"The Crusades" Fan Fiction

"The Crusades" is the title for a fan fiction written by Echidna that stars members of the server battling in a dramatized version of the conflict between the roles. It is considered to be the first arc of her story, with the intention being that there will be sequels in the future.

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Mimee looked out over the holy grounds of the church courtyard, pink flags waving quietly beside him on each flank of the balcony. His arms were folded in solemnity but yet his hand was twitching, ready to produce his mystic dagger of best girl from its hiding spot should the need arise. He had been on-edge since the knights of Sayaka had made their bid to amass more power. Had the church not been vying for the second position only days before? The followers of Kyouko had been within his grasp and the grasp of his followers, yet now they were barely more esteemed than the hopeless Rangers. "I sense doubt in you, Madeacon Mimee," Luminous noted, appearing from behind a dark corner. The pink-robed advisor to the Madeacon had been suggesting that a war would have to come soon if the church were to maintain power. "I thought peace was possible," Mimee admitted, putting his hand onto his wrinkled forehead. "I thought that they would allow us to maintain where we were. I thought we could challenge those above us." "We may have to launch a crusade, Madeacon." "Are you crazy? The crusades are the dreams of the mad. If we go to war, then everything will fall apart..." Luminous brushed his black hair out of his eyes and looked into the darkness of space as the light flashed across his glasses. "If the world must be destroyed for the glory of Madoka to be realized, then so be it."

 

Luminous threw aside the large doors to the library of the main steeple of the Church of Madoka. For a second, the world seemed to move more slowly, as dust and scattered papers fell in slow motion to the ground. The room was devoid of life save the huddled figure in the center of stacks of forgotten books. "A war is coming, Siberys," Luminous announced, marching forward and putting his six-fingered hand on Siberys' shoulder. The blond-haired priest was awoken with shock, his head reeling back so quickly his neck threatened to snap in two. "Book 158!" he cried, his arms flailing as if to grab ahold of words as a handhold. "There is no more time for your reading, Sib," Luminous demanded, sighing and putting his fingers to his temples. "Knowledge is useless. Today we go to war." "War?" Siberys asked, looking with his cloudy eyes to his direct superior. "I still have three-hundred books! You can't seriously be asking me to go to war?" "If you must write," Luminous started as he walked out the door, leaving behind a letter and a sword next to Siberys. "...write about our battles. The crusades are upon us, Siberys. Put down your pen and pick up the blade."

 

"This is what you've been working on, Siberys?" Madeacon Mimee asked, trying to hide his rage. He hadn't known that his chief researcher would be attempting something so vile and unnatural. "You wanted me to go to war," he complained with an air of indifference. "So I went to war!" "This isn't what we meant," Luminous muttered, hiding behind Mimee so he wouldn't have to be next to the table. "This is disgusting," Mimee muttered. "We haven't even gone to war yet and you're already bending nature as if it was your plaything." "Science is the greatest weapon we have," Siberys insisted, picking up a red mass of flesh and gently placing it in a cavity. Luminous clutched his stomach and left the room, looking like he was going to vomit. Mimee held his composure, although he also felt a certain discomfort in the presence of Siberys' monstrosity. "I think it's sort of cute," Emily commented from his perch atop a step-ladder. He was biting on a large lolipop, rainbow shards flying from his teeth as he did so. "How can you eat when looking at this?" Mimee demanded, his sense of serenity fading. "Compared to what I've seen Echidna drawing in her notebooks?" Emily asked, folding his arms. "This is nothing." "Nothing?" Siberys demanded, looking up from his project. "You think this is nothing!?" "So what, you stitched together a cadaver," Emily laughed, licking his lolipop again. "It's creepy, but it's nothing weird." Siberys let out a scream of frustration and flipped a giant switch that began to channel power from the core of the universe itself. Mimee could feel his knees quacking as he saw life crawl back into the corpse before him. "You can stop now," the Madeacon pleaded, showing an open sense of worry for the first time in years. "Stop it, Sib!"

"Okay, this is pretty cool," Emily noted as he finished his lolipop. The energy transfer finished and Sib removed his goggles to see his creation. "Gentlemen, I bring you life renewed. A new weapon to battle in our crusades." A pair of pink-tinted eyes flashed open and Mimee let out a quiet scream. He had seen this body killed once. He had helped to do it. Siberys was playing with forces he could not contain. "We can't use this. We can't use... him." "Aw, did you miss me, Mims?" the zombie laughed, a stitched-together grin showing his excitement. "Didn't you miss little old Fai?"

 

Emily threw a satchel/purse over his shoulder and took his first step onto the bridge connecting the Church of Cycles to the main island. It had only been days since he had seen the body of Fai brought back before his eyes, but the image had slowly begun to infiltrate his dreams and leave him incapable of comforting sleep. He was intent on leaving, abandoning the church whose intents to become powerful had left them to commit atrocities he could not stand by. "Emily!" cried a shrill voice from behind him, as a pink-robed church member ran up to him. She grabbed his hand and tried to collapse into his arms, but he pushed her away. "Echidna, I have to go," he insisted, hiding his face behind his hair to conceal his shame. "The church is not for me anymore." "But..." Echidna stammered. "We left the cult together... you swore that... this would work out for us..." "I'm sorry..." Echidna turned away to conceal her tears. "Fine! Go then! If the church isn't for you, then neither am I!" She stormed off in a trail of dust, leaving Emily to brush away his final tears as he stepped away from the church for what could be forever…

 

Mimee watched as Emily completed his walk across the bridge. Luminous appeared next to him, his glasses slightly imbalanced on his nose. He was also now wearing the pink suit that he normally wore underneath his robes, which were still being dry-cleaned after the appearance of Fai  made him sick. "Emily's leaving again?" Luminous sighed, resting his arms on the railing. "Echidna will be upset," Mimee shrugged, obviously not caring all that much. "I think she's seriously misread their relationship." "Like how I misread ours?" Luminous accused, his words cutting through the air and leaving silence. A few moments later, Mimee finally managed to sooth his inner rage. "That was a long time ago, Luminous." The doors to the room flew open and Siberys ran in, carrying a jar of blood under one arm and a clipboard in his other hand. "What is it, Sib?" Mimee asked as he walked away from the previous argument. "Taba is back," Siberys explained. Mimee rolled his eyes and walked over to a chest. "I told him if he came back here he'd be punished." "Do you find this suspicious, Madeacon?" Luminous asked, peering over his master's shoulder. "We're about to plan a major attack against another guild and suddenly Taba appears?" "He's here every four days," Mimee sighed, producing a sword from the chest. "No, Taba's just being... Taba."

