TO Rewrite: B4 — 2. Conquest’s Light

PoV:

1. Grace (Our Calamity Jane Runaway!)

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The Montana air hung heavy with anticipation as midday approached. The alarm had snapped Grace awake an hour previous, and now the supercenter’s parking lot was surrounded like a war zone.

Military, private military contractors, drones, and Mexico’s airship were reportedly going to make a grand entrance soon. Many of the US military troops here had experienced some kind of change since the Second Oscillation and were still getting used to their powers.

Her gaze drifted to one of the several newly introduced ‘kin’—dinokin. When mixed with pop-culture, a lot of strange things had come out of the Second Oscillation.

The raptor man seemed to be having trouble getting his military vest to fit.

What a time to be alive… I can practically feel calamity’s ax hanging over our heads. Boss, where’s your influence in this because despite all this preparation…

Grace stood at the perimeter line, gazing at the object everyone’s attention was centered on. The Crystal loomed before them, its pink surface pulsing with crimson light that seemed to grow more intense with each passing minute.

She placed one hand on Jim’s spectral flank, the other nervously adjusting her borrowed hat. I don’t feel like we’re quite prepared for what’s gonna come through that thing. Feels similar to that ominous wind just before things popped off in Ali Baba’s realm.

“Steady, boy,” she murmured to Jim, though the reassurance was as much for herself as for him.

Military personnel maintained a wide perimeter around the Crystal, their weapons trained on the enigmatic structure. El Santo stood at the front line, his silver mask gleaming in the sunlight, muscles tensed beneath his wrestling attire. Beside him, Paul Bunyan towered, Blue at his side, the massive ox pawing nervously at the ground.

Near the front ranks stood Wakalapi, the coyote-headed Mystic of the Crow Nation. His amber eyes glowed with an ancient power as he chanted softly, the sacred smoke from his pipe curling around his form. Behind him, several Crow warriors maintained a ceremonial circle, their rhythmic drumming resonating through the earth.

Grace scanned the gathered forces. Red and Black stood together nearby, tension evident in their postures. Green and Gray were beside them, whispering lowly to one another while pointing at various areas that might need the hare woman’s defensive abilities if attacked first.

In the distance, she heard the Mexican airship begin taking off, its weapons systems seemingly primed. General Dallas directed operations from a command center nearby, his voice crisp and authoritative through the communication channels.

Grace tapped her radio. “Scarlet, you reading me? Crystal’s looking more agitated than a bull seeing a red clown nose, squeaker an’ all.”

The radio crackled with static before Scarlet’s voice came through. “I see it through the drone feed Tom setup. Rachel’s still out cold beside me—umm, we’re at the house with Nam and Alexa. I know Rachel wanted to be there, but…I agree with the general, if she’s unconscious, it’s too dangerous. We need a backup if things…go wrong.”

Clearing her throat, eyes never leaving the pulsing Crystal, she mumbled, “Any chance our sleeping beauty will wake up soon? Somethin’s tellen me we’re gonna need all hands on deck for this one.”

“One minute, Maria’s checking her out… She, uh, she says there’s a kind of soul disharmony, or something like that, that needs realigning before she can wake up properly. I can see that Nike is probably doing something to help—there’s this glow around her.”

Grace adjusted her pistols in their holsters, puffing out a stream of hot air. “Well shoot. Somethin’ tells me the boss is typically the last minute type of gal. Tell Ms. Victory to hurry it up. Got any fancy vampire tricks that might help us if this goes south while we’re waitin’? I know it’s daylight and all, but yeah.”

“Uh, yeah, no,” Scarlet’s voice carried a hint of tension even through the radio. “I’m useless during the day. This is like…the worst timing. Not just for me, but Rachel, too.”

As the sun climbed to its zenith, the Crystal’s pulsing light intensified. The air around it seemed to warp and shimmer, like heat rising from asphalt on a summer day.

However, Grace forced a smile as the hum of the airship escalated as it came into view above them, the sunlight gleaming off its surface. “Tom told me that him and a few of the PMC mythickin and Mexican government are cookin’ up somethin’ for that—and would you look there, Ms. Fangs. I think we’ve got ya covered!”

Even as they watched, a thick fog began to circle the giant hovering warship, cycling around it before turning inky black. What appeared to be mages, myths, and Mexican magitech, working together as the haze rapidly expanded, spreading out to blanket the whole city.

The chanting of the Crow mystics created a gust of wind, picked up by more tribesmen around the city, creating a bubble of sorts to keep visibility high. Listening to the reports from nearby officers, Grace grinned as more Crow drummers picked up the tribal ritual to create another weak barrier on the outside of it to maintain the simple dome.

Military flood lights sparked to life, illuminating the darkness, yet the Crystal itself was more than enough to brighten the parking area.

Tom’s voice came through the speakers, causing every person present to ready their weapons and goosebumps to run down Grace’s arms.

“It’s showtime ladies and gentlemen… Whatever comes through, we are the first line of defense. Intel tells us that we’re dealing with something cataclysmic. I won’t tell you it’s going to be pretty, but this is where heroes and legends are made. Our first objective is to resolve this peacefully but sometimes that isn’t always an option.”

