May Wrath Weaponize Her Admiration

It felt like an eternity had passed when the survivors finally stopped crying their eyes out. With puffy eyes and raspy voices, they covered Solomon’s body with their coats and capes and stared at him as if hoping that he'd spring back to life at any second.

Of course, there was no such miracle. The reality of it all struck them like a cannonball over and over until they grew too tired and dried too much of their tears to start another round of grief.

“God, I… feel so empty inside,” Eloi mumbled weakly. Penelope leaned on his shoulder and squeezed his hand tightly.

The twins also leaned on each other while Dorothy and Clover still embraced quietly.

“What do we do now?” Dorothy croaked.

“It’s finally over, but the mansion’s gone now,” Charlie mumbled. “Theatreux is still in a mess with the whole vampire situation, and not only that, we have to deal with Monty’s rebellion too.”

“Great, we still can’t get our normal lives back,” Cherry grumbled. “Do we even have a place to stay?”

“...My headquarters may—” Horace suddenly fell into a coughing fit, clutching his wound.

“There’s no way we’re letting you go back to work with that injury of yours,” said Clover, his voice congested. “It’s better if we seek an audience with King Carmin and warn him about Monty’s rebellion as soon as possible.”

Charlie wearily groaned and stared at the sky’s horizon. “There’s no way we can make it there so soon,” he muttered. “I’m way too exhausted to even take another step.”

“Right,” said Dorothy, “especially you, Clover. You sound a little sick. Are you alright?”

Clover sniffled a few times. “I’m fine, I’m just… ah… achoo!” He buried his nose in his sleeve. “Ugh, my nose is acting up for some reason.”

Theodore, who stayed quiet the whole time, abruptly said, “That’s because he’s here.”

Everyone turned to him.

Theodore’s gaze grew cold and hostile. With a sharp inhale, he quickly stood up, whipped out his guns, thumbed back their hammers, and snapped them together.

“Theo?” Cherry murmured. “What are you doing?”

He whipped toward the thicket behind them and wasted not a single second firing a massive red laser through the trees, leaving a sizzling hole as a few trees toppled over.

“Theodore?” Dorothy stepped toward him. “Why did you—”

“You know, at first, I appreciated that you two chose to stay quiet to let us mourn,” said Theodore, staring at the trees. “But I’m getting fed up with all your snickering.”

Dorothy widened her eyes. Everyone else mimicked her and stood up in alarm, immediately brandishing their weapons.

A light handclap echoed through the trees, followed by a silhouette stepping out of the shadows. A man donned in a black suit clapped his hands, his eyes closed. “You’re sharper than you look, kid,” he said. “Not bad.”

Dorothy turned pale and pointed at him. “I-It’s you again!” she said. “You’re Obsidian!”

The group tensed up and gripped their weapons tighter. Horace tried to get on his feet as well, only for Cherry to pull him back down.

“Oh, so Ren decided to spoil my introduction, huh? How boring.” Obsidian turned to the body behind them and stroked his chin. “Also, I can’t believe Soliel actually died. I thought he was stronger than that.”

“Soleil?” Eloi tilted his head. “Sir, I think you got the wrong man.”

“Oh, no, no. I’m sure I have the right man.” He flicked a finger, and a heavy gust of wind blasted at their faces and blew their coats away. “I recognize that face anywhere. He’s surely Soleil Noir, one of the cruel, savage killers of the real King Carmin’s orphanage.”

“His name used to be Soleil?” Cherry whispered.

“Don’t ask us,” Theodore whispered back. “We never knew he had a different name either!”

The youths all turned to Horace, who shared the same confused look. “I had no clue either,” he said.

“Also, what the hell do you mean by the ‘real’ King Carmin?” Charlie asked.

Obsidian smirked at Horace, who only glared back. Neither of them chose to elaborate though.

“In the end, Father managed to bring a crap ton of secrets to his grave,” Clover muttered, clicking his tongue. “That damn, typical old man—ah-achoo!” He pulled out his handkerchief and blew his nose, still sneezing.

“So what if you know some secrets?” Charlie spat. “What do you want?”

Obsidian tilted his head and smiled. “How about you hand over his body? In return, I’ll spare you all just this once.”

“You can shove those words right up your ass and piss off!” Eloi immediately snapped, raising a middle finger.

“L-Language!” Horace cried.

“You shut it.”

Everyone else began to line up in formation, pointing their weapons as a warning.

“See?” another familiar voice called out, one that made Cherry’s blood run cold. “I told you they’d resist without even questioning you.”

A slow handclap echoed through the trees, followed by a familiar fit of laughter that the former fangirl also knew too uncomfortably well. Even Horace flinched and grew pale.

Stepping out of the shadows first was none other than Monty Starman himself. “You shouldn’t waste your time bargaining with them, Sid,” he said. “Just save your breath and kill them all.”

Clover pointed a shaky finger at him. “Achoo! You son of a—achoo! No wonder my nose is acting up! You and your stupid fragra—achoo!” He groaned and fell into another pitiful, sneezing fit. Dorothy patted his shoulder and insisted he stay silent for the sake of his breath, which he begrudgingly did.

Meanwhile, something snapped inside of Cherry.

Monty Starman. It was Monty Starman in the flesh. He was standing there as if he was a random bystander.

As if she’d let this damn bastard toy with them any further!