 

Taba cupped his hands together in the water fountain and slurped it loudly, creating a small echo that annoyed the nearby churchgoers. He was known in the church for showing up at random times and being a sort of jester, throwing random things at people and declaring jokes while wearing outlandishly-oversized pants that somehow changed colors to match whatever faction he was affiliated with. Today, however, Mimee had grown tired of his memes. The madeacon blasted through the pink-stained doors and, sword in hand, appeared before Taba. The blue-haired, yellow-eyed, red-lipped, pink-cheeked comedian found himself with a sword to his neck and a dagger behind his back before he could respond. "Oh, Mimee," he blushed shyly. "I love how close you are to my body." "I told you I'd kill you if you came back," Mimee said through gritted teeth. "And I intend to do that." "Don't you want to hear the juicy gossip I have from the other meme assemblies first?" Taba laughed, shutting his eyes and throwing his mouth open in a joyous refrain of laughter. Mimee almost slit the man's throat instinctively, but restrained himself on the chance he had information that was actually useful. After all, Taba was one of the few who wandered between the various islands. It was possible someone had been foolish enough (or drunk enough) to tell him something. "Tell me," Mimee ordered.

Taba flicked his wrists and was suddenly ten feet away, freed from Mimee's grasp. The madeacon was about to pounce when he realized that both of his blades had disappeared. Taba then raised up his hand to reveal Mimee's knife, which he then used to pick his teeth. "I heard you were planning a little crusade, Mims. The meme lords shine favorably upon war, but unfortunately the Order of Sayaka has already beat you to the punch." "What do you mean?" Mimee hissed, his rage building moreso at Taba's voice than anything. "They're marching here and they will attempt to burn the church down." With that, Taba smiled and spun in a circle, walking off towards the main island. "Toodles!"

 

The footsteps of an army of Sayaka Knights drowned out the dull whine of church members who had been dragged out of bed at the unholy hour of two in the morning. Standing at the front of a wall of armed, pink-robed combatants was Madeacon Mimee, flanked on other side by Luminous and Siberys. Luminous was wielding a rose-colored bow and was fighting the instinct to pluck on the bowstring. Siberys was tinkering on a device that he swore (always with a wink) was not designed to reanimate corpses on the fly. Mimee had acquired an axe from the armory, given that he had been disarmed the day before by Taba. "Do we have a plan, Madeacon?" Luminous whispered into the ear of his master, his glasses reflecting sunlight at two in the morning to somehow shield his eyes, which gave him a mysterious air. "They attack and we kill them," Mimee replied, yawning. He hadn't slept in a long time, and sleep would have been impossible given what he now knew about the Sayaka crusade. He was then able to see the blue-tinted armor of nearly a hundred knights, mostly wielding swords but also carrying a varriety of other weapons. "Are we going to die?" Kytten asked, looking over Sib's shoulder. Her oversized halberd, which was proportionately large for someone twice her height, was pattering against the ground as she nervously tried to steady it. "There is no death in this war," Sib explained, a glint of madness flashing in his eye. "We fight for something above our own lives." "No, there definitely is death," Luminous insisted. "Probably a lot of death. It's a crusade." "Whatever it is..." Mimee muttered, picking out a form in the shape of knights that he knew all too well. "We'll fight for our goddess."

 

The incoming swarm of knights appeared to be armed but not yet ready for battle. Someone raised the ceremonial flag of temporary truce (Kyubey's head with a bullet hole) from the waves of blue warriors.

"Are you going to talk to him about this?" Luminous asked, blinking rapidly as if that would help him scan the crowd more easily.

"Does he have a choice?" Kytten sighed. "It's part of the code."

"Who cares about the code?" Siberys lamented, his voice significantly louder than anyone else's had been. He was given daggers from the gaze of his superiors and inferiors, as well as a few chuckles from the opposing Sayaka army.

From the ranks of the knights, a figure in a set of azure battle armor stepped forward. Mimee sighed and approached as well, light from above catching his defensive robes. As the leader of the Sayaka forces approached, Mimee could see the distrust behind his bright eyes.

"Mimee, it's been a while," he greeted the Madeacon. He seemed rather confident in his disgust, despite behind significantly shorter than his adversary.

"One, you look younger. You *must* tell me your secret." The reply was effortlessly sarcastic and altogether bothersome to The One. The high general of the Knights of Sayaka, The One was as old as Mimee but had long ago found a secret source of power that had changed things. Now, he was eternally in the form of a girl from his favorite anime, which made it hard for him to sound intimidating in front of a seasoned foe. Nobody knew how The One had changed himself to look exactly like Reina Kousaka, but it was commonly believed that he had used a source of magic to achieve his deepest desire.

"We have come to kill you," One explained, quite brief and commanding despite his teenage girl voice. "Surrender and save us time."

"Oh, One..." Mimee said, a laugh building in his throat before it erupted in a fantastic guffaw. "You've got another thing coming."

At that moment, Mimee threw a stone to the ground that activated his magical special power. A pink, transparent cube appeared around the two of them, exactly ten meters high and long, separating the two from the outside. The Duel Cube was completely impenatrable from the outside and inside, and could only be removed if Mimee chose to, or if he died. The One had never expected to be the one inside the cube, but he laughed in anticipation of the chance. He flicked his fingers and a giant blue hammer appeared in his hands, cackling with electricity. Mimee readied his axe and the two prepared to duel even as their respective armies charged at each other.

