo said. It’s like an inverse San Francisco.

As they carried on down the street, Momo watched as one resident stuffed himself in a pneumatic mail-carrying tube, closed the latch, and got zipped up the side of an apartment building alongside a load of letters. He went in with a full head of hair, and returned a few minutes later with a wig sitting over his half-bald scalp. Momo grimaced.

“This place is a horror show,” she commented as they turned the corner towards the next layer of the city. Momo was overjoyed to see that the fourth ring marked the end of the residential district, promising a much more intriguing Financial Area For Illustrious Investors and Gamblers. It was a needed break. She was getting depressed seeing how people in the capital lived.

“I don’t know, I just thought…” Momo trailed off, her eyes glued to the larger-than-life royal tapestries that flung in the wind. “Given the god in charge here, I thought the capital would be, I don’t know… more humane? More, dare I say, moral?”

“Humane? Moral?” Akram laughed. “I’m sorry, but didn’t you used to live in a wet barn outside a necromancer sanctuary?”

“And?” Momo said, defiant. The man who had traveled through the mail-tubes walked past her, his half-bald head reflecting the sunlight. She lowered her voice to a murmur. “At least I could take a nap without getting accidental hair surgery.”

“There’s pros and cons to every living situation,” Akram shrugged. “Sometimes sailors on the Barium Sea get Baryte Poisoning. Last time one of my deckhands got it, it turned his leg into a Nether Trumpet. Do you know how freaky it is for your foot to start playing jazz?”

She opened her beak to speak, but then closed it.

I wanna go back to my barn.

—

Momo had never seen a casino before. California wasn’t big on them, and Momo wasn’t big on any activity that required risk – or money. She had debilitating anxiety, and major cash flow problems. But she had always been a smidge mesmerized by the aesthetic of them: the big, neon lights; the shiny prizes; the women who were nice to you so you’d spend more money.

The King Jarva’s Casino of Tentacled Miracles was all of that, turned up a hundred notches.

The building was fifteen stories tall, with animatronic tentacles sticking out from all sides. The tentacles moved with rough, robotic motions, not even trying to mimic life. They sent a shiver down Momo’s spine like few things she had experienced in Alois. It was just so large and so robotic, like a headless, mechanized giant.

“Dear sir, could I interest you in a Jarvirium delicacy?”

A fancy waiter holding a platter of clams stood just outside the building, haggling anyone who passed by. Akram moved at the speed of a sloth, so the waiter clamped onto him like a bird of prey.

“I’m good, thanks,” Akram grimaced. “Vegetarian.”

As if, Momo thought. She had seen the man scarf down an entire deer, antler to hoof.

“No problem at all, sir.”

The waiter tossed the platter into the street. The shells scattered everywhere, and then evaporated into puffs of smoke. Momo gaped as a new dish appeared in his hand. It was brimming with the same exact food – only this time, made of tofu.

“These are just to die for,” he said, attempting to spoon feed one into Akram’s mouth. “You must try one.”

“I’m not hungry, really,” Akram said, stepping away.

A few feet ahead, Sumire was already on her third platter. The waiter stared at her, jaw open, wordlessly summoning a new plate of clams.

“You guys are seriously letting the quality drop,” she commented, chewing thoughtfully. “This new chef is making a mockery of the place. I knew the former Chef Gabbs personally, and he put his blood, sweat, and tentacles into every single one of his clam powders. I’m not kidding – that’s how he died. Would the new head chef die for his appetizers?”

The waiter took a minute to recover from the question, blinking nonstop. “Of course, ma’am. The new chef, Chef Rizzoli, is more than capable. If he had to choose between his own life and a perfectly seasoned shrimp ravioli – he would choose the ravioli every time.”

Taking his words to heart, Sumire studied him for a second.

“I see,” she said finally, with the exactness of a judge. “Well, then it’s a talent issue, then. That can’t be helped. I’ll be taking my business elsewhere.”

With a shrug, she moved on. The waiter looked like his family had just been bombed.

“She’s really something,” Akram smirked. “She and her troublemaking sister liked to play pretend when we were growing up, but this whole act – it’s something else. I can’t even imagine how difficult it is to pretend to be that snooty.”

You think she’s pretending? Wait.

“Did you just say sister?” Momo whispered. “Sumire didn’t tell me she had a sister.”

“She didn’t mention Nura? I’m surprised. The two were as thick as sea-cows,” Akram said. Momo translated his phrase appropriately. They were really close. “Both of them worked the Barge in the summers when they were younger, until their parents passed away. From what I heard, their passing really took a toll on Nura. The girl refused to work the ships anymore. Wanted to move to the continent.”

Is that why Sumire ended up as a Holy Knight in Jarva’s Kingdom? It would make sense. She had mentioned that Roland found her at a vulnerable time. But what had happened to her sister? Did it have to do with the secret Roland was keeping for her? Probably. It seemed plausible. Momo knew how family could be.

Momo’s brother had been an idiot, but she would have done anything for him. Well – except for advertising his soundcloud account. She had left him purposefully alone in that battle.

After Sumire had finished sufficiently filling her stomach, they proceeded towards the opera house. The building was located in the fifth ring, the second-highest security layer. It was the Control and Entertainment Zone, which seemed like an oxymoron, but true to its name, it contained a shit ton of bars, sporting arenas, and the Holy Knight Barracks.

That’s where the Oblivion Shards are, Momo guessed. Sumire wasn’t wearing any of her baryte jewelry anymore, so sneaking into her room and checking her wardrobe would be the natural next step.

But – for whatever reason – it felt like the wrong move. Momo had this nagging feeling like she was missing something. The ball, the missing sister… Momo hated when she didn’t know things, and there were a lot of unknowns going around. Nevertheless, what drew her attention most was the weird way Sumire was acting.

She was actually awake.

The enchantment on her luhkka had to be heavy deal stuff, but she was defying it like no other as they walked towards the opera house. Everytime she began to fade, she slapped herself hard on the cheek, hopped from foot to foot, and shook her head like a dog. She seemed particularly obsessed with the advertisements that were plastered around the area – large posters about something called Death Row Fight Ring.

“Do you know what that is?” Momo said to Akram, pointing a wing towards the poster. She was grateful for his slow walking speed. It kept Sumire out of earshot.

“Death Row Fight Ring? Unfortunately,” he said, grimacing. “Death Row is the facility where all of Jarva’s most high-profile prisoners are kept. Every six months, they host this show where they pit three of the deadliest prisoners against each other. The winner gets their freedom, on the qualification that they can never return to Jarvirium. It’s a brutal, bloody mess.”

“That sounds horrible. How the hell do they justify that as moral?”

“They write it off as an act of charity since one of the prisoners gets to go free,” Akram laughed. “Plus, peasant or priest, everyone loves a bit of violence. The tickets usually cost upwards of one million. Some people here will spend their whole life savings just to get a peek at the live thing instead of reading about the results in a newspaper.”

“Wow,” Momo said, feeling hollow. “And I’m guessing from all the ads that it’s happening again soon?”

“Try today,” Akram said, pointing to the largest advertisement of them all. Momo followed his gaze, and read in big, blocky letters, the time, date, and location.

Presented by the Lesser Lesser Knight’s Court: Death Row Fight Ring. Nine PM. Opera House.

The kingdom’s only Kyros-approved massacre!

A note from villa1ny

To get to the end of Book 2 now, you can head over there!

Join the Discord / Momo cult here.

– The Spinesplitter Waltz

The opera house was a divine feast for the eyes. With its steep stone pillars, domed roof, and rounded arches, Momo recognized its style from her Architecture Through Time class back in college. Overly symmetrical, perfectly rounded edges – it was distinctly Neo-Renaissance. The kind of building where nostalgia for the past was written like scars into the stone.

Unlike the actual Earthly period, however, this building seemed to be nostalgic for a very different era – terracotta tentacles wrapped menacingly around its pillars. The limbs connected up towards the top of the building, where the clay head of an octopus sat. The head was ginormous – the size of two toyotas. It was sneering, indignant.

“Have I mentioned that this place is creepy as hell?” Momo said. Akram smirked.

A roped queue zig-zagged like a hedge maze in front of the building. Interestingly, most of the guests in line wore masks in the style of sea creatures – squids, crabs, fishheads. It was like that Hooters-style restaurant back in Mekna, only a slight hint more modest. Many of the women were dressed in ten-inch heels, some even in clown stilts, and a few of the men were wearing nothing but a bedazzled speedo.

“We are severely underdressed,” Kasula said. “Or overdressed. I can’t tell.”

“You’ll need masks,” Sumire said, waving her hand towards a merchant’s stall nearby. To her surprise, Momo recognized the hawker standing behind it. It was the man from the Under-Canals. The one with the [Pitied] skill – Licky.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Akram grimaced, then lowered his voice. “If he recognizes me, we’re in deep shit.”

“He won’t,” Momo said. “Just don’t be an asshole.”

“He makes that very difficult.”

“Being nice to people isn’t difficult.”

“Being nice to some people is extremely difficult,” Akram muttered as he walked over to the stand, the sight of Licky already turning his face into a scowl.

Luckily, Akram exhibited some self control, and they were able to get a few masks without losing their entire savings. Kasula, prudent as ever, got one for Momo “just in case.”

It was a black raven mask.

“Get it? Because it’s a bird disguised as a bird?” Kasula said, grinning bigger than necessary.

Momo rolled her eyes.

“Alright,” Sumire said, clapping her hands together unenthusiastically. “That’s all, then. Roland will meet you at the front of the line. I have to run some… errands before I go inside. You all better behave.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Kami added, adorning a plague mask. Sitting on his tiny lemur head, it looked ridiculous.

The line went on for over thirty minutes before they reached the halfway point. There was a team of ten or so guards called Halfway Bouncers, who were tasked with the all-important goal of reviewing your party attire – and general bodily hygiene. The one assigned to Akram was a lackadaisical gnome, no bigger than Momo in her bird form, who demanded Akram to squat while he checked him over.

“No bird-birds,” the gnome ordered, crossing his arms. “Gotta be at least part not-bird. Whole birds can’t be trusted in the premises. Can’t have ‘em interrupting the show.”

“What kind of discriminatory rule is that?” Akram said.

“Rules are rules,” the gnome said. “I don’t write ‘em. You want in, or not?”

Akram looked at Momo. They shared the same thought – crap.

—

“When is it appropriate to say I told you so?” Kasula sing-songed as she played lookout for Momo, who was busy shoving herself into the corset-like ice queen dress Kasula bought her.

A few months ago, she couldn’t have dreamed of fitting into it – but a lack of nourishing food and an abundance of unwanted exercise left her as skinny as a rose stem. Only her arms and calves had put on any muscle, leaving her looking like a cross between a cross country runner and a malnourished teenager.

She stepped away from the dumpster she was hiding behind into view of the elf.

“Before you speak, don’t,” Momo warned, mumbling.

Seeing Momo, the elf’s smirk had dropped off her face.

“What the hell,” she muttered. “You look like an elvish runway model.”

Momo blushed. “Is that a compliment?”

“I don’t do compliments. That was a fact,” Kasula said. She approached Momo, and placed her hands on Momo’s hips. “Once this gig is up, we should really visit the Elven Empire together. I know some model agents. The pay is shit, but if you play your cards right, you can climb the ladder. Be the cover page of Elf La Mode.”

Momo’s cheeks burned brighter than the sun. She slapped Kasula’s hands away.

“You’re full of it,” she said, staring intently at her feet. “Give me my bird mask, please.”

Kasula rolled her eyes. “Don’t come running to me when you realize you missed out.”

—

Once they determined the coast was clear from any prying eyes (especially Sumire’s), the pair snuck back into line. They quickly made it through the Halfway Bouncers. The gnome even gave Momo an approving grunt, tugging at the hem of her dress and muttering to himself. It was only another half-hour wait before they were inside, following streams of masked patrons through the arched doorways and into the foyer.

The foyer was as decadent as the opera’s exterior. The domed ceiling immediately caught Momo’s attention. From the outside, it looked normal enough; inside, it was completely see-through, so she could see the glittering stars above with a view as good as a NASA telescope.

It also gave her a spectacular view of the increasingly large tear in the sky.

The jagged wound had grown three times in size since she last looked at it. Not only that, but it had accumulated even more white cloud particles. They coalesced around the opening, swirling, morphing and melting together – as if they were evolving into something.

“That doesn’t bode well,” Momo said to Radu, pointing up towards it. He agreed with a frown.

“Neither does that.”

Momo followed his gaze to the center of the opera house, where a stage sat above the large ballroom. A microphone stand with a wand perched at the top stood on a podium. Next to it, on either side, were large barrels of confetti, party poppers, and birthday hats. Tapestries with the face of a fleshy pink octopus were hung absolutely everywhere.

“The prince,” Momo said. “No way, is he going to… perform?”

As if on cue, the lights in the auditorium muted, leaving only the starlight. The cacophonous noise from the party guests quieted in turn, and a hundred masked faces turned to the stage. Over invisible loudspeakers, a truly terrible melody started to play. Momo wasn’t exactly an expert in music theory – but the song sounded like someone had attempted to quantum fuse the waltz with a pop punk, EDM, ear-scratching screamo.

“Oh gods,” Radu covered his ears, grimacing. He shouted over the music at Momo. “It’s the Spinesplitter Waltz. I haven’t heard this since I was a kid – when Jarva’s old man came to visit Drachenheim. Five notes of the stupid song nearly shattered all our glass windows.”

Momo decided quickly that five notes was far too many. She was one note away from suffering a brain bleed. Somehow, the other guests didn’t seem to mind. In fact, they were clapping, shouting, whooping and whistling, as if the ear-splitting tune was the opener at an underground rave.

“Wait, the Spinesplitter Waltz?” Momo repeated, practically shouting over the music. “Like that song Sumire used to test Teddy back in Nam’Dal?”

Radu pointed at ears, mouthing I can’t hear you. She glared at him.

As the instruments built towards their crescendo, the guests started stomping their feet. Momo nearly lost her footing; the excruciating rumble of bass made the entire room vibrate. Beams of light began to bathe the stage, shooting out like sun rays. The party favors activated on their own, launching streamers into the crowd, shooting packages of confetti like cannonballs.

Momo ducked out of the way as one of the confetti-balls soared past her, exploding on contact with a few of the guests. It was obvious that this hideous melody was supposed to serve as a drum roll. It was building up to something – or better yet, someone.

The room went dark. Then, after a flicker of a moment, it came alive again.

And there he was – standing in full glory, octopush arms lashing around like a fish on land. Pink and plump like a flamingo crossed with an apple. Momo nearly gagged at the sight of him.

The prince.

“Greetings, my fair guests,” he said, taking a bow. “To Jarvirium’s Masked Ball.”

The music immediately died down, transitioning violently into a peaceful, polite piano piece. A flurry of knights came in with brooms, sweeping away the confetti. It was a total, instantaneous transformation from some kid’s birthday at a rave to a high-class opera in Vienna.

“Before we begin, I want to thank the Knights of the Lesser Lesser Court for organizing such a splendid affair,” he said, taking another bow. The guests bowed with him, in some sort of customary practice. Not wanting to draw attention to herself, Momo did the same. “They’ve organized such an appealing agenda for us tonight – a splendid dinner of lesser sea creatures, dessert made of sand from the Vagrant Dunes, and, finally, the greatest treat of all…”

He waved one of his human hands upwards, and a tapestry unfurled from the ceiling.

“Death Row Fight Ring!” he roared.

“Death Row FIght Ring!” the audience screamed in return.

“And not just any Death Row Fight Ring, but a truly special rendition. All for you, the King’s most wonderful benefactors,” he said, clasping his hands together. “Months before this ball, we sent a special piece of correspondence to your very doorstep, asking you to vote on which prisoners you’d like to see compete. This level of audience participation has never been done before.”

He waved again, and another tapestry fell. Momo’s face paled as she looked closer at the giant poster. It was different from the other advertisements. Instead of just showing generic details about the event, it contained three headshots, their names listed underneath.

One of them screamed at her louder than stupid, ear-destroying waltz.

Nura.

A note from villa1ny

To read to the end of Book 2 now, you can head over there!

Join the Discord / Momo cult here.

– The Last Body of Azrael

“Oh God,” Momo swallowed, heart racing. “That’s Sumire’s sister.”

The woman depicted on the tapestry looked remarkably like Sumire. The same sloped nose, the honey brown eyes. Her face was a bit thinner, emaciated, like she’d only been fed the table scraps.

Momo looked towards Akram, who was staring emptily at the tapestry, shock written all over his face. After a moment, he regained lucidity, blinking back into the present.

“This is bad. Really bad. Sumire would do anything for her sister.”

Momo grimaced. “You wouldn’t suppose it’d be a ‘give up her life as a pirate, become a Holy Knight, and turn over the Oblivion Shards to the King so he can destroy all necromancers forever’ kind of anything, would it?”

Akram glared at her. That answers that, then.

Before Momo could investigate any further, the prince cleared his throat and tapped the wand-microphone. A shrill noise reverberated through the room, ripping Momo and the other guests from their wrapt conversation.

“The show will begin in the amphitheater at ten. Until then, enjoy the clams, and do remember to bid on some items at the charity auction,” he said, waving one of his tentacles towards a side room. “All the auction’s profits will go towards the Anti-Necromancer Relief League.”

Momo blinked. Is he serious?

Unfortunately, It seemed he was incredibly serious. They trailed into the auction room, only to find every sort of anti-necromancer memorabilia on display. Relics of the Dark Calamity, mostly. Weapons and armor. Skill books and transcripts. A few gratuitous battle paintings, all displaying the knights as the obvious victors.

