Help! My Mom Wants To Take Over The World! - Chapter 8

Stephanie is off to carry out her Goddess's will.

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"Yes, Goddess Stephanie. Right away, Goddess Stephanie. Everything to please your needs, Goddess Stephanie." Stephanie tittered with delight while hearing herself imitating the ones she would soon subjugate to her powers.

She could scarcely believe her good fortune. Merely moments ago, she was nothing more than a trivial chick bound to play by the rules set by society.

However, while soaring with a blazing speed - with the wind flapping her fair haired locks - through the clouds like a ramped-up foxhound plane, a thing like that seemed like something beneath her now.

She felt like an all-powerful giantess gazing down from above upon a lawn filled with teeming insects who had to struggle to survive in a world that was not kind to them. It was a world that was not able to touch Stephanie anymore.

Humanity had to learn the hard way that Clara was the one true Goddess who deserved nothing short of reverence.

Stephanie felt grateful and blessed that The Goddess had turned her into her knife. She would not feel joy in cutting humanity into submission. She was too good-hearted for that. But cut, she will.

This was her chance to show her devotion to Clara's cause. Terry's mother must reign supreme over us all, and Stephanie was determined to ensure she did.

Dawdling while soaring above the clouds, gazing down upon the landscape that looked like she was scrutinizing a map, Stephanie did not know what her first course of action should be. What would The Goddess want her to do?

Then Stephanie's attention was drawn towards a turmoil her superpowered hearing noticed in a bustling shopping area several thousands of kilometers beneath her. Her super-enhanced eyesight zeroed in on the scene, zooming in on the spot so clear it was as if Stephanie glared upon it from a balcony on the second floor.

Dozens of people were rallying on the square, demonstrating their objection to a resolution passed by the United Nations Security Council to refrain from antagonizing Clara.

They did not want to ruffle her feathers any further. The fear among the global population sat deep after witnessing Vanity Girl decimating a small army single-handedly. Only a few voiced their concerns when Clara was still a good girl. No person should have such an amount of power. What if she turned corrupt? Who is able to stop her?

Those expressions fell on deaf ears. No one wanted to hear it. Clara's contribution to world peace and the decrease of crime was just too great – not to mention the popularity she enjoyed. Everyone loved Clara!

But now she was going rogue. From one day to another, the world's darling utterly decides she deserves to be worshipped like a Goddess.

A lone mother was now imposing her dark will upon the planet, and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

These protesters, Stephanie was watching with flaring anger, found it the wrong course to give Clara a breather. They criticized the suggestion to play it through diplomacy but weren't in favor of handing out pressure by means of warfare either. They had the vague notion that Clara would come to her senses if, as much as possible ordinary people expressed dissatisfaction with her policy.

But then they did not meet Stephanie yet – Clara's protégé. Not only did the girl have the powers of a God now, but she was also devoted to Clara in the same way a mother is devoted to saving her natural child in the event of danger: Stephanie would do anything for Clara.

"Do not stand by idly people as the government is handing our beautiful country to the clutches of tyranny!" Hank, a self-proclaimed patriotism-rekindler - hooked nose and long greasy hair on a half balding his most striking features - bellowed through a bullhorn while standing atop a pile of stacked beer crates.

Hank's words drew more and more curious people in to listen to his ramblings as the unsuccessful politician with a failed campaign under his belt kept reminding everyone who wanted to hear that this was the time to act. "Who wants to see his children end up living in an autocratic society shaped by the same damn hypocrites who pass themselves off as altruistic Samaritans but are actually fascists? You, my smart-looking friend?" He pointed at a startled fellow in the front row wearing ridiculously large glasses and an oversized black button blazer.

"Noooo!" A woman beside the guy answered as she swayed her fist fervently in the air while her other hand held a little girl eating an ice cream.

"The bitch must die!" someone yelled from the back of the crowd, eliciting cries of agreement from the crowd.