 

The One shot forward, rockets in his boots allowing him to fly just above ground. His hammer was raised in front of him, making him a speeding battering ram on a collision course with Mimee. With less than a second to react, Mimee narrowly dodged the knight by feinting to one side, his feet leaving pink streaks in the part of the Duel Cube that lined the ground. One, now heading towards the wall, adjusted himself and somersaulted mid-air, stopping while he was upside-down and redirecting the hammer to point towards Mimee's new location. He then began to spin around on the handle so he was right-side up, but his foe used this to his advantage and dropped to the ground, allowing the hammer and its master to fly right over him.

Mimee used his axe to prop himself back up. "You're very fancy today."

One landed in the corner, deactivating his rockets and taking on a firm stance. "You're as slippery as ever."

Mimee knew better than to get dragged into a full-on conversation, knowing that the reason that One had stopped his flight was because he had to recharge his thrusters. Using this reprive to his advantage, the Madeacon launched himself forward and then willed his body to become energy. In a flash of pink he reappeared a second later in front of One, delivering a swift blow to his side.

One hadn't anticipated whatever trick Mimee had just used, which had allowed him to be stunned. Mimee then drove the axe into One's shoulder to hold him in place, using his free hand to punch his foe in the stomach repeatedly. One could feel the blood seeping from his shoulder as the muscles in his stomach recoiled, but there was no pain. The general, despite the injuries he was sustaining, was only biding his time.

"Should have killed me while you had me in a corner," One chuckled, releasing a giggle that showed he wasn't all himself in that moment. His thrusters recharged, One flew up towards the ceiling of the Duel Cube, Mimee still attached to his axe. The Madeacon didn't have enough time to respond before his head collided with the ceiling of his own magical prison, with One using his significant height disadvantage to crumble into his opponent's chest. Mimee was flattened against the energy field for a second before his grip on his axe slipped and he plummeted to the ground, landing in a pile of sparks as the field registered the impact.

One landed softly next him on his rockets and let out an unimpressive grunt as he ripped Mimee's axe from his flesh. He tossed the weapon in the air a few times and then eyed his crippled foe.

"I won't be so merciful," One muttered, raising his arm.

A flash crossed Mimee's face, igniting his eyes with determination. "I'm not done yet."

Mimee pushed up his pink sleeve and pressed a button on an implanted device, causing a beam of light to appear above him. A form began to appear from the light, strands of energy taking shape and wrapping around a humanoid form.

"Before you get to me," Mimee laughed, sitting up as his champion arrived. "You have to get through her. Mimeebot--activate!"

Madokami, an image of Madoka wearing silver clothes, materialized in the air and then landed in front of One. Using the temporary power built up by her summoning, the android created an orb of energy and then hurled it at One, temporarily stunning him.

"Awaiting commands, Mimee!" Madokami announced, her high-pitched voice incredibly cheerful if not lifelike.

Mimee was barely able to sit up and could feel that both of his legs were broken, but all he needed at this point was his voice. "Command: flip!"

"Command accepted!" Madokami grabbed One from both of his wrists and tossed him upwards, using her robotic legs to jump after him.

"Command: pick fire or fire!"

"I pick fire!" Madokami responded, her right hand transforming into a flamethrower. Her momentum allowed her to rocket into One and she immediately drove the barrel into the side of One's face, blasting his profile with red-hot jets as the two plummeted back down.

Mimee smiled, fighting back a wince as he opened up a cut on his face further. "Command: pick punch or punch!"

The robot responded by announcing her entirely unexpected choice and delivering a metallic fist directly into One's sternum. They both seemed to freeze for a moment before the knight was thrown backwards into the corner, his head bouncing back and forth against the walls of the Duel Cube as he landed. His eyes were sealed shut as blood poured down his countenance. He was grimacing, his entire body shivering and quaking.

"Kill option available!" Madokami said, her voice showing no sign of joy in the statement.

"Command:" Mimee paused, taking a second to admire how One was about to be transformed into a small pile of ashen dust. "Do it."

"Do it!" Madokami exclaimed, this time quite gleeful as she raised both hands into the air. Pink energy began to emanate in a sphere around them, growing in intensity and throwing stray streaks of lightning into the borders of the arena. Light enveloped her body and she became a light bullet, blasting towards One at a speed Mimee couldn't even fathom.

Unfortunately for the robot, she had chosen a poor trajectory for her original punch. One had, despite sustaining significant damage to his entire body, landed directly next to his hammer. This hammer featured the last-resort option of being able to eject its power core momentarily, creating an explosion that could annihilate virtually all matter in an area controlled by One himself. Even the light-shielded Madokami, using her most powerful attack, was not quick enough to respond to a blast of power that vaporized her body and left no trace but a single artificial pink hair that floated to the ground as a final act of the android.

"What... you..." Mimee stammered, realizing that his favorite creation had been slain before his eyes.

One laughed from behind a steaming hammer, but the voice was not as it had been before. It was deeper, and within the sound was an echo that struck Mimee as almost mechanical in nature.

"You all wondered how I did it," One mused, standing up. His face was shifting rapidly as taffy-like skin melded into place around metallic bone. "How I became Reina, that is."

As the last lengths of skin fell into place, his voice returned to what it had been. The cyborg that was One crossed his arms and stared down his foe. "Surprised, Mimee?"

"Nothing surprises me anymore..." Mimee sighed, spitting blood with each syllable. "But, One, there's something you should know about me. I am the Madeacon, a representative of the Church of Madoka. Even without Madokami, even without my swords... I have a power that you cannot compre--"

The One was tired of the suddenly-longwinded Mimee and decided to silence him with a bullet to the larynx. Mimee's eyes were frozen as he hopelessly grasped at the wound in his throat. One, his hands having rebuilt themselves into small gattling guns, almost felt a sense of pity at the scene before him.