Grace grinned and took out her sole revolver, spinning the chamber and checking her ammo—all magic bullets with unique purposes. The military men around her hardened their faces, adjusting helmets, vests, or checking weapons.

“I’m sure some of you will be honored for doing your duty and rising to the call to protect your homes, your families. Keep your wits about you and don’t falter. We may even be dealing with the likes of a demigod for all I know…but if you keep calm, we’ll make it through this darkness. Follow orders, and above all, remain calm…

“You’ll be in the history books. So, how do you want history to remember you? Have courage and Godspeed.”

“It’s starting,” Red whispered, her body tensing. Her fingers tightened around her hunting rifle, her voice low as she leaned in to talk to Black. “The Wolf is telling me we’re at a disadvantage… She wants to run. Something smells wrong, as if a tsunami is coming.”

“That’s not encouraging,” Black mumbled, eyes darting to Gray, who nodded.

“Let’s keep that to ourselves. If the Big Bad Wolf wants to retreat, we don’t need that fear spreading through the ranks.”

Grace took out her flask and unscrewed it to drink deeply, heart beginning to pump faster. No, that sounds like a party.

The Crystal’s surface began to ripple like water disturbed by a stone. Fracture lines appeared across its faces, radiating outward from the center. Light spilled from these cracks, not pink or red, but pure gold—brilliant and blinding.

El Santo stepped forward, his silver mask gleaming in the ethereal light. His massive frame cast a long shadow as he positioned himself at the front line, muscles coiled with tension beneath his wrestling attire.

His aura emanates outward, soothing nerves. “Prepare yourselves,” he called to those behind him. “Whatever comes, we stand together.”

General Tom Dallas barked orders into his radio, coordinating a perimeter that everyone knew would be useless if what emerged proved hostile. Red’s crimson cloak billowed in an impossible wind, her rifle replaced by her axe, its edge gleaming. Black whispered to Gray, their expressions grim as they flanked Green, whose turtle shell shimmered with protective enchantments.

This is it…

Grace Alexander checked her silver pistol, her new black hat pulled low over her eyes. “Jim doesn’t like this,” she muttered to no one in particular as her spectral horse materialized briefly beside her, pawing nervously at the ground before moving a distance away in case she needed a quick escape. “Sucks the boss isn’t here yet.”

Let calamity come.

With a sound that transcended mere noise—a multidimensional fracture that registered as pressure rather than sound—the Crystal shattered. Liquid gold poured forth, coalescing into shapes that defied natural law.

“Scarlet, Crystal’s crackin’ open faster than an egg under a stompin’ bull. Rachel up yet?”

“She just jolted awake!” came Scarlet’s excited reply. “The Crystal shattering snapped her out of it it seems. Rachel? Rachel, can you hear me…”

Grace hissed at Scarlet’s concerned tone.

“Uh, Maria, stop cursing in Spanish and just tell me—oh, she says it triggered something in her soul alignment—she’s moving, though! It’s like she’s waking from a really deep dream or something… I think Nike and Eostre are helping to stabilize her soul after whatever she did to it in Ali Baba’s realm.”

Grace shielded her eyes against the radiance, squinting to make out the figures emerging from the light. The pictures Grace had seen of Fable’s revered CEO paled in comparison to the figure that emerged.

“Well, can ya tell her to hurry up…we got first contact.”

Where White had once been coldly beautiful, as Gray described  her, with platinum blonde hair and eyes like winter frost, this woman radiated an ethereal loveliness that seemed almost painful to behold. Black was right, it was almost mythical in nature.

Her hair, now as black as midnight, cascaded down her back in lustrous waves. Her skin glowed with an inner light, seeming to capture and reflect the golden radiance surrounding her. Her features, once sharp and imperious, had softened into something both more human and more divine—as if she had been remade into a perfect version of herself.

Grace’s sharp vision caught every detail while trying to overlap the images with reality.

Even White’s eyes had changed—where once they were silvery-gray and calculating in her pictures, now they shone a vibrant, mesmerizing blue. The golden chains binding her wrists seemed almost ornamental, yet they were clearly restraints.

Behind her came a slender woman with dark hair tied in a practical braid, wearing a maid outfit of all things. Her blue eyes alert and watchful, carrying an iron club at her side—a weapon that seemed at odds with her small, delicate frame. She held an almost artificial beauty, appearing to be Latino. Her movements were fluid and precise as she scanned the gathered forces, vision narrowing.

Then, radiating power that made the very air shimmer—she emerged.

Grace had seen the vision in the smoke, but nothing had prepared her for the reality. The woman—no, the being—who stepped through the Crystal’s remains exuded a transcendent presence.

Snow White remained near them, her expression carefully neutral as she moved closer to whisper something to what appeared to be her divine captor.

The woman’s liquid golden hair flowed around a face of impossible perfection, gleaming, flawless skin glowing with inner light while listening to White. Slightly pointed ears peeked through her cascading locks, seemingly elf in nature. Her aquamarine eyes glowed with gentle power as she surveyed the gathered forces with amused interest. Her white, shimmering gown rippled around her like water, giving her the appearance of royalty incarnate.

“Well, now. Howdy, sunshine,” Grace muttered under her breath, feeling a chill run down her spine despite the warmth radiating from the golden woman. [Calamity Sense] wasn’t just tingling—it was screaming: they were not on the same level.

