Chapter 103:
– Haru –
This town—obviously some kind of apocalyptic version of Paris—was surreal in the most hauntingly beautiful way. Cracked cobblestones lined the wide boulevards, ivy-covered balconies hung over narrow alleys, and twisted remnants of the Eiffel Tower could be seen off in the distance, half-encased in crystal. And yet, despite the broken grandeur of it all, the city pulsed with festivity.
Music spilled through the streets. Festival-goers danced in vibrant garments, and colorful petals floated through the air.
Naruko clung to my right arm as we walked–her kimono clad breasts squishing into me–her red fox tails swaying behind her along with my own golden ones. Occasionally tangling against each others.
We were quickly becoming part of the spectacle ourselves. More and more people called out compliments as we passed.
"Beautiful costumes!" one woman said, waving with both hands.
"Oh! Look at their tails! So realistic!" someone else cried.
A few kids even tried to chase after one of my tails until their very young looking parents pulled them back with embarrassed apologies. I just laughed. Naruko leaned against me a little more.
We turned a corner and stumbled into something unexpected—a duel unfolding in the middle of the street.
A sharply dressed man in a black suit was engaged in a graceful sword fight with a pretty black-haired woman.
It wasn't a brawl. It was a performance.
Near them stood a painter, completely entranced. His eyes darted across the scene, brush flying over a tall canvas propped up in front of him. "Yes! Yes! More! Keep the motion! Your silhouettes—perfect! The way your blades catch the light, the fire in your eyes—it's divine! You two truly encompass beautiful and passionate lovers!"
Naruko's eyes sparkled with excitement. She squeezed my arm and practically bounced in place. "Haru! We should totally ask that guy to paint us fighting next! Imagine how epic that'd look."
I laughed and leaned over to kiss her on the cheek. "I'm pretty sure this town wouldn't survive us 'just playing around.' One shockwave from you and half the flower carts would be airborne."
Naruko pouted, puffing out her cheeks like she was seconds from doing it anyway. But she held back. "You're no fun..."
"Hey! I'm plenty of fun!" I gasped in mock offensense.
So instead, we stood among the growing crowd and watched as the duel reached its climax. The man—Gustave, from what people were whispering—lunged with a dramatic flourish. The woman, Sophie, parried with a final graceful spin before both froze in a locked stance.
Then they bowed, swords lowered, breathing lightly but smiling. The crowd erupted into soft, polite applause.
The painter stepped back from his canvas, staring at it with trembling hands and wide eyes. "This… this might be my best work ever," he whispered, but both our fox ears were able to pick it all up.
Naruko and I shared a glance as we watched the two duelists quietly turn to each other. They exchanged a few quiet words—gentle, emotional. I tried not to listen too hard and intrude. They were lovers, recently reunited maybe after a bad breakup.
Naruko tugged me toward them eagerly, her eyes still shining with admiration. "Excuse me!" she called out cheerfully, breaking their quiet moment. "That was beautiful! Like... seriously! You made sword fighting look like a dance!"
Both of them turned in mild surprise, clearly startled by the sudden praise. The woman, Sophie, flushed a little and shifted closer to her partner, their fingers intertwining.
"Th-thank you," she said with a shy smile. Her gaze traveled over Naruko's crimson kimono. "I don't believe I've seen you around before... I love your outfit."
"Thanks! I'm Naruko, and this is my boyfriend Haru," she introduced us proudly, nudging me with her elbow. "We showed up for your festival, but we're not from around here. We're just visiting..."
That admission hit harder than expected for something so casual.
Sophie's smile faltered slightly, and Gustave's expression shifted—first to surprise, then to something more reserved.
His brow furrowed. "You're from the continent?" Gustave asked, blinking in mild disbelief.
"Nah, we're from a small island nation called Japan," I said casually, giving them both a small smile. "But I wouldn't want to bore you with the cultural details during your lovely date. You two shouldn't waste your time talking with us."