"There are rumors that Sib can revive corpses these days," One laughed. "I guess that means I shouldn't leave anything left for him to use."

The cyborg released a barrage that had, within seconds, reduced Mimee to nothing distinguishable as human flesh. As the smoke spiraled from One's fingertips as he reclaimed the shapes of his hands, the Duel Cube around him faded away. As the last of the pink walls vanished, One whispered a final goodbye to his friend: "F."

The battle was in full swing between the two armies when One entered the fray. He looked around for a moment as soldiers, horns locked with their contemporaries, pushed into the now-cleared area. Nobody seemed to notice what had just happened except for a single Madoka soldier, his sword in the dust at his side and his mouth unhinged. “Now comes the fun part,” One said to himself, smirking. With a single overhead swing of his hammer, the defeated soldier’s head was pulverized and his body crumbled in a headless mass. “You should have picked the Rangers,” One chuckled as he looked at his kill. Someone with a dagger appeared to his left, and she was promptly dispatched with a string of bullets. One, ignoring his would-be-killer, looked beyond the swarms of mangled pink and blue to see a wooden turret beyond the battlefield. The church’s command post had, at the very least, Siberys inside, who was both chief strategist for them and also the one capable of reviving the army even if the knights succeeded. With his target determined, One began to march through the hordes, occasionally pummeling someone into pink dust or vaporizing particularly well-armed warriors with an energy bolt. He was briefly distracted by a certain battle happening nearby and let his eyes wander to observe the incident. Kytten, who had used a spell to increase her size so she was twice as tall and wrapped in muscles thicker than mattresses, was swinging her halberd at the much shorter but still muscular knight in front of her. He raised a shield attached to his forearm above his head, causing the axe to strike off the metal. With the brief opening, he attempted to strike at her abdomen with the meter-long rotating drill that seemed to be an extension of his other arm. Kytten anticipated the move and narrowly spun away from him, but an explosion nearby withdrew her attention before she could respond. The knight was ready to chase her, but One stopped him by putting the hammer in front of his chest. “I’ve been locked in a box since before people started killing each other,” One summarized. “Status report, lieutenant.” The knight nodded once. “We’ve been even for most of the fight, but they have fighters that use some spell to give them super speed. They kill multiple soldiers before we can respond.” “Where do they come from, Ace?” One asked, smashing someone who was trying to interrupt their conversation with a mace. “Their command post,” Lieutenant Ace confirmed, pointing to One’s original target. “Maybe their scientist is doing it, but they’ve got a lot of powerful mages who haven’t shown up as far as I know.” “Then that’s where I’ll go,” One announced. “Thank you, Ace. Return to your post.”

Sib threw a switch on a strange device sitting on a folding table. A light flashed green and temporarily tinted his vision a bright orange, which didn’t make any sense but wasn’t something he was going to concern himself with. After a few moments of various gears twirling about in haphazard and confusing motions, a cyan liquid poured from the side of the machine and filled a vial. “This should do,” he announced, handing the glass to a church member who had been waiting for the process to finish. “Thank you, sir.” The soldier chugged the fluid and immediately disappeared, her super speed reactivating. She would be able to do that for a few more moments before she would have to return to the command post, as Siberys’ potion could only last for a brief period.

“Are you going to send something to get his remains yet?” Syumie demanded, appearing next to Sib. Syumie was the personal attendant and protégé of Mimee, a warrior who spent more time with the Madeacon than anyone except Luminous. When news had arrived at the command post that Mimee had been slain by One, Syumie had nearly exploded out of combined grief and anger. Mimee’s last words to the two of them were the only thing keeping him there, insisting that Syumie protect Sib regardless of what happened to Mimee.

“I told you,” Sib sighed, putting something together that was either a gun of some kind or a nutcracker. “There wasn’t anything left when I sent the drone over. He’s gone, Syumie.” Syumie continued to pace around the wooden area, which was populated by only the two of them along with a plethora of random knickknacks and devices that Siberys had created. One of those was a shield generator that was preventing the barrage of arrows and bullets from actually hitting them. Syumie drew his longsword, a pristine steel blade that Mimee had given him, and looked at his shimmering reflection. His bloodshot eyes and wearied lips betrayed his fatigue and despondency, a product of the void of sleep and leisure that clung to his skin like moss. “Wait, something is happening,” Sib said, audibly concerned. “I’m picking up something on the scanner…”

Below them, One had fought his way through the church army and was at the base of the command post. He could see the distortion caused by the energy field protecting it, and whenever something hit it a shockwave would resonate across the surface. He tapped on it with his metal hand and found that, indeed, he couldn’t pass through it.

“I was expecting something with more bullets,” he said to himself under his breath. One raised his hammer above his head and stuck it into the shield, which produced a separate energy projection that allowed it to pass through. One placed it above his head and stepped through the opening as if raising an umbrella up to a waterfall. When he brought the hammer back to him, the field stabilized once more.

Syumie slid down the ladder from the main command post area, his magenta boots planting into the dirt. He pointed his sword accusingly at One, who had yet to take another step since seeing the pink form drop from above. “You killed my master,” Syumie spat, his face contorting into further rage. “It really wasn’t that difficult,” One yawned, rolling his eyes. “It’s your turn now.”

Syumie laughed, taking a combat stance. He knew that Mimee had always been a strategist and usually preferred to lead his soldiers rather than fight alone. That had been why One was able to stop him, as both generals from the Sayaka Knights were trained in combat practically from birth. Syumie was like them, bred as a fighter and shaped to duel. The cocky knight who looked like an anime character was unprepared for the church’s premier warrior. With a swipe in front of his body with his sword, Syumie launched into the battle against The One.

