Apocalypse Tamer

After the battle, Zachariel offered the party a full check-up.

Bugsy marveled at his clinic’s architecture. The angel had refurbished a church into a hospital, one with doors large enough to let Rosemarine through. The building’s vast interior had been changed into a large convalescence ward where hundreds of wounded humans slept in clean white beds. Winged angelic nurses took care of them under the gaze of human statues. The sweet smell of potions boiling in cauldrons and alchemical vials covered the choking stench of blood. The equipment gathered under this place’s roof put the Boss’ old lab to shame.

Still, as much as the place impressed him, the patients made Bugsy uneasy. He had expected acclaim for saving the city, but the humans instead looked at the party with distrust at best and terror at worst. Soldiers with firearms escorted the group and watched Rosemarine carefully, as if half-expecting her to devour the wounded. The slight clicks in their weapons told Bugsy that a few of them wouldn’t hesitate to fire upon the party with little provocation.

The Centimagma didn’t fear a battle—he could probably slaughter everyone present on his own—but the lack of gratitude wounded him. Could they build a fence in the party’s honor at the minimum? Or a chicken coop?

Maybe Shellgirl is negotiating for one with the human leader? Bugsy wondered. The merchant was missing, alongside Vasi and Basil. Or… are they having a threesome behind closed doors?

Bugsy’s body began to heat up as he imagined the scene in his mind. He felt the strong urge to write down a literary version of his fantasy for future generations. He had already written one for the Major Chicken cartoon, where the title character took young Sergeant Chick under his wing… in more ways than one.

Bugsy missed Kuikui. The libidinous raptor had inspired so many chapters.

The centimagma managed to calm himself when Zachariel glanced at him in confusion. He would keep the truth a secret for now; the world wasn’t advanced enough to understand his vision yet.

“I didn’t know there were so many angels around,” Bugsy changed the subject as a winged nurse flew past him. Her syringe was almost as large as her leg.

“The local priests recruited extensively after I introduced them to the angel insurance call ritual,” Zachariel replied as he flipped through a report’s pages. “They managed to summon my entire department.”

“Oh nice,” Bugsy commented. “How is it going?”

“Results are mixed,” Zachariel admitted. “Our healthcare insurance conversation rate is at a record ten percent, but a third of our patients mysteriously convert to Buddhism after a stay in our clinic. A further third undergo a post-operative crisis of faith. The for-profit nature of our services seems to leave them disappointed.”

Bugsy wondered why. “You should ask Shellgirl,” he recommended. “I’m sure she’ll find a way to restore your image.”

“Don’t worry, we are already working on an aggressive marketing campaign. Our new motto is ‘You can’t put a price on heaven.’” Zachariel examined his newest patient. “How do you feel, Mr. Plato?”

“What will it be, doc?” Plato asked anxiously. The cat lay on a bed, right next to Mylène the Doberman. “Good news? Bad news? Last news?”

The angel gave him a thumbs up. “Mr. Plato, I am proud to say your agnostic cancer is almost entirely gone.”

“Oh, great,” Plato said with relief. “No metastasis detected?”

“None,” Zachariel confirmed. “I’ve done this job since the good ol’ inquisition days and I’ve rarely seen such a speedy recovery. Have you undergone convent chemotherapy since our last meeting?”

“I have been reevaluating my beliefs since Halloween,” Plato admitted. “And my place in the universe too.”

“Ah, a spiritual awakening treatment.” Zachariel reread his document. “That explains the high levels of existential cholesterol. I would survey them if I were you. Contact me if you show any symptoms of doomsaying or apocalyptic visions.”

“What about me, Zachariel?” Mylène the Doberman asked. Her back legs hadn’t regrown yet. “Will I ever walk again?”

Zachariel’s clear embarrassment saddened Bugsy. “Rosemarine?” the centimagma asked. Her head overshadowed the bed. “Can you help?”