“White?!” Green called out, flexing her fingers and looking nervous while staring at the figure that emerged first—her hands chained in golden chains. “No, why does she look so… No, what’s the situation?”

Red’s hands tightened around her ax, vision narrowing. “That smell… It’s White, but her hair is black now, and she somehow looks way…prettier?”

“Like a mythickin’s beauty,” Black whispered, glancing at Gray for orders.

“What happened to her? What do we do? She’s not giving us any signals.”

“I don’t know.”

The dark-haired maid immediately moved to the golden woman’s side, her posture shifting to protective.

Red’s voice held a bit more stress in it compared to the wolf’s typical forward attitude. “Black, she’s not answering Green.”

“Keep steady… She’ll signal us.”

Snow White leaned close to the blonde, whispering something. Butter giggled—a sound like silver bells that somehow made Grace unconsciously take a step backward despite herself—she wasn’t alone. Everyone took the same step at once, which wasn’t unnerving at all.

There was something in her voice that seemed to strike a cord within her chest she didn’t know existed—awe?

Her radiance brightened with the glorious, rainbow pendant she wore. Paul Bunyan moved to stand beside El Santo with his ox, which immediately appeared to catch Butter’s attention as the large man’s voice cut through the tense silence.

“En el nombre de la justicia, ¡alto ahí!” He planted his feet firmly, hands raised in a stance that invited neither aggression nor submission. “Identify yourselves and state your purpose on Earth.”

The soldiers tightened their formation as Butter took another step forward, her bare feet leaving golden footprints that shimmered briefly before fading into the earth. Piles of what remained of the snow that had been piled in the parking lot began to melt, running in streams toward her. The legends, myths, and Crow mystics tensed, diverse power radiating from them in waves.

Adoncia’s grip tightened on her club, her eyes carefully tracking every potential threat. The maid’s skin began to color crimson, an aura beginning to radiate around her as energy-like horns grew.

Red’s fingers moved down her axe handle, her voice low as she addressed El Santo. “White’s acting strange. And a heads up, the Wolf is telling me we’re at a disadvantage… She smells like divinity and blood. If she attacks, we may need to draw it out into a battle of attrition.”

A shiver ran down Grace’s spine as the blonde’s gaze swept across the assembled forces before settling on El Santo again. “A battle of attrition, Little Red? Darling, you’d lose that in spades. And what a fine specimen of a man you are, man in the mask, and you, with the ax and bull,” she said, her voice carrying an impossible melody. “I think this is going to be fun!”

El Santo remained unmoved, his posture solid as stone. “What is your story, Señorita? Why is White bound? I ask again—who are you to enter our world with such…theatrical flair? Not that I do not appreciate your sense of style!”

“Perfect,” the woman Butter whispered, almost to herself,  her words seemingly perfectly audible to all present despite their softness. “A challenge. I love challenges. Red has sharp instincts.”

She raised her left hand, and the chains binding Snow White dissolved into golden butterflies that scattered on the wind. The water flowing around her turned to liquid gold and the very ground around her feet began to shimmer, as if polished jewels, spreading outward.

With that terrifyingly divine gesture, every weapon trained on her hummed with sudden warning—the metal growing hot, technologies failing, enchantments flickering unstably. The buzz of the Mexican airship descended from the sky, preparing to engage.

Red’s tail stilled, yet her arms were shaking slightly. “Gray, she released White? She smells like she wants to fight…but doesn’t want to kill. What do we do?”

“Wait for orders,” the man returned.

Tom Dallas exited the command center, which didn’t seem smart to Grace, but if what she felt was true, it didn’t matter where he was. The liquified, golden snow circled them like a holy dome, with a fluid motion that defied physics, shimmering with unnatural brilliance.

The general’s military authority pushed through his instinctive fear because, despite her own legendary resistances, Grace knew this woman was something divine.

“That’s close enough, Ma’am.”

Grace chambered a new round with an audible click, one that the magical gunsmith had told her wouldn’t be a good idea to use, before pressing the radio to connect to the rest of Omen. “Pretty sure we’ve got a situation here, folks. White came through with chains but I don’t know what the hell this golden-haired lady is up to.”

A young soldier, wide-eyed and trembling, stammered something incoherent as he stared at the divine being. His superior barked at him to hold position even as his own rifle grew too hot to hold and Grace noticed a radial heat of some kind emanating from the woman as the Crow took up an offensive position.

Butter’s smile remained unchanged as she spoke, her voice carrying effortlessly across the parking lot. “Why don’t we get better acquainted, and by that, I’ve always felt that conflict tends to reveal more than pure words. Adoncia, show me how far you’ve come from our conquest of those insects.”

The maid twisted her club in a circle, and stepped out of the golden bubble of transparent liquid that surrounded White and the blonde. Every soldier, mercenary, and military contractor knew exactly what this meant: a fight.

A hum of power resonated above as the magitech airship emerged from the dark clouds, cannons and onboard personnel waiting for the signal to attack. The blonde didn’t so much as give it a second glance, keeping her attention on the three men who were front and center to challenge her as Wakalapi joined Paul and El Santo.