Sib put a few drops of a dark fluid into a glass of whiskey using a dropper and took a long drink. He reset the device preparing the cocktail that could give someone super speed, knowing that the current subject would return shortly. His ears were aflame with the sound of battle, making him oblivious to the duel happening below him. He had no idea what was going on until he saw One running away from their command post, his boots ignited below him so he could fly above the combat. Sib adjusted his glasses so they magnified the splash of color that had appeared on the bridge to the church’s territory.

“Oh, that’s a problem,” Sib muttered to himself, briefly thinking about what this development meant for the army before he was distracted by a wayward thought. “Wait a minute, where is--?”

Syumie pulled his way up the ladder and fell to the floor behind Siberys, blood leaking from his abdomen. Sib kneeled down quickly and looked over the wound, grabbing a device off his desk and immediately injecting the soldier with something.

“What happened?” Sib said, his voice calculated and stern.

“We were fighting,” Syumie explained. His robes were turned crimson from his wound. At some point, Sib cut off the material and began working on Syumie wearing only his armor padding. “He looked like he got a message at some point. He was surprised. Tried to run away. I got a good hit in and took off his hand.”

“Really?” Sib asked, blinking in surprise.

“Yeah, but it sort of… magnetized back to him as he was running. He dropped his hammer, but he got away. Shot me right as he was stepping out of the field.”

Sib sighed. He warned Syumie that the next step was going to hurt and then used a mechanical claw to rip a bullet from the entry point. Syumie groaned in agony, but his pulsing body began to calm as the nano-machines injected earlier began to heal the area. The devices were experimental and had a high likelihood of actually eating tissue instead of repairing it, but Sib hadn’t had a better option at the time.

“I just wish I knew what was bad enough to make him run away from a fight like that,” Syumie said, his eyes closed to deal with the pain.

“About that…” Sib chuckled, not sure if he should tell Syumie about what he had seen earlier. He already had enough stress without knowing that the crusade was about to become much messier.

Sib looked over his shoulder and saw the first clash occur, dozens of bodies being thrown into the air by an explosion. The bridge was bathed in a new color. Across the battlefield, from behind the lines of the Knights of Sayaka, came a raucous army dressed in red and thirsty for war.

One’s mind was flooded with distress signals from all across his army. He was practically oblivious to the conflict around him, caring only for his own soldiers who were suddenly caught between two waves. One of the church members who had been attacking the knights with super speed attempted to strike him from the right, but his mechanized reflexes were in a state of hypersensitivity due to his determination. He threw out his hand and fired three shots before she was even within striking distance. The One, however, had not paid attention to her at all.

As the combined masses of pink and blue faded away and gave rise to combat walls and massive cannons, One knew he had arrived in the temporary base of the knights. Every other second an explosive was fired into the waves of Madoka servants by redwood-sized barrels, prompting him to temporarily deactivate his hearing parameters. He didn’t want to risk losing a major sense at this time.

He entered the metal-lined tent that was the knights own command post. Semi-magical devices built into the fabric of the bigtop-sized construction blocked the insane sound from outside. A large table projecting a hologram of the battlefield dominated the space, around which were a variety of strategists from their ranks. General Blaud, a dominating figure wrapped in metal plates and luminescent wires, stood at the head of the table. When One entered, he was gesturing to a large swathe of red that was presumably the incoming Clan of Kyouko.

“...I want squadron fourteen to be recalled to assist with the southern end of the bridge,” Blaud continued to dictate, a myriad of soldiers writing things down on paper or typing them on digital tablets. A few ran off to inform the proper channels, while the rest waited until it was their turn to relay the general’s orders. “And then--One, you’re back. What’s going on out there?”

One shrugged, ripping off his hand that had barely reattached after Syumie had severed it. He continued to adjust wires and mechanical pieces on it with his free hand while he spoke. “Madeacon Mimee of the church is dead. There is no sign of the Mapopea.”

Blaud nodded, pleased to hear about Mimee’s demise. He was lacking a jaw, and instead had a mechanical device that complemented the space. When he spoke, a synthetic yet entirely realistic imitation of his voice was projected. “The clan showed up out of nowhere. We can’t tell if the Executioner is with them.”

“Why wouldn’t he be?” One complained, screwing his hand back on. The fingers began to seize for a second until he regained control. “Taba probably gave them the same idea.” Blaud nodded in agreement. “I will go with a strike team and attempt to determine if the Executioner is here. If he is, we will terminate him. If you do not object, you can continue to lead the fight on the church side of the bridge.”

One picked up a javelin from a rack of weapons and shut his eyes, causing a blue glow to surround the weapon. It then disappeared, being absorbed into his personal storage as his hammer previously had been. He looked up to Blaud and flashed a wicked smile and a determined gaze. “I will see you on the other side, my friend.”

Blaud looked over the bridge as the waves of fanatics bled towards him. As they got closer, he could clearly see that they were as barbaric as he had remembered. Blaud held the repository of all knowledge that the knights possessed within his half-mechanical brain, which was used to keep detailed records of every detail that they had ever encountered. The clan appeared to be fitting their stereotyped speciality nicely. Knights used advanced technology in combat. Church members favored magic that relied on spirit. Cultists relied on dark magic that drew from the soul. Rangers used their combined mental and spiritual capacities to fight as one. The clan’s swarm used physical magic to augment their bodies to become supernatural, borderline monstrous.

The warriors, nearly on the knights’ camp, stopped in place. A single warrior stepped forward and approached Blaud, his body much smaller than that of his magically-enhanced brethren. He was even smaller than the general himself, appearing almost comically tiny in a battlefield of giants.

The clan member was dressed in red padding that did nothing to improve the aesthetic element of his appearance. His head was bald and uncovered, and he was colorless save the dark red of his suit and the bright blue of his eyes. Both of his hands were mechanical, a rare case of robotic replacement amongst their ranks.

“General Blaud,” he greeted with a bow, his voice sly and refined. His eyes were steady and focused on Blaud’s own, challenging him even in that moment. “I’m honored to be welcomed by you.”

Blaud exhaled with a loud noise partially augmented by his cybernetic voice box. “Lightning. It has been a while.”