Out of pure instinct and fueled by a rise of unstable emotions, Cherry hastily molded a golden arrow—surging with raging crimson sparks—and aimed it at Monty’s head. She promptly fired it away, leaving a gust of wind as it soared in the blink of an eye.

Monty didn’t even flinch all the while. He only stretched his grin while he stood there, still clapping away. Before her arrow struck his forehead, another hand snatched it.

Obsidian curiously inspected her arrow. “How interesting,” he said, turning it around. “I actually feel something from this light…”

His hand hissed and began to melt.

Obsidian raised his brows and dropped the arrow at once. He stared at his sizzling hand, bits of his flesh sliding off like slime. He faced the responsible archer—eyes still closed—and opened his mouth in astonishment. “You,” he said with awe. “You actually managed to hurt me?”

Cherry blinked. “Yeah? That’s what fire usually does to skin.”

Obsidian wildly grinned and bared his fangs in the process. “You, girl, what’s your name?”

“Why the hell should I tell you?”

“Her name’s Cherry,” Monty said anyway.

“Cherry…” Obsidian stroked his chin, smiling like the damn creep he was. “That’s a cute name.”

“Goddamn it, Monty!” Cherry stomped her feet and pointed at him with pent-up fury, flames surging around her figure. “You shut the hell up, or I’ll shoot you again and burn your skin into ashes!”

"O-Oi, since when did Charlie's influence rubbed off on her?" Eloi whispered.

"Ever since their training," whispered Penelope.

“My, my, what a feisty attitude you have there,” said the former idol. “I missed the sweet, naive girl from before.”

Cherry’s eyes twitched, and a vein popped at her jawline. “Oh yeah? Too bad she died eight months ago. I wonder whose fault it was.”

“Hm? Are you accusing me? It was your dear friend over there who shot your brains out, no?”

“Yeah, but that’s still totally your fault,” said Theodore, raising his guns and middle fingers. “And because of that, I’ll have you die now. Bye.”

He pulled the triggers.

The bullets pierced through Monty’s head, and his body burst into colorful confetti.

“Oh, that’s not very nice of you,” said the trickster, appearing behind Obsidian who had been pondering to himself this whole time.

Theodore clicked his tongue. “Ugh, aren't you human? How the hell can you use magic?”

“Now why should I waste my time explaining it?” Monty patted Obsidian’s shoulder and snapped him out of his pondering state. “Now’s your cue, pal.”

“Oh, right.” Obsidian pointed at the archer. “Say, can we spare that girl? She intrigues me.”

Cherry pointed at herself. “What? Me?” Everyone quickly stepped in front of her and gripped their weapons. Even Horace forced himself up and shielded the youths with his body, an arm still clutching his wound.

Monty narrowed his eyes. “Aren’t you persistent, Brother,” he sneered.

“I suppose it runs in our blood,” said Horace, glaring back. “But don’t think for a second that you and I will ever return as a family.”

“Hmph, I don’t want you back either.”

While the estranged brothers taunted each other, Obsidian stroked his chin in amusement, perhaps pondering how to eradicate the youngsters.

Yet, during that brief talk, a distant whinny of a horse echoed over the trees.

Everyone turned to the sky to see a familiar mechanical horse—with two leads attached to its saddle and each pulling a gilded, white carriage—diving from the air and crashing straight toward Monty and Eclipse and piling up a cloud of dust.

“Woah!” said Theodore, pointing at it. “Talk about perfect timing! Where the hell did that come from?!”

“Oh my stars,” said Cherry, “Penelope, your horse has wings?!”

The mechanic scratched her head. “That’s… strange. I thought I hadn't finished working on them yet.”

“What's your horse doing with those carriages?” asked Dorothy. “And why do they look… really fancy?”

The horse turned to the group and beckoned them toward the open doors, stomping its hooves hastily.

“It’s… telling us to get inside quickly,” said Penelope, widening her eyes in awe.

“Alright, we can a—achoo—ask questions later!” said Clover. “Everyone! Take Father and—achoo—get inside!”

“What? We’re running away?” asked Charlie. “But Monty’s right there—”

“There’s no bloody way our weak asses can beat him with a Primordial Eclipse!” said Eloi, grabbing Penelope’s hand. “We’re running away!”

“I agree with you for once!” said Theodore, snatching Cherry’s hand. “Let’s go!”

“Hey, you don’t have to drag me with you!”

“Sorry, I can’t risk you doing something reckless!”

“I-I’m not trying to!”

“Last time it happened, you ended up causing a whole national tragedy!”

"Ugh..."

“Dorothy, we’re leaving Father with you!” said Clover, wrapping Horace’s arm over his shoulder and hurriedly rushing toward the carriages.

“I’m already on it!” Dorothy snatched her father’s body in one swoop and charged after the group, dodging all the incoming Crimoire projectiles in the process.

She threw Solomon’s body inside one of the carriages and cried, “We’re so sorry, Father! We can’t risk letting them steal you from us!” She closed the carriage’s door with utmost haste and joined the others inside the second vehicle.

Dorothy swiftly hurled herself inside, and Clover immediately slammed the door shut. The group clutched their chests and caught their breaths, and as they gazed through the shielded windows, they gaped their eyes at the mechanical horse as it kicked its legs into the air.

It expanded its massive, bronze wings, and with another loud neigh, it galloped at full speed, the laws of inertia sending all passengers crashing at the back of their carriage and frequently bumping into each other as it soared into the night sky.