“But first, allow me to introduce myself,” the woman chimed, as if this were a cozy bonfire dance. Performing a perfect old-fashioned curtsy, she spread the sides of her gown, glowing eyes twinkling behind her barrier. “I am High Queen Butter, or as my ever so elegant older sister likes to call me, her ‘Fatty Twin.’ On behalf of the Undying Empire, I so look forward to experiencing your willpower and resistance.”

Butter? Grace internally wanted to snort, the absurdity of such a name not lost on her. Whoever this lady is, she certainly knows how to make an entrance. I can respect it.

Wakalapi stepped forward, his coyote head tilted upward, amber eyes blazing with divine light. The sacred smoke from his pipe swirled more intensely around him, forming symbols in the air.

“Awacháaxpa Axxaáhche,” he intoned, his voice carrying a blend of human speech and animal growls. “Great Spirit of the First Maker, shield your children from the foreign divinity that trespasses on your land.”

Butter’s gaze shifted to Wakalapi, her expression brightening with childlike curiosity. “Oh, a shaman channeling his patron’s power! How delightful,” she clapped, hands linking behind her back while tilting her head in observation of the mystic. “I haven’t seen one of your kind on our new planet. You look fun. Adoncia,” she sang.

“Yes, High Queen.”

Unlinking her hands, she raised them high and the chime, like a bell, followed a pulse of light that came so fast, not a single one of them could react.

“Let’s see if they’re good hosts.”

With that simple gesture, every weapon trained on them humming with sudden warning—metal growing hot, technologies failing, enchantments flickering unstably. The Mexican airship above them wavered, its engines sputtering.

“This doesn’t need to escalate, High Queen,” General Dallas called out, stepping forward despite the obvious fear in his eyes—only weapons like Grace’s seemed unaffected, those attached to their abilities. “You appear to have come from or have some relation to Earth. Surely, we can negotiate—”

Butter smiled, the expression somehow both warm and terrifying as she pointed at El Santo. “Negotiations only function when both sides realize what cards they hold, as Priss once told me, general. Snow told me all about you. Entertaining games like this are thrilling to watch. The masked one, Adoncia. Mr. Handsome, show me where your heart lies to be conquered.”

El Santo stepped forward to meet her challenge, his silver mask catching the golden light as he raised his hands in his signature fighting stance. The crowd held its breath—the legendary wrestler against this tiny maid.

“En nombre de la justicia,” El Santo declared, “though, you are lovely and I wish not to harm such a beautiful Señorita, you shall go no further.”

Adoncia’s lips curled into a smile. “Justice? Where was your justice and help when the ri’bot attacked our home, killed me, and took us captive to an alien world? Only Empress Elinor and High Queen Butter were there to save us. The High Queen is justice incarnate.”

She moved with inhuman speed, her club whistling through the air as she aimed for El Santo’s head. The wrestler dodged with practiced precision, his own movements a blur as he darted left, ropes materializing from nowhere to redirect his counter strike that should have taken off her head.

Instead, Adoncia nimbly pivoted, frenzied aura intensifying as she caught his fist in her free hand, the impact creating a shockwave that cracked the asphalt beneath them.

Grace’s eyes widened. “Holy—what kind of milk did she drink growin’ up?”

El Santo recovered quickly, twisting to break her grip and delivering a powerful kick to her midsection. Adoncia, much more nimble and smaller, yet seemingly choosing to tank it full blast slid backward but remained standing, her crimson aura flaring brighter.

“Impressive,” she acknowledged, twirling her club in one hand with renewed vigor. “The High Queen says you’re the Legend of El Santo. You live up to his name.”

“How polite of you, and I must return your compliment! Perhaps I should not have held back. It is my disgrace to your honor as a fighter, protecting your beliefs. But I cannot lose, for I fight for my beloved Mexico!”

They clashed again, their movements too fast for normal eyes to follow. Grace easily tracked them, though, moving around the outer perimeter to find a better position while summoning her rifle. She couldn’t help but hear the murmurs of the soldiers and mercenaries who had answered the US’s call for support.

Everyone’s hoping this simple one-on-one battle will solve the initial conflict… Yeah, this is only the start of the calamity.

Her gaze darted to the blonde, watching the exchange of blows with a grin.

There’s no way someone like her will be satisfied unless getting her own hands dirty. This is just the warm-up. She’s waiting for somethin’, but what?

A flurry of strikes, blocks, and counterattacks that sent tremors through the ground with each impact followed, El Santo and Adoncia shockingly proving almost equals. The more El Santo ramped up, the more Adoncia’s horns solidified, turning from pure energy to physical. Then, it struck Grace.

She’s using us to gain EXP or activate some kind of condition in her maid! This sly woman’s playing chess while we’re playing checkers, trying to figure out her game. White seems totally obedient to her, too… Somethin’s not right here. Dammit, boss, where are you?! Quit soul syncing and get in here.

She hopped onto Jim to get a better look, spotting Tom’s stone-cold face, but there was sweat on his brow as he glanced up at the airship. He knew better than her where this was heading, and Chief Running Elk was by his side, muttering something that made the general grip tighten around the radio he held.

By the look on his face, and the Crow mystics…we’re screwed.