“This definitely never happened,” Momo muttered, standing in front of one such painting like an art critic at a gallery show. "I mean, come on, a blindfold?"

It was called the ‘Catharsis of the Light.’ An aptly pretentious name for such a dumb painting, Momo thought, frowning. It depicted a single Holy Knight taking down an entire legion of undead with a blindfold on, his sword broken, and his left leg torn in half.

Momo hated to call things bad art, but this just was. Even the anatomy was screwy. He had sixteen fingers. His still functioning leg was lacking a knee.

“How would you know if it happened? Were you there personally?” Kasula laughed. “Seems pretty accurate to me. Necros got their asses handed to them, Jarva reigned supreme, now he’s rich and evil and gets to sell off their remains.”

“Remains?”

“Sure,” Kasula shrugged, pointing nonchalantly at a casket in the corner of the room. “I’ll bet you ten hundred coin that’s Azrael.”

Momo paled. True enough, when they approached it, a faded plaque on the side of the coffin read The Last Body of Azrael. The circumstances of his death were described in small text below it, but it was too tiny and withered to make out. She had the urge to grave-rob and check if he was really in there, but it was padlocked from all sides.

“Azrael? Like the Necroknight?” Momo said, her mouth gone dry. “Are they serious?”

“Deadly. Not as dead as him, though,” Kasula said, knocking nonchalantly on the casket. “I doubt it’s his real body, but nobody’s going to exactly question Jarva on the specifics.”

Kami, who was currently posing as a dead scarf around Kasula’s neck, decided to weigh in.

“It’s not his real body. It’s just an excuse to get these rich necro-hating hicks to pay the big bucks,” he said lowly. Momo squeaked in surprise, having forgotten he was there. “No one actually knows if Azrael is dead. Unlike Sera, they weren’t able to capture him.”

Momo nodded, unable to to tear her eyes from the coffin.

“Wait,” she paused. “What does it mean by the last body?”

Kasula snorted. “Really? Your necromancer lore is severely lacking. You’ve got to be the only necro in all of Jarva’s kingdom running their own city, and you don’t even know the basic facts about your elders. Shame on you.”

“It’s not for lack of trying,” Momo grumbled. “My specific elder is pretty much the opposite of an open book. Every time I try to ask her something about the war, she sends me on another potentially fatal quest.”

“Sounds like a woman with a lot to work through,” Kasula whistled. “Has she tried therapy?”

“There are therapists in Alois?”

“He was infamous for soul-splitting,” Kami interjected, interrupting their squabbling before the other guests noticed. They were already attracting a few stares. “Azrael, I mean. It’s said that he had about a hundred separate bodies at the height of the war.”

“Like [Body Doubles]?” Momo asked, recalling Valerica’s very useful spell.

“No. Genuine bodies, organs and all, with genuine fragments of his own soul. It’s one of the most powerful Death magic techniques in the book. Even the most powerful Experts can usually only split twice. He could do it limitlessly, as far as anyone could tell.”

“Why is the scarf talking so much?” Ribeye whispered harshly, staring pointedly at Kami. Momo glanced around. They had attracted more attention than she thought – and more specifically, the wrong kind of attention.

A man in a suit and tie had strolled up to them. He was wearing a pin that designated him as one of the Lesser Lesser knights, the gala’s hosts. He was also holding a clipboard and a quill, the board’s attached sheet of parchment brimming with bidder names and high-priced figures.

“How much would you like to bid on the remains of Azrael?” he asked, gritting his teeth. He was not doing any attempt to conceal his disdain for them. “The bidding starts at eight million. If you do not have eight million, I politely suggest that you step away from the casket.”

It felt very much like Momo was a teenager being accused of loitering outside McDonalds. Her new Aloisian friends were far from the stoners that would pass around a joint in the parking lot, but the effect was the same. They looked and sounded out of place, even with their masks on.

Momo noticed as Kami tugged at Kasula’s earlobe. She winced.

Momo’s eyes darted between the two of them. Was that some kind of signal?

“Actually,” Kasula said, whacking her ‘scarf’ behind her neck with a flick of her wrist. “We’re interested in a… bigger ticket item, so to speak. These are nice, but they’re not quite… what’s the word I’m looking for, dear?”

As if on cue, Ribeye’s face transformed from his permanent scowl into the picture of a doting husband. He straightened his tie, worried his lip, and slipped his arm around Kasula’s middle.

“Oh, something wraithly, I suppose?” he said, putting on a ridiculous British affect. “Would you have anything of the sort?”

Momo and Radu shared an incredulous look. It was like a switch had flipped.

“Wraithly?” the knight said, his eyebrows furrowing. He looked down at his clipboard urgently, his eyes flying over the list. “I have no idea what you’re alluding to.”

“Oh, but I think you do,” Kasula said.

“I think he does,” Ribeye added.

“I do not,” the knight said, stiffening. “The only things available for bidding are in this room. Anything that is not in this room is not available for bidding. If one were to go through the hallway, make a right, ascend a spiral staircase, and then whisper the password, that would be… very silly of them, and completely unrelated to the discussion at hand.”

Password? Momo thought, noticing the slight dread passing over Kasula and Ribeye’s faces. They clearly didn’t know it. Maybe I can help out with this one, she thought, and stared intently at the knight.

[Silent Mindreader]

Her brain pulsed, the guard’s thoughts streaming through. The knight had been repeating the password over and over again in an anxious obsession, as if it might accidentally run straight out of his lips if he lost focus.

Clam chowda. Clam chowda. Clam chowda. Clam chowda.

Momo’s face screwed up in confusion. Somehow, the password had a distinctly Boston accent.

With a final huff, the knight scurried off to bother a different group of bidders.

“I got the password. It’s clam chowder,” Momo announced quietly. Kasula and Ribeye gave her an impressed look. “But seriously, what is with these guys and making everything clam-themed?”

“Emphasizing their place in the food chain,” Kasula said with a shrug. “It’s like when humans open a pork shop and make their mascot a cute pig. That doesn’t add up either, now does it?”

Momo stared at her blankly. Touche.

—

Following the knight’s instructions proved troublesome. There were no torches, no starlight, and of course, no light bulbs – so they ended up aimlessly stumbling around in the dark.

The staircase had led to another hallway, which led to another hallway, which ended in front of what seemed to be a door. Momo wouldn’t know. She was busy being very quiet while Kasula and Kami argued over the next part of the plan.

As the pair bickered, Radu turned to her. Their knees were pressed to each other in the narrow hallway, reminding Momo of when her brother and her would hide out in the basement, shuffling between cardboard boxes like they were spies.

“You know, we can just leave these guys,” he said, part-joking, part-serious. “We’re here for the shards, and you heard Akram – time is running thin. With Sumire’s sister on the chopping block, she could hand over the shards any minute now.”

Momo shook her head. “I don’t think she will. Without our shards, Jarva won’t be able to merge it into the full stone. It’ll be useless to them. They could use Sumire’s portion for a small powerup like Bartholomew did, but I doubt that’ll be enough power for them to care.”

“Are you sure?” Radu challenged. “Desperate people will do really stupid things.”

Momo frowned. He had a point. That was always a bad sign.

A noise came from behind the door. A shuffling of footsteps, then a hacking cough.

“PASSWORD?”

The voice was louder than expected, booming like a megaphone. Kami and Kasula urgently beckoned Momo towards the door. She reluctantly followed their instructions, squatting in front of it and clearing her throat.

“Clam chowder,” she said, feeling very stupid.

“WRONG. INCORRECT,” the voice behind the door bellowed. Kasula gave Momo an alarmed look.

“I thought you knew it,” the elf whispered harshly.

“I do,” Momo insisted, cheeks burning. “The password is clam chowder.”

“WRONG!”

The door shuttered. It was as if every individual plank of wood was judging them.

Momo deflated. Her worst nightmare was coming true. She was going to have to do an accent. In front of people.

Her social anxiety hadn’t been bad in a while, but this triggered it like nothing else. Momo could not do accents. She could barely say her own name under pressure, much less do an impression of some guy lurking outside a Dunkin’ Donuts on Harvard Avenue.

“Fine,” she muttered, and swallowed hard. “Clam chowda.”

“WAS THAT SO HARD?”

The door flung open, revealing a small, brightly lit room. A gnome was standing behind the door, looking up at them.

“Apologies on behalf of the door,” the gnome said quietly. “It is a very ancient piece of wood, and it was created before the invention of manners.”

“I’LL INVENT A WAY TO KICK YOUR ASS,”the door roared, stealing the attention of everyone in the room. The gnome looked at it in alarm, and gave it a swift kick in the wood.

“Shut it, Barksley, or I will have you stripped and made into parchment,” the gnome retorted.

The door made a sharp, whining sound, and then quieted. The gnome harrumphed.

“Please come in,” he beckoned. “All items start at ten million.”

Ten million. Momo’s face paled as they strolled in, the door shutting angrily behind them. The room’s interior was far more luxurious than the pathway let on. A dozen chandeliers hung from the domed ceiling. There was a live band clicking away on piano keys and strumming soft jazz.

Momo looked up. Like in the opera house’s atrium, the stars were shining in full view.

And so was the giant fissure in the sky.

Her skin crawled as she noticed it had expanded two-fold just in the time it took them to walk up the stairs. Worse, the white clouds around it had formed into something recognizable. A face. A face – contorted with milky white folds around the eyes, puffy cloud cheeks, windy dimples. It was staring at them down from the sky, coming closer by the minute.

“Am I going crazy, or do you see that too?” she whispered to Radu, pointing upwards.

He stared at it, blinking slowly.

“That’s not good,” he said after a moment.

“Biggest understatement of the year.”

A note from villa1ny

To read to the end of Book 2 now, you can head over there!

Join the Discord / Momo cult here.

– Cloudquake

A note from villa1ny

If you're in the Discord server, you may know that I'm cooking up my second story right now, called Vampire Potionmaker. It's going to be released on RR eventually, but if you'd like to start reading it now, the first 6 chapters are available on Patreon for any tier (as little as 2$ a month) with a new chapter coming every Friday.

So now you get 5 extra Momo chapters plus a new story for only 2 bucks. Pretty cool dealio.

Anyway, onto what you're here for! Enjoy!

As the face descended closer, the System’s audio courier kicked in. Momo nearly jolted out of her clothing when the voice unexpectedly started stuttering in her ear.

Type: Cloud Titan. Level 45.

HP: 400 / 400

What would you get if you mixed Godzilla with a cloudy forecast? You’d get this. Cloud Titans, and their lesser spawn, Cloud Grunts, are products of a Nether Storm. When too much Nether magic is consolidated in one area, forces of nature that are typically unconscious – such as water molecules – can occasionally gain sentience, resulting in freaks of nature like the Cloud Titan.

“Oh god, it’s level forty-five. How bad is that? Is that bad?” Momo said, beginning to panic. The description hadn’t even finished being read out in her ear.

“What’s level forty-five?” Radu said, his eyebrows creasing in confusion. “The cloud thing?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, that’s… oh,” he swallowed. Momo watched the color drain from his scales. “I’m not sure how it works for things that aren’t in the Class System, but that’s really high. Like really high.”

“What are you two rattling on about?” Ribeye grunted.

It didn’t appear like anyone else had noticed the impending cloud-shaped doom rocketing towards them. Kami and Kasula had their sights on something in the center of the room. A small weapon, draped in a tarp, was enclosed in a glass box, which was enclosed in an even bigger glass box. The enclosure shimmered with magic – clearly enchanted against physical attacks.

“Guys,” Momo pleaded. “You might want to look up.”

Kasula and her sentient scarf gazed upwards.

“Oh,” she said, blinking quickly. “Oh wow.”

“That was not a variable I accounted for,” Kami said, matter-of-fact.

“Me neither,” Momo said, frozen in terror. “It’s a level forty-five cloud titan, apparently.”

Akram, who had been leaning on the wall with disinterest, opened his eyes wide.

“Did you say a cloud titan? I've heard myths of them, but I thought they were just that – myths. Things our parents told us when we’d misbehave,” he looked upwards, his jaw immediately coming loose. “By Nerida. That is certainly no myth.”

“What do we do?” Momo said, her voice trembling. The titan's face had nearly closed the distance, its ginormous, sheet paper white pupils staring at them, unblinking. Its mouth hung open, slightly parted, as if it might be posed to swallow them.

The rest of the patrons were still placidly walking about, their masked faces completely absorbed by the high-ticket artifacts littered around the room.

“We do absolutely nothing, my friend,” Kami said. “This is the perfect distraction. Once it lands, the blood curdling cries and screams will mask our attempts at taking the mace. I couldn't ask for a better turn of events.”

Momo blinked at him in disbelief. “What if we’re the ones screaming? That thing is level forty-five. It'd have no issue pummeling every living creature in this room.”

“Oh yes, very fine thinking, my dear,” he nodded, ignoring the last part. “We should all scream. It’ll be too suspicious if we’re the only ones keeping it cool when the titan lands.”

Momo blinked at him. Does he think this is some sort of method acting exercise?

Before she could protest, the room began to violently shake. The less protected items flew off their stands, and the knights shot to their protection, catching them like linebackers. The guests, predictably, shrieked, lurching in every direction and desperately trying to catch onto something like they were on a bumpy metro ride.

“Go, go, go,” Kami said, jumping off Kasula’s shoulder. Within a blink, he had disappeared. Completely invisible. Kasula wasted no time and sent her daggers flying towards the center enclosure. They pierced the first box of glass – but went no further.

“[Shattering Stab],” the elf whispered. She did a cartwheel towards the enclosure as black magic exploded around the hilt of the daggers, sending glass shards spitting in every direction.

Momo screamed and covered her eyes, her feet barely able to keep balance on the floor. If it wasn’t for her overflowing Dexterity points, she’d be swimming on the floor like the rest of the guests. This wasn’t airplane turbulence – this was a proper earthquake. Or, aptly, cloudquake.

“We should get to lower ground,” Akram shouted. “We don’t want to be here when the floorboards give in.”

Momo nodded furiously, following him and Radu back towards the door. She profusely apologized as she stepped over the hands and feet of various knights and guests. The only person left standing was the gnome, who was holding on to the door handle for dear life.

“COWARDS! LOSERS! SCARED OF A LITTLE DREARY WEATHER?” the door shouted at them as they shot by. Its faint, maniacal cackles faded into the background as they descended the spiral staircase and into the atrium. Rock crumbled all around them, the staircase rapidly deteroriating.

They jumped off the final step, and Momo summersaulted into the atrium. When she came out the other side of the debris, the first person she spotted was Roland. He was standing in the midst of the trembling room, shouting expletives at his fellow knights. The prince was nowhere to be seen, the stage absent.

“This is not happening,” Roland screamed, jumping up and down like a pissed-off toddler. “I will sooner send every single one of you to Death Row before the King finds out about this. Gather the guests outside, stabilize the walls, and make sure the prisoners are still in their places. The show will go on, do you hear me?”

The knights breathlessly agreed. They began forming a chaotic line towards the exit, shooing the guests towards it like school children. Shields and Holy barriers were flung up overhead as stone walls began to crumble, an impending avalanche threatening the entire soiree.

Momo looked up. The cloud titan's face had eclipsed the entire sky. It had also grown a new feature – hands – and was reaching down towards the ceiling of the opera house. At close up, Momo could discern the creature to be about the size of a small apartment building. If it wanted to pick up the ceiling, it was definitely going to pick up the ceiling.

“Where is that useless, good-for-nothing pirate?” Roland spit, his head jerking in every direction. Sumire. Apparently she was still gone on ‘errands.’

“We should get outside,” Akram said, urging them towards the building's front entrance, where guests were still streaming out. “There’s no way we’re fighting that thing and surviving."

“Agreed,” Momo said, steadying herself. “One million times agreed.”

Just as they were about to head for the door, a sudden crush came from the ceiling.

It’s here, was all Momo could think before the starry-night illusion gave out, replaced by two white-knuckled hands peeling the entire structure upwards. The titan heaved off the ceiling like a toddler picking apart a Lego building. He flung it behind himself, apathetic as it crash landed into an apartment building.

Momo gaped as she watched the building buckle and fall, smoke billowing out. The opera house was left a dismembered corpse of stone. All that stood around them now were ruins – crumbling walls and exposed trappings. Winds whipped in and around, tree branches crumbled onto the floor.

“Well, I guess we’re outside now,” Momo whimpered.

The titan’s pale face stared at them vacantly. His lips were unmoving, his eyes unblinking. He moved his hands upwards, and to Momo’s horror, the cloud matter around his fingers began splitting. His fingers started to grow faces, then legs, then arms, forming smaller, miniature versions of the titan.

Soon enough, not-Megan Fox was whispering in her ear again.

Type: Cloud Grunts (2). Level 15.

HP: 150/150

Aww, they’re kind of cute!   Wrong. These cloudy misfits might be smaller in size, but what they lose in height, they make up for in wits and speed. You should probably start screaming. Well, if you aren’t already.

The cloud grunts leapt from the titan’s hands. They were somehow able to manipulate the density of the water vapor inside of them – allowing them to float briefly in the air before crashing down, fists first, into the floors of the opera house.

The impact of their landing shot everyone off their feet. Momo soared backwards, her back colliding with an excruciating crack against the rock walls. Her Catling’s Cowl and her mask both flew off of her, landing in a pile of debris by the grunt’s feet.

A piece of parchment arrived to tell her just how badly that hurt.

Warning!   HP dangerously low.

"Thanks, I could have guessed that," she mumbled.

Her entire body pulsed, her vision graying at the edges. Clouds should not be able to pack that much of a punch, she thought miserably, trying and failing to regain her footing.