“Not long enough,” Lightning joked, extending his arms outwards to stretch.

“I wish to speak to him,” Blaud cut in.

“Who would that be?”

The general took a step forward and prepared to push Lightning to the ground, intending to walk past him and into the mess of red. Lightning kicked out of the way and fired an electric shock into Blaud’s chest, but the force was not enough to damage him at all. Blaud reached to his back and pulled a shimmering broadsword from over his spine, a ridiculously-oversized weapon designed to transform mortals into shrapnel.

“The Sword of Realities,” Lightning laughed, trying to hide his nervousness. “Multiple timelines is more of a Homura thing, right?”

Blaud swung the sword in front of him and displayed its true power as hundreds of copies of his arm appeared in the air, striking in a variety of directions. The weapon was capable of assuming probabilities and alternate realities, attacking at once with nearly a thousand slightly-altered versions of the same attack. It didn’t matter that Blaud himself wasn’t the strongest warrior amongst the knights, it only mattered that you would still be dead if he hit you five-hundred times.

“I wish to speak to the Executioner,” Blaud stated again. “You will take me to him before your people attack mine.”

Lightning shrugged, his smile wider than his face. “Of course, General Blaud! I’d love nothing more.”

Lightning had managed to get Blaud through the ranks of the clan without any diplomatic incidents occurring, which was more than he had expected. He was spit on and told to visit a variety of places that seemed unpleasant, but the truce banner on his shoulders seemed to be holding well enough.

“I have a visitor for the Executioner,” Lightning said to two guards, each wearing a skull-shaped helmet and wielding scimitars. There was a simple grunt from somewhere behind them that gave their answer. The two guards were expressionless as they lowered their blades and let the envoy past.

The Court of Execution was a large clearing which was populated by nobody that the leader of the clan did not desire to be there. At this present moment, nobody was in the circular fenced-off region save the large throne on which sat the warlord himself. Lightning bowed instinctively, wanting to keep his skull attached to his spine.

“Overlord the Executioner,” Blaud greeted, bowing slightly but not nearly as much as Lightning had done. “I have come to discuss the purpose of your clan’s arrival during my army’s assault.”

Overlord exhaled through the metal over his nose, the sound vibrating like a vehicle roaring to life. The leader of those who idolized Kyouko was massive, three meters tall on a bad day and wrapped in muscle like layers of winter coats. His abdomen was exposed, showing a scarred and battle-worn facade with ridges in such magnitude that they would have made six-packs look like shot glasses.

The Executioner’s belt buckle was a human skull coated in gold, the head of a belligerent fanatic who had threatened to destroy all of the factions in one massive doomsday. He had been silenced via decapitation. From Overlord’s knees sprung metal spikes that were welded to his bone, a ghastly and excruciating element that showed just how invulnerable he was to pain.

He had lost his feet in an accident some years before, but that had not stopped him. Overlord had dragged his still-bleeding body to the Red Forge, personally constructing himself two steel hooves that he grafted to the exposed wounds. When asked about the choice to make hooves instead of human feet, Overlord would merely say that he walked as the Devil did.

From his two rippling arms were horrifying weapons. His left hand had foot-long nails jutting from the fingertips, but not the natural nails of humans; iron rods stained with the blood of the weak protruded from his bone like a gruesome extension of his fingers.

His right hand was gloved and constantly twitching in anticipation of grabbing a weapon or crushing a windpipe. To his forearm was attached a massive blade like an axe-head, a gargantuan iron construct that could be used to slice into foes and block their attacks as a shield. Its most intimidating element, however, was the hole in its center that was encased with more sharp edges. This was how The Executioner had gotten his name, as he loved to take a weakened foe and place this opening over their head and then slicing it off like a guillotine.

Overlord’s head was covered in a metal helmet shaped like a deformed skull with sharp teeth and a demonic nose. The metal itself was molded and welded from various weapons of fallen allies and foes alike, a mismatched and haphazard shape that showed the chaos that he strived in. His eyes were hidden behind grates, making his vision distorted often but not affecting his ability to see blood and smell fear. Two horns, also from tangled metal, extended from his temples like jagged reminders that The Executioner walked as the devil and fought as the devil.

When Overlord spoke, his voice was echoing and husk, as if he gargled shrapnel as part of his daily routine. “Blaud. It’s… *good* to see you.”

“I want to know why your clan is here, Overlord,” Blaud said, getting to the point immediately.

“So blunt…” Overlord snorted. “Fine. We were told you would be here. It sounded like a good fight. My people are thirsty.”

Blaud nodded in understanding. “I figured as much. May I request that you let me return to my warriors before you begin your attack?”

Overlord put his fist under his chin. “Mm… no.”

The gates shut behind Blaud, trapping him inside the cage with Overlord and Lightning.

“Kiken, lead the charge!” Overlord announced, standing. There was a roar, like that of a lion, and the clan mobilized, sloshing forward like a wave of crimson sea foam. “I don’t want to hurt you, Blaud. But a challenge is a challenge.”

“I don’t remember challenging you,” Blaud noted, his mechanical voice betraying none of the anxiety he was feeling at the moment. “But two against one seems rather unfair, does it not?”

“Lightning is just here to stop me if I go too far,” Overlord laughed, extending both of his hands out as he did so. His arms outstretched managed to make him look even larger, almost Lovecraftian in shape as he was silhouetted against the Soul Steeple shining from the main island. “I don’t want to get on the bad side of *him*.”

“Since when have you cared what he thought?” Blaud questioned, his sword drawn but wavering in his shaking hand. “We don’t even know if he’s alive.”

Overlord ripped a spear from the ground and held it in his hands, using magic to alter it to fit his size. Part of this process involved what appeared to be a human spine slithering from the ground like a snake, climbing up his leg and wrapping in a double-helix around the weapon. “He’s alive. Why do you think Taba sent us all here? They want him dead.”

Blaud blinked, his focus draining. “Wait, who’s they? I thought Taba was--?”

