Fighting for Greedy Assholes Who Don't Deserve To Live

Snooping around where the guests were, I found the cause of the commotion. The doors of the event hall were blown open. Refreshments and broken dishes sprinkled across the floor. Only two people remained inside, facing each other. E.T. and Pestilence.

E.T. had the Feather Mantle worn over his suit; his expression was stripped of emotion. On each wrist, he had a bracelet fastened with an orb. A ring of toilet water swirled around his legs.

He raised his right arm, and the orange orb on it glowed. The floating water blasted a stream towards Pestilence. This meant that the two orbs were probably the Tide Jewels, Kanju and Manju.

She responded by activating the Hand of Glory; its index finger produced a flame, and the incoming aquatic attack was paused midair. The effect extended to the liquid around E.T., as if all the water was frozen into ice.

Pestilence raised Cloudie at E.T., her arms shaking, fake fear plastered on her face. “Please don’t hurt me.”

“How did you get that sword?” E.T. levitated and launched himself at Pestilence.

“Don’t come closer!” Pestilence swung Cloudie at E.T., but he blocked it with the sleeves of the Feather Mantle. Before she could retract her arm, his legs wrapped around it. With her arm locked in place, E.T.’s free hand slipped under Pestilence’s and seized the grip of Cloudie.

In the next second, he shifted the blade to touch Pestilence’s neck. “Answer. Or I’ll kill you.”

“Help! A creep has his legs around me!” Pestilence yelled; she even squeezed out tears from her eyes, one of her oldest tricks. E.T. maintained his stoic demeanor; his control over the sword didn’t waver even slightly. But he did release his legs from Pestilence’s arm, perhaps to silence her complaints.

Big mistake. Pestilence lurched backwards. E.T. reacted in time to slash her neck. A torrent of blood erupted. By the time Pestilence regained her balance, the wound had already closed.

She aimed her fingers at E.T.’s face, and pins of grass burst out. E.T. slashed Cloudie; a gush of wind blew the grass away from him. Guess that was why people called it the ‘Grass-Cutting Sword’.

Pestilence didn’t leave a second for him to breathe; a marathon of green needles shot out from her fingers. E.T. waved Cloudie around, starting into a mechanical whirl; the surrounding air answered his call by twisting up a small storm. The grand motion of the currents veered the blades of grass off course, preventing them from reaching their target.

“It can do that?” Pestilence exclaimed. Her ignorance regarding the sword showed that she should have spent more time studying magical artifacts and less time on doujins.

I floated behind Pestilence, so E.T. wouldn’t see me as I briefly turned visible. “We only have twenty-five minutes left; don’t waste time fighting him.”

Pestilence took a step back, ready to leave. The wind from Cloudie had created a miniature tornado, tearing off a curtain. The Hand of Glory was still keeping the surrounding objects in place, so the cloth flopped onto the floor like cardboard.

The gale made use of the stiff curtain, tossing it in front of E.T. as a makeshift shield. This navy-blue screen not only blocked the projectiles but also… the light from the Hand of Glory’s flame.

A few splats echoed in the hall as the water was freed from the Hand of Glory’s influence. Right after, E.T. soared above the curtain. His body was entirely covered with a layer of water, leaving only two holes for his nostrils to breathe. The purple Tide Jewel on his left arm gleamed.

How can he be so comfortable surrounded by toilet water?

The Hand of Glory exerted its effect on the water again, but it didn’t hinder E.T.’s movement at all. Pestilence shot out more blades of grass, but none of them could get past his water barrier.

E.T. swooped down towards Pestilence, aiming Cloudie at the Hand of Glory. Pestilence clutched her precious artifact with both her hands.

It was a feint. E.T. stabbed Cloudie straight into Pestilence’s heart, right as his loafers landed next to her with a thud. He toppled Pestilence and pressed her against the floor.

The tempest from Cloudie calmed at once, probably because all of E.T.’s concentration was focused on restraining Pestilence. “Where did you get the sword?” His voice was barely audible, muffled by the liquid.

Pestilence opened her mouth. Instead of answering, she spat out a wad of blood. The red, sticky pellet splashed onto the solid surface of the water, unable to break through. E.T. tried to wipe the blood away, but it just smeared further.

Oil seeped out from Pestilence’s skin. With the aid of the lubrication, she rolled to the side. Cloudie’s blade tore through her shirt, flesh, and bones. She got to her feet and made a sprint for the exit. Her wound was already closing up.

I glided next to her while keeping my gaze in my rear direction. E.T. fumbled around in his blindness, searching for his opponent. Pestilence sped out of the room and sprinted down the hallway.

I stayed at the entrance to monitor E.T. further. The influence of the Hand of Glory subsided, so E.T. could finally rip the opaque liquid off his face. He rushed through the broken doorway. I expected him to give chase. But he stopped.

Had he given up? No. Impossible. His eyes were still blazing with conviction, while his face was still devoid of emotion. He dropped Cloudie onto the floor and reached out his hand to nothing.

Okay, this is just signature eighth-grade delusion, kind of sad he was stooping so low. As if responding to my thought, electricity gathered in his palm. Pestilence turned the corner, out of any line of fire, but queasiness built in me.

It was a faint shape at first, then a copper spear manifested in E.T.’s hand. When I saw the red and green jewels embedded in the socket, I instantly realized which magical artifact it was. I lunged into the wall and flew at full speed, hoping to catch up to warn Pestilence.

I heard a whoosh.

The spear ripped through the air, navigating the twists and turns of the corridor; electricity sparked in its trail. Pestilence didn’t have a moment to react before the weapon skewered her. It carried her forward and eventually came to a stop at a wall, lodged several inches into an expensive painting.

Pestilence pushed and kicked. She probably also tried to soften up her flesh, so that the spear could pass through her, but nothing could let her escape. If the circumstances were less dire, I would have laughed at her clumsiness. She looked like a rat pinned in a trap, struggling in its final breaths.

“It won’t work,” I said while appearing next to her. “That’s the Heavenly Jeweled Spear.”

The mention of the name stopped Pestilence, and she tilted her head. “The what? Oh…” Her quasi-omniscience must have filled her in, telling her that in Japanese mythology, the Genesis Gods wielded this spear to create land on Earth.

“What if we threaten him by telling him we have Su-chan?” Pestilence swiftly moved on from the realization.

“You can try, but it probably won’t work.”

“Why?”

Images of E.T.’s emotionless face flashed in my head. “Just a hunch.”