“Sumire, Gods, now you show up!” Momo heard Roland shout from a ways away.

He was the only other knight left in the ruined atrium, the rest of the guards and the guests were blocked from re-entering – wedged between the building’s entrance and the crumbled walls.

Except, somehow, Sumire. Momo’s heart caught in her chest. She could feel Biscuit get thrown around his wheel, the tempo changing rapidly.

Momo spotted the pirate emerge from the shadowy remains of the building. She walked with no urgency, just her typical blasé gait. Her luhkka was covered in stains, roughed up around the edges. She had clearly been trampled somewhere between here and where she came from, but she didn’t seem bothered by it in the least.

“I assumed you were supposed to show up fashionably late to these things,” she said, running a hand through her disheveled braids. “But apparently the party started without me. A bit rude, Roland.”

They were far enough away that Momo couldn’t see Roland’s face, but Momo was positive it was redder than the sun. She saw him raise his hand into a fist, but Sumire caught it with her own before he could strike.

“Don’t try me, blondie,” she said. “Unless you want to be squashed by that thing.”

Roland turned his head slowly backwards. The grunt had noiselessly floated to the back of him, looming just overhead. Its apathetic face stared down, lips smacking. Roland eyed it in abject terror.

“By the Gods, do something, do something!” he said, whacking at Sumire’s arm.

The grunt raised one of its massive fists, slowly but surely, so it cast a shadow over Roland.

“Pretty please,” Sumire said, smiling widely.

“I will kill you –”

“I didn’t hear a pretty please.”

The grunt swung.

“Pretty please, goddamnit!”

A note from villa1ny

icymi -- If you're in the Discord server, you may know that I'm cooking up my second story right now, called Vampire Potionmaker. It's going to be released on RR eventually, but if you'd like to start reading now, the first 6 chapters are available on Patreon for any tier (as little as 2$ a month) with a new chapter coming every Friday.

So now you get 5 extra Momo chapters plus a new story for only 2 bucks. Pretty cool dealio.

– The Demonic Luhkka

Roland shrieked as a turrent of water shot straight through the cloud grunt’s fist. It severed the grunt’s vaporous arm from its body, dividing its hand in two. The massive bisected fist fell on either side of Roland’s body, landing like two giant lumps of cream.

“Is it gone?” he whined, trembling. “Did you kill it?”

The grunt bellowed, its face contorting in pain. The noise it produced sounded like pure, unadulterated thunder. It crackled and groaned directly into Roland’s ear like a maimed animal, surging its remaining fist straight towards the knight’s skull.

“Not so fast,” Sumire whispered, changing her stance. She pushed both her hands out in an open-palmed pose. “[Dehumidify III]!”

Using a more evolved version of Akram’s cloud-dispelling technique, blue light enveloped the grunt, turning it from pure white to translucent. Its body completely drained of mass. Like a balloon a child had mistakenly let fly, its body began floating upwards, weightless. The creature thrashed and whined against the force, but it proved pointless.

Momo almost laughed – it was so comical. The grunt floated back up towards the titan’s fist it had emerged from, meshing back into the giant cloud like a ball of play-doh. The titan barely acknowledged it, continuing to stare at them in blank, emotionless terror.

Looking at its expression, her skin crawled. Momo imagined this is what it felt like to be a fish for sale at the pet store, the face of a toddler menacingly pressed upon the glass. Its hands dangling with terrible uncertainty over the surface of the water. You were left with nothing but your inadequate fins, trying to swim faster than it could poke its thumbs at you.

Momo’s attention flew to the second grunt. The creature’s mangled, mushy face contorted with anger as it watched its brother disappear into the sky. Its puffy fingers curled, its feet stomping forward. Momo could practically smell the anger off of it, that thick, mildew scent that came just before a storm.

“Well then. Thank the Gods that’s dealt with,” Roland huffed, brushing debris off his suit and straightening his tie. “Now we can move on to –”

Lightning split across the sky as the second grunt barrelled right towards him.

“Get behind me, you idiot!” Sumire shouted, clenching her teeth as she swung her scimitar upward. It clashed directly with the grunt’s fist, generating a concussive blast that shot shockwaves throughout the entire room. The remaining building foundation cracked and scattered into the air. The guests on the other side of the wall screamed.

Winds whipping around her, Momo held desperately onto the single remaining stone beam behind her. Akram and Radu did the same, full-body hugging onto it.

“We have to help her,” Akram said. “She might be on the wrong side of things, but I’m not leaving my baby cousin to do this by herself.”

“Are you kidding? I sure am,” Radu said. “Kyros and his ilk caused this whole mess. They can clean up the pieces. I’m not about to be cloud-food.”

“Then so be it. Family is family, and my duty is to protect the shards of Oblivion from harm. I’ll handle this."

Momo’s eyes widened as she took a closer look at Sumire’s hair. Akram was right. The jewelry in her braids had returned – pearls of radiant, glimmering white. Momo had been too distracted to pick up on it before, but now that she saw them, she could practically feel the power crackling around her. The unmistakable sizzling of oblivion energy.

“She has the shards,” she said breathlessly.

“So what?” Radu said. “We can pick them up off her dead body later.”

“We’re helping her,” Momo said, decisive. She gave a sidelong glance at Radu. “I’m helping her.”

The effects of the blast receded, and the group let go of the beam, letting out a collective breath.

Radu shook his head. “Even after she tried to slice you open?”

“I try not to judge people on first impressions.”

“Wait, Momo?”

The smoke had cleared, leaving a completely melted cloud grunt in its wake. The creature had been sliced into nothing more than a collection of vapor particles. Standing in front of it, her blade glimmering and wet, was Sumire. Her eyes fixed directly on Momo.

Startled, Momo held a hand up to her face. She felt nothing there but naked skin. My mask.

“Roland,” Sumire said, her face frozen in shock. “It’s her. She has the rest of the stone.”

“Me?” Momo said. “No, no – big misunderstanding.”

I forgot my mask flew off, Momo thought, clenching her jaw. This is bad.

Momo looked towards Akram. His disguise too had faded, the polymorph spell having run its course. Sumire looked between them in disbelief. Momo had never seen her so conflicted.

“That lowly necromancer from Nam’Dal? She has the rest of the Oblivion Stone?” Roland said, looking at them like they were a pair of misbehaving cattle. “This will be much easier than I thought. Get the shards, Sumire. Nothing else matters. The whole building can fall for all I care. If we get the stone for the king, I’ll never have to work again.”

Sumire looked apprehensive. She bit down on her lip, biding time.

“Akram,” she said, greeting him with a million words unspoken. “What are you doing with them?”

“My job, Sumire,” he said. “Guarding the stone. I won’t let you hand it over to the King. The doctrines of Nerida are strict. The stone must never be given to a mortal in full. The shards are powerful enough – the complete Ending Stone is enough to wipe out humanity if used with ill intent.”

“And you think I don’t know that?” Sumire responded, scowling. “I’m going to make sure it’s not used for ill intent. I’m going to save Nura, and safeguard the stone, too. I won’t let them defile it.”

“That’s naive. There’s no way you can assure that. You’ll be punished by the Goddess for all of eternity if you do.”

“Oh, blah blah, Nerida this, moral code that. This is all getting very boring,” Roland said, yawning. “Sumire, won’t you deal with them already?”

He pulled something from his pocket, and clamped down on it, hard.

A shadow ran across Sumire’s face. It was as if someone had hit Factory Reset – her expression lost all emotion. Her eyes darkened, tender brown to blazing red. It was like something had possessed her. Goosebumps ran down Momo’s arms as she watched.

“What are you doing to her?” she shouted, dread filling her stomach.

After a moment, her lip quivered. Her face turned from emotionless to something else entirely. A wolfish grin spread across her face, canines exposed. It was almost masochistic.

“Momo, watch out!” Radu yelled. “Her luhkka – it has a second mode!”

Momo paled. “A what?”

In an instant, the luhkka went from pale fur to pure crimson. Flames flickered at the seams. It was like watching a bush catch fire. Every thread burnt to a crisp.

“The [Drowsy Luhkka] can turn into the [Demonic Luhkka] when activated by a certain undead artifact,” Radu said. “Like one of the Dark Calamity trinkets they were selling at the auction. It’s why the cloak has such a crazy intense debuff. When the Demonic mode is activated…”

“She’s basically unkillable,” Roland finished, smirking devilishly.

The knight held out his right hand, exposing the gem inside. It was pulsing red.

The same red as Sumire’s eyes. She was staring at Momo as if she was seeing straight through her. Just an outline of a target, not a person. Her movements had become erratic, too – as if her limbs were puppets controlled by a phantom hand.

Momo froze, the wheels of her brain turning. It all made sense. Sumire’s sudden betrayal back in Nam’Dal. Her permanent, sardonic indifference to everything. Sumire knew that she could either make the bad decisions herself, or let Roland make them for her. It didn’t matter what Sumire really wanted, the only path she was allowed to follow was the one dripping in blood.

Momo couldn’t fathom what it felt like to completely lose that agency. Complete resignation.

Rage bubbled up in her chest like a trembling volcano.

“I knew she wasn’t just following your orders blindly,” Momo growled, stepping forward. “She’s too smart for that. I should have known this was some kind of ridiculous Jekyll and Hyde situation.”

“No idea what that is, and don’t care to find out,” Roland said, apathetically checking his watch. “It’s nearing time for Death Row, and I have popcorn to salt. Sumire, finish her.”

A flicker of doubt passed over Sumire’s face. A remnant of control. It quickly died, her eyes darkening. She crouched down, blade extended forward.

“Whoa whoa whoa,” Momo said, waving her hands frantically in front of her face. “We can talk about this. Sumire, I can look past the whole decapitation attempt, really –”

“[Tidal Wave],” Sumire whispered. The ground underneath her quivered, stone cracking as an enormous spurt of water shot from beneath her feet. Sumire rose with it, riding the wave on nothing but her feet. She shot towards Momo, curling with a surfer’s dexterity under the maverick wave.

“Time to finish what I started,” the pirate said, her scimitar pointed straight forward.

Momo gritted her teeth. Sumire’s level of power was nearly overwhelming. The air around them pulsed to a suffocating degree, thick with oppressive water vapor. She had only felt something so overwhelming in Valerica’s presence, like the air itself was attempting to strangle her.

“Not this time,” Momo mumbled. “Sorry in advance. This might hurt.”

She extended her mind – feeling for the Nether around her. And oh, wow. The system hadn’t been joking. The room was teeming with untapped potential, nearly at the explosion point.

She curled her hand into a fist, and activated [Nether Cultivator].

A giant black fist grew out thin air. It slapped Sumire sideways, throwing her off the wave and sending her skidding across the floor.

“By Kyros,” Roland’s eyes enlarged. “But, you’re just some pesky Intermediate…”

Sumire recovered quickly, throwing her hand out to stop the skid. She flipped off the ground, doing a handstand before she landed back on her feet, barely fazed. She spit once on the ground, a small puddle of blood landing on the floor.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about,” Sumire laughed, grinning maniacally. Her eyes had gone blood red – her pupils fully dilated. “I knew I liked you for a reason, Momo. You’re so interesting when you really let your hair down.”

The pirate began stalking towards her, playfully spinning her sword around by the hilt.

Momo laughed nervously. “Are you sure you don’t just wanna talk?”

“We are talking.”

“Maybe we could talk with less attempted murder involved?” Momo tried, resting her shoulders back and focusing her mind once again on the Nether. She had to be ready. “Just set down our weapons. Drink some matcha. I really enjoyed our time together, you know.”

Akram side-stepped in front of Momo. Sumire paused, scowling at the interruption.

“I won’t let you kill her, Sumire. [Summon Trident].”

A sharp, three-tipped weapon appeared in his left hand. It was about as tall as him, blue as the sea and engraved with small sailboats, each dipping in and out of the weapon’s hilt.

“Oh, please, cousin,” Sumire said with a laugh. “Is that supposed to scare me? I know all your tricks. You taught me them yourself. This will be easier than taking a worm from a struggling fish. Watch.”

Sumire wasted no time as she lunged forward. The scimitar aimed for his throat, but he parried easily. It threw her balance, sending her stumbling sideways. Sumire frowned.

“Even an old fish can learn new tricks,” Akram smirked.

Sumire screamed as she shot towards him again. Her speed was like nothing Momo had ever seen, dodging and weaving around Akram’s attacks like a gust of splitting wind. She was fighting him with a spirit that transcended possession – she was there to prove something.

“Put, down, the, blade,” Akram groaned, enunciating each word as they traded attempts at each other's necks.

“You first,” Sumire laughed, and then broke the pattern – lunging overhead, so that his body stumbled forward. She grabbed the head of the trident, pulling upward so he lost his grip. She landed, turned, and then plunged the three-tipped head straight through his back.

Momo gasped. Akram fell to his knees.

“I love going fishing,” Sumire sighed wistfully. “You taught me to love it, cousin. Remember what you’d always say? Nothing like the thrill of catching a nice meaty one.”

In one swift motion, she pulled the trident out of his back. Blood spurted from Akram’s wounds. He opened his mouth, then closed it, the words dying on his tongue. After swaying briefly, his body smacked to the ground, unconscious.

“Akram, oh my god. What did you…” Momo trailed off, barely able to speak.

Do something, you idiot. Do something.

Her entire body was vibrating, but she couldn’t move. She felt paralyzed.The Nether energy around her was responding to the emotions flicking through her chest – anger, sadness, fury, betrayal. Its metronomic tone turned unstable, like a sound wave with the amplitude cranked ten notches. Her chest hurt, her feet hurt, her eyes hurt.

Something was building.

Out of nowhere, Radu flashed between them, pushing Sumire to the side. His scales were shimmering like a chameleon – it was hard to place him, even when you stared directly at his shifting form. With a hefty thud, he hauled the pirate over his shoulders.

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure he doesn’t die,” the lizard said, fluttering in and out of view. “This one’s all you, Ripper.”

A note from villa1ny

To read to the end of Book 2 now, you can head over there!

Join the Discord / Momo cult here.

– The One Where Momo Died

Drip. Drip. Drip.

The liquid dripping from Sumire’s scimitar pulled Momo back into the present. The woman was studying her, blinking slowly as she raked her eyes up and down Momo’s body. Momo had never seen her look so viciously awake – eyes wide, red frisbees honed in like sniper rifles.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Momo whispered.

Sumire said nothing. The Nether magic around them pulsed.

Momo steadied her breathing. Her eyes flicked over to Roland. There was no use fighting Sumire – even if Momo could stall her, she couldn’t win. The Holy Knight was an Expert, and on top of that, rabidly possessed by some kind of undead artifact. And on top of that, Momo was undeniably a little bit into her.

(Yes – she was aware of the optics of having a crush on the woman who was on her fourth murder attempt. Momo never claimed to be a rational person. She got an art degree. In America. Not to mention that she was constantly doing the bidding of an all-powerful necromancer, and she wasn’t even under any kind of mind control. A total willing, simping thrall. Rationality had never even been in the room.)

Sumire raised her scimitar. Momo swallowed.

She had to get that gemstone.

Sumire lunged forward, and Momo shrieked, dodging out of the way at the last second. The knight was unreasonably fast, her Dexterity putting Momo’s to shame. She nearly severed an earlobe.

“I let you dodge that one,” Sumire said, half-smiling. She looked positively deranged. “The next one’s for real. Ready?”

“Nope!” Momo said, leaping into the air. “[Summon Lesser Familiar]!”

What was the one thing more powerful than a psychopathic pirate-knight?

A deranged ostrich.

Momo had originally meant to summon the argentavis, but her brain skipped a few crucial steps. In her exasperation, she thought “big ass bird,” and the system did the rest. Hundreds of yellow feathers spurted from thin air. A terrible squawking resonated like an air horn through the atrium.

From the voidal abyss, colossal, chomping teeth grabbed onto Sumire’s sword arm.

"Agh!"

Sumire cried out, letting loose a scream of genuine anguish. She waved her arm rapidly like a toddler stung by a nest of bees, trying and failing to free it from the ostrich’s jowls. No such luck.

There was no deadlier predator on Earth or Alois than the flightless bird.

Momo wasted no time as she sped towards Roland. The knight’s gloating smile instantly faltered. He was dressed in a suit and tie – wearing no weapons, and no armor. All his cards had been set on his personal bodyguard settling the score.

“Don’t you dare come any closer,” he yelled. “I’ll end you!”

Roland struck his hand forward, white light pulsing out of it. Momo dodge-rolled out of the way as a [Holy Beam] soared straight overhead, crisping the ends of her hair. She could feel the heat of it like sticking her hand over a bonfire.

He scowled. “You stupid squirrel, stay still!”

Another beam soared at her. Momo jumped, but this time she wasn’t fast enough. It seared its way across her lower leg, frying it with a third degree burn. The pain was sudden and mutilating. She yelled out, collapsing onto her knees.

Get up. She gritted her teeth, tears pricking at her eyes. Get up. Get up.

“[Life Steal - Quick Steal],” she groaned, throwing her hand out towards him.

Maroon-colored magic shot from her fingertips, encircling him like a tornado until it stabbed straight through the heart. There was no visible wound, no blood – but he let out a dramatic, Oscar-winning whine, grasping at his chest like he had suffered a sudden cardiac arrest. Momo felt the relief immediately, a small amount of his health transferring to her own.

The wound on her leg settled, the pain going from searing hot to nearly bearable. Losing no time, she crawled towards him, using every residual animal instinct to push down the pain and focus on the gemstone in his hand. The artifact was blaring red, growing hotter by the moment.