And then Overlord attacked, a single swipe of his spear tossing Blaud against the fence. The ground seemed to shake with his every moment, as if he was an earthquake gained sentience.

“You may take care of him, Lightning,” Overlord said, pushing open the gate with his spiked hand. “I couldn’t kill him in this state anyways.”

“Yes, Executioner,” Lightning praised, bowing as his leader left. When he looked up, a joyous spark had ignited in his eyes and on his hands. “I’m going to have fun with this, General.”

Overlord walked through the sweat-drop-plastered stone that had minutes earlier been full of his warriors. There was not a single one who was left behind save Lightning, who only had to stay behind because he had yet to realize his potential.

“An Elite without any connection,” he sighed outwardly, coughing at the last syllable from the strain. He could hear the battle before him, a cacophony of explosions and flashes as well as the occasional gleeful cheer or firework. The clan was loud and obnoxious at times, but they were effective in the one thing he needed them to be: killing.

“Executioner,” a voice said from above. A second later, a tall and slender figure appeared next to him. He was wearing a red cloak that, despite its owner being almost eight feet tall, brushed the ground. Underneath it he was wearing a black button-up and dress pants, missing only a tie which had been lost at some point. He was thin and well-dressed, which made him an even more peculiar sight amongst the ranks of red than Lightning was.

“Nightshade. Have you surveyed the battle?” Overlord asked, planting his spear.

The scout nodded in response. “I have the information you requested. All points of interest, including major players.”

Overlord seemed pleased, if that was possible behind a skull-mask made of the weapons of dead people. “You may transfer them.”

“Yes, Executioner,” Nightshade said, bowing. He mentally gave Overlord the information he had acquired. “Is there anything else before I join the fray once more, sir?”

“You didn’t see the Mapopea,” he said out loud, though it was more of an inward musing. “Where are you, old man.”

Nightshade looked down and awkwardly adjusted his red-rimmed glasses on his pointed nose, pushing his spiked orange hair against his scalp nervously. He wanted blood and his Executioner was procrastinating. “Sir?”

“Oh, yes, of course,” Overlord said, realizing where he was. “You may return, Elite Nightshade.”

Nightshade bowed once more, curtsying with his cloak. He was trying to conceal his smile as he lifted to the air and his body transformed into that of a red-feathered falcon. He soared over the battle, blasting jets of flame from his mouth that incinerated everything in his path. He was of course aiming primarily for any knights or church members, but sometimes it’s hard to tell if someone’s covered in blood or just wearing red (or both, as the case might have been).

Overlord ripped his spear from the ground and raised it into the air. “I will find you, Ze. I want to see... if there’s anything left on those magic bones.”

A bloodied church member was thrown from the battlefield by a truck-sized fighter. Overlord stepped on his head without even a glance, popping it like a balloon. He continued walking for a few moments, seemingly unaware of the blood on his hoof, and then began to run, the call of battle catching up to him.

The first opponent was a Sayaka Knight, a stalwart man in the typical shining blue armor and wielding the typical longsword.

“Demon, you will not prevail!” he threatened, his sword drawn in front of his face.

Overlord thrust up and then downwards with his spear, impaling the knight through his skull and sending the spear into his chest by way of his neck. The eyes of the soon-deceased rolled about as if he was trying to find something to focus on, but a quick twist clockwise ripped out any life he was hanging on to. The spear began to glow with a web of lines reminiscent of veins, and a scuttling sound accompanied a grotesque display. The body of the knight fell in a structureless stack of meat as his spine remained, coiling around Overlord’s weapon as if it was alive. It matched its shape to that of the spine built into the weapon and then absorbed into it, leaving behind nothing but a coat of blood.

“Die!” Another one, this one dressed in pink, ran at him with a mace. She had about as much success, as Overlord used his nail-adorned hand to grab her scalp, five metal spikes lodging into her brain. He raised her up several foot above the air and positioned his guillotine blade, cleanly decapitating her in a fluid motion. Her pleas were still hanging in her mouth as her body crumpled as the knight’s had. Overlord pointed his spear at her body and her spine, too, crawled out from the body and joined the one in the weapon.

“Such a waste of time,” he sighed.

“Is that so?” a voice questioned. Overlord look from the bloodied bodies at his feet to see a knight with a drill attached to his arm. He had met Ace once before, but he never had the pleasure of claiming his essence in battle.

“Maybe *you* will pose a challenge,” Overlord suggested. Realizing what he had said, he began to cackle with the metallic laughter only he could muster.

Overlord lunged forward and intended to strike Ace in his chest, but the knight was more slippery than he had expected. He ducked under the incoming spear and, given the brief opening, shoved his drill into Overlord’s stomach before he could attempt to stop him. Overlord growled as he reached for his torn-open torso, using his metal nails to pry open the wound so he could get a better view. All there was was blood, which was not helped by unsanitary pieces of iron being stuck directly into the wound.

“That is all you will be allowed,” Overlord threatened, ignoring his injuring and pounding his spear against his chest. He and Ace began to circle each other, standing about twenty feet apart. The battle had moved far away from them, either because many had died or the Kyouko warriors had pushed back the knights. Or, perhaps, nobody wanted to be around when the Executioner of the Clan and the Knights’ best brawler went to war.

This time Ace made the first move, intending to strike at the weak point he had created. Just as he was intending to dodge the spear, though, it was suddenly through his shoulder. He hadn’t been able to react in time before he was pinned in mid-air, the grotesque item already drawing blood by the liter. He felt his spine began to shake, as if it was being called to leave.

“That would suck,” Ace muttered, his plan formulated. He struck Overlord’s forearm with enough speed to shock the Executioner, using that instant to push himself away from the spear. He winced as he fell down, a lovely hole cutting off the feeling in his left arm. He would be dead soon if he didn’t get treatment. “Guess I go all out.”