Paul Bunyan stepped forward, snapping all eyes to him as Blue, his giant bull, snorted beside him. “This has gone far enough, Butter,” the legendary lumberjack declared, raising his massive axe. “Stand down or I will join this battle!”

C’mon, man! That’s exactly what she wants! Grace internally screamed. Obviously, she gets off to anyone trying to step up to her!

Butter watched the battle with childlike delight, her aquamarine eyes sparkling. “Oh, another challenger! How wonderful!” She turned to Snow White, who stood quietly beside her. “Your Earth has such fascinating champions. In fact, if you’d sent this kind of response to your first Crystal challenge, you wouldn’t have been taken captive by the Susime.”

El Santo and Adoncia separated, both breathing heavily. The wrestler glanced at Paul, then back to his opponent. “¿Listo para un combate en equipo?” he asked, with a grin.

“A tag-team match.” Adoncia looked at Butter.

The woman enthusiastically clapped her hands as the maid’s horns became physical and the maid’s aura tightened around her frame. “By all means! If you want to speed things up, then by no means am I against that. I love a good show. After all, Adoncia just advanced a Grade.”

Grace glanced at Tom, but he seemed resigned to identifying more about this divine figure instead of ordering a full on attack. He was testing the waters since she hadn’t shown any real aggression that warranted lethal action. Rachel and the Crow’s warnings must have been weighing heavily on him. 

Paul charged forward, Blue thundering beside him. El Santo rejoined the fray, and suddenly Adoncia was fighting three opponents at once—the wrestler, the lumberjack, and the massive ox.

Yet somehow, impossibly, she was holding her own. Her strategy changed, though, and now a blue tint was starting to overtake the red cast to her skin and aura.

Grace made it back to the Fable group as the tense soldiers watched with held breath, having made a complete circle and not finding a single opening. She took out her radio and reported everything she was seeing, figuring Rachel was probably listening with Scarlet.

“This isn’t right,” Black whispered to Red, Grace lingering nearby. “Why is White acting as if we’re on the wrong side? She should have used one of a dozen signals she taught us…”

Grace kept her rifle against her shoulder, waiting for an opportunity as she swapped channels to Barbara’s. “We need more firepower,” she murmured, watching the golden liquid protectively swirl around the blonde. “Whatever that water is, my bullets aren’t going to break past it. I’ve looked from every angle. There’s no opening. The Mexicans could make—”

“Tom’s already on it,” the Marine replied, her voice tense. “But they’re getting strange readings from their equipment. Something that woman is doing is interfering with not only their targeting systems but our own… That pulse she sent out seems to be causing some kind of vibrational anomaly—Grace!”

“I see it!”

Dropping the radio for its strap to dangle around her wrist, she slung her rifle off her shoulders and took aim. Several of the legends and myths did the same with magic or their own equipment, every eye now darting to the golden water surrounding Butter as it rippled, tendrils reaching outward like curious fingers.

The radio became active with activity.

“It’s going for the bull—”

“Damn woman couldn’t keep out of it, huh?”

“Shit—it’s magic immune?”

Grace pulled her trigger, recoiling hitting her shoulder as the explosive round denoted, joining dozens of other ammunition and abilities that sent smoke billowing onward. Only, the golden tendril emerged without a hint of damage, brushing against Blue’s flank as Adoncia held up her hand, sending the ox flying back without so much as touching it.

The massive beast faltered mid-stride, Paul immediately growing five feet taller and bringing down his ax on the water that simply parted and slid back with Butter’s giggles. The water flattened against the ground spreading toward the maid and wrestler.

“Blue? Hey, hey! What’s wrong, boy?”

Blue shook his massive head, then turned—not toward Adoncia, but toward Butter. His glowing golden.

“No,” Paul whispered, horror facing draining of color as El Santo came between the maid, horns now showing one blue and one red as her skin took on a contrasting hue. “Blue, come back!”

“Paul, it’s a tag-team. She can jump in wh—Paul?”

The ox ignored him, trotting straight through the golden dome to Butter’s side where she stroked his snout with tender fingers. Grace’s vision widened, totally taken in by the sight as a soft radiance surrounded the beast.

She stole Paul’s animal? What kind of monster is she? Impenetrable shields. No blind spots. Disrupts technology and weapons. Now she can brainwash pets? Could she do that to Nia?! The thought left Grace’s stomach turning. How can anyone fight her?

“What a magnificent creature,” she cooed, rubbing behind his ear as it groaned with pleasure. “So loyal, so strong. You’ve been well-loved, haven’t you? Yes, you adore your bed friend…”

“Release him!” Paul roared, charging toward Butter with his axe raised high and growing to the size of a giant. “You monster! How did you separate him from me?!”

El Santo intercepted him, catching the massive axe with his bare hands as he landed on the golden dome. Grace’s heart stopped—the wrestler’s eyes glowed with the same golden light as Blue’s and the aura ignited around him.

Shit… It’s not limited to just pets. Why isn’t [Calamity’s Bullet] charging?! I should be building charge, but—no, not unless…

“Tom,” she shouted, scrambling for the radio as Fable’s members realized it, as well, “El Santo was brainwashed! She can control people!”

“What—” Paul gasped, struggling against El Santo’s grip as the light surrounding him intensified—she was empowering him. “El Santo?!”