Momo heard a crackling splat. In the corner of her eye, she could see the outline of the Nether ostrich against the far wall. Sumire had decimated the poor bird, but the bird had given her a good thrashing in turn. The knight was breathing hard, her arm imprinted with teeth marks.

“You Morgana-loving, necro-filth brat,” Roland growled. “I’m done playing games.”

He lifted his arm again, shakier now. The white light in his palm expanded to five times the size it had before. The surface area was too large. Momo was too close.

She wouldn’t be able to dodge it.

In the daze of irrational fear that comes with knowing you might just die, Momo thought of something entirely unhelpful. She thought of Valercia’s farm. Of the utterly ridiculous peace and tranquility of a plantation run by the undead.

She craved nothing more in that moment than to press her finger to the summoning stone, use the last remaining hints of Mana to leave everything behind and sit on that rocking chair. Chew on a piece of dead wheat. Ignore the imminent destruction of Jarvirium. Stop playing Prince Charming. Stop trying to be a hero.

The Nether screamed out to her like a phantom voice. She felt it reaching into her core, pulling at her feeble soul chain. It was so overwhelming that she started to sob.

There was no Valerica coming to save her. The only watching god was the white face of terror that loomed over them, unblinking and indifferent.

Her entire body trembling, Momo got to her feet.

The outline of magic in Roland’s hand was nearly the size of him now – a concentration of Holiness so severe that it would probably blow her into the afterlife and back again. There was no escape.

“You failed, Momo,” he said, his mouth in a straight, apatehtic line. “You failed, and now you’re going to die.”

Momo choked back a sob. Instead, she shook her head - and laughed.

“You first.”

Her mind extending towards every shivering molecule of Nether in the air, she did the only logical thing she could think of.

Momo high fived him.

—

The entire room exploded.

The last thing Momo heard was a tape recording of AI-generated Megan Fox. It was not how she expected to go, but also not the worst moment of death someone could have. There were worse fates. Ones involving cheeseburgers.

—

Hi Momo,

This is Morgana. Excuse me for using the audio system – I know it’s still experimental. But considering your eyes and hands are floating around in liminal space right now, I thought it was the best course of action.

I got a notification on my Apple Watch that you blew yourself up. Actually, everything blew up. I’d call it akin to a nuclear explosion. Luckily, since there’s a bit of delay with these types of things, I was able to rewind slightly. I’m going to set you back a few seconds. Your technique was fabulous, wonderful idea with the high five, maybe just use a little bit less force on this attempt.

Like, maybe one fourth the Nether in the room. No need for the whole thing.

Best wishes,

Morgana

—

Momo inhaled sharply, her entire world rewinding like a VHS tape. She saw her own limbs reconnect, going from a mess of sprawling gore to an intact human being. The building, too, reassembled itself. Bricks floated back into cement, grass went from fried to flourishing.

The Cloud Titan in the sky grew ten sizes. So, that part wasn’t great. Apparently, messing further with the timeline of the universe only increased the speed of everything unraveling. Who would have guessed. Alas – Momo preferred being alive now over being dead later. Probably.

Click.

Time stilled as her hand collided with Roland’s. And, oh my god, his face was made up into the funniest expression. Cheeks heated red, scowling so deep it seemed like his mouth might get stuck like that. Momo wished she had a Polaroid camera around to capture it – like one of those moments you want to save for the grandchildren.

Alright. A little less force, she thought. Got it.

She curled her fingers around the gemstone in his hand. Time resumed.

A note from villa1ny

To read to the end of Book 2 now, you can head over there!

Join the Discord / Momo cult here.

— Fatal Flirting

A metronomic tick played as Roland rocketed backwards. The effects of the concentrated Nether were far too overwhelming compared to his meager [Holy Burst]. It was as if a toddler had traded punches with a sumo wrestler.

His body shot through wall after wall of stone foundation, leaving imprints like the stamp of a cookie cutter.

As time resumed its march onwards, Momo recoiled. Her entire body felt as heavy as a dumbbell, exhausted beyond her human limits. She fell to her knees. The skin up to her wrists had turned completely black with Nether. They looked as if she had dunked her arms in a chimney, charred and piled on with soot.

“I think…” she trailed off, her voice weak. Her vision was rapidly darkening. “I think I’m going to take a quick….”

Nap, she thought, falling to the ground face first.

—

“You could really sleep through anything,” a voice chided. “And that’s coming from me.”

Momo’s eyelids fluttered open.

She nearly went unconscious again as she saw Sumire’s face looming just inches over her own. The woman, who had notably regained her original eye color, was fully straddling her.

Straddling her.

Momo swallowed, nearly choking.

“I – you, Sumire,” Momo stuttered, still regaining her thinking functions. “Hello.”

“Greetings, you ridiculous sleepyhead,” Sumire laughed. “Are you going to keep your cool, or do I have to keep you pinned here to avoid any further time-bombs?”

With a raised eyebrow, she pressed further down on Momo’s middle. It left Momo breathless, compressing her lungs. The objective was obviously to keep Momo immobile, but it was having other, separate ramifications. Such as delaying her ability to process language.

“No – ugh – I don’t think I have enough Mana to even summon a guinea pig,” Momo said, her voice strained. Her body was still completely depleted, the wound in her leg pulsating. “Did I win?”

“Win?” Sumire repeated, incredulous. “Well, I have some good news, and some bad news.”

She uncurled her hand, revealing the gemstone. It was dark, unlit.

“I’m no longer some idiot’s puppet, and you still have your life,” she said, tossing the gemstone from hand to hand. “I’d count that as a victory.”

Momo nodded weakly.

“And the cloud titan?” Momo said weakly.

“Right,” Sumire said. She moved her head slightly so Momo could see the sky above. “That’s the bad news.”

Momo peered above her. The sky had lost every semblance of blue. For as far as the plain eye could see, the titan’s face stretched. Its pupils alone were the size of the entire opera house. Nether swirled within them, a tide pool of simmering chaos.

Her audio courier served her with an update.

Type: Greater Cloud Titan. Level 65.

HP: 700 / 700

“I’m sorry,” Momo croaked. “They have Greater versions of these things?”

“Yeah, it’s not great,” Sumire said, shrugging. “But at least I’m enjoying a few beautiful moments of freedom before the cloud eats us all alive. C'est la vie.”

From a short distance away, Momo heard Radu’s familiar battle cry. It was accompanied by the sound of his daggers cutting through something dull and foamy – had to be another cloud grunt.

Momo attempted to sit up. Sumire tutted, pressing her back down.

“Not so fast, Ripper. We have some things to discuss.”

Sumire leaned even closer still – her braids tickling Momo’s face. Momo could see the probable Oblivion shards sparkling in her hair. They’re so close. If she wanted to risk it, she could reach out and pluck them. Then all she’d need was Akram’s own, and she’d have the power to stop all of this. Elevate Valerica to a Lesser God. Despawn the Cloud Menace out of existence.

Her entire body ached. She was so tired of scheming. She just wanted a Subway sandwich.

“Okay," Momo mumbled, defeated. "What are we discussing?”

Another groan in the background – Akram’s. He seemed to be back on his feet and throwing punches. He's not dead. That's reassuring. A cloud grunt thudded into the wall, slinking down until it was an unmoving, amorphous puffball. That’s how these things died, it seemed. Disintegrated into pudding.

“What happens now,” Sumire continued, smiling softly. It was the kind of smile you got before bad news. “I appreciate you saving my ass, Momo. Seriously. I want you to know that.”

“Is this a preamble to you slicing my throat open again?”

Sumire snorted. “No. Why would I do that?”

“That was exactly the question I was asking myself while I was bleeding out on the floor,” Momo muttered. “We were having such a good time. Bonding. Drinking. Then suddenly my head is nearly detached from my neck.”

Sumire’s playful smile faltered. “Oh, won’t you let that go? I didn’t want to kill you. I don’t murder people all willy-nilly. I’m not like that. I’m picky. I’m precise. The only obstacles I remove are the ones directly in my way. You were in my way.”

“Uh huh,” Momo said, processing the information as she narrowed her eyes. “So what you’re saying is that if I was just a little bit less in your business, you wouldn’t have tried to behead me?”

“Exactly,” Sumire said. “But you couldn’t help it. You’re you.”

“I am,” Momo sighed. “It’s my biggest problem.”

Another cloud grunt flew over their heads, wailing as it landed hard on the stone and skidded across the floor. Momo heard Radu utter some kind of victorious cheer, and then quickly get interrupted by another hulking giant. Momo’s view of the situation was limited, but from what she could hear, the stream of grunts wasn’t stopping. It was only coming faster.

“For what it’s worth,” Sumire began, and then paused. Her eyes dipped down to Momo’s lips, then back to her eyes. “I could have killed you. Properly killed you. I didn’t. I knew you were most likely going to ruin all my well-laid plans and I still, stupidly, let you live. Because you’re so…”

She stammered, closing her eyes tightly before opening them again.

“You’re so odd, Momo,” she said, looking genuinely pained as she did. “You’re so stupidly optimistic. So stupidly loyal to people who don’t deserve it. It’s naïve and terrible and it should get you killed.”

Sumire dragged her fingers along Momo’s collarbones, tracing them like an artist. The heat of her palm radiated through Momo’s chest, spreading like wildfire through her entire body. Is this what butterflies feel like? Momo had always assumed it’d be a pleasant, fluffy feeling – it felt more like a hundred tiny knives dancing in her gut.

“You should be dead,” Sumire repeated again, frowning.

Momo could tell she didn't quite mean it.

“You should be a hundred million times dead, but you’re not. It’s simultaneously so frustrating and intoxicating. There’s just something about you that’s unkillable,” Sumire said, her voice lowering to a whisper. “It’s not your body. You’re as frail as a wingless bat. It’s something else.”

Sumire’s mouth lowered towards Momo’s. Momo held her breath.

“I don’t think you realize how powerful you’re going to be, Momo.”

She stared at her, her nose nudging Momo’s cheek.

Then, wordlessly, she plucked one of the white beads from her hair. She put it just over Momo’s beating heart. It shimmered perfectly white. Momo knew exactly what it was.

“Maybe Nerida will damn me for eternity for doing this,” Sumire said, and then shrugged. “Or maybe she won’t. At least it was my choice to make this time.”

Without another word, she untwined herself from Momo, and walked away.

It didn’t occur to Momo to breathe – or move, or blink – for many seconds afterwards. By the time her regulatory functions had kicked back in, the pirate was long gone. All that lay in front of her was utter destruction, dismay, and a very tired lizard.

Radu glared at her. He was squatting over the body of a crumpled cloud grunt, wiping sweat from his brow. Akram lay beside him, his chest heaving in and out. At least forty cloud-shaped bodies lay around them in a circle.

Radu shook his head.

“You’ve got to stop flirting during work hours.”

—

After fighting a good dozen more of the grunts, Momo, Radu, and Akram started to observe a pattern. A crucial detail. The cloud titan wasn’t moving. It didn’t seem to do anything except generating an endless stream of its lessers, spawning them from its fists and letting them wreak havoc on the atrium below.

They also observed something else, quickly after – things had gone quiet outside. Eerily so. The trapped guests and knights had been screaming pretty much the entire time, but now they fell suspiciously silent.

“Are they dead?” Momo squeaked, risking a look behind.

“We would have heard screams,” Akram said. “It’s just silence.”

Debris obfuscated most of the entrance. Still, Momo could make out a few masked faces behind it. They were still attached to bodies. In fact, she could see a few people looking at each other, guests sharing terrified glances. They were alive, but something had stricken them speechless.

The sudden sound of a trumpet nearly made Momo lose her hearing.

An entire orchestra soon followed. She couldn’t see the band, but their instruments echoed through the entire ruins. Saxophones, drums, violinists. It was louder than a hundred motorcycles revving their engines. Worse, somehow, like the sound was designed to force you into submission.

“Now that I have your attention,” came a light, accented voice. Momo recognized it immediately.

The prince floated upwards above the wreckage. He was standing in front of the crowd on a floating piece of rubble, insulated in some kind of impenetrable bubble.

“We apologize for the disruption to tonight’s activities,” he said, as if they were discussing a particularly heavy rainstorm causing highway traffic. “Just give us a few minutes to clean up, deal with the weather, and we’ll be back on with our regularly-scheduled programming.”

“He has to be kidding,” Momo said, staring deadpan at the floating octopus. “There is literally an ongoing apocalypse with a chance of world-annihilation.”

“Nothing comes between royalty and their entertainment,” Akram muttered.

On cue, the entire legion of Lesser Lesser Knights, and their superiors, the Lesser Knights, raided the atrium. They thankfully ignored Momo and crew, turning their attention to the grunts. A dispatch of Holy Mages began to fire up at the sky, creating a [Holy Enclosure] around the titan’s fists.

For a moment – it worked. Instead of falling to the ground, the titan's spawned lurked in that shimmering, gold bubble.

Momo wasn’t sure how long that moment was going to last.

“Come on,” Radu said, beckoning them towards where the rest of the crowd was headed – the amphitheater. “The popcorn line fills up fast. I’m not getting through the rest of this without a salt-induced high.”

Momo shook her head, exasperated. She followed him.

But her eyes were glued to Akram’s earlobe.

A note from villa1ny

To read to the end of Book 2 now, you can head over there!

Join the Discord / Momo cult here.

– Stupid Moral Compass

As Momo made her way to the atrium, an old friend decided to smack her upside the jaw.

Congratulations! For defeating (we’re not sure if he’s dead or alive, the body’s a little… anyways) Roland, Expert Holy Knight, by using your [Nether Cultivator] ability, rebuffing the possessed Sumire, and fending off several cloud grunts, you have reached level 9 in [Corrupted Druid].

You have acquired the new skills [Undead Forest Totem] and [Death Monkey Leap].

[Undead Forest Totem]: Anywhere that grass lays, you may summon an Undead Totem to fight for you. This totem is stationary, but it will fire pure Death magic at any enemy combatant in a 10m radius.

[Death Monkey Leap]: By harnessing the power of the Death Monkey, you can leap up to 3m in the air, leaving behind a trail of deadly particles in your wake.

The following skills have also received upgrades:

[Raise Undead II] -> [Raise Undead III]: Within 10 minutes after killing something, you can seal their spirit in a Soul Jar, or other makeshift container. Then, later, you can impart that spirit into a lesser undead to raise their level to the level of the person or creature stored in the jar.

[Life Steal] ->   [Sacrificial Drain]: By sacrificing 50% of your HP, you can drain the user of 15% of theirs. All the other modes of Life Steal are still available.

She barely had time to process all of the information before the paper disappeared, her arm being dragged by Radu towards the nearest popcorn stand. He hadn’t been wrong, even in this time of imminent, unquestionable crisis – people remained absolutely rabid for salty snacks.

Death Monkey Leap… she thought, looking up at her new surroundings. That could be useful.

The amphitheater was large, hundreds of stone seats rising up in a semi-circle around the arena below. The arena stage itself was split in four sections – each section containing a different terrain: ice, flames, grass, stone. While Momo was grateful for the chance to possibly test out her new totem skill, she was not thankful for the chance to ice-skate herself into a pit of flame.

But I’m not the one competing, she quickly reminded herself. And thank goodness for it. She had the remaining stamina of a toppled cow. Lethargic and helpless.

Radu led them to his preferred seats – the nosebleeds. The row sat so high that, much to Momo’s dismay, it was nearly kissing the cloud titan. Thankfully, the barrier of light keeping it contained was holding surprisingly strong. The prince had directed the mages to keep a continual stream of power directed at it. Momo couldn’t even imagine how draining that had to be – the Mana cost had to be massive.

As they shuffled into their seats, Momo took a large breath in, steeling herself for what came next. She looked towards Akram, who was sitting in the seat next to her. To her surprise, he immediately met her gaze. His eyebrows were furrowed, his mouth in a grave line.

“Momo,” he said. His tone was colder than usual.

“Oh, um, hi,” she stuttered. “How’s it going?”

His expression terrified her. It was not the look of the friendly sea-pirate she was used to.

“I sensed the Oblivion Shard moving,” he said, lowering his tone to a whisper. “Earlier. I think Sumire gave it to someone – or put it somewhere. We should expect the worst.”

“Oh.”

Momo’s pulse jumped in her neck. Should I tell him? She could feel the remaining shard of Oblivion burning a hole in her pocket. There was the small, infinitesimal chance he could be convinced. But what if he couldn’t? What if he took the shard from her and this entire quest was in vain? What if, worse, she accidentally hurt him trying to get it back?

She swallowed. Her skin itched. It was that familiar, nagging feeling again –

I’m so tired of big decisions. I want to make small, tiny, dumb ones – like which brand of butter to choose at the market. Which treats to feed my cat who doesn’t even have a digestive system. Whose side to take in the inevitable thief turf war – Teddy, or Nooblin. Fun things. Inconsequential things.

“Momo?” Akram said, his frown faltering. “Are you there?”

“Sorry, um. Yeah,” she bit down her lip. “So, funny story. If I happened to have the last shard of Oblivion on me, how would we feel about that?”

A striking wind blew towards them. Momo looked up, frenzied. The cloud titan was still in place, its sea of grunts thrashing against the barrier. Phew. The bad weather seemed to be just a casualty of the seats they – Radu – chose.

“You took it from Sumire?” Akram said, eyes growing comically big.

“Took? No,” Momo laughed nervously. “She gave it to me. We’re friends now.”

“Friends?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Very,” Akram shook his head, then sighed. “So we’ve reached our goal, then?”

A barrage of trumpets began tooting the Spinesplitter Waltz. Momo covered her ears on instinct, but found that the sound didn’t carry as high as their seats.