Gustave nodded slowly, his gaze lingering on Naruko and me for a second longer before shifting back to me. "I'd very much like to talk to you both later," he said, the words loaded with unspoken weight. Then he turned back to Sophie and took her hand again, his voice softening. "but you are right," he murmured. "Today is too important to waste on anything else."
The way he said it wasn't romantic—it was haunted. Like a man marking time on something he couldn't quite name.
Naruko and I continued strolling through the winding festival streets, stopping at every colorful stall that caught our eye. We sampled skewered meats spiced with something citrusy and strange, watched a fire-breather nearly light his own eyebrows on fire, and took turns tossing rings at glass bottles in a rigged carnival game. Every few feet, someone called out to us, complimenting our outfits or asking about our "act."
I handed over a gold coin at one point—pure gold, mind you—and the vendor's jaw practically unhinged. "M-Monsieur, I—I cannot accept this! This is… this is real?" he stammered.
"Don't have any of your currency," I replied with a shrug. "Gold's still gold though, right?"
After a moment of stunned silence, he took it and bowed repeatedly, slipping us extra portions of candied fruit as a thank you.
As the sun dipped lower, casting golden-orange streaks across the cobbled streets and rooftops, something in the crowd's behavior began to shift. People started to quiet down, the music mellowed, and more and more of the townsfolk began gravitating toward the waterfront—drawn there like it was part of a ritual.
I hadn't noticed it before, but now that I looked, I saw it—looming far across the ocean like it had been there all along, hidden just out of focus. A massive, black obelisk rising from the water like a monument to something forgotten. It pulsed with a strange glow, and etched into its surface in ghostly white light was a single, massive number: 34.
Beneath the base of the obelisk, as still as death, sat the figure of a woman—giant in scale—her arms wrapped around her knees, head resting against them like a person in mourning.
The whole scene was haunting—and that was the second time in a short while I felt myself thinking that word. But it was also beautiful. But off. Like staring into a painting that made your skin crawl without knowing why.
"Okay, what the fuck is that supposed to be?" Naruko muttered beside me as she squinted toward the horizon.
I slipped an arm around her shoulder and exhaled slowly. "I have no clue. I don't know any more about this world than you do."
"Well, you could make one of your smug guesses," she nudged me with her elbow.
"Maybe something symbolic?" That was all I had. "Maybe 34 years since this world had an apocalypse or something?"
And then the sun finally dipped below the horizon.
The moment its last sliver of light vanished, a collective gasp swept across the fairgrounds like a wave of air leaving a room. My ears twitched, standing to full attention as I instinctively released Naruko's arm. The atmosphere shifted. Heavy. Wrong.
Dozens of festival-goers around us began tearing up, some full-on crying. Others clutched loved ones, whispering frantic confessions of love as if they feared they'd never get the chance again.
Then the giant woman across the sea began to move.
The quiet murmuring turned to sharp gasps and rising voices. A ripple of fear passed through the crowd.
"The Paintress is awake!" someone screamed.
"Paintress?" Naruko asked, tail bristling beside me.
I didn't answer. My gaze was fixed across the ocean, my pupils narrowing to slits as my fox senses sharpened.
The colossal woman stood slowly, her shadow stretching across the choppy waters. Her hair blew in the wind, and then—without a sound—she reached toward the glowing obelisk behind her. The golden number 34 began to disintegrate beneath her hand.
In its place, a glowing 33 flared into existence.
A fresh wave of sobbing and despair echoed across the harbor.
I spotted Sophie and Gustave at the edge of the pier, their faces pale with shock and grief.
"What the hell is that?" Naruko hissed, her tails snapping upright!
I felt it too—something surging in the air. A chill, like death. My body moved before my thoughts caught up. I crouched low and sprang forward.
I launched forward. I cut through the air and landed hard in a low crouch beside Sophie and Gustave, the pier beneath me cracking and splintering under the force of my descent.
Both of them yelped in alarm, stumbling back with startled cries—Sophie clutching Gustave's arm tightly, her eyes wide with sudden panic. Gustave instinctively stepped in front of her.