“Beware my light that burns the skies!” she replied proudly. Her petals glowed as bright as radiant sunlight. “Sunbath!”

Rosemarine showered Mylène with her radiance, causing a few soldiers to protect their eyes or raise their weapons at her. Yet when the tropidrake’s light faded away, the doberman remained amputated.

“Awww, it’s not working…” Rosemarine apologized sincerely. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m afraid I see no way to regenerate your legs naturally yet, Mylène,” Zachariel admitted. “We will have to commission puppet implants from a Puppeteer class or homunculus cloned limbs until we figure out a solution.”

“But you said your angelic magic could regrow limbs!” Mylène complained.

“It should… or at least it did on Outremonde.” Zachariel shook his head in shame. “My belief at the time was that the field effect produced by our late pagan god—may he burn in Happyland—interfered with your recovery. Yet I still cannot regenerate your legs afterward. I blame this System’s unusually harsh restrictions on healing.”

“Restrictions?” Bugsy squinted in confusion. “There are restrictions on healing?”

“My healing Perks and those of my angelic colleagues work much less well here than in Outremonde,” Zachariel explained. “Your Trimurti System is unusually harsh on the wounded. If we do not regenerate maimed limbs quickly enough, patients suffer from maximum HP reductions and can no longer regrow them naturally. We had no such restriction on Outremonde. I could regrow severed legs years after the amputation.”

“Death rules supreme,” Rosemarine chirped.

To Bugsy’s surprise, Zachariel nodded in confirmation. “Our working theory is that the Trimurti System makes life harder for Players and monsters by design. We suspect this is to maximize casualties.”

“Makes sense,” Plato mumbled. “Whenever I die, I return barely hanging to life. Another blow and I’m dead again.”

“I admit your Guild features interest me, especially the hidden Perk unlock and Lair mechanics,” Zachariel said. “I could improve my clinic further by adding passive regenerative properties or enhancing healing spells. This might allow us to work around this System’s limitations.”

“Why don’t you stay with us, Mr. Zachariel?” Bugsy asked with enthusiasm. “All your angel friends could heal people better with the Boss’ help!”

“Unfortunately, the possibility of Mr. Bohen’s death slaying all our healers makes that proposal risky,” Zachariel replied. “It is worth examining though.”

Mylène whined in sadness. “Mistress Maya and mistress Neria won’t love me anymore… I’m useless.”

“Are you kidding?” Bugsy tried to cheer her up. “Of course they’ll still love you! You’re their friend!”

“Y-you think so?”

“As much as I hate to say it, you dogs have a way to stick to humans like glue,” Plato reassured her in his own gruff way.

“Neria and Maya booked a visit per day,” Zachariel said. “You are an esteemed member of our party, Mylène. Do not worry. We will do all we can to restore your health, spiritual and physical. Once we have replacement body parts ready, you’ll be back in the field in no time.”

“I’m…” the doberman started to cry a little. “I’m so glad… I can still help them…”

Bugsy’s Tremorsense noticed Shellgirl’s approach before her shouts reached his ears. “Guys, guys!” The slimy merchant barged into the clinic with big yellow eyes. “Big news! Big news!”

“Quiet!” Zachariel chided her. “We have patients here!”

“You won’t believe it,” Shellgirl said as she gathered her breath. “Basil and Vasi are shopping. Together.”

“So?” Plato asked, unimpressed.

“So when I asked to come, my dear Vasi refused!” Shellgirl grinned. “Because it’s a date! He finally asked her out!”

The party members stared at her in shocked silence.

It didn’t last long. For a certain prophet felt himself vindicated in his belief, and he would not remain quiet anymore.

“YES!” Bugsy’s squeal of victory caused all angels in the vicinity to glare at him. He didn’t care. They couldn’t silence the truth! “I KNEW IT! I KNEW IT! I FELT THE VIBES!”

“Quiet!” Zachariel snapped.

“Basil? Our Basil?” Plato asked in disbelief. “Asking a girl on a date? Has he been possessed?”