“The High Queen’s glory cannot be denied,” El Santo intoned, his voice carrying a strange dual quality. “Lay down your weapons and know your true purpose, my brother. In the High Queen there is only victory!”

Grace felt her blood run cold. “Scarlet, Rachel, she’s turning them,” she breathed into her radio. “I don’t know what to do. Calamity’s bullet isn’t going to work this time… Somehow, it’s not calamity—everything she’s doing is calculated and by design. Scarlet, she’s somehow converting people to her side. El Santo just switched teams! I don’t know what to do.”

“I’m watching right now,” Scarlet’s voice crackled with static, also affected by her radial aura. “Rachel’s pissed, but also still disoriented. I… What do you mean Nike is saying—no, I have to do something… I know you’re trying to help, Nia, just—ugh. Grace, Maria says it’ll be at least fifteen more minutes before Rachel is stable enough to move. She’s talking crazy right now, something about not making Butter too excited—”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean, sweet fangs? We don’t got fifteen minutes!” Grace replied grimly, watching as El Santo somehow forced Paul to his knees, despite the lumberjack having beat the wrestler in strength competitions the previous day. “She’s doing something to their minds or some shift—it’s the water! Finally, some action from the Crow!”

Wakalapi stepped forward, sacred smoke swirling more intensely around him. He raised his staff, chanting in his native tongue, and the smoke coalesced into spectral coyotes that howled and darted toward Butter.

The High Queen’s smile faltered momentarily as the smoky apparitions brushed against her golden barrier, causing it to ripple and flicker like disturbed water. Grace focused on the spot, aiming her weapon but the spiritual manifestations didn’t pierce her defenses. Instead, they seemed to visibly interact with the divine energy—leaving ethereal claw marks across the golden surface.

Son of a… Can I ever get a clean shot off, fellas? Give me an opening!

“Fascinating,” Butter remarked, studying the phenomenon with genuine interest while sliding her fingers across the surface. “Your Old Man Coyote has found a way to manipulate the spiritual currents between dimensions. Not enough to break my design, but enough to make me pay attention. Of course, this is just prep work for you two, isn’t it?”

Wakalapi’s form blurred, suddenly multiplying into a dozen identical copies that surrounded Butter within her own barrier, causing her smile to rise. Each raised their staff, and the ground beneath the High Queen trembled. His amber eyes blazed with power as Grace bided her time—eventually, she’d get a shot.

“I see beyond your glamor, foreign divinity,” the mystic intoned, his voice resonating with layers of meaning. “Your power flows from another. The pendant is merely a conduit for something ancient and of the higher planes—something not human.”

Butter tilted her head, analyzing the Coyote Mystic with a slight hum. “The waters of Life must flow differently against one who understands the spiritual current,” she said, adjusting her stance as the golden water around her began to pulse with a different rhythm. “You’ve brought back to memory something I’d forgotten from my previous life. Why, thank you!”

She spun in a graceful circle, her gown swirling around her like liquid gold. The water surged outward in a precise pattern, weaving between the illusions until it found the real Wakalapi—not cutting through him as it might have done to others, but pushing him backward with respectful force that made Grace curse.

We find one way to attack her and she just closes the gap! Who is this lady?

“You would have made it hard for the Susime to have their way,” she acknowledged as the mystic regained his footing, his duplicates fading, yet the man appeared more curious himself than defeated.

Wakalapi remained standing, staff planted firmly in the ground, the smoke now forming a protective barrier around him. “The Old Man might be able to help us bypass her shell,” he said, his voice steady despite the effort it clearly cost him, “yet her waters are unique in a way I haven’t identified yet. It seems she operates similarly to the fundamental force of Life, like liquid, always finding the path of least resistance to reach its end goal.”

From the command center aboard the airship, the captain’s panicked voice came over the radio. “The system isn’t just being interrupted—it’s being hacked somehow! If she gains control over the airship—authorization code 52-Beta-Alpha-73—fire the MT-Cyclone!”

“Negative! It will destroy half the—” Tom shouted, but it was too late.

Grace felt the first glimpse of calamity spark as a cannon on the side of the ship ignited with light, filling her widening eyes. I have to open a portal to my inner world!

Time slowed in her eyes as she cast her gaze around, looking for anyone she could lasso into the rift. Out of the corner of her vision, she saw the panic in the soldiers’ eyes, everyone looking skyward.

[Calamity Bullet: 500%]

Butter’s head rose, her hand rising as a flash brought an ornate cane into her grip. She raised it up, the light around her throat brightening, her smile not one of fear, but of pity—as if disappointed in the captain’s lack of faith.

Within that split second, her voice entered the soul of everyone present. “Sacrifices made out of panic are mistakes… You are lucky I am a merciful woman.”

The golden water surged upward, and the dome enclosed the canister that had nearly killed Rachel’s brother. It struck and detonated, causing only a whimper of flames as the golden droplets sprayed outward to rain down on them as if heavenly dew.

All eyes were lifted to the pattering of rain except for a few individuals, Grace was one of those, her sights trained on Butter’s exposed head in her crosshairs.

[Calamity Bullet: 0%]

She pulled the trigger, only for El Santo to drop out of the sky and tank the shot full in the chest—it detonated, making him stumble back.