"What the—!?" he choked out.
I didn't have the time to explain—not yet. My attention was already locked forward, locked onto the wall of magic racing toward us across the sea. My supernatural eyes of course had no problem seeing it for what it was. It was death magic. On a massive scale!
"Fuck," I growled. My hands flew forward.
A pulse of deep blue magicules erupted from my palms, blasting in a sweeping arc that collided with the wave mid-air. The resulting shockwave rocked the pier. The sea churned and rolled beneath us as the clash of forces cracked the sky like distant thunder.
Sophie and Gustave stumbled again, shielding their eyes. "What are you doing?!" Gustave shouted.
"Protecting your asses!" I snapped without looking.
The death magic pushed harder, trying to seep through. It was powerful and insidious, almost like it was drawing on the power of this world itself—but not stronger than me. I used a bit more power and the air vibrated before I won out!
The death wave shattered like glass. Dissolved into nothing. Too bad, only Naruko and I could actually see what I'd done.
I suddenly found a pistol pointed straight at his face, the barrel trembling in Gustave's grip.
"Who—or what—the hell are you?!" Gustave demanded, his voice shaking, though he tried to steady it. "What the fuck did you just do?!" His eyes were wild, his finger dangerously close to the trigger. Adrenaline radiated off him in waves, his breath ragged and uneven.
"Gustave!" Sophie gasped, her voice cracking with disbelief. She pointed out toward the crowd, her hand visibly trembling. "The Gommage... it didn't happen."
I turned my head slightly, still keeping Gustave in my peripheral vision. Around us, the once mournful crowd was now in full emotional collapse—but in a good way.
People were staring at each other like they'd been given an impossible gift. Family members held one another, some openly sobbing, others collapsing to their knees in joy. Someone near the back shouted, "She spared us!" and a chorus of disbelief and laughter rippled through the square.
It was only then that it clicked. The word Gommage—Naruko and I had thought it meant celebration or something cheerful.
But this wasn't just a festival. It was a countdown.
And I'd just stopped it. The fuck was going on with this world. I wish the Goddess would have given us at least a small heads up!
Before I could even explain, Naruko appeared in a blur of red, her expression darker than I'd seen in a while. She was suddenly beside Gustave. She ripped the gun right out of his grip. She hurled it over the edge of the pier. It spun once in the air before disappearing into the churning water with a muted splash.
Her slitted red eyes burned as she snapped, "Nobody threatens Haru except me! And maybe his other girlfriends! And sometimes his mom..." she finished a bit weaker but was still angry at the Frenchman.
At least her eyes slipped back to purple after a few more breaths.
Gustave blinked rapidly, mouth opening and closing like his brain was struggling to keep up. He turned toward the water, staring blankly. "I… I liked that gun," he mumbled. Then he blinked again. Slowly. "Wait… did you say… other girlfriends?" he asked, whipping his head back toward me with an incredulous look. "How did you do it-Ouch!"
Before I could answer, he yelped again as Sophie smacked him hard on the shoulder.
"Gustave!" she scolded. "Focus! The Gommage was stopped! That's what matters!"
Her voice snapped him out of it. He took a shaky breath, then looked me and Naruko up and down for the first time like he was actually seeing us.
His eyes locked on our ears. Our tails.
"You're not wearing costumes," he muttered. "Those… those are real, aren't they?" He swallowed. "Are you… gods?"
I gave him a shrug. "Eh. Technically we're closer to demons."
– Maelle –
Maelle ran up to Gustave and Sophie, feet pounding the pier as tears welled in her eyes, and threw her arms around both of them in a sudden, fierce hug. She didn't care who was watching or how hard her breath was hitching. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt this relieved. Gustave was basically her brother in everything but blood, and she'd been terrified he would lose the only woman he had ever truly loved.
"This is so amazing!" Maelle cried, squeezing them tighter. "You're both okay, and the Gommage... it stopped! No one died!"
