WarbyPicus
patreon
Weeaboo Chapter 17- The Third Wave- Sharpening the Edge
🕑 Added 2024-03-26 16:05:00 +0000 UTCI stared ferociously at the stacks of lumber. Eyes narrowed. Killing intent gathered. Eye beams charging…
It did nothing. Zero inspiration. Plainly cursed wood. Fingers crossed it would infect the oncoming horde with its dark sin of evil doom. There was an awful lot of lumber. Plenty of chances for the curse to proc.
The Judiths had been busy. Very busy. The lumber was stacked higher than my head. It turned out there were quite a lot of trees within harvesting range of the Tower. They had even saved the branches and off-cuts, knowing that I liked to use every bit of material that came into my hands. Metaphorically speaking. I was still stuck within ten-ish paces of my front door.
I glared at the wood again. More failure. Figures I would get stuck with defective wood. I needed a pick-me-up. I slapped my side for my phone, found nothing yet again, cursed Black Hood to suffer One Thousand Years of Pain, and called Versai, Mika and Kim over.
“Upgrades, people, upgrades!” They looked blank, the uncultured swine.
No, no. That was wrong of me. My summons were all Kawaii in their own ways. It wasn’t their fault that some evil necromancer scooped out their brains with a melon baller and slapped in God knows what.
“Weapons upgrades. For you, Kim-” I handed over what sure looked to me like an Ikea toolbox. No idea how she was going to open it with one hand… and I shouldn’t have worried. The box dissolved into a spray of reddish sparks. Kim drew her wand and gave it a little spin. Were the little sparks of flame a smidge bigger? Brighter? Maybe.
“Mika, you are up next.” She jabbed her shield into the ground and took the case, looking worried. I have no idea why- it dissolved in the same spray of sparks it had for Kim. Well. Mika generally looked lost or worried. Until it was time to get stuck in. Then she knew exactly what she was about.
Hmm. I would have to keep track of her. Call her Mika Alpha or something. Not sure how I would tell her apart when she wasn’t shooting though. I’d figure it out.
“I’m going to call you Mika Alpha to show you have the upgraded weapon, okay?”
“Mika is here. You have nothing to fear?”
“Thank you. Versai, here is yours. Unfortunately, while I have two more of them for Vanguards, they are dupes. I’ll keep an eye out for the rest of the set.” I handed it over to a puzzled looking Versai.
“Thank you. Dupes?”
“Duplicates. All marked “1/5.”
“Tower Master, I can stack up to five upgrades. Or at least, that’s how I would read that. Not that it’s individually numbered or something.”
Ah. That… would actually make a lot more sense.
“Let’s find out, shall we? Use ‘em.”
Versai did just that and glory be- they all turned into sparkles and swam into her sword and shield.
“Give it a swing. Feel any different?”
“Honestly? Not really. Some, I guess.”
Well. That’s anticlimactic. “Here, cut this tree branch, tell me if it feels different.”
“That is a fantastic way to screw up a sword edge, you know.” She frowned at me, her achingly beautiful button nose wrinkling enchantingly in disapproval.
“Good point, well made. Remind me again how, despite hacking through a small mountain of monsters, your sword, shield and armor look perfectly polished?”
It hurt to disagree with female flesh perfected, but this was life or death. Had to be done! And for all her absence, Mama didn’t raise no simp.
“Well obviously it… ah. Yes. Right. I see what you mean.” She gave her sword a hard look and murmured “Not even a burr on the edge. Now there’s magic for you.”
She casually backhanded the wrist thick branch I was holding. I barely felt the blade tug as it passed through. The cut was glassy smooth.
“Well that’s terrifying. Is that sharper than normal?”
She examined the cut. “Yep. Lot sharper. I’d bet the shield can take more of a beating too.” I nodded. Fingers crossed.
I handed out the herbs next, and explained how I wanted them used. They all seemed to get it, but I would remind them during the fight anyhow. Was that everything? Not… quite.
I had quarantined the Becky Clones… err… the Blue Roses of Gradden March in the Throne Room. It was the room furthest away from where I was likely to be, so it seemed perfect.
The Roses were named Becky, Sammi, Suzy, and Lia. Given what I saw of the “bar” and the highly respectful, thoughtful nature of the developers, I was fairly sure those were not their actual names.
They did, however, represent a sustained attack on my commitment to 2-D women. HOLY GODDESS were they smoking hot. The blond one looked like Marin’s hotter cousin, I swear.
Not going to lie, their probable former profession did make me feel uncomfortable. But, but, but… that fit. Those cashmere sweaters and pleated skirts. The hoop earrings and long eyelashes!
“Oh God, Lia, he’s staring again.”
“Ick, ick ick. I need, like, an entire spa day.”
“This is super traumatizing. For real. Do you think aromatherapy would help? Or should we get crystals or something?”
And there goes my self esteem. Brand new body, same old creep. My confidence caught two to the back of the head and was buried twenty miles outside Nacogdoches by women in wedge sandals with gel manicures and cherry sparkle lip gloss.
