Chapter 17

“You shall go no further, foul demon!” A boy, clad in armor way too big for him monotoned in a robotic voice. He was no more than eight years old, yet the steel armor he wore was real. As was the dagger in his hand, that looked like a sword for such a small figure. And the realness of his armaments showed in a way that the boy could barely stand up straight and used both hands to keep the steel dagger above his waist.

“Grrrr-agh! You are no match for me, foolish hero!” Another boy growled at the armored kid who could barely keep his balance. This boy seemed not much older, maybe a year. Two at most. He was also a beastkin, type-cast for his role as a scary monster. He remained on all fours even when he talked, and was dressed in several layers of furs with strange, cracked black plates sewn own all over his garbs at random places, and a twisted black helmet that hid half his face. Clearly, he played the role of some monster or a bug.

“Take that! Gu-rah!” the ‘bug’ lightly pushed the armored ‘hero’ who unceremoniously fell on his back with a loud thud.

“Gasp! Oh no!” a dozen children cried out in make-belief horror.

The children stood upon a brightly lit stage. The stage was large enough to fit no less than a hundred people, should such a need ever arise. And the several dozen rows of seats that were placed in a semi-circle arc facing the stage could seat an audience of at least four hundred humanoid beings.

But currently, there was barely any audience present. A couple of maids sat in the front row. They had several trays of untouched food prepared in front of them: fruits, bread, cheese, thin slices of ham. The food was obviously not for the maids, but for those that were on stage. Or someone among them.

Two guards in plated armor, armed with long, sharp spears, stood at their post at the tall arched doors that were the entrance to the auditorium. Several more guards were spread throughout the auditorium, though none close to the stage itself.

“Oh no! Our chosen hero has been defeated!” One of the girls among the crowd of children exclaimed and turned toward a teenage boy beside her who had a golden crown on his head. He wore old, ruined clothes that clashed with the real gold crown on his head. A gray wig and a messy fake beard glued on his jaw suggested the teenager was playing an older man.

“What shall we do, king Selirius?” another child among the crowd asked the teenager with the fake beard.

“I do not know, nor do I care!” the bearded teenager declared and sniffed his finger, sliding it past his nostrils back and forth several times.

“It is hopeless!” another kid declared. “Left without a hero! Left without a leader! We are doomed!”

“But wait!” A girl cried out and pointed off stage with a trembling finger. “Who is that approaching from the distance?”

The kids looked to the side of the stage, where the girl was pointing, emphasizing their search by blocking their eyes from the non-existent sun. Strangely though, despite the fake premise and situation, a tinge of unease was present. A smell of true fear, that seemingly had no place in this playful children’s play.

Several children were sweating, though the air in the auditorium was far from hot. In the back row of the small crowd, a few of them were even trembling and glancing at each other. The girl who pointed the finger could not stop her hand from shaking, as if a real monster had been approaching, opposed to the make-believe one that stood on all fours before them.

“Fear not for I am here!” A girl’s voice echoed through the auditorium.

A pink-haired teenager walked on stage, followed by two more girls carrying red banners. The red banners displayed a single-color female figure that held a bolt of lightning in her hand above her head, ready to strike down those below her. All three girls wore armor, though the pink-haired girl stood out by far.

An undisputed beauty even at such a young age, the thirteen-year-old had her armor decorated with shining jewels. Even her braid—that collected her hair in a graceful, luscious ponytail—was pure gold with three diamonds at the top.

The girl stepped on stage with utter surety. She held her head high, her back perfectly straight. A slight smile, because she knew she was the best. The whole world belonged to her. The whole world was her stage.

One of the unremarkable boys in the crowd took a step forward and asked, “Who is this fair beauty?”

The pink-haired girl grimaced. Her perfect aura snapped as her face contorted in a rageful fury.

“THAT’S WROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONG!” the pink-haired girl screeched like a banshee and unleashed a crackling wave of electricity straight at the boy.

“WAAAAAA!” all the children screamed and jumped away from the boy that was struck by electric magic and collapsed where he stood.

“YOU RUINED EVERYTHING!!” The pink-haired teen shrieked as she shot electricity out of her hand at the poor boy. “You were supposed to say ‘Who is this jade beauty?’!!!!!”

“GHUAAAAAAAAAA~~!” the poor boy screamed in agony and lost all motor functions as electricity tore through his body, making him spasm uncontrollably.

“KYAAAA~~” all the kids screamed in horror and huddled together, away from the poor boy and the girl that tortured him.

“H-H-HEUUUUEAAAAAAAAAAAAALP!” the boy screamed in a broken, throaty voice as smoke spread from his mouth and skin while he thrashed on the ground uncontrollably. The electric attack used the liquid inside the boy’s body as a conductor, boiling and frying his inner organs, turning them to mush.

“M-my lady!” One of the guards rushed to the stage, his purple cape flowing behind him.

“One more step and I’ll fry you with him!” the pink-haired girl shouted at the guard before focusing her attention back on the source of her uncontrollable fury and intensifying her electric attack with both her hands.

