Melissa crouched in the back of a ruined hardware store, her chest rising in ragged gasps. Her once-bright baby-blue pigtails had dulled into a sickly fade, strands clinging to sweat and dirt. The "princess" gown she used to parade in was now nothing but rags—stained brown, heavy with grime. Her arms were brittle, twig-thin, buzzing with flies that hovered as if she were already a corpse.
Red and white light flared through the broken windows, sirens screaming in her skull as half-collapsed buildings sank into the ground outside.
"FIND THAT SCUM!" a robotic voice boomed, echoing across the ghost town. "Melissa Guildford! Pink dress! Blue hair! Unremarkable!"
Her heart lurched. Melissa rolled against the wall, crawling into the shadows of a narrow hallway. At the end—an exit door. Her fingers trembled on the handle.
"I can't die," she whispered to herself, half-plea, half-command. "I'm supposed to…"
Footsteps thundered. She darted upward, clinging to the ceiling just as the door exploded off its hinges. The shockwave cracked the wall behind it as a unit of Angels stormed inside—Second through Tenth, all but the Decimator and the Saint of Fruition.
The Second Angel stepped forward first: a towering blue Oni, his third eye glowing a violent yellow. Twin katanas crossed his back, buzzing with the same energy. His teeth stretched sharp as his gaze flicked upward.
"Check upstairs, Lerais," he ordered the Third. "She's slippery."
Lerais, a hulking golem with burning red eyes, nodded. "I'll take Riolo and Prosser. That bitch won't get far." He jerked his head at the two identical cyclopes—Seventh and Eighth—and all three vanished upstairs in a blur.
"So, Captain," a voice chimed from the Oni's throat. A black-gowned fairy flitted out from between his teeth, her wings trailing starlight. "Why are we handling this errand? Didn't Amarze send us to do bigger work?"
The Oni—Peria—snorted, drawing his blades in one smooth motion. "Elaine, you worry too much. Amarze wants the kingdom divided. His plan bears fruit, we get a real leader. Until then—" He slashed upward, sending a shockwave through the ceiling. Dust rained down. A single blue hair floated after it, gliding gently toward the floor. Peria grinned. "Found you."
"Fourth. Sixth. Guard the outside," he barked. Two slimy apparitions slithered away. That left only Peria, Elaine, and a silent Chimera standing guard.
"You can drop now," Peria said, raising his hand. A purple gradient aura flared around his palm—Melissa's body jerked as if strings had been cut, gravity yanking her down. She slammed against the floor, breath bursting from her lungs. Peria chuckled, waving the aura away. "Sorry. Not much of a choice, was it? Gravity's cool like that."
Melissa spat blood. "If you're gonna kill me—"
"No," Elaine interrupted, her voice sweet but cold. She pointed toward the silent Chimera. "Someone wants a word first."
The beast shuddered. Its mane folded inward, its jaw distending until it split wide open. Limbs buckled, bones snapped inward, and blood poured down its torso.
Bwelch.
The body convulsed, then collapsed.
Poof.
Mist swallowed the corpse. From above, a warped spectre emerged—its shape not human, but a contorted monkey dripping scarlet from its sockets.
"I had to sacrifice the Tenth for this," a voice sneered through the haze.
Melissa laughed bitterly. "You didn't even come in person, did you, Paris?"
The spectre tilted its bloody head. "Why would I? That useless sibling, ps you, was trackable by heat signature anyway. You could've dropped dead at any moment and I wouldn't care. I wouldn't even go shadowy." His grin stretched too wide, teeth glowing crimson. "I just wanted to speak with Humanity's so-called future master before she croaked like the pathetic little thing she is."
Melissa's lips curled in disgust.
Paris went on, words spilling fast, scattered, venomous. "You've lived longer than you were supposed to. Had to drag that knight—Miles—halfway across planets just because he saved your little worthless life. Heh. Imagine a Saint letting a useless girl splatter off a rooftop. Bad optics, right? But funny, isn't it? You're still Balaternian scum."
Melissa barked out a laugh, spite burning in her chest. "They call us that because of our modified enchants. You wanna reclaim a slur, dipshit? Go ahead. Just makes you sound dumber."
Peria silenced her with a crushing grip over her mouth.
"Keep laughing," Paris sneered. His voice grew colder, the mist bleeding deeper red. "Your time's limited. So here's the deal. You walk out of this dump, straight to the cathedral. You enter the Reprisal. And you dance when I say dance. Understand?"
Melissa's eyes narrowed. Blood trailed from her lip as she forced a grin. "Balaternian scum, huh? Then I'll die like scum—clawing, biting, dragging every last one of you bastards down with me."
Peria's third eye twitched, but before he could move, Paris' projection screamed.
"LET HER GO. Supervise her. Make sure she doesn't die until I want her to."
Peria spun his katanas, a swarm of meteors igniting in orbit around his blades. They crashed through the sirens outside, silencing the alarms with fire and stone.
Melissa didn't flinch. She staggered toward the door, her body trembling but her grin sharp. Straight to Floria. Straight to the Reprisal. Straight to hell.