“I know, unbelievable!” Shellgirl nodded frantically. “After he gave me such a pounding last time too. He had his paws all over me. To imagine his hands all over my Vasi now… I shudder to imagine how it will go.”

“A demon witch and a would-be paladin…” Zachariel scratched the back of his head. “I give her a fifty percent chance of having his redemption in eight to nine months, give or take. Or she’ll give him a Fallen STD, which is always a risk if they have unprotected relationships.”

“I hope she will make Mister happy,” Rosemarine said without any hint of sarcasm. “I wish them a bloody honeymoon.”

Then they’ll hold hands and make eggs, Bugsy thought frantically. They’ll have children! Children who will call me Uncle Bugsy! Uncle Bugsy! And then I’ll spoil them, and together we’ll build a whole new fence around a bigger house!

Doubt swiftly seized the centimagma’s heart.

“What if the date doesn’t go well?” Bugsy muttered to himself. Panic filled his mind as his dream turned into a nightmare. “What if they don’t hold hands? What if there’s no chemistry and they can’t produce an egg? What if I don’t become an uncle?!”

“That’s not how dating works,” Plato said with a deadpan look.

“It’s how it must work!” Bugsy protested. He had played the minion dating sims on Steamslime’s holomachine. He knew how relationships worked. “The future is Vasil and nothing else!”

“Vasil?” Shellgirl scoffed. “That’s a cute couple brand.”

“I will believe it when I see it.” Plato leaped off his bed with a determined stare. “Let’s peep.”

Over a year had passed since Vasi last visited a human city, and never one as large as Bordeaux.

Her homeland, the Winter Kingdoms, owed its name to its fragmented political situation. Petty kings, dragons, and fairy warlords squabbled over isolated villages separated by vast expanses of frosty icelands. The largest city Vasi ever visited numbered little more than ten thousand inhabitants.

Bordeaux had ten times that number at first glance, if not more. The streets bustled with animation and lines of humans waited for the army to deliver them rations. Soldiers with swords and firearms surveyed checkpoints at each crossroads, but security was relatively lax. Basil only had to show them a card handed to him by the military to go through them. None of the soldiers appeared capable of seeing through Vasi’s glamor spell either; or if they could they didn’t mention it.

Earth’s architecture contrasted greatly with what Vasi had grown accustomed to on Outremonde. Charming stone buildings formed tightly-packed streets crossed by paved roads, where the Winter Kingdoms used wood and earthwork. Sometimes she noticed a few of those metal carriages called ‘cars’ driving through the city’s maze of twists and turns, but most locals used their feet to walk around. It astonished her that so few humans could fly.

“What’s this?” Vasi raised a finger at a strange metal serpent traveling on rails. She glimpsed a hundred humans inside its transparent innards.

“A tramway,” Basil explained. Much like Vasi herself, he had dressed normally for the occasion. This was only a first friendly date, so both of them approached it with a degree of casual detachment. “It’s a vehicle that travels all across the city.”

“What an interesting golem,” Vasi noted. The ingenuity of local humans astonished her. Walter Tye was right; entirely new fields of technology awaited visitors to Earth.

“Do you want to try it?” Basil suggested.

“I’ll pass.” Vasi was curious by nature, but she disliked large gatherings. “I’m surprised nobody uses brooms to fly around.”

“Why, that’s common in your world?” Basil asked with a smirk.

“Pray never to encounter a broom traffic jam,” Vasi replied with a chuckle of her own.

Basil guided her to a large street bordered by cute houses of stone. Vasi noticed shops everywhere she looked. Shoemakers, street vendors, jewelry sellers, alchemists… a good half of the establishments were closed for rationing purposes, especially the restaurants, yet dozens of humans walked around with bags full of supplies. Sweet and exotic smells flooded her nostrils.

“This is Sainte-Catherine Street,” Basil told her. “The largest commercial street in Europe, or so I was told.”