“Run! Summon lord Belmot!” one of the guys at the entrance to the theater urged the other. The guard opened the big door and rushed off through the impressive, decorated, high-ceiling, arch-shaped corridor. The other guard remained to guard the entrance to the pink-haired monster’s playground.

“UAAUUUUUAAAAAAAAAAAAA~~!!” the dying boy wailed in agony. A stench of burnt meat spread from the dying boy as his skin turned black, the ghastly smoke intensified, and the boy’s shirt set on fire. He stopped making noise after his eyeballs started boiling and exploded out of their sockets.

The other kids bawled and covered. A few of them hugged each other, hoping the other would somehow spare them of this horrific scene. Several girls and boys fell on the floor in a fetal position, several more of them fell on their knees and threw up. However, not a single one of the children dared to run away. Despite the horror, they stayed. They knew what fate awaited those that dared to run.

When the pink-haired teenager finally ceased her electric attack, the boy was hardly anything more than smoldering charcoal in human form with burning clothes, spreading the stomach-churning, putrid stench of burnt meat, hair, and leather.

The pink-haired teenager stood there, breathing hard as if she had just run a marathon. Her fury seemingly passed. But then the teen took in a deep breath and shouted at the top of her lungs, “DAAAAAAAAADYYYYYYYY!!!!”

“Coming, my sweetie!” An older man’s worried voice echoed through the auditorium, coming from the entrance.

An overweight lord ran through the doors and between the rows of seats, hurrying to his daughter. He had pink, puffed cheeks, a thin, curled, gray mustache, and a thin, swirling, gray goatee. His hairline was severely receding, to the point that most of the top of his head was bald, and only on the sides the man still possessed a fair layer of short, but curvy hair.

His clothes were mostly different shades of purple, with several pieces of jewelry decorating them. On his fingers, he had three rings with different colored gems. A golden chain hung around his neck and reached all the way to his bloated belly. The belly, in turn, hung over a tightly strapped belt, for there was no belt that could secure such belly at the belly button.

The man’s legs were disproportionally skinny, and as he ran, he scurried, hurrying to place the next step before his top-heavy body fell over. and a golden chain hanging from his neck, reaching to his bloated belly.

By the time the old man reached the stage, he was already bright red from exhaustion and looked like he could pass out at any moment. The guards ran to his sides to make sure he did not fall over.

“I-I’m here—haah—my princess,” the pink-haired teen’s father gasped, half-bent over, bracing against his knees with both arms.

The maids jumped up and hurried to bring cups of water to their lord. The man grabbed a cup and quenched his thirst. But just as he was done with the cup, he suddenly dropped it and grimaced in revulsion.

“U-ugh!?” the bloated man closed his nose his hand to try to block the stench and looked at the body on the stage, finally realizing what had happened. “N-not again!”

“What do you mean ‘not again’!?” the teenager shouted, turning to her father. “You’re the one who keeps bringing me these rejects, daddy! I try and I try, we rehearse and re-read and repeat, and yet this is the result!? Someone can’t even repeat a SINGLE LINE PROPERLY!?”

In fury, the girl launched another wave of electricity at the smoldering corpse, but it did not even move. All the nerves were fried. The body was utterly destroyed.

“Lady Ophelia!” one of the maids—a cat girl with whiskers, pronounced orange fur, and fluffy ears—took a step forward. “You must not talk to our lord like—KYAAAAAAAA~”

The pink-haired girl zapped the cat girl with her electric powers, sending the furry flying several rows of seats backward.

“Who the fuck hired this furry slut that dares interrupt me!?” Ophelia shouted and looked around, searching for the culprit.

The other maid only looked at the cat girl that now laid amidst broken chairs. The experienced made knew better than to make a sound or sudden movements.

“Uuugh...” the electrified cat girl maid moaned weakly and rolled on her back, holding her side that got smashed into the hard wood of the chairs. She was alive at least, and apparently without a broken back. Far luckier than some other newbies, the experienced maid thought to herself.

“Haah ... Haah...” Ophelia breathed hard, calming down after another outburst. The two girls behind her (each no older than twelve or thirteen, like the princess) stood still like statues, not daring to move a muscle. They knew their job—to hold the banners perfectly vertical, perfectly aligned with each other. And by doing their job to perfection, they were able to stay by Ophelia’s side without getting barbecued. But even their experience could not prevent them from completely hiding their terror of their leader, though they tried to mask it as best they could.

“M-my princess...” The sweaty father stuttered and pulled a hanker-chief out of his back pocket to wipe the sweat off his forehead. “You can’t—”

“I CAN’T!?!?” the teen bellowed, interrupting her own father.

“I-I mean ... You really shouldn’t do such things,” he hurried to correct himself and wiped away more sweat from his forehead. “It’s not easy to get these children here. There are already such disgusting rumors spreading about me, and each time you—”

“You just don’t love me enough, daddy!” the girl interrupted again, crossed her arms, and theatrically turned her head away. “If you really loved me you wouldn’t worry about what peasants say and instead would find me better play-partners!”

“O-of course I love you!” lord Belmot’s assurance sounded more like a plea.