The pier was erupting with celebration now. Joyous music echoed from the streets, the earlier tension gone like it had never existed. People were weeping openly, not in sorrow, but in disbelief and gratitude. Children clung to their parents, sobbing and laughing all at once. All the adults turning 34—who should've vanished with the number on the obelisk—were now dancing, spinning, crying, and calling out each other's names like they'd just been reborn.
Gustave and Sophie gently pulled back from Maelle's embrace. Gustave still looked shaken, but there was clarity behind his eyes now. "I don't know what happened," he said quietly, glancing toward the sea. "But I know who happened."
Maelle blinked in surprise. "Wait—it was a person who stopped the Gommage? Who could possibly be that powerful?!"
Sophie gave her a tentative look. "Person… might not be the right word anymore. Not now that we've seen their ears and tails and—well, everything. And the power." She paused, clearly uncertain. "Or maybe it's racist to call them not people? I don't know." She turned to Gustave with a helpless shrug. "What do you think?"
"He didn't necessarily call himself a demon, just said that he was closer to a demon than a god... Or he could have been lying." Gustave said nervously.
Maelle looked between them, utterly confused. "Wait. Are you saying... you met a demon? A nice demon? One who saved Lumiere?"
Gustave looked sheepish. "I... think so."
Wow! Her eyes went wide and she started shaking in excitement! "Can I meet them too? I want to say thank you!" Maelle asked eagerly.
Gustave gave her a sympathetic look. "You'll probably have to wait until tomorrow."
Maelle pouted. "Why?"
He turned and pointed toward a wooden building at the side of the pier. A place she was absolutely sure had not been there before. She knew every single building in all of Lumiere at this point after all!
She squinted at the carved sign above the door. "The Fox Hole," she read aloud. The painted "CLOSED" sign hanging in the window made her pout deepen. She turned back to Gustave with a raised eyebrow. "Wait... the demon that stopped the Gommage owns a restaurant?"
And it was freaking closed! Why was it closed!? Weren't they going to never meet the demon again since they were setting sail tomorrow for the Expedition!?
Gustave assured her though that that wouldn't happen. He was sure the Expedition would be delayed a couple days after what just happened.
(Skip this if you haven't played the game yet...)
– Verso –
Verso lowered the spyglass from his eye, his brows furrowed with disbelief. He'd been watching from across the sea, standing atop a high cliff along the edge of the continent, gazing across the water at the city of Lumiere. It was unmistakable—people were dancing. Celebrating. Not weeping. Not breaking down in grief. Not preparing to die.
The Gommage had been stopped.
That shouldn't have been possible.
The magic used in the Gommage was Dessendre-crafted, old as the sea and written into the very fabric of this world. His family's magic. Their legacy. Their rule. Nobody outside the bloodline should have had the power to interfere, much less undo it.
And yet... there it was. Joy. Music. Color.
He felt the air shift behind him.
The moment he sensed the Chroma signature, his breath caught in his throat. He turned slowly—and his eyes widened.
Alicia stood there, silent as the dusk wind. She wore her mask, as always, the elegant silver covering half her face, her expression unreadable except for the glint in her exposed eye. She couldn't speak—hadn't in years—but her presence said more than any words ever could.
He swallowed the lump in his throat.
"It's good to see you again," Verso said, his voice quieter than he'd intended. "After so long."
Alicia stepped closer and raised her hand in a gesture—simple, small. But he understood it. She had seen what he had seen.
Someone—or something—in Lumiere had interfered with the Gommage.
And succeeded.
He glanced back through the spyglass once more, watching the festival crowd, watching the pier, watching them.
"I'm going to the city," he said at last, his tone uncertain, his confidence fractured. Then, more softly, with a rare flicker of vulnerability, "Do you... want to come with me?" he asked his sister who he hadn't seen in almost a decade.
Alicia's single visible eye lit up with something fierce, something bright.
She nodded.
XXX
I'm doing my best to not spoil the game for people who haven't played it yet. I won't do it immediately next chapter either but it will probably come eventually so try and play it in the next week or two if you can... Its on gamepass. Hands down, the game of the year! (Expedition 33)