“Is it always this busy?” Vasi had never seen so many merchants gathering in one place.

“It’s far, far calmer than usual,” Basil replied with a sad smile. “Though I expected worse.”

Vasi nodded and waited for him to make a gesture. Instead, Basil took a step forward, before looking over his shoulder in confusion. “What?” he asked in confusion.

“You’re supposed to offer me your arm,” Vasi reminded him. Although usually charming, she could also find his obliviousness grating.

“Uh, sure.” Basil followed through with her suggestion and Vasi put her arm around his own. “If you want.”

“I know your opinion on chivalry,” Vasi commented with a frown. “But don’t they teach you manners in your world?”

“It’s old-fashioned,” he replied with a scoff. “Boys and girls usually hold hands around here.”

“I think it’s a bit early for that.” Next date maybe. If this one went well.

Thankfully, Basil managed to find his inner knight. “Would flowers make up for my offense, M’lady?”

“Only if they’re pretty.” A few men glanced at Vasi as they walked by, much to her amusement. Men. Always the same. A good part of why Basil excited her was that he had actually been a challenge.

That, and the fact he didn’t seem half as much interested in her looks as in her personality. Vasi had had enough flings in her youth to grow sick of short-lived relationships. With danger everywhere, she was looking for a reliable and down-to-earth boyfriend she could count on. Basil fit the bill perfectly. Just the right balance of affection and practicality.

The two walked along the street at a steady pace without stopping. Vasi observed the wares on display, from strange technological devices she didn’t recognize to would-be alchemists presenting low-grade potions on stands. Mismatched adventurers' parties haggled over prices.

“I expected more damage,” Basil said. A few of the houses showed claw marks, but little more. “Looks like very few monsters made their way to the city center.”

“You have the embryo of an adventurer economy developing too,” Vasi noted. A stand even offered clothing made of dinosaur skin, much like the armor her soon-to-be-boyfriend wore. “Your people are getting used to their new life.”

It didn’t surprise her. Humans were ingenious and resilient. They could bounce back from anything. They would make use of their new class-related advantages and rebuild their society around them.

“Yeah.” Basil’s expression soured for some reason, though he changed the subject before Vasi could pester him further. “I gotta ask, why are you a Demon/Fairy type?”

“Why, you won’t date a mixed race child?” Vasi teased him.

Basil shrugged. “It’s your actions that matter, not where you come from.”

“Good,” Vasi replied. “I admit I thought you had racist leanings after the mermaid fiasco.”

“I’m not fish-sexual, no. Or a furry for that matter.”

“You know I will grow hooves with my next metamorphosis?” Vasi laughed at his shocked face. “Oh my, you'll believe anything I say. It’s so funny.”

“Hey, I watched my houseplant turn into a flower-Godzilla,” Basil defended himself. “But seriously, what’s next on your program?”

“Mmm, good question.” Vasi playfully put a finger on her lips. “Next time I’ll probably have to stick to either the demon or fairy half of my ancestry. Demon witch or evil queen of the fair folk… such a tough choice…”

“I vote for the second,” Basil said. “And you still haven’t answered my question.”

“Oh, you know how it goes: when a demon and a hag love each other very much, they sacrifice virgins on an altar, burn a village and then ferociously make love atop a mountain of corpses.”

“Were you truly born that way?” Basil’s eyes widened in horror. “Wait, is your father Satan?”

Vasi didn’t know what the term meant, but she found his reaction amusing all the same. “I was kidding. My father was some minor demon prince who had a brief fling with my mom… his name was Braniño II or something. I never knew him. He didn’t stick around for my birth.”

“Oh.” Basil coughed in embarrassment. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

He was as smooth as a porcupine. “It’s nothing. I’m over it.”

“And you never cared to learn more?”

“Why should I? If he couldn’t be bothered to raise me then I was better off without him.” Vasi chuckled. “Way to dodge daddy issues, you’ll agree.”