“Before you thank me about the seating choice,” Radu interjected, leaning forward as he threw another piece of popcorn in his mouth. “You’re welcome, and, I told you so.”

Momo rolled his eyes at him. She turned back to Akram.

“About that,” she mumbled. “I know you’re not going to agree with me, but… hear me out.”

In the center of the arena, at the intersection of all four terrains, was a small circular platform. To the tune of the waltz, the prince rocketed out of it. Cheers and hollers accompanied his rise upwards.

“My dear guests. We meet again,” he said, bowing deeply. “My deepest condolences about the interruption to today’s ball. Thankfully, it has been dealt with.”

Momo blinked. Dealt with?

She gazed upwards, locking eyes with the gigantic, absolutely-still-present mammoth of a cloud.

And I thought Valerica was professionally deluded.

“Now that we’ve taken care of that, we can proceed to tonight’s event –”

“DEATH ROW FIGHT RING!” the crowd bellowed, finishing his sentence.

He smiled devilishly, expecting the chant. The entire routine was obviously all some carefully orchestrated bit of theatrics. Momo wondered if the fights were even real – or if they were predetermined, decided in the kingdom’s backrooms between peddlers and betters. It wouldn’t surprise her. Why would they let the wrong prisoners slip away without even gaining something from it?

“What were you saying?” Akram said, nearly shouting over the crowds and the trumpets and the dance music.

The Waltz wasn’t ear-splitting anymore – but combined with the noise of the other guests, it was still too loud to even hear your own thoughts. Damn it. Momo sighed. She’d have to wait for a quieter moment. It would be bad form to decide the fate of the universe while screaming over an EDM beat.

“Bring out the competitors!”

The prince waved his hand towards the east of the amphitheater. Momo hadn’t noticed before, but there was an area of the seats that was sectioned off. It was a flat area, draped over by a giant tarp. Three prisoners, led by a legion of knights, were led out from the darkness.

Oh no. Three? Momo’s face dropped. That must mean Nura’s still there. Sumire didn’t get her out.

Akram came to the same conclusion. He leaned forward, his hands turning to fists.

“My little cousin,” he shouted, still struggling to be heard over the cacophonous music. “I can’t believe they actually have her in chains. What crime could she possibly have committed?”

“The crime of being convenient to kidnap, probably.”

Akram glared at her.

“I need to help her somehow,” Akram said, shaking his head. “I can’t just watch this. There’s no way she survives. She’s strong – but I saw the other two on the banner. Eji, the Turtle Ninja, he’s in a class of his own. She won’t last a full minute.”

“I’m sorry, a turtle ninja? Did you mean a… ninja turtle?”

He gave her a strange look. “No. I meant a Turtle Ninja. It’s a class.”

“Of course it is.”

Momo watched as the three prisoners took their places at the center of the arena. They walked along the pathways separating each terrain type, so fire-stepping and ice-skating were avoided. Momo doubted that would last long. From the look of the paths, they seemed temporary – fizzling transitory energy.

Inspecting the competitors closer, Momo could make out their basic silhouettes. One was thin and short, wearing something like a leather cuirass. The next was even shorter, mouse-like, with whiskers and fur, and the third was… a tortoise. A big one, the size of a motorcycle, but with a fraction of the speed.

“Eji isn’t actually a turtle,” Akram added, seeing Momo’s face. “That’s just his defensive form. When he’s turtled up, he’s basically indestructible – but he can’t do much damage. In his human form, he’s extremely delicate, but will slice you open before you can say turtle twice.”

“Ah,” Momo hummed, pretending like any of that made sense. This world was madness. “So you have to get him while he’s vulnerable and avoid getting sliced and diced?”

“Exactly,” Akram said, watching the stage. “But Nura isn’t fast. She’s a Storm Watcher. She kept track of the waves and the weather on the Barge. Smart, observant, but her Dexterity is poor. She’ll see him coming, but won’t be able to evade him.”

“That’s not good.”

“No,” Akram said. “It’s not.”

Radu leaned forward. He sighed loudly, making his annoyance known. His bag of popcorn was nearly drained, and a pool of kernels sat just below him.

“I barely want to tell you two this, because I’d much rather we tackle the obvious problem,” he said, pointing up towards the sky. “But there’s a way to sub in for someone in Death Row Fight Ring. Members of the government are barred from doing it, which is why Sumire probably won’t, but regular citizens can. Very few ever do, though.”

Momo stared at him, the wheels turning. “So we could all volunteer on her behalf?”

“No. Just one of us. And we’d be subject to the same penalties, too. If you lose, you’re sent to Death Row. You can see why audience participation rates are very low.”

Momo glanced down at the ring. She swore she could see Nura trembling, her head looking in every direction. She’s scared. Momo’s heart sank. She’s probably searching for her sister.

Then it hit Momo. Shit.

“Sumire wants me to sub in for her,” Momo said slowly. “That’s why she gave me the last shard. It was a trade.”

Radu put his face in his hands.

“Because she knows you’d feel so bad for her sister that you’d do it out of guilt,” Radu said, and then groaned. “Momo, your moral compass is extremely tiring. Do you know that?”

“More than anybody,” she said, sagging in her chair.

—

“Before we begin,” the prince bellowed, reclaiming the crowd’s attention. “As is custom, members of the public are allowed to stand in for our dear prisoners and fight in their honor. A pitiful tradition set by our founding fathers, but we must honor it. Are there any objecting volunteers?”

Silence, and then –

The prince grimaced, seeing the single, confident hand raised high in the sky.

A note from villa1ny

To read to the end of Book 2 now, you can head over there!

Join the Discord / Momo cult here.

– Self Assurance III

Momo thought this was as good a time as any to eat her bagel.

“Momo – what are you doing?” Radu said quietly (but accusatorily) as they escorted themselves down from the rafters. “Is that a donut?”

“No way. Why would I be eating a donut?” she mumbled between bites. “It’s a bagel. And it’s delicious.”

Morgana was right. Strawberry cream cheese was a heavenly concept.

Momo briefly considered using the Oblivion Stone to teleport the entire Bruegger's Bagels chain into Alois. It would be a very fine use of ultimate godly power. Would it defeat the giant billowing sky demon? Probably not. But the chance was never zero.

Watching the prince’s knights head towards them, Momo stuffed the rest of the bagel in her mouth and tried not to choke. She also motioned for Radu to hand her Neculai’s backpack, which he had been dutifully carrying around while Momo was busy getting the daylights kicked out of her.

“It’s now or never,” she mumbled. “Dusk, go invisible, pretty please.”

If she was going to be competing against a ninja turtle and a mouse – wait. Master Splinter?

She took another quick glance at her mouse-shaped competitor. He was the size of Fromage, tall and intimidating, but much thinner, with a scraggly beard. He was wearing a white cloak, and held some sort of wand. Not quite Master Splinter – the universe had obviously messed up some details – but the resemblance was uncanny.

Next thing I know I’m going to be fighting Scooby Doo.

Anyway – if she was going to be fighting against such competent opponents, she needed to be ready. She didn’t want to risk involving Dusk, but having an evolved version of the cat as a backup plan would be wiser than stuffing the poor feline in the bloody backpack forever.

The invisible cat pounced from the backpack and slinked around her neck. Momo smiled. She was glad Dusk had been safe and sound while Momo was getting tossed like a salad by Sumire and the rest, but she missed her comforting dead-body chill against Momo’s neck.

“Okay, Death Stone time,” Momo mumbled, extracting the black crystal from her backpack.

Since she had gotten that audiobook upgrade when it came to all things Animal Companion, she was hoping she could do this entire process without having to sign much parchment. The only tangible courier she’d have to deal with was the bagel one, and then she’d be all set to go.

“The volunteer is descending slowly from the high seats,” the prince remarked, his voice echoing like a megaphone throughout the entire stadium. “If the volunteer would like to enter the competition, I suggest they move quickly before I decide I don’t care about some stupid tradition.”

Momo smiled apologetically, but didn’t move any faster. I’ll have to deal with the Death Stone later. I still have to pick my bagel stats. She swallowed down the last bite of her bagel, and the courier swept in – recognizing the urgency of the situation.

You have consumed a [Strawberry Cream Cheese Bagel].

Please select a stat to increase by 5 points. You must write the name of the stat in full, print letters. No cursive. I can’t process cursive.

(I really don’t understand why you humans all insist on making your handwriting so personalized. A’s should look like a’s, not b’s, and vice versa. How is an all-knowing artificial intelligence going to sort you into easy to process categories and boxes under these conditions? It’s very frustrating.)

NAME OF STAT TO INCREASE: ____

Momo stared at the page anxiously. Which one do I pick?

In the corner of her eye, she could see the guards nearly ready to seize her. They had just a few more flights of stairs to crawl up. Thankfully, they were exhausted from fighting all of those cloud grunts. Their must-please-the-prince spirit had been thoroughly depleted.

She picked up the quill, and gritted her teeth.

If Akram had been correct about the Turtle Ninja, which, annoyingly, he usually was, then Dexterity would be the only reasonable option. Her Dexterity stat was already pretty good, but a solid boost could help her avoid getting beheaded (again).

“Hey, yeah you – tiny idiot. Get down here!” one of the guards shouted. “I ruined my back fighting those stupid pudding beasts. I’m not about to completely lose my spine climbing up another flight of stairs. Walk yourself.”

She looked down. The guards had stopped their movements. They stood a few flights below, refusing to ascend any farther. They had gone on some sort of unofficial strike.

“It seems the citizen has chosen to forfeit their spot,” the prince said. “Oh, how unfortunate.”

“No I haven’t! Wait!” Momo yelled, furiously scribbling down Dexterity.

She descended the stairs as fast as her legs could carry her, blowing past the knights and hop-skip-jumping down the stone until she finally tumbled into the arena. She had scraped her knees in three different places, but she made it.

“Nevermind,” the prince muttered. “The volunteer has decided to make an idiotic entrance.”

The prince glowered at her, his pink tentacles thrashing as Momo took a deep breath in. She was completely out of breath from her mini-marathon. He did not seem pleased by her sudden entrance; it was obvious he hadn’t expected her to make it down that fast. Neither had she, actually. The Dexterity bonus must have kicked in immediately.

“Hello, mortal-ling,” he said. Momo was immediately repulsed by the way his lips moved – it was all much more unsettling close up. “You are ruining my show. I will let you know upfront that I will make an example out of you if you choose to proceed.”

Momo’s face went pale. “Um, sorry, an example?”

He leaned in closer to her, his pink flesh bubbling.

“It means I will make sure you die, and the person you represent will lose.”

Momo’s throat went hoarse. Still – she refused to be intimidated by an octopus, of all things.

Not to mention that she had to do this. There was no other way. If she planned things right, protecting Nura would convince Akram she could be trusted with the Oblivion Stone, and, more importantly, it would be a fine repayment to Sumire.

It was never a good idea to be in debt to the person who was constantly trying to kill you. Momo’s mother had taught her that one while reading her a children’s book about loan sharks.

“Alright,” Momo squeaked, rubbing her arm. “I accept those terms.”

His scowl deepened. “What? What do you mean, accept? You were supposed to get terrified and quit.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I am terrified,” she stuttered. “But I’m not quitting. I already ran all the way down here. It’d be way more embarrassing to walk back up.”

The prince’s cheeks turned fiery red at her defiance. His tentacles stood up straight, as if they were about to slap her across the face.

“Embarrassing? Would it not be more embarrassing to die?”

Momo shrugged. “Already done that before. Wasn’t too bad.”

The prince looked like he might suffer a volcanic eruption. All around them, the crowd had started to impatiently chant the name of the show. Even though the royal octopus clearly didn’t want to let Momo compete, he wasn’t going to risk letting the crowds down. He took a deep, uncomfortable breath in.

“Fine.”

He raised his human arms upwards in a gesture towards the crowds.

“My fine, esteemed guests. In a wild twist of fate, it appears that our volunteer will be joining us.”

The crowd roared. Momo felt the heat of a hundred eyes bearing into her. A few months ago, it might have killed her on the spot. Now it only felt like a medium-grade sunburn – slightly scalding, but she’d live.

“Volunteer, which prisoner will you be representing?”

The prince nudged her stiffly towards the prisoners, who had been standing a few feet away, avoidant and disinterested. Eji’s eyes hadn’t left the ground. Walmart Splinter – as Momo was now calling him – was muttering to himself and occasionally laughing.

Death Row had clearly taken its toll.

Nura was the only one to look up at her, giving her a soft, tortured smile before speaking.

“You should go back to your seat,” she said. “I don’t know who it is you’re fighting for, but nothing is worth subjecting yourself to that prison.”

Momo’s heart sank in her chest. This poor girl.

“Yeah, what she said,” Eji butted in, giving her a grave look. “And don’t you dare try to sub in for me. I’m gonna wipe the floor with these losers,” he sniffed, his voice rough and gravely, “even grandpa mouse over here. No remorse.”

“You mean no re-mouse?” the old rat said, and then laughed maniacally to himself.

Eji scowled. Nura cracked another smile.

“I’m fighting on your behalf, if that’s quite alright,” Momo mumbled quietly, looking right at Nura. “I might not look strong, but I’m more capable than you think. Probably.”

Nura’s eyes widened – the shock evident in her expression.

“Me?” she said, blinking quickly. “Why would you do that?”

“Your cousin, Akram. He’s a friend of mine. And your sister, Sumire – too. I’m doing her a favor. She can’t fight for you since she’s a Holy Knight herself, as I’m sure you already know.”

Nura’s eyes started getting watery. Momo noticed immediately, her face turning cherry red.

“Please don’t cry,” Momo said, waving her hands frantically. “I’m sorry if I upset you. I’m terrible at this hero thing. But don’t worry – I’ll get you out, I promise. Well, I’ll try. And if I don’t win, then we can hang out in prison together. We can be prison buddies.”

The sobs didn’t stop, and Momo only felt more guilty. She was used to being the one crying in public, not the person making other people cry in public.

“Don’t fall for the alligator tears. She always does that,” Eji said, rolling his eyes. “Big old crybaby.”

Walmart Splinter clapped his hands together, mouth already spread in a wide smile ahead of his next joke.

“The girl cries alligator tears, so what do you cry, turtle tears?” he said, giggling rabidly. “There’s a whole petting zoo of sobs going on over here!”

“If you couldn’t already tell, he’s nuts,” Eji muttered.

“I’m part squirrel, so it’s only natural,” the elderly rat added helpfully, hiccuping mid-sentence.

“You all are ruining my carefully constructed aura of drama and suspense,” the prince interjected, waving his tentacles menacingly towards them. “When I activate your microphones, you better act like the dangerous criminals you are, or you’re getting another life sentence on top of your current one. You hear me?”

Eji rolled his eyes. Mouse man giggled. Nura’s sobs caught in her throat.

The prince gave a signal to a robed man near the edge of the arena, the so-called Master of Ceremonies. The man stood next to a giant lever, which he promptly pulled. Loud gears spurred into action beneath the grounds, disabling all of the temporary pathways between the terrains. An additional moat of lava sprung up from the ground, outlining the perimeter of the arena.

At least I have my fire-repelling clogs, Momo thought.

“Behold, my beloved guests, the great Arena of Charity!” the prince exclaimed. “This place has been the setting for eons of goodwill given by the ruling class to the imprisoned. Another act of charity will take place today, in this humble match of DEATH ROW FIGHT RING. Two will lose, and one will emerge victorious – and promptly be banished from the kingdom. Charitibly.”

The audience clapped. The Master of Ceremonies pulled another lever.

Around the moat, another circle ensconced the arena. This one was made not of lava, but of pure Light magic. It glittered like a ring of bedazzled golden jewels.

“To make sure the prisoners do not leave the Arena of Charity, a ring of lava and a ring of Exorcising Light have been installed around the perimeter,” the prince explained, and then turned to the prisoners. “A polite warning. If you are to step into the ring of light, you will be burned immediately on contact. It is like experiencing the burst of a thousand suns. Now, moving on.”

The prince rambled on about several more rules and regulations – losers will be thrown in a deep, dark, endless pit; cheaters will be fed to Holy Wolves – each of which confused Momo further on how this event was supposed to be an act of public charity.

Finally, with the full list of disclaimers read out, he snapped his fingers. Music exploded once again, and his personal league of knights came to apprehend Momo and Nura.

“You can sit and watch from the sidelines,” a guard gruffly informed them. “Eji and Murasha will go first. You’ll fight the loser. That comprehendable enough for you meatheads?”

Who are you calling the meathead, meathead? is what Momo wanted to say – but considering her circumstances, she graciously chose the higher ground. She let the guard lead her and Nura into a pair of front-row seats on the west side of the arena.

“Thank you for taking my place,” Nura said, still a little leaky around the eyes. “I’m no good at fighting. I would have probably cried myself to death out there.”

“I can’t promise you I won’t do exactly that,” Momo mumbled. “I’m a huge cry baby too.”

“Really? You seem so put together,” Nura said, seeming genuinely surprised as she dotted a handkerchief under her eyes. “You’re so steady and confident. I wish I was more like you.”

Momo stared at her, completely dazed. The compliment felt so insane and foreign to her that it nearly knocked the wind out of her lungs. She knew she had made some minor progress in the last few months – going from being able to say a few words at most to willingly enter a makeshift Hunger Games. But….

“You think I’m… what did you say – steady and… confident?”

“Of course. You just argued with the Prince of Jarvirium. Who would do that except someone with an insane amount of bravery?”

Someone with an insane amount of stupidity, Momo thought, which I seem to be accumulating by the boatload lately.

As she thought it, a piece of parchment surprised her, spawning right into her hands.