Ace produced a small device off of his back that then transformed into a metal riot shield. He had been using it to protect his back up until that point, but it hadn’t done much good for him anyways. He forced his forearm through the handles as Overlord surged forward with the intent to decapitate him with his blade. Ace, his reflexes working into overdrive, jumped up and curled into a ball on his riot shield, riding it like a sled on top of the guillotine and then bouncing directly into Overlord’s face. The impact knocked the Executioner down for a moment, but he was ready to stand almost a moment later.

Luckily, all Ace needed was a moment to drive his drill into the center of his foe’s back, intending to cut through to his heart. There was significantly more armor on that side of his body, though, and by the time Overlord was awakened Ace had only pierced through the outermost layer.

Overlord expected Ace to dodge and kicked at him with his hoof, but to his surprise the knight wasn’t prepared and was thrown back. He had been distracted by something behind Overlord, but whatever it was was a matter to handle at a later time.

Ace forced himself up and spun his drill to taunt him. The Executioner took one step forward and sliced the air with his blade, causing Ace to feint. This was just as Overlord expected, and he immediately grabbed the knight’s head with his spiked fingers.

“A good fight,” Overlord whispered. “I have… not felt one in a long time.”

“I had one earlier,” Ace laughed, the riot shield dropping off his arm. “But I don’t think this counts. S-speaking of which…”

A spear shred through flesh and crushed bone, jutting from the sternum in a flash of red and a groan of pain.

“You’re welcome, child,” Kytten laughed, her spear lodged through Overlord’s back. She had a nasty gash across her face but otherwise had been healed from her battle with Ace earlier. During that fight, though, she had begun to care for him empathically as almost a child. She ripped the spear from Overlord’s lifeless body and let him fall over, trying to see if her person of interest had survived.

* Five nails. Each almost a foot long. At least brain damage. At most…*

“Thanks for trying,” he said, coughing up specks of blood as Overlord’s fingers sapped the remaining life from his brain.

Kytten knelt down and closed his eyes with her fingers out of respect, whispering the letter of honor: “F.” What was less respectful, though, was Overlord’s body twitching and writhing.

A spine crawled from his spear, appearing in a red haze, and entered his body through the opening Ace had made with his drill. A few moments later, Overlord’s injuries began to seal up in gnarled scars, and the Executioner awoke with a shock.

“Oh… unfortunately for you, churchgoer,” Overlord said as he sat up, blood trickling out of his metal nose and mouth. “I won’t have… my back turned this time.”

A three-way war continued to rage over the courtyard before the Cathedral of Madoka, waves of pink and blue and red colliding in a bloody clash. Massive casualties had resulted on each side with little meaningful gain save a handful of deaths, which belonged to those whose presence amongst their factions would be mourned extensively.

Siberys and Syumie, both working together to defend the main forward base of the church, had each suffered injuries but were standing strong. An injury to Syumie had nearly killed him, but Sib had recently brought someone back to life after months of rotting in a box, so that hadn’t been as much of a risky procedure.

Luminous, assistant to the Madeacon Mimee, had taken the lead in the front lines of the church, intending to honor the death of his master by protecting the church he had given his life in service to. There was nothing left of his master, especially once the blood began to run across the stone in that area, meaning that the only thing he had to remember Mimee by was the memory he used to empower his march forward.

The One was appropriately mechanical in how he moved through the swarms of invaded and invaders. He showed no discrimination in who he killed, firing a bullet into a pink hood one moment and stabbing an elephant-sized behemoth the next. He had lost his weapons at various times through the fight and replenished them, until he ultimately ended up with a chainsaw from a dead clan member. His attention was unwavering, save the moments when he saw someone in flashes of a rose dress with daggers flying behind her, a ghost that somehow eluded him on the battlefield.

Blaud and Lightning were engaged in a fairly even-matched battle. Blaud was a tactician and a General for his ability to consider the situation and the war in all its possibilities. Not knowing that the Kyouko would show up was his first surprise. Going to see Overlord himself had been his first mistake. Lightning, however, was far too weak of a fighter despite being one of Overlord’s mysterious “Elites,” which surprised Blaud. Nevertheless, the two of them were able to hold their own against each other, two fighters alone on the back lines of the conflict.

Overlord the Executioner, blood dripping from his armor that had once been in the bodies of others, was doing battle with Kytten. The churchgoer had already killed him once, but the spirit housed in his weapon had revived him. As spear clashed against spear, the two grimaced at once another. Kytten had used her magic to become nearly twice his size, but Overlord was faster than his appearance would give him credit, allowing him to achieve several critical attacks on her side.

Overlord raised his spear. “You have fought well, as he did. … Now you must die.”

“Executioner! Something’s about to happen!” Nightshade interrupted, falling from the sky next to him. His mouth was still smoking from flames he had expelled during his hawk form. “We need to move the troops back, I saw someone casting magic on the--”

The entirety of the island could hear the noise and see the purple flame as an explosion erupted from the end of the bridge. For a few seconds everything was quiet, until a second explosion rocked once more. This time, the bridge was completely severed from the mainland.

The pink energy field around the entire island sealed into a bubble as they drifted away. Within moments, the four remaining islands connected to the Soul Steeple were small dots shown against a sea of the darkness of space.

“They cut us off?” One whispered in disbelief.

Elsewhere, Overlord growled: “They will pay.”

Aside from exclamations of disbelief, the warriors had mostly gone silent. They had spent years on the spacecraft, a massive housing that all of them had known as home. Now, they were watching it fall away from them, as the propulsion-less Cathedral was left adrift.

“Blaud! Overlord! One!”

There was a voice. It was all-encompassing, a boom that had the ambiance and force of an earthquake. It was not clear where it was coming from, only that it had said three names. A few seconds later, it spoke again.

“Come to the belltower of the cathedral. This crusade is on hold.”

Blaud felt a stone harden in his throat. He knocked down the gate with a single swing of his sword, rushing towards the pink-brick building on the horizon. “Mapopea ZeHaffen. I’m coming.”

End I