“Yeah.” Basil snorted. “I guess it’s better to have no father at all than a bad one.”

Vasi winced at the bitterness in his tone. “It’s your father’s voice that you hear under the Berserk ailment, isn’t it?”

“Him and Mom,” Basil admitted. “The first was an irresponsible drunk and the second considers me a good-for-nothing disappointment.”

“I see…” Vasi sighed. “It’s one thing we have in common.”

Basil’s arm tightened around her own. He looked at her and chewed his lips. “I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable.”

“It’s all right,” Vasi reassured him. “I’m a grown-up. I’m over it.”

“You aren’t,” he said bluntly. “I can sense it in your voice.”

How perceptive. Basil Bohen could be surprisingly sharp when he wanted to.

“I was always something of a wild child, always causing mischief and breaking the rules.” Vasi still messed with paladins out of habit in her adult years. “Mom wanted me to study at Scholomance, but I preferred to learn by myself. She never forgave me for it.”

“Scholomance?” Basil asked with a frown. “Sounds familiar, but…”

“It’s a school for dark magic in my world. My mother always said I needed a degree to succeed in the field, but I thought it didn’t justify the tuition fees.”

That, and one student out of ten ended up sacrificed by the end of the curriculum. Vasi was never keen to take such odds.

“A diploma is a piece of paper,” Basil commented with a sneer. “People worshiped them like fetishes before the Apocalypse. Yes, a degree is sometimes useful, but it won’t earn you a job nor respect anymore.”

“I figured as much. I would rather study for its own sake than to satisfy someone else’s expectations. Even my mother’s.”

Vasi thought she would have ended up as a disappointment anyway. Her mother was the greatest hag to ever live, and Vasi was her seventh daughter. The runt at the end. Although her mother cared for her children in her own way, she was a strict parent with high expectations that Vasi could never hope to meet.

Basil opened his mouth to say something, when a voice called out his name.

“Basil?” Vasi and her companion glanced at a wooden stand overflowing with flowers. A balding man in his thirties stood behind it, his eyes wide with shock. “Basil, is that you?”

“Ben?” Basil smiled in genuine joy. Vasi assumed he knew the shopkeeper. “Man, you’re alive?”

“My god, Basil Childbreaker!” The man laughed. “It’s been years!”

“Don’t call me that.” Basil blushed in embarrassment, as a few locals looked at him in shock. “You make it sound like something else!”

Vasi raised an eyebrow in curiosity. “Childbreaker?

“It’s a long story,” he replied with a scowl.

“I want to hear it,” Vasi insisted mischievously. She could tell this tale would make her laugh.

“Who’s this sweet lady?” The shopkeeper smiled at her. His grin lacked any lust whatsoever. “Name’s Ben. You’re Basil’s girlfriend?”

“I’m his wife,” Vasi joked.

She heard a strange noise behind her, as fleeting as the wind. When the witch turned her head to look, she didn’t see anything.

“His wife?” The shopkeeper whistled at Basil. “No way… you’re married?”

“She’s not my wife,” Basil replied with a straight face. “She’s messing with you.”

The shopkeeper glanced at their intertwined arms with skepticism. “Yeah, right…”

“I’m Vasi,” Vasi introduced herself with a bright smile. “Do you know each other?”

“Know him? The man is one of the best Board & Conquest players I’ve ever met! I watched him climb over a throne of player tears and broken dreams.” The shopkeeper stared at Basil with nostalgia. “Good times…”

“Do you still sell miniatures?” Basil asked him.

“To whom? Nobody’s got money to play B&C nowadays with monsters running around. At best Tacticians can use them to buff allies, but that class is incredibly rare. Nah, I’m a Gardener now.”

Basil chuckled. “You too?”

“I mean, everybody needs fresh food right?” The shopkeeper presented his wares. Vasi didn’t notice any vegetables or fruit among his products, though it did include rare flowers and medicinal plants. “But I make most of my money from selling crafting material.”