Congratulations! What you might not realize is that stupidity, bravery, and confidence are all interrelated into a secret stat called Extroversion. For finally being seen for the successful extrovert that you are on your way to becoming, your [Self Assurance II] has been upgraded to [Self Assurance III]

[Self-Assurance III]: Social situations involving more than 3 people are no longer something to be avoided at all costs. In fact – now YOU are the one hosting the hang out session, ordering the drinks, creating the agenda, giving the cheers speech. Someone is holding a gun to your head the whole time, but hey, now you’d rather sit through the whole thing instead of just dying instead.

+ 6 CHA to the previous tier of the skill.

A note from villa1ny

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– I Choose You, Dusk!

The duel began with the ceremonial ‘Release of the Crabs.’ This was not a ceremony that Momo was familiar with – but it apparently carried a lot of cultural clout with the octopi. Metal crates brimming with orange crustaceans were spawned at various areas within the arena, and on the prince’s signal, were released at once.

“Do I even want to ask?” Momo mumbled, watching as the crabs scurried onto the fields.

Some of them, mostly those in the fire region, died on impact. Others glided along the ice, clapping their claws together frantically and hopping from leg to leg like a bunch of drunk, ten-footed ballerinas. The ones on the stone and grass seemed equally distraught, understandably so, as they had been plucked out of the sea and teleported into a waterless hellscape.

“You know how humans sometimes put their chickens in cockfighting rings?” Nura said, her voice still gravely from crying. “It’s like that. The octopi just let loose a hundred crabs in a pen and see who wins. It’s a huge betting sport where they’re from.”

Momo’s frown deepened. “God, that’s bleak. Why are these octopus guys so terrible? What happened during evolution to cause this?”

“It’s all the legs,” she said, tears threatening her eyes again. “It’s where they store the evil.”

Another round of trumpets rang around the stadium as the duelists took their places. Eji stood in the grass while Murasha, the mouse man, walked willingly onto the ice. He skated across it with ease, his paws gliding raw on the ice.

“I’m confused,” Momo mumbled. “Are they going to wait for the crabs to all kill each other first? Or do the fighters just have to maneuver around them?”

“The second one,” Nura sniffed. “Death Row Fight Ring evolved from a spinoff of crabfighting called Lobster Tail. In addition to the hundreds of crabs, they’d throw two Demonic lobsters into the pen,” she sniffed again, her face contorted in despair. “It’s all so cruel.”

Is this what I look like to other people? Momo thought, watching as the girl began to sob again.

Suddenly – another barrage of music. Momo was starting to sense a pattern. Whenever the prince wanted attention, he’d get it in the form of hundreds of ear-destroying horns.

It seemed music wasn’t enough, however. From all around the arena, shimmering holograms of the prince’s face appeared. Like the screens at stadium concert venues, they allowed all the guests to take a deep, uncensored look at his ugly mug. Or at least, that’s how Momo felt. She did not need to see all of his pores at that high of a definition.

“Our first pair of duelists have entered the arena,” the prince sang.

The panoramic hologram shifted towards Eji. His face was solemn, focused. He had entered a defensive position, his feet buried in the weeds. Momo was confused. What is he defending against? Murasha was busy doing pirouettes on the ice and giggling to himself. It was like defending against a toddler who just saw Frozen on Ice.

“Before we begin, a few notes,” the prince announced. Momo grimaced. This again.

To Momo’s surprise, instead of trying to further kiss his own ass, the prince instead pivoted to discussing the merchandise table. The hologram shifted to focus on a goblin dressed in a party hat manning a small stand near the amphitheater’s exit. The table was stacked high with things that looked like a cross between a knife and a glowstick.

“Remember, Death Row Fight Ring light sticks are made in exclusive batches for each edition of the show, so if you don’t get one now – you never, ever will!” he said cheerily, bearing his teeth.

“Did you get one?” Nura asked, gesturing to the light stick on the screen.

“What? No,” Momo said. She had an unsettling sense of FOMO. “Should I?”

“They sell like crazy on the prison black market,” Nura shrugged. “And the normal black market. And the normal market-market.”

Nura reached into a small, fully packed knapsack. Momo had noticed her wearing it earlier. It seemed each of the prisoners was allowed a very small allotment of gear to carry with them. The other two had used it to transport weapons, but Nura had brought only the previously empty sack.

She unzipped it. Momo’s eyes widened. It was 100% full of light sticks.

“Oh my god,” Momo said. “How much did this cost?”

“Cost? Come on. I slipped a bunch of them earlier while the guards were busy with the cloud things,” she said, handing one to Momo. “I figure I already have the highest sentence at the deadliest prison in Alois, so what’s some petty theft charges? A dozen of these will make me queen of Death Row for a few months.”

Damn, Momo thought. This girl has layers.

You have acquired an [Death Row Fight Ring - Masked Ball Edition Light Stick].

[Death Row Fight Ring - Masked Ball Edition Light Stick]: This light stick can be used to interact with the live premiere of Death Row Fight Ring. Shake once to change colors, shake twice to play sound effects, and shake three times to spawn another crab on the battlefield. Try shaking it in unison with your friends to create even more fun obstacles for the duelers.

“Fun obstacles…” Momo said, reading the page and grimacing. “So these things let the audience summon even more things for the duelists to deal with?”

“Exactly,” Nura said, giving one of hers a firm shake. It changed from bright white to bright red. “They can do everything from changing color to summoning a real life Demonic Boar onto the arena floor. They’re technically enchanted wands – that’s another reason they’re so valuable.”

Momo nodded. She didn’t dare touch hers, setting it down next to her.

I need to use the Death Stone, she thought, as the prince finished his speech about how half the profits of the event go to the Needy Knights of the Anti-Necromancer Relief League. She wasn’t sure how fast or quick the ensuing battle was going to be, so she needed to act fast.

She fished the crystal from her pocket, and whispered for Dusk to leap onto the grass. She didn’t want the cat transforming from on top of her shoulders. There was so much that could go wrong there – the feline’s new weight crushing her like a dumbbell; evolution side effects accidentally giving her Radioactive Nether poisoning.

“Alright, how do I use this thing…” she muttered, poking at the stone. “Dusk, come here.”

Dusk invisibly stalked towards her. Momo felt her tail brush up against her knee.

“Oh, you talk to yourself too?” Nura asked, smiling softly. “No shame in that. It’s how I spend most of my days in Death Row. I never thought I’d have so many inside jokes with myself, but,” the girl repressed a laugh. “No – we can’t share that one.”

Momo blinked up at her. “Did you just refer to yourself as we?”

Nura’s eyes opened wide, her face going pale. “Oh, Gods, did I?”

Momo could see the rims of her eyes getting watery again, so she quickly backtracked.

“No, no, sorry,” she insisted. “I just have to talk to myself for a few more minutes. Is that alright?”

That seemed to defuse the bomb. Nura shook her head, smiling softly. “No worries. Take your time. I won't come in between you and you.”

Laughing nervously, Momo looked away. She had wanted to evolve Dusk under less dire circumstances, but Momo never seemed to come across any such circumstances. It was either Dire, Insanely Dire, or Pretty Dire.

She pressed the crystal to the cat’s body, shut her eyes, and hoped for the best.

You are evolving your Undead Cat, Dusk, with a Death Stone. You can pick from the following Evolution options.

[Bobcat]: The deadly red lynx. This breed is known for their distinctive tufted ears, short tail, and spotted or striped fur. Bobcats are brutal, heavy-set hunters, so they receive an immediate boost of +6 STR and +40 HP upon evolution.

[Serval]: The silent assassin. This thin, slinky yellowjacket cat is a no-nonsense killer. It has a medium build, but unlike the Bobcat, it has more lean muscle and less brawn. Receives a boost of +6 DEX and the skill [Surprise Attack] upon evolution.

[Oncilla]: The equal-opportunity hunter. With a deceptively cute spotted appearance, you’ll never see its claws coming. It doesn’t specialize in killing just one thing – it’s happy to make just about anything into dinner. Receives +3 INT, +3 DEX and the skill [Lightning Paws].

[Pallas Cat] The mountain-top beast. Unlike bobcats and servals, Pallas cats are adapted to living in high-altitude grasslands and arid environments, where they prey on small mammals. Receives +6 INT and the skill [Air Hunter] upon evolution.

Momo weighed her options, trying extremely hard not to make a decision based solely on cute factor. Above all, she wanted Dusk to have the best fighting chance in a combat scenario. Something fast and stealthy enough to go unnoticed, but vicious enough to finish the job.

It was a tall order to fill. Especially when the fat, mountain-dwelling Pallas Cat was so insanely adorable. The fluffy feline fulfilled absolutely none of Momo’s requirements, but her mind drifted to it inexplicably. She dreamed of all the naps they could take together. It’d be like cuddling the world’s fluffiest pillow.

No, Momo chastised herself. You can compromise. Cute and deadly.

The Oncilla.

Besides the Pallas, it was the breed that stood out to her immediately. It was adorable and portable, so she could still carry Dusk around in her backpack, but it also had a good spread of base stats. The Dexterity made natural sense – more dex, faster paws. But the Intelligence stat, combined with [Lightning Paws] skill, was what properly drew her in.

[Lightning Paws]:   The faster the oncilla runs, the more electricity it generates under its paws. The energy accumulates until the oncilla pounces on an enemy, delivering a powerful burst of lightning that can stun or damage foes.

It made perfect sense for Dusk. The cat could run circles around pretty much any enemy. Combined with her invisibility, she could generate enough lightning to take out an Expert before they even knew what was coming. It would be super handy.

“Oncilla,” Momo said aloud, curling her hand around the stone. “I choose oncilla.”

A note from villa1ny

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– Death Row Fight Ring: Match One

Dark wisps of Nether wrapped around Dusk. Simultaneously, her cloak of invisibility abruptly ended – her bony face and skeletal paws exposed to the sunlight like a skeleton lying about on a summer day, spread out on a picnic blanket. It was about as obviously undead as something could get.

Momo fretted about someone seeing, but luckily their octopus-imposed bodyguard was standing stiffly in front of them, unbeknownst to the “undead cat turning into bigger undead cat” transformation occurring behind him. The crowd was also blissfully unaware, all of their attention pinned to the arena.

Nura, however, was very aware.

“Dear Gods,” she said, her face white as a sheet. “Is that a skelecat?”

“No,” Momo stuttered. “I mean, what cat?”

“The cat right there,” she whispered. “Can’t you see it?”

Sensing a brewing emergency, Momo was forced to give the performance of a lifetime. She made a big show of turning her head in every direction, scratching her chin, inspecting between the crevices of the stone bench. Eventually, after several long seconds, she casually looked towards Dusk.

“Oh, that one?” Momo took a sidelong glance at the cat, who was nearly impossible to miss.

The evolutionary process turned out to be an annoyingly long one; it was as if Dusk was being scrubbed by an imaginary sponge, her body repainted and repurposed. New bones, new tendons, new sinew. The cat responded to it all with no more than a yawn, stretching her paws as her internal organs rearranged themselves.

Momo’s eyebrows lowered. Actually – the organs were very new. They didn’t look like they were doing much for her, definitely not pumping any blood or powering any muscles, but it seemed that Dusk’s body had been replaced by that of a cat pre-decomposition.

“Oh thank the Gods. You see it too?” Nura asked hopefully, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I thought I was going insane.”

The pirate narrowed her eyes, her mind obviously running on overdrive.

“Do you think it can see us, too?” she asked.

Momo stifled a laugh.

“Probably,” she said, trying to keep her voice as steady as possible. “It does seem to have eyes. Well, eye sockets.”

Nura looked increasingly concerned. Momo saw only two ways out of this.

Either she came out as a necromancer, or gaslit Nura into thinking that she was, indeed, going clinically insane. That second option felt a little too mean. What would Valerica do? Momo thought, revisiting her tried-and-true method of problem solving. She had spent enough time with the Necromage that the answer came quickly, probably too quickly –

Be simultaneously blunt and vague until the subject loses interest or screams.

“It’s an oncilla,” Momo said, following the first tenant of Valerica-ism: stating the obvious. “I learned about them in this book I had as a kid – Cats That Will Kill You. It’s about the size of a house cat, but a little more murder-y, and it has all these cute little spots.”

Momo reached for Dusk’s head and gave her a good scratch just by the neck. The cat purred.

The evolutionary process seemed near complete – the Nether fading. Fur had started growing in tufts around the cat’s belly, her legs were thinner but more spry. More than just giving her a new shape, the evolution seemed to be regenerating some of her organic matter. Her tail had become striped and fluffy, her spiky toes converted to proper paws.

“I don’t see any spots,” Nura said nervously, trying to see around the fog. “I just see bones. Lots of bones. Do you think there’s a necromancer around here somewhere? I’ve never actually met one before. Just heard so many… stories.”

From her intonation on stories, Momo could tell those stories were like the German versions of the fairy tales, not the Disney ones.

“Necromancers aren’t so bad…” Momo mumbled. “They get a bad rap. I’ve met a lot of really nice ones, actually. Very humane.”

“Really?” Nura said, swallowing. “You sure they didn’t have you under some kind of spell, or something?”

“I wish,” Momo mumbled. Nura gave her a very strange look. “Oh, not like that. I just wish someone would put me under mind control sometimes. It seems a lot more straightforward than dealing with my own feelings and emotions. Like – it’d be wonderful if I could just take a backseat and put this baby on autopilot.”

“Oh, I get that,” Nura said. The dazed expression on her face said otherwise.

A confused, companionable silence passed between them. Momo was abiding by Valerica’s second tenant: when the victim is sufficiently bewildered, let them sit in their confusion. The longer they sit with the seeds of turmoil you’ve planted, the farther they delve into their own self-created mind prison.

It worked like a charm. Specifically – it had worked on Momo several times.

Back on the arena field, the final horns sounded. Momo had never seen such an elaborate array of pre-match rituals, but it seemed the time for fighting had finally come. The prince’s platform began to lower into the ground, taking him out of view. Once he had completely submerged beneath the surface, another slab of stone sealed over the circular centerfold.

The billboards broadcasted a simple, capitalized line of text:

DEATH ROW FIGHT RING - BEGIN!

Cheers, cries, and screams filled the stadium. The lights cast by the light sticks were nearly blinding, showering the arena with every color and sound imaginable. It gave several of the crabs apparent seizures, as they twitched and recoiled into their shells, screaming internally.

Momo searched the field for Murasha. His maniacal laughs had dissipated, his dancing body melting into the sea of light.

It quickly became apparent why Eji had started in a defensive stance.

Murasha was fast. Lightning fast. One moment he was skidding across the ice, the next he was leaping across the fire, doing olympic-level donuts through the air. Momo could barely keep track of him, her eyes starting to ache as her attention flicked from spot to spot.

“He’s not actually moving that fast,” Nura said, noticing Momo’s strained expression. “It’s magic. Mist magic. Tricks the eye into seeing things that aren’t there.”

Nura’s attention focused once more on Dusk, and she frowned.

“Maybe he’s Misting us too,” she mumbled miserably. Dusk purred at her.

Mist magic. Like the kind Ribeye had.

“So where is he then?” Momo asked. “Is he just sitting in the middle of a field somewhere while his little virtual body double does all these acrobatics?”

“Kinda,” Nura said. She raised her finger, pointing towards the grass portion of the arena where Eji sat. “He’s almost at Eji now. You can tell by the mists. The white fog that’s progressing towards him. Do you see it?”

Momo squinted. And oh – there it was. Far from Murasha was a snaking serpent of fog, cylindrical and translucent. Eji had his eyes completely trained on it. He had completely retracted the rest of his limbs, so two eyes and a shell was all that was left of him.

Woosh!

A white flashbang hit just by Eji’s feet. The real Murasha jumped out of it, legs doing a split in the air as a spell blasted out of his wand. Momo’s head whipped to the holograms that were broadcasting it in extreme detail – Murasha’s crazy eyes rolled backwards, his mouth in a mad smile. The perspective flipped downwards, showing the back of Eji’s turtle shell.

The attack was a direct hit. It sent Eji skidding through the weeds and into the dirt. His shell looked fried – black like an overcooked pizza crust. Momo watched for movement, but he made none. He just laid there, looking like an abandoned piece of oily seafood.

“That must have hurt,” Momo said, blinking quickly. “Why didn’t Eji move? Isn’t he supposed to be fast?”

“He didn’t need to move,” Nura said. “Watch.”

Murasha disappeared again. His white mist form traveled quicker than his physical body could, snaking around Eji like a tornado. The turtle shell still made no movements. Murasha tried the same trick once more, appearing out of the white and launching a spell into Eji. It had the same effect, and the turtle went spinning again.

It’s like Akram said. He’s invulnerable.

“No offense to the mouse man, but this kind of seems like an inefficient strategy,” Momo said.

Murasha repeated the technique twice more, striking Eji like a golf putt. The turtle glided across the grass, nearly crossing the boundary that separated the dirt from the flame terrain. As he finished his third consecutive strike, Momo started to understand his grand strategy.

“He can’t hurt him, so he’s trying to punt him into the fire,” Momo observed, eyes growing wide. “Genius.”

“Yep.”

Just as Eji was about to glide straight into the flames, his limbs popped back out of his shell, and he rolled away. The high definition close up replayed the moment in slow motion – zooming in on the alarm in Eji’s eyes as he narrowly avoided being cooked by the fire.

The crowd came alive, shaking their light sticks and dancing in their seats. About a hundred crabs spawned onto the battlefield as a result – mostly in the fire zone.

Momo had half a mind to call an animal rights group.

“What a stunning escape!” the prince said gleefully, his voice echoing throughout the stadium like an overenthusiastic baseball announcer. “It’s too bad, really – I was hoping to have some turtle for dinner. Crab is getting drab.”