“Son of a bitch…”

“That,” Butter said, her voice somehow audible through the chaos as she turned a smile Grace’s way, “was quite rude, on both accounts. Such ungrateful children. Don’t you know that magic is highly susceptible to spiritual influences? Well, if you know the right technique.”

The water barrier began to reform into a sinuous, serpentine shape that shot upward toward the airship. It coiled around the vessel like a golden anaconda, seeping into its engines, its weapons systems, its very structure.

“We’re lost control,” shouted the captain. “All systems are being rerouted from an external force!”

The airship's lights flickered, then stabilized—now glowing with the same golden hue as Blue’s and El Santo’s eyes.

“Impossible,” someone whispered beside Grace. “She is practically a demigod… I thought he was joking…”

Butter turned to Paul, who launched back toward her, causing El Santo to engage him again. “Your companion has not chosen a new master. He has simply seen what glory awaits you when your struggle ends,” she informed him. “But don’t take my word for it. Why not let him speak for himself?”

This time, all ears went to the famous wrestler. El Santo looked at Paul, his golden eyes somehow sorrowful, not full of hate. When he spoke, his voice was deep and rumbling, “I have seen Her glory, my friend. I have glimpsed the paradise she offers us. You resist what you have not comprehended but Butter is Life. When you see it, you will understand?”

Paul’s face crumpled in disbelief, looking from the wrestler to his trusted bull. “Blue… What has she done to the two of you? What are you talking about?”

“High Queen, please, show him the truth,” El Santo answered, releasing his grip and retreating a few paces. His silver mask gleamed in the unnatural light. “Under the stewardship of the High Queen, Mexico would become the gem of the world. All nations would bow before Her splendor."

“I know mind games,” Black insisted, her voice rising with caution. “This is some kind of mind control! I haven’t figured it out yet. It’s not sound in nature but it could be chemical—”

Wakalapi, recovered from Butter’s attack, brushed off the liquid gold slicking his skin before studying the converted with narrowed eyes. “I’m afraid that is not the case, Black of Fable… No,” he said slowly, his voice heavy with reluctant awe as he once again faced the golden woman.

“This is not brainwashing. It is a divine enlightenment—they are caught in a vision of perfection they cannot resist. There is a difference, and this one…is fueled by divinity, which stems from her necklace.”

Butter’s smile widened, her aquamarine eyes sweeping across the assembled forces. “Partially correct. Your instructor is a crafty one, shaman. Though the power emanates from my necklace, the vision comes from deep within my Core and is therefore without fault or deception. Who among you wishes to join my court? To know purpose beyond your limited understanding? There is Life for you beyond dimensional walls and barriers…”

Everyone followed her hand heavenward, as a small ball of light illuminated at her fingertip before rising to meet the dark, magical mists held in place by Crow chants. Grace’s stomach churned as she raised her rifle again. “Scarlet, she’s going to clear the weather—”

However, instead of dissipating the clouds, they turned radiant, bathing the whole city in glorious light that tugged at Grace’s heart.

Butter floated into the air, as if gravity refused to touch her, holy water swirling around her in uniform perfection. “I have come to conquer, yes, but I have done so not to destroy…but to lead you to Heaven.”

Hands trembling at the rippling waves of energy coursing through her, Grace raised her rifle high, and aimed at Butter’s heart. “You ain’t my slice of heaven, ma’am, and this ain’t no beauty pageant sign-up.”

Grace squeezed the trigger. Her silver bullet—enchanted to penetrate magical barriers—streaked toward Butter’s heart. In that split second, Butter’s gaze found hers, amusement dancing in those ethereal eyes as the bullet entered her breast and exploded.

Golden blood dripped down her frame as all breath paused, the hole in her chest visible for all to see. Grace didn’t exactly know what she expected. A gasp? A wince?

Instead, all she got was soft chuckles from the blonde.

Hand rising to touch the place, Butter slid her fingers over the area, where new flesh and material wove, as if the very threads of life spun at her touch.

“When faced with the essence of Life,” Butter acknowledged, gazing upon her from on high, “what hope does Death have to subdue Her twin. If you hope to conquer Life, you need to bring something of equivalent value…”

She held up her golden blood-soaked fingers, letting the droplets fall to the earth, her expression serene. “And my big sister is not here. [Conquest’s Domain: Domination],” she intoned, her voice resonating with power that seemed to vibrate through the very fabric of reality.

A wave of golden light exploded outward from her, washing over the assembled forces like a tsunami. Where it touched, it transformed—soldiers dropping their weapons, their eyes glowing gold; mythickin and legendkin falling to their knees in reverence.

“No!” Red shouted, disappearing in a swirl of rose petals only to reappear directly above Butter, her ax already swinging downward. “It’s my fault! We must save, White!”

Green raised her shield, ready to hop into the air to join her. “Red, we’re—”

Yet, time almost slowed. To Grace’s eyes it was already slowed, but this was different. It was as if time itself had bowed in reverence to the glowing blonde as the golden light touched the wolf mid-attack, and Red froze, her ax vanishing just before striking Butter’s face.