“Do you still use the euro around here?” Basil asked.

“Yeah, General Leblanc employs Bankers and Merchants to stabilize the economy. They mint their own euro coins now, but you can exchange old paper bills for the new one. I’m not sure if money will be worth much outside of the region, but at least it lets me buy equipment.” The shopkeeper grinned. “Are you staying in Bordeaux for a while, B? I could show you the ropes around here.”

“I’m just passing through,” Basil admitted. “My party must travel north to find someone.”

“Ah.” The shopkeeper didn’t hide his disappointment. “Well, would you have time to drop by before leaving? Play a B&C match for old times’ sake? I still have my miniatures at home and my nephew needs a good lesson at it. Can’t wait to see if the Childbreaker’s still got it.”

“Stop calling me that,” Basil pleaded.

“Come on, now you have to tell me,” Vasi said with a smirk.

“You won’t stop pestering me until I do, won’t you?”

“No.”

Basil sighed and surrendered. “At one point, I was heavily into a game called Board & Conquest. Since I was too poor to afford the miniatures, Ben lent me his own. I played competitions, and there was that twelve-year old brat I wanted to punch so hard—”

Vasi laughed at his wording. “This story begins well.”

“He was a spoiled child with an OP army paid for by his parents,” Basil continued. His mannerisms changed, like a man lost in his own little world. “A pure fire giant swarm beatdown army, the kind that costs tens of thousands of euros to field. Nobody could beat him in a local competition until I found a solution. I used suicide dwarf-trench tactics to stunlock him until I curse-sniped his generals with undead archers.”

“We still call his strategy the Bulgarian Jihad to this day,” the shopkeeper said with a smirk.

Vasi pretended to understand their jargon by nodding politely. “I see, I see… what then?”

“I defeated the brat and he cried before the entire audience,” Basil said with a groan. “Although I won fairly, they booed me and called me a villain. Somebody shouted ‘Childbreaker’ and the name caught on.”

“You did good,” the shopkeeper said. “The sooner children are used to bitter disappointment, the better they’ll get used to work.”

The story brought a smile to Vasi’s lips. “Why didn’t you go easy on him?”

“Never.” Basil’s eyes burned with pride and passion. “I’ve never thrown a B&C game.”

“You could have gone pro, you know,” the shopkeeper commented.

“I tried at one point,” Basil admitted. “Didn’t pan out.”

“It didn’t pay well?” Vasi guessed. She remembered Basil mentioning money problems in his youth.

“It did, but you need good money to buy the best miniatures,” Basil explained. “Since you must get new ones with each edition, you need a steady stream of cash to stay competitive.”

“So to make it a high-paying job, you need to already have a high-paying job?” Vasi rolled her eyes. “Sounds pretty absurd to me.”

“Pretty much why I abandoned the idea.” Basil smiled at the shopkeeper. “But yeah Ben, I would gladly catch up over a game. Still the same old address?”

“Yep,” the shopkeeper replied with a nod. “I won’t hold you and your lady much longer.”

“Actually, I was looking for a flower and I still have pre-apocalypse euros on me.” Basil searched under his cloak and brought out paper bills. “How much for twenty euros?”

“For you, pal? Anything.” The shopkeeper waved a hand at his wares. “I’ve got roses, muguet, magical stuff…”

Basil pointed a finger at a plant. “How much for that one?”

Vasi raised an eyebrow in confusion, as did the shopkeeper. “Hemlock?” he asked.

“Yes,” Basil confirmed with a nod. “I’ll take it.”

“Uh, okay.” The shopkeeper put the hemlock in a bouquet and handed it to Basil after giving him back his change. “Here you go.”

“Thanks, Ben. See you later.” Basil guided Vasi away from the stand and to the bank of the Garonne river. They walked along a promenade before sitting on a bench to watch the river. This time, he offered her the bouquet. “Here is your gift, M’lady.”