Momo’s eyes flew to the observation deck. It was a glass box sitting high above the amphitheater, barely visible by the naked eye. Luckily, the holographic screens made up for the distance. The pink octopus was sitting there on a human throne, his doting knights serving as arm and feet rests.

He apparently had also made time for an outfit change. He was decked out in a Death Row Fight Ring jersey, eight lightning sticks held by each of his tentacles, and one of those hats that came with attached soda pop and straw, for minimum exertion and maximum hydration.

“You should watch this fight really carefully,” Nura said, nudging Momo lightly in the side. “I don’t want you to die out there on my behalf. That’d be really sad. I would hate that.”

“Yeah,” Momo blinked. “That wouldn’t be ideal.”

Back on the battlefield, it was Eji’s turn to move. Momo now had an understanding of his two modes – Turtle Shell, and Turtle On The Move. As long as he was stationary enough to quickly retract his limbs, he was pretty much invincible. When he was moving, his reaction time was slower, and thus he was the most vulnerable.

Easy peasy.

Murasha seemed to think the same.

The elderly rat howled wildly as he pelted bolt after bolt of magic at Eji. Most of the bolts missed, but the last of them stuck, pressing straight into Eji’s vulnerable underbelly. The turtle seized, falling backwards and crumpling back into his shell.

“Oh no,” Momo’s heart fell. “I really underestimated Master Splinter.”

“Who?”

Murasha towered over Eji, laughing to himself.

“Oh, goodie goodie. Seems like I just might have my dinner after all!” the prince cackled. The crowd roared in laughter. It was obvious – they had picked a victor. Eji was going to be octopus food.

Momo felt very sick.

Murasha retired his wand and his magic, and he began to dribble Eji’s shell with only his paws, tossing it back and forth like a soccer player across the fields. Only there was no goalie, only the thick, roaring flames.

Momo winced. It was completely sadistic. It’s like he’s playing with his food.

After taking his time in reaching the flame boundary, Murasha paused. He reared his back leg up, smiled broadly, and then pelted the shell.

Momo closed her eyes tightly. The prince screamed.

She opened them again to find Eji attached to Murasha’s foot.

The turtle had grabbed onto his ankle like a misbehaving toddler. Using his immense weight as leverage, he tripped Murasha up at the last second. Instead of skidding into the fire himself, the rat went face first into the flames.

“Tripped, cooked, served,” the prince said wistfully, punctuating each word with one of his soundboard trumpets. “Flambéed rat. Not the dish I was hoping for, but sometimes you have to settle for the rodent leftovers. Next match!”

All the blood drained from Momo’s face.

“Don’t worry, he’s alive,” Nura added helpfully. “He got knocked out cold for a little bit, but Murasha’s fur is fire resistant.”

As she said that, Momo watched as the rodent extracted himself from the flames. He was burnt to a crisp, his entire body the color of soot and ash. Still, he was breathing. Eji lifted him up with a helpful hand, rolling his eyes as the rat gave him a thumbs up.

“Good for him,” Momo said, trembling. “But my fur isn’t.”

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– Sometimes The Solution Is A Crab Army

“We’d like to once again thank our sponsors, the Aloysian Anti-Crab League, for their donation to today’s match. As you all know, no Death Row Fight Ring would be complete without the crab-saccre.”

The prince laughed maniacally, pulling a lever up in the observation box. The crustaceans were blasted out of cannons like party confetti; hundreds of crabs descended upon the stadium as Momo took her place at the pitch.

Two of them landed on top of her clogs, their claws nipping at her ankles.

“Ouch!” she yelped, kicking at one instinctively. She sent the crab sailing – flinging it from her perch on the stone field all the way into the fire. She cringed as it turned into ash. Oops.

“Nice footwork from our volunteer!” the prince jeered. “Now then, the Lesser Lesser knights have graciously attached a wand-phone to both of our contestants. Why don’t you state your name for the crowds, my ugly, tentacle-lacking friend?”

Momo gawked at him, his smug face streaming on the billboards. What a dick.

“Coco,” she said, relying on her tried-and-true second identity. “Coco the Whipper.”

The crowds oohed in interest, crabs appearing at every point on the map. Eji, who was standing opposite her, gave her a strange look.

“What an odd, ugly name,” the prince cringed. “Befittingly grotesque.”

On the surrounding holograms, COCO THE WHIPPER was broadcasted in big, bold, WWE-style text. An image of a whip and two coconuts were stylistically woven into the font.

It was a pretty impressive branding job, given the millisecond time frame.

“Coco versus Eji,” the prince hummed, kicking his feet up onto the dashboard. “Humans aren’t really to my taste – too chewy – but now that grilled mouse is off the table, I urge you to serve me some charred tortoise. Extra rare. Light on the salt.”

Eji winced at the comment. From up close, Momo could see that he still hadn’t quite recovered from the match before. His underbelly was bruised, his shoulders colored brown with dirt and gravel. His eyes weren’t open all the way, painfully half-closed like he was battling a headache.

Momo’s stomach turned. He’s just a little turtle guy. He didn’t deserve all this.

She put her hand over the wand-microphone thing they had attached to her collar.

“Hey, I really don’t want to hurt you,” Momo whispered. “I want to break you out of here.”

Eji’s eyes went wide, and he scowled. He covered his own microphone.

“Break me out? Are you dumb?” he spat. “Every knight in Alois is watching this match.”

“No need for name calling,” Momo mumbled.

She glanced towards the north side of the arena. The majority of the knights were sitting like a pack of exhausted dogs, laying over each other in armored heaps. Staving off the cloud grunts had completely exhausted the lessers, and keeping the cloud titan from eating the entire arena whole was busying the remaining.

“If you haven’t noticed, there’s a level sixty-five demonic cloud in the sky,” Momo muttered quietly. “That’s a much more pressing issue than three prisoners escaping this arena. If we team up, we can drill a hole through this place.”

A flash of doubt crossed his face. Eji glanced upwards, considering her proposal. [Doubletimer] must be doing something. She had forgotten about the skill’s passive bonus until just now: friends trust you less, enemies trust you more. The skill had only been making things more difficult for her so far, but she’d take a win where there was one.

After a moment, he grunted.

“Alright, Whipper, what you got?”

—

“If the turtle and the hare are quite done squabbling,” the prince said pointedly. “We can get to the fun part – the killing! I want to see blood, sweat, and a whole platter of crab shish-kebab. Do you hear me quite right, contestants?”

The chants had once again reached a crescendo, forcing the prince to interrupt Momo and Eji’s off-mic discussion. Luckily, Momo’s plan didn’t take a lot of explaining. She had plenty of time to devise it on the sidelines, calculating exactly just how much Mana she’d need to expend for each skill. It’d be pushing the limits of her reserves, but it would work – theoretically.

Momo swallowed, looking towards Nura on the sidelines, then Akram up in the stands. Finally, her eyes landed on the white mass in the skies, its pupils as dilated as two full moons.

It didn’t matter if the plan could work. It had to.

As the prince cleared his throat, silence swallowed the audience. Bright red flares danced through the night sky, the brass line erupted, and the shimmering billboards displayed a new screen of text.

DEATH ROW FIGHT RING - MATCH POINT!

“Let the murdering begin!” the prince cried.

Momo started running. Eji, terrifyingly, started chasing her.

“Oh, yes, yes!” the prince groaned with pleasure, thrashing his tentacles against the dashboard and causing the holograms to zoom in and out of the action. “This is what we love to see, folks – chase your freedom down like the prey animal it is. No mercy. Oh, just delicious.”

Momo had learned something from Murasha. People’s eyes follow action. It was the same principle Momo had learned during many childhood games of Capture the Flag. The kid screaming his head off is never going to grab the goods. He’s going to get tag-teamed by an entire horde of third-graders and barely make it past the middle line.

It’s the one you’re not looking for – the silent type who casually walks herself to the end of the gymnasium, grabs the feeble piece of fabric, and meanders back. That’s the deadliest weapon.

Sometimes that silent fifth grader manifests as an army of crabs.

“[Raise Undead],” Momo cast under her breath for the fiftieth time, eyes pinned to one of the fallen crustaceans. Its limp body heaved upwards, burnt claws spurring back to life.

She realized while reviewing her [Raise Undead] skill that the cooldown for it was directly related to the level of the dead she was resuscitating. Since most of the crabs were either level 0 or 1, the cooldown was no more than a few seconds. The only hard limit was her Mana, but she ventured she had enough by now to summon at least a hundred.

“You can’t run forever,” Eji jeered, making a point of talking loudly into his wand-microphone.

“I very much can,” Momo squeaked, jumping over another crab carcass. “And will!”

One of the turtle’s blades flashed to the side of her chest, cutting a centimeter of fabric off her shirt. She shrieked, leaping to the right.

After she found her footing, she gave him a very pointed glare. The turtle was putting on slightly too good of a show.

As Eji and Momo weaved and dodged between each other, the crabs slowly but surely began to crawl towards the center of the stadium. Like a slowly merging hivemind, they coalesced around the middle point – the platform the prince had descended through when the games began.

At the head of the pack was a spotted oncilla, leading the horde of zombie crustaceans like a marine animal mob boss. The one command Momo had given the crabs was to follow their feline leader – and Dusk was small enough that she blended in with the blur of red pinchers.

The result? No one noticed as the cat began to dig into the soft ground around the central platform, nor the sixty undead crabs that immediately started doing the same.

“Is it working?” Eji said gruffly, covering his mic as he thrust his knife towards Momo once more.

Momo yelped, throwing her neck sideways to avoid the tip of his blade. Ow.

“I think so,” she coughed, feeling pain rocket up her neck. “Please don’t actually kill me.”

“It better start working in the next thirty seconds,” he threatened. “Or else our deal’s off.”

He jumped over her, turtling into his shell mid-air and skidding onto the ice terrain.

Show off, Momo thought as the billboards zoned in on his acrobatic trick, replaying the moment in slow motion. The prince made a few more uncomfortably cannibalistic comments in response.

As Eji stole the crowd’s attention, Momo risked a glance towards the center of the field. Her heart leaped in her chest. It’s working. The crabs were nearly out of view, most of them deep underneath the ground. She could see a glimpse of the exposed tunnel that the prince’s platform had descended into.

The idea had occurred to her the moment she saw him lower into the ground pre-match like he was Taylor Swift. Just like in musical stadiums, underground platforms like that led to underground infrastructure. And if he had found a way from beneath the ground all the way up to that glass box, then that meant Momo could do the same.

No passing the fatal Ring of Light required.

“What are those braindead arthropods doing?” the prince said, finally dulling of Eji’s icey moves. “Are they… digging?”

Momo paled. Shit. We’ve gotta speed things up.

She ran towards Nura’s seat. The pirate woman’s eyes widened the closer she got, eventually turning into full-blown terror as Momo grabbed her hand, shouted “don’t ask questions!” and led her full speed ahead towards the Crab Hole.

The knight in charge of guarding her was too stunned to get moving immediately. After realizing that Nura had in fact left her seat, he startled, and started to chase Momo into the grassfields.

“Hey! That’s not allowed!” he barked. “Bring her back here right now!”

“Sorry, not happening!” Momo yelled back, and then hopped over another dead crab. A particularly chunky one, with mini claws inside of its claws – definitely at least a level 2. “[Raise Undead]!”

The crab writhed back into life. Feral as a headless chicken, it launched itself onto the knight, tackling him into the ground.

“What the hell!” the knight screamed. “This thing it’s – it’s undead!”

The arena-surrounding screens flickered to show the knight struggling against the crab, its pinchers biting at his wrists. Luckily for Momo, the knight wasn’t wearing any sort of wand-microphone. His series of necro-themed expletives didn’t grace the arena’s magically-powered surround sound speakers.

“Oh ho ho, naughty, naughty,” the prince cooed into the microphone. “The volunteer, Coco, has grabbed Nura off the sidelines in an attempt to turn this round around. Does this qualify as cheating? I’m not sure we have a case for it in the rulebook.”

The crowd roared, obviously excited by the turn of the events. Several dozen more crabs landed on the ground with a crack, their shells breaking on impact. The spawn point had gotten higher and higher above the platform, basically assuring that they’d be scattered to pieces.

“The way I see it, if my dear guests are happy, I’m happy,” the prince grinned ear-to-ear. “I’ll let this pass, Coco, as long as you skewer our friend Eji with a fun flourish. I want to see drama, theater, spectacle!”

Eji had made it off the ice, and was now sprinting back towards them. His face had turned from mildly annoyed to scowling, his features tense. With his finesse and dexterity, he quickly closed the distance between them, chasing like a wild boar; his daggers flourished outwards.

“You’re dead,” he growled, mic on. “Both of you.”

The three of them reached the precipice of what was now a giant hole in the middle of the field. Only a few crabs remained on the ground, the rest of them far beneath the surface. Momo had been right – just beneath the surface of the arena was a labyrinth of infrastructure, the prince’s platform descending into an underground bunker.

This left Momo to the final part of her plan. With the Ring of Murderous Light ensconcing the arena, the only way out of the battle was beneath. All it’d take was a leap of faith.

Breathing heavy, Momo peered down into the endless pit. She couldn’t tell just how far down it went.

“See ya, assholes,” Eji said into his microphone, looking straight towards the observation deck.

He flung himself in the air, receded into his turtle shell, and plummeted into the depths.

The facade of fighting had ended. The screens zoned in on them teetering over the edge of the dark hole, a hundred undead crabs blinking at Momo for their next order.

“A necromancer,” the prince bellowed. His pink flesh had gone as flush as a flamingo. “A bloody, traitorous, tasteless, ugly, necromancer. Seize her!”

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– The Giving Tree

As soon as the prince gave his command, the knights whirred, reluctantly, into action. Immune to the ring of light, the Holy guardsmen poured into the arena in droves. Some of them accidentally fell into the lava moat before the Master of Ceremonies could pull the lever back, which delayed things slightly.

Thankfully, because Nura was experiencing some last-minute stage fright.

“It looks so deep,” Nura said, her hand tightly squeezing Momo’s as they gazed down into the pit. “What if we break our neck on the way down?”

Momo didn’t have a good answer for that. It did look deep. And she hadn’t heard the sound of Eji hitting the bottom of it yet, meaning he was probably still falling. Momo wasn’t great at math, but height times velocity times whatever probably equaled death, especially for two women with the combined strength of a golden retriever.

“Apprehend yourselves, cheaters!” one of the guards bellowed from behind them. “The wrath of the prince will be merciless!”

Momo’s neck snapped backwards. They were nearly surrounded.

She briefly thought of her argentavis – but there was no time to summon him. Regardless, he was too big, too burly. She’d need something long, thin, and instantaneous.

“I’ve got it,” Momo said, having a sudden stroke of brilliance. “Just grab onto my hair.”

“What?”

“[Polymorph – Tree]!”

Nura screamed as Momo dove headfirst into the pit. As she fell, leaves sprouted out of her head, thickets of wood mushroomed out of her arms and legs. Like a butterfly escaping its cocoon, she expanded rapidly into the surrounding dirt.

She felt the sensation of moist soil, the smell of dew and dirt and… worms. Eugh. Her roots hit the bottom of the pit in seconds, anchoring her into the deep, foundational soil. She couldn’t quite see it, but she could feel it – her body had grown to the height of a spruce tree, completely filling the massive ditch.

This has to be my weirdest fucking plan yet, Momo thought, flexing her roots beneath the soil.

“It’s okay! I’ve got you!” Momo shouted. “Jump!”

Nura got the message. With a chaotic, uncoordinated leap, she landed on the bushy head of the tree, laying like a flying squirrel on top of the dense foliage. She quickly squirmed down into the branches below, swinging and climbing with the finesse of a former child gymnast.

Just as Nura vanished out of sight, the guards coalesced around the pit, dumbfounded by the enormous tree canopy that had sprouted there. After several, dead-silent seconds, two of the most highly regarded of the Lesser Lesser knights stepped forward to audit the situation.

“Is that a tree?”

“‘Course it’s a tree.”

“Was it always there?”

“‘Course not.”

“Where did the prisoners go, then?”

“Tree must of ate ‘em. It’s a necromantic tree, after all.”

“Do we… climb it?”

“‘Course not, it’ll eat us. You see what that possessed crab did to Jeff?”

The knight on the left nodded, scratching his chin. Jeff was currently on a medical bed with a missing kneecap. No one wanted to be Jeff.

“What are you idiots doing just standing there?” the prince bellowed from his glass box. “Have you apprehended the prisoners yet?”

The stadium holograms shimmered to focus on the two knights. They went red as gala apples, apologetically bowing towards the non-existent camera. The crowd leered at them with scathing eyes, obviously annoyed at the interruption to their entertainment.

“Sorry, sir. Seems they got eaten by the tree, sir,” the right knight stated.

“Yes, sir, they’re tree food now,” the left knight concurred. “Saw them dip down into this pit, then a giant tree sprouted. Can’t deduce any other outcome, sir.”

“Did you say tree food?”

Just as the prince went white with rage, Momo felt Nura reach the lower section of her branches. The girl was surprisingly swift, climbing the thin limbs of bark like she’d navigate the ropes of a ship. Just a minute longer, and she’d have her feet firmly on the ground.

“I don’t care what kind of tree it is, you follow them down that pit!” the prince screamed.

The audience concurred – waving their light sticks around so a rain cloud of crabs came hailing on top of the knights. The pair at the front looked at each other anxiously.

“You first,” the left knight said.

“I got kids,” the right knight said. “What’s their mom gonna tell him? Daddy got eaten by a tree?”

“[Demorph]!”