Green changed directions, shield enclosing around her as she slammed it to the ground, creating a wall that separated them from the nova. The hare immediately sped up, darting in to catch Red as she fell. Yet, the moment she did, both Red and Green dropped to their knees, kneeling before the High Queen, their eyes now the same radiant gold as the others.

“Who will call you goddess?” El Santo proclaimed, his voice rising in fervor. “Who will fall on bended knee?”

“Who will lift the sword,” Green called, “and lay down their life for Heaven’s Conqueror?”

Grace took a step back as a chorus of voices joined them, the converted speaking in perfect unison: “Higher, farther, onward and upward!”

Horror froze her blood as she watched more and more of her allies succumb to Butter’s influence. Green, Red, El Santo, Blue, and now Paul—dozens of soldiers and mythickin—all falling to their knees, their expressions transforming from fear to adoration.

Gray grabbed Black by the wrist as the rat woman lurched forward.

“Red, what are you doing?! White…”

“Black, this isn’t like you. Get ahold of yourself,” the man muttered, gaze darting to Wakalapi as he materialized beside them, breathing somewhat heavily. “You seem to know what we’re dealing with. It shouldn’t be more than five minutes until Omen comes…with whatever magic Rachel can craft with her misfortune.”

Wakalapi slowly shook his head, spotting his other mystics and tribesmen kneeling before the divine figure basking in the blinding heavenly clouds. “It’s just as we feared… This is unlike any force we understand. As I said, this is not brainwashing.”

“Of course it is!” Black snapped, flute gripped in her shaking left hand as her right pointed at White, Red, and Green, now kneeling before the blonde. “That is textbook control!”

“Correct, young one,” Chief Running Elk stated, joining them with Tom as Barbara prepared a second line of defense to engage them, “but not control in the crude way you envision…but control by showing them Truth, which is the most terrifying kind… This is the Vision of Inevitability. If what she says holds true, in essence, she is immortal and it will take one of her kind to defeat her… Awacháaxpa Axxaáhche.”

“As I am, grandfather,” the man breathed in his pipe and released the smoke with a sober sigh, “I am not enough. The power she wields is…direct divinity.”

Grace shook her head, feeling utterly lost, radio still held in her grip. So, she did the only thing she could at this point. “Scarlet…we’re losing—badly. Half our forces just switched sides. Red’s gone, Green’s gone—even the damn airship is under her control! We need backup!”

Pool of gleaming blood materialized before them, and Grace’s heart surged…only for a single, dark-haired goth girl to leave it, her brow setting.

“Scarlet—eh, where’s Rachel? Don’t get me wrong, you’re a sight for sore eyes,” Grace stated with a forced laugh, “but…we need the kind of power she used that, uh, destroyed a planet—like, divine power or something? You wouldn’t have that, would you?”

The girl held out her hand, the blood gathering into a scythe, her fangs showing as she forced a smile. “Yeah…something like that, I guess. Rachel’s got about five minutes before she says she’s good to go. She asked me to buy her time. I think my OP ass can handle five minutes, right? I hope…”

Grace hung her head, resigned to her fate. Yeah, we’re doomed. Terrified bat girl is going to fight basically a literal goddess when all she has to do is part the clouds and vaporize her.

Yet, defying all of her expectations, when she looked back up, Butter was not smiling anymore, blinding aquamarine eyes latched onto the Vespertine Reaper.

With every person under her vision still bowing before her, Butter descended, her lips lifting slightly, but, for the first time, Grace saw something different in the unstoppable blonde’s gaze—caution.

“An Eldritch soul of some kind… Fascinating. Am I to presume you are my next opponent?”

Scarlet’s brow set as she took up a stance, gaze swiftly darting to all their worshiping allies. “Grace, I think I can break the vision…but it won’t be clean. And, General,” the girl whispered, shooting him a rather stern look, “please don’t use your failsafe and trust in Rachel. She said she’d solve everything. So…please.”

The man’s veins bulged as he glanced around at more than half of the soldiers he’d brought now serving their enemy. “…If Rachel didn’t have a track record for the impossible… Do what you must.”

Scarlet breathed a sigh of relief and turned her attention back to Butter. “Sorry to keep you waiting! Are…we supposed to fight or something?”

Wakalapi walked forward to stand beside the vampire girl. “Apologize, but I would also like to join this dance.”

Butter’s hands were clasped behind her back, head tilted while still scrutinizing Scarlet, but for whatever reason, she’d patiently waited. A smile returned to her face, bright and full. “It was rather rude of you to just ignore me, but I must say, you are something…terrifying, Scarlet, was it? For probably the first time in a while…I’ve found someone who actually makes me nervous—besides my twin, that is. Priss is, mmm, sometimes very difficult to deal with.”

Hopping back a few steps, she summoned a cane to her hands and twirled it around before taking a lax position. “Also, there’s no need to lie, darling. You’re trying to buy time for your friend. But that just means I have more fun to look forward to… I’m sorry if I need to get a little rough with you but I’ll do my best to teach you both an unforgettable lesson,” she winked. “Shall we dance?”

All Grace could do was laugh inside. What kind of insanity is this? Honestly, I don’t even know if she’s a friend or enemy at this point! She’s so…weirdly inviting and playful. Ms. Fangs, please be more than an anime fan fanatic… Your collection was cool, but we need a badass right now, not a WEEB!

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