Hank leisurely waved his hands, soothing the audience. "While I cannot agree more, people. We must beware that we do not stoop to the same level as the ones we stand up against. Let's act subtly. I suggest we–"

Several brows in the audience were raised as Hank's mouth kept speaking, but no words came out. His face contorted into a tense look as it seemed like he was fighting gravity to keep standing straight. His knees buckled, and he fell off his makeshift stage made of beer crates. He groaned with resistance as his body lay flat on the ground as if bearing a huge invisible hand pressing on him from above.

One by one, the people in the crowd were pushed down as well, compelled to lie flat on the ground by an invisible force.

"I-it's... ugh, it's the bitch," One guy squeezed out between clenched jaws while fighting an unseen force he could never hope to overcome.

"Almost correct," Stephanie said as she soared lower from the sky in a straight vertical line with her arms crossed over her chest.

The smirk on her pretty lips betrayed the joy she felt while overpowering all these people with just a flick of her thoughts. This was something she could get used to.

The bright red dress ending halfway Stephanie's upper legs fluttered around her legs due to the wind. Her kicks landed on the ground, and Stephanie surveyed the scene, satisfied, as hundreds of people who were all anti-Clara were groveling at her feet. That should teach them.

"D-demon," A young man, lying flat on his stomach, gasped between strained groans. He lay close enough to Stephanie that he could have a clear upskirt view of the appealing, superpowered youth and her sculptured legs soaring above him.

"Demon!" Another voice chimed in. The crowd followed his example, their faces marred with wicked determination.

Stephanie was not impressed and could only shake her head with a smile at the sight of a flock of pitiful ants seeking to defy Clara's will.

"More will follow, wench!" some voice shouted. "We will not lay flat on our tummies to be handed over to that monster!"

Stephanie chuckled. "Interesting turn of phrase because that's the very thing you're doing right now, lying flat on your tummies."

"You can do with us what you want, but we will never yield!" another voice said.

"Is that so?" Stephanie said with a sardonic grin. Immediately a blinding white light burst forth from her eyes, and an unbearable pain surged through each of their bodies, feeling like their bones were glowing like red hot steel bars heated in a forge. "Pledge loyalty to the Goddess, and I may spare you this pain."

Screams of agony tore through the air, with no person giving in to Stephanie's demand. So she turned it up a notch, flaring her eyes brighter. The screams of pain churned into torturous screeches of terror.

"Make it stop! Please!" Some began to scream.

But Stephanie was unrelenting. With an icy glare, she spoke, "Then yield, ant!" she said, gearing up the pain. All were screaming now—even the ones who appeared untouched by Stephanie's threats.

"I yield! I yield!" a man said. Several more followed, their pleas filled with anguish and desperation. "Make it stop, please!"

"Then say what I want to hear," Stephanie demanded, her powers intensifying, wracking them with torturous pain.

The man used his final efforts to raise his head to be able to look Stephanie in the eyes. His words were forced out by the unbearable suffering he had to endure. "I hereby lay my life in the hands of V-Vanity girl, the woman called C-Clara, the one true Goddess of the world."

Stephanie cocked a brow. "Only this world?"

"Of the universe! The one true Goddess of the universe!" he said.

"I fully endorse with what he said," another person said between sniggering tears. Many more chimed in, begging for mercy. "Now, please, let this pain stop."

"Very well then," Stephanie said, and she removed the burning sensation from those who pledged fealty to Clara. "And what about you?" she said, looking quizzically at a few individuals braving the hellish pain Stephanie was inflicting upon them. These were the diehards, their courage searing even through the torture of Stephanie's power. Hank was not among them. He was the first to give in.

Stephanie realized she was forced to kill these poor bastards, or her threats would be empty. It was something she rather not did, but the cause of her Goddess stood above her own moral lines.

"Observe," Stephanie brought up her hand. "Let the fate of these infidels serve as an example for those who consider following their path." With one swift gesture, Stephanie's hand closed in a tight fist, replacing the screams of pain with a thunderous explosion as their bodies splashed apart, showering those near with guts and gore.

Satisfied, Stephanie soared into the air to blast off to a new destination. Still, before departing, she incinerated a viaduct, obliterated a good portion of a football stadium, and destroyed the right wing of the city's municipal building with her devastating heat vision – carefully not to kill anyone, but prompting screams of terror from all who witnessed the catastrophic event nonetheless.