Just as Nura’s feet touched the soil, Momo’s leaves receded. The entire pit shook as her massive trunk dwindled, her roots and branches unplugging from the surrounding soil. The knights from above gaped down into the black abyss, the tree all but disappearing in front of their eyes.

Once every limb was back in place, Momo keeled over with a groan. She was used to her body stretching to fit the dimensions of a bird or a stump, but an entire tree was a different matter entirely. Her stomach felt as bloated as a hot air balloon. Her ankles had swelled, too, so they looked like fat cylinders of skin.

“That was positively amazing,” Nura cooed. “I didn’t know people could be part tree.”

Momo blinked, ready to correct her, before realizing she couldn’t see a single thing. The light from the top of the hole was swallowed by the overwhelming depth. They weren’t just in a hole, they were in a deep, dark hole.

“Nura?” she said, reaching her hands forward.

“Why are you waving your hands out like that?”

“Like what? Wait, can you see?”

“Like this,” Nura said unhelpfully. Momo could hear her flinging her hands about. “And of course I can. I have [Night Vision]. All Watchers do. How else would I navigate us when it got stormy?”

“That… makes sense,” Momo said, inhaling sharply. Her lungs still felt like they were full of rocks. “What can you see?”

“Well, not much. We’re pretty much just surrounded by dirt. And crabs. A lot of crabs. I think there’s some sort of passageway behind you, but it’s also full of crabs.”

“Right,” Momo grunted. “The crabs.”

She heaved her body backwards towards the supposed passageway.

“Crabs, attention please,” Momo cleared her throat. “I’d like you to walk straight ahead.”

The crabs rushed over themselves to obey, scrambling away from her and towards the alleged tunnel. Nura had to be on to something, because the pitter-patter of their legs got softer and softer until it was barely audible.

“Great job!” Nura cheered. “Let’s follow them.”

Momo agreed, and tried to stand. That wasn’t one of her best ideas. She immediately fumbled over, falling face first into the dirt.

Everything was so heavy. It was as if her limbs were on strike.

Momo heard a quiet woosh, and then the sensation of a piece of paper landing on her head.

“Can you read that for me?” Momo mumbled, her mouth pressed into the ground.

“Sure,” Nura said enthusiastically, lifting the paper off her head. “Oh. You’re out of Mana. That’s not good.”

Out of mana. That… made sense. Running her own personal crab army and using the newest and most mana-expensive edition of her [Polymorph] spell all at once hadn’t been her brightest idea. But they had managed to escape, kind of. So at least there was that.

Small victories.

Momo tried lifting her head from the ground, but found no such ability in her arms to do so. The most she was able to operate them was to shimmy like a worm on the ground.

“I don’t think I’m going to be able to get up.”

“Yeah, Complete Mana Depletion will do that to you,” Nura said. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

“Huh?”

Momo’s eyes went wide as Nura grasped onto her by the shoulders, hoisting her up onto her back. Momo instinctively wrapped her arms around Nura’s neck, assuming one of her favorite positions to be in – the piggy back ride. All of the blessings of movement with none of the requirements of walking.

“Comfortable?” Nura asked.

Oh no. It was. Terribly comfortable. And her body was so heavy –

“I’mgonnafallasleep,” Momo mumbled, and then, promptly, did.

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– I'm The Eyes, You're the Monkey

Momo really had to stop falling asleep on the job.

She awoke to the drip, drip, drip of a leaky faucet. At least that’s what it sounded like – Momo still couldn’t see a thing. It was like she was in a sensory deprivation tank made of dirt.

“Nura?”

Silence. Momo frowned. She felt a lot better physically, so at least there was that. Her stomach had settled. Her head wasn’t pounding like a gong. She could walk, kind of. She was still limping, her right leg wobbling like a drunk piece of plywood.

“I wish I had some more of that cheese wine,” she mumbled.

She moved her hands around in front of her in an attempt to find some kind of wall. It reminded her of her first day in Alois, when she was stuck in the labyrinths underneath Morgana’s Dawn. It smelled the same, moist and pungent. All that was missing was a skeleton with a Yankee Candle inside of its chest, and a necromancer with rotten veneers, and Momo’d be right at home.

Now that she thought of it, she never saw that guy again. The one with the messed up teeth that welcomed her into this whole mess. No one but him had stepped foot in the labyrinth. The necromages-in-training just threw their hot waste and garbage in there when they were too lazy to throw it somewhere else. Not even Valerica cared to visit.

I wonder who that guy was, Momo mused, her daydreams taking over in the humid darkness. Maybe some kind of visitor? A traveling necromancer-consultant?

No way. That definitely wasn’t it. One – the Dawn had been severely strapped for cash back then, and Momo imagined consultants in every universe were universally unaffordable, and two – Momo couldn’t imagine Valerica taking advice from anyone. Even sage wisdom from Morgana, Mother of Everything and Darkness and Etcetera, often went in one brain cell and out the other.

Momo envied Valerica’s self-obsession. It seemed really, truly relaxing to be so sure everything you said or did was the smartest option – no, the only option. It required so much less brain power to be that delusional.

Momo sighed happily. She strived for nothing more than to someday be that much of a narcissist.

“Oh, Momo, you’re awake,” Nura’s chipper voice jolted her from her thoughts. “You sure recover slowly. Trying to wake you up was like cooking a potato.”

Momo helplessly squinted into the darkness. “What? Like cooking a potato?”

“Yeah,” Nura said. “Never ready when you think it is. Here.”

Nura passed her something. Momo caught it haphazardly, wrapping her hand around the circular object. It was hot and smooth, sending a pleasantly warm sensation up Momo’s arm.

“What is this?”

“Something the crabs dug up. I think it's a Hot Rock. The kind they have at those luxurious thermal springs up in the Aloysian Arctics,” she said. Momo heard her toss the rock from hand to hand. “Not sure why there’d be any down here.”

“Huh. Okay,” Momo said, suddenly yearning for a nice, hot bath. “Have you found any way out?”

“Yeah,” Nura said excitedly, and relief fell over Momo’s chest. “But it’s very high up, almost as high up as where we came from. And it’s sealed.”

Of course it is.

“Sealed how?”

“With lots of hot rocks. It’s almost like we’re underneath someone’s personal hot spring.”

“Of course we are,” Momo sighed. “And where’s Eji? Have you seen him?”

“Right here,” he grunted. “Trying to catch some sleep before the Idiot Patrol inevitably falls down the hole to come arrest us. My money’s on ten more minutes before the prince puts a fire under their holy asses. We’re too valuable to let rot here.”

Momo jumped, his voice jolting her. He was close by – no more than a meter away.

“Oh Eji, have some faith,” Nura said, her voice wavering. Momo could tell she had been putting on a brave face. She was obviously out of her element. “Momo’s going to get us out of this one. She’s amazing.”

“Right, just like she got us out of the Fight Ring and into the, wait, let me see here… giant, inescapable hole in the ground,” he spat. “You know, at least Death Row had working toilets.”

“I’ll gladly [Death Monkey Leap] you back to the surface if that’s what you want,” Momo mumbled under breath.

“What was that?” he growled.

“Nothing,” Momo squeaked. Her bravery was short-lasting.

“That’s what I thought.”

Momo heard him get to his feet. He walked forward a few steps, then hit something with a loud clonk, sending him rolling back into the dirt. The sound was strange, almost metallic.

“Stupid ass pipes,” he groaned. “Stupid ass cave.”

“Pipes?” Momo said, the gears in her brain turning. “Nura, I think you were on to something. Can you see where the pipes lead?”

“Sure. They… oh, interesting. They snake upwards into the hot rocks, then disappear. There’s several of them, lots and lots of gray tubes. And I can hear a sound coming from within them, like rushing water?” she said, padding around in the dirt. “Yes, definitely rushing water. Hot, too. Almost boiling.”

Ah – the realization struck Momo. The amphitheater setup was more alike to a concert stadium than she thought. The best seats in the house weren’t just seats, they were full on lounges.

“I have a pretty good idea where those pipes lead,” Momo grumbled.

When the prince had been on screen, Momo was able to see a bit of the room behind him. The glass observation deck was a fully equipped loft, almost like a floating apartment above the stadium. In addition to his sound effect dashboard and man-throne, there had been a few blurry amenities in the background. Sinks. A shower. Possibly a bath.

It would be just like royalty to have a fully equipped thermal pool to bathe in while you watched people kill each other.

“I think I’ve got a better idea than just escaping,” Momo said. A cheeky grin snuck up her face. “Eji, how would you like to beat the shit out of the prince?”

—

“Alright, to review, I’m your eyes, and you’re my…”

“Monkey legs,” Momo reiterated. “We’ve been over this a few times, Nura.”

Momo and Nura had traded piggy back positions, with Momo’s feet now on the ground, and Nura’s hands desperately hanging onto her shoulders.

They were positioned just in front of the hot rock wall. According to Nura’s approximations, the wall went upwards for about 50 feet, but there was a set of pipes at 10 foot intervals, which was just barely enough for Momo to jump to.

“Have you checked the cooldown for the spell?” Nura said, mumbling anxiously.

Momo nodded. “I can cast it every ten seconds, Mana allowing. I just have to be careful not to deplete my mana again. It’s a pretty costly spell.”

“And why exactly aren’t we just having Eji carry us both up?”

“I’m a ninja, not a charity worker,” Eji grunted.

Using his daggers for leverage, he had already halfway scaled the dirt walls. It was pretty impressive. Of course, due to his lack of vision, he kept accidentally bonking his head on the rocks. Momo felt bad for laughing.

A sudden scream startled Momo nearly into dropping Nura. It was far off, but accompanied by a crushing thud, like a body hitting the ground. A second later, another scream sounded out, and another thud. Discernibly human groans of complaint followed.

“We should’ve just climbed down the tree."

The exasperated voice echoed down the dirt halls, originating from where Momo had dropped into initially.

“Can you see? I can’t see a thing.”

“‘Course I can’t see. It’s pitch black, Gavin.”

“Oh great. Oh, just wonderful.”

“Shit, we gotta hurry up,” Momo whispered. “Are you ready, Nura?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be, captain.”

“Alright. I’ve never used this skill before, so,” Momo stuttered, and drove her heels into the ground. “Here goes nothing. [Death Monkey Leap]!”

As if rockets had erupted from the soles of her feet, she went erratically flying upwards. Her kneecap rammed against the left wall, then her back collided against the right one. She ping-ponged against layers of dirt and stone, pain ricocheting through her, until she crash-landed onto an array of pipes.

“Ouch,” Momo groaned.

“That was great!” Nura celebrated, somehow unharmed. “Just four more leaps, and we’ll almost be at the surface.”

“In two more leaps, I’m going to be decapitated.”

“Don’t say that,” Nura said, adamantly shaking her head. “We’ve got this. We’re a team. I’m eyes, you’re monkey, remember?”

“Did you hear that, Gavin? I hear voices.”

“I don’t hear a damn thing. I think you got little people in your head chattering, that's what I think.”

“Don’t you dare. I swear I heard some voice – a girlish voice – talking about a monkey. I swear I heard it.”

“What kind of monkey lives in a deep, dark hole in the ground? Get sane.”

The voices were nearing them. Momo winced. As much as her body was straining, they were running out of time. If the first two guards didn’t find them, they’d probably send more.

“Okay, new tactic,” Momo whispered. “I’m going to jump straight upwards.”

“Great idea.”

With a breath, Momo steadied herself and launched another [Death Monkey Leap]. This one was slightly more successful. She didn’t racket against the walls like a tennis ball, but she did narrowly miss getting her head banged on one of the pipes.

“Fantastic, Momo. You’re just magic.”

“What’s really magic is that I haven’t suffered a blunt head trauma.”

Wasting no time dwelling on the possibility, Momo cast the spell again. She was starting to get a feel for the arrangement of the pipes and space between the walls. It was a narrow, vertical corridor, with hot stones on the left and dewy dirt on the right. The pipes jutted out behind and in front of her, and occasionally in the middle.

The middle section presented a problem.

“Shit!”

On her latest leap, she managed to get her head through the sliver of space between the pipes and the wall, but ended up impaling her middle on one of the gray rods. It was like she had been stabbed with a crowbar, pain pulsing through her midsection. She collapsed on the makeshift pipe platform, holding her stomach.

“Are you okay?” Nura cried, disembarking from Momo’s back to check on her.

“My head is still attached to my neck,” Momo said, groaning in pain. “So it could be worse.”

“It looks like the pipe got you straight in the stomach,” Nura said, touching the spot. Momo winced. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, I just…” Momo hiccuped. “[Dark Healing].”

Black magic swirled around the wound, threading the red, nasty blister shut. She felt nauseous, her head swam, but the pain in her center dulled. It went from the severity of a knife fight to a tussle on the playground. Nothing more than a blue, angry bruise.

“You guys are so slow,” Eji taunted.

Momo looked upwards. He had reached the final platform of pipes. She realized she could see him, just barely. Light was leaking through the ceiling of hot rocks above him. Noise, too. Muffled voices. Running water. Jets, like in a hot tub.

“If you useless Kyros-loving idiots don’t find the prisoners in the next twenty five minutes, I’m shoving you all on a baking sheet and making grilled human kebab,” the prince screeched.

His voice was dulled by the rock insulation, but it was obvious that Momo had been correct. He was sitting directly above them in his cozy little observation deck. All that stood between Momo and a royal assassination attempt was three feet of dense rock.

Good thing she had a skill for that sort of thing.

“I’d suggest you guys get behind me,” Momo coughed.

If dark-black blood came dripping out of her mouth, she pretended not to notice.

A note from villa1ny

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Table of Contents

Title Page

The Newest Necromage

1.2 - Escape Plan

Momo's Dead Pets

The Wizard of Kalendale

Momo’s First Exploitation

One Person's Trash is Another Person's Undead Cat

Excalibur

Death by Tummy Ache

Beast Tamer

Bone Dance

Devola and Valerica

The Earl of Bruda

All Classed Up

It's Called a Cerberus

I'm Not Paid Enough to Deal With This

The Haunted Manor

Some Mothers Have Infants, Others Have Zombie Globs

Earl Yadek vs. The Zombie Glob

The Wrongful Imprisonment of Momo the Totally-Not-Necromage

Meal Prep

Never Bring Your Necrodancer Grocery Shopping

Corpse Party

The Dumpling Guild & Class Evolution

Even Gods Get Manicures

A Blessing and a Curse

Old Friends, New Beginnings

There’s a System to this Magic?!

Momo's First Quest

Traitorous Ostrich

A Hero in the Dusk

Elaborate Trappings

The Trial of Viktor Mole

Momo The Ripper

The Nam’Dal Terror

The Slippery Warbler

Cellmates

The Escape

Knight Momo

Nia Nightsbane

Con Artist II

Biscuit the Bulky

[Holy] Sh*t

The Cracked Egg

Mistaken Identity

I Guess I'm Overthrowing the Government

Hum Hum Hummingbird

Like A Game of Chess

Rat City Business

Cheese Politic

Riggly, Rat Of Old

The Foretelling of a Witch

Shark Bait

Praying to the Dexterity Gods

Dogubis, The Eternal Cagehound

A Wolf In The Vents

Never Forget to Lock the Back Door!

The Goat Wasn't Crazy

It Feels Good to be Queen Again

Morgana Messes With the System

Money, Money, Money, Must be Funny, in a Rich Momo’s World!

Catling’s Cowl of the Void

Valerica’s Golden Bauble Addiction: The Case Continues

Roses for Kyros

The Cult of Sera

Nether Jedi

What If We All Punched at the Same Time?

Near-Death By A Thousand Cuts

An Alliance Outside A Pig Farm

Horsing Around

Momo and the [Greater Demon Boar]

If You Do Not Comply, You Will Die

Momo the Merlin

Momo Takes Flight

Komodo

Five Valericas is Better Than One

Nap Time’s Over

Momo. Just Momo.

A Deathly Reunion

Paralysis

The Election (End of Book 1)

Election Results (Start of Book 2)

Heavenly Bureaucracy

The Emperor's New Clothes

Talking Shrooms

The Nameless Quest

Sumire the Sleepy

ASMR

Silent Mindreader

Real Orders Only, Please

A Heart for a Fingertip

Spymaster

A Discovery in Baryte

Return of the Mole

– Hold, Please

The Adventure Reluctantly Begins

Forever Springtime

– Lizard Wizard

– A Pagoda Heist

– Oblivion Dust

– Archibald & The Squirrely Escape

– Most Unqualified Jeopardy Contestant

– Lizard Soap Opera

Even The Universe Has Daddy Issues

Sea Chess

Momo's Quandary

– Universe Implosion Prevention Committee

– Uncle's In Town

Ending the Matriarchy

– The Golems of the Under-Canals

– Formula 1 Gondola Racing

Doubletimer

– The Squawking Gull Cafe

– It’s Hardly a Queendom Without an Army

– The Wild, Wild West

– Strawberry Cream Cheese Bagel

– New Quest: The Oblivion Heist

– Kami’s Redoubt

– Naked and Afraid

– A Merlin Investigation

— Two Heists

– Call Me Boss

– Watch out for the Tsunami

– A Bit of a Cupcake Situation

– Welcome to New Jarv City, Baby

– Death Row Fight Ring

– The Spinesplitter Waltz

– The Last Body of Azrael

– Cloudquake

– The Demonic Luhkka

– The One Where Momo Died

— Fatal Flirting

– Stupid Moral Compass

– Self Assurance III

– I Choose You, Dusk!

– Death Row Fight Ring: Match One

– Sometimes The Solution Is A Crab Army

– The Giving Tree

– I'm The Eyes, You're the Monkey