“A poisoned one,” Vasi commented at the unusual choice. “Should I see a hidden message behind this, handsome?”

“Didn’t you need a hemlock for your witch brew experiments?” Basil asked with a frown. “I thought you were looking for that plant before the house burned down?”

“I… I did, yes.” Vasi’s heart skipped a beat. “You remembered that detail?”

“I did.” Basil cleared his throat. “I shouldn’t have?”

“Oh, no, I’m glad for it. It surprised me, that’s all.” Vasi had only mentioned hemlock once, so it astonished her that he remembered it at all. “That’s sweet of you.”

“You’re welcome.” He smiled sheepishly. Basil Bohen was never as cute as when he was embarrassed; which was why Vasi teased him so much. “I believed you might like it more than a rose you would throw out after a day.”

“You were right.” Although Vasi was more pleased by the fact he had paid enough attention to her to personalize his gift than the plant in itself. “You do know me well.”

“Don’t ask me to buy you alcohol though.”

“Won’t you?” Vasi put a finger on his chin seductively. “Even for a sweet kiss?”

“No,” he replied with amusement. “But…”

“But?”

“I might change my mind about the bear thing,” he admitted with a grin. “So long as you don’t ask me to dance.”

“Sorry,” she apologized with a giggle. “My country has bears everywhere. I can’t resist the urge to cuddle them.”

“It’s fine, I forgive you.” After a moment of hesitation, Basil found the courage to put his arm around her shoulder. Vasi let him do it and nested her head against his chest. They settled into a comfortable posture, and their view of the river was quite the spectacle.

“Nice sight,” Vasi commented. “You were right, you do know good spots.”

“Enjoying the date so far?” he asked her.

“I am,” Vasi replied. “Enough that you’ve earned a second one.”

“I’m glad.” His lips curled into the most beautiful smile Vasi had yet seen. “I have a good feeling about this.”

“Me too.”

And to prove it, Vasi kissed him on the cheek.

His skin was warm to the touch, and his face flushed red like a tomato. Not to be outdone, he countered her surprise attack with one of his own. His lips kissed her left cheek lightly and sent an electric jolt down her spine.

It was official.

Vasilisa Yaga had a boyfriend.

Once again, she heard that strange noise behind them; stronger, louder. Basil noticed it too and looked over his shoulder. He squinted, raised a hand in the air… and closed his fingers on a rounded shape.

“Goddamnit, Bugsy.” Vasi recognized Plato’s voice, although she couldn’t see him anywhere. “Couldn’t you stay silent?”

“I’m sorry…” Bugsy’s voice echoed with the wind. Floating drops of water appeared behind the bench and fell on the walkway. “They’re so beautiful together…”

“Partner,” Shellgirl’s voice said, coming from nowhere. “You ain’t fondling my breast for free.”

Vasi’s eyes widened, and then squinted after putting two and two together. Basil’s jaw clenched. “Zachariel?” he asked as his hand closed on something pointy. “Et tu, Zachariel?!”

“I’m sorry, sir,” the invisible angel replied weakly. “I was press-ganged.”

“Liar,” Shellgirl said. “It was your idea to use the potions.”

“It was to protect his virtue from succubi,” Zachariel defended himself. “I have guardian angel training.”

“Do you think invisibility potions grow on trees?” Basil grit his teeth in anger. “Are you all present?”

“Everyone,” Plato admitted. To his credit, he sounded a little ashamed.

Although infuriated at them for ruining a perfect romantic moment, Vasi couldn’t suppress her curiosity. “Even Rosemarine?”

“I’m here!” A rumbling noise echoed behind the couple and the walkway trembled. “I didn’t eat anyone this time!”

“How…” Vasi frowned in confusion. How did she slip on the walkway? She was a giant dragon, for Dice’s sake! “How did you manage to stay undetected?”

After a short silence, Vasi felt the tropidrake breathing down her neck.

“I tiptoed,” she whispered sinisterly.

End of Arc III