Goddess preserve them, but Black Robe’s cousin did a number on the Blue Roses. Although… for One Stars, they had a remarkably varied vocabulary. Interesting.
“Not just here to look. I brought you some outfits. Try them on.” I handed out the little cards. There was a cacophony of catty comments, but they each took their respective outfit.
I didn’t have high hopes for the costume change. I was right not to hope. There was a flash of white light, and then they were in their dresses. Beka with the pink dress, Lia with the blue, Sammi in the tan, and Suzy in azure. Each with long, trailing yellow sleeves with blue roses embroidered on them.
How someone can be covered from wrist to neck, and from neck to calf and still look like the reason the riot started is beyond me. All I can say is that Black Hood’s evil developer cousin has that special sense for Sakuga. Those dresses, on those ladies, worked. But they worked best in motion.
It seemed the world agreed with me. The light in the room dimmed, except around the Roses. They were bathed in their own spotlight. As one, they raised their right hand, swept it out, and began to dance.
The dresses swirled and the yellow sleeves fluttered in time to some invisible band. It was a lively tune, faded, echoing from some long lost bar. The dancers smiled, devastating, beautiful smiles, full of warmth and invitation, and started to sing.
It’s cold without
It’s warm within,
(Come play, come play, come play)
This is a place of forgiven sin.
The Rose blooms today,
She knows our ways
(Come play, come play, come play)
We have never feared a prick.
If you can fix what’s stuck
We are surely your luck,
(Come play, come play, come play)
As Roses, we like a firm pluck.
On and on they sang, dancing and twirling, embracing each other and spinning away. Verse after verse of innuendo and tease. I could see the stage now, see the bar, and the little tables and little chairs. Their voices seemed to multiply, from four to a choir.
The music started to be lost, a roaring sound, a crackling sound, as fire shoved in on the stage. The dancers never stopped.
It was licking their feet when a cold voice commanded- “Stop. No more.” A woman’s voice, invisible outside of the spotlight. At once the fire stilled and the dance ceased. In the middle of the fire, the ladies curtsied.
“We are ever obedient and ready to serve, Madame. In all our lives, we shall dance only for you.”
The moment broke. We were back in the Throne room. The Roses turned back to their conversation, ignoring me. I sat hard on the floor.
My first cutscene. Hah.
I pulled in my knees, wrapping my arms around them and squeezed myself into a ball. I could see it, more or less. The Madame of the Blue Rose, her dancers and “saloon girls,” who organized the rest of their red light district to fight the invasion. Of who or what, I don’t know. Monsters, maybe.
The Lower Town of Gradden March was abandoned by the manor and the Marchonesse. All the guards were pulled back to defend the Upper Town. Everyone else, all the poor folk, were running away, trying to get out even though it was already too late.
And there they were. The Roses were spinning and dancing, shooting flames and ice and who knows what else. Their bouncers and regulars were armed with every weapon Madame’s coin could buy. Their unacknowledged children were sent to hide in the church.
In one last desperate scream- “We are here! We are people! We have our own pride!” The Floating Quarter held fast, when everyone else gave up, and ran away. Buying time for those not important enough to be protected by their tax money.
I shivered, squeezing my knees. It’s not real. It’s not real. It’s just the setting. This is just their character bio. They aren’t real. They were never real. Just dolls. I’m playing a game with my figurines. Just dolls. It’s not real. It’s not real.
A little glowing spark drifted down from the ceiling and gimmered in front of my face. After I don’t know how long, I tapped it.
Special Mission Unlocked- Collect all the Clues and Reveal the True Story of Gradden March’s Floating Quarter. Reward- Carousel (Six Stars).
I nodded. Yes. That sounded about right. Carousel (Six Stars).
Once, in the game’s own setting, she was a hero. A person with a name and standing. Someone… truly remarkable.
Now she’s just Carousel (Six Stars). The pole her ponies spin around. Pretty music plays, people hop on for a ride, and they have a wonderful time going nowhere.
Carousel (Six Stars). A fine trophy and a powerful slave for the Tower Master.
I convulsed. My hands spasmed. My feet started hammering on the ground. I could feel my teeth grinding. I would chip a tooth at this rate, but I couldn’t stop my body.
The realness of it all was hammering away at me. I could feel my mind start to reject the body it was trapped in, and become mired in it. The lines between real and fake, what always was and what was made to be. Where did the game world end and the “real” world begin?
I don’t know how long it took me to come back to myself. Time wasn’t really a factor in this broken world. I took the time I needed.
It was time to fix my Robin Hood Hat, pull up my leggings and get to damn work. I had people to save, and vengeance to take. However real this game world was, the beatings I would hand out once I was free would be very real indeed.
“Judiths! Front and center! We have a killing field to make!”
Comments
mark harrell
Jesus christ I thought Slumrats world was dark. This world is somehow even worse than Godclads. Holy shit I didn't know looking at the practical reality of gacha could be this upsetting.
Nonnyor Business
One day I will figure out how to write a book without massive emotional trauma. One day! It occurs to me that this book is kind of the inverse of the Barbie movie. Ah well.
BurnNote
You're kind of terrible at just dumb fun. I don't mind the tone, just saying
