The grin on my face as I strolled up to the dais was probably putting more people on guard towards me, rather than earning me any support. Yes, I was pretty, and smiling was good for that… but most of my new charity cases were nervous when approaching the sphere. I could only hope my mad grin didn’t make me look like a psycho. I prided myself on a very stable mindset, after all.
I glanced at the orb, standing right in front of it. Then I looked up at the man holding it. He had secretary vibes, and didn’t seem terribly willing to accept nonsense.
“It’s all right if you’re feeling apprehensive about this. It doesn’t hurt. Just lay your hand on it, and it’ll all be made clear.” I hated the serious and level tone of his. Not on the level of Su’el being slimy, of course. He just sounded smugly superior. I preferred being on top of the superiority pyramid, thank you very much.
I pointed at the orb and shook my head. “It’s going to break.”
He frowned. “No, it won’t. This is a priceless artifact that has been carefully maintained for hundreds of years.”
“Hm-mm,” I shook my head again. “It’s old, and the magic is fading. So it’s going to break when I touch it.”
“Listen here, girl. Whatever life you’ve led back on your world may have given you some measure of authority and power that makes you think you can say and do whatever you want, but it won’t fly here. You stand in the presence of His Majesty, and that means you are, by definition, beneath him. I am his right hand, the Grand Chamberlain. You are beneath me, as well. Know your place and do as you are told.”
That was perfect. “So when it breaks, it won’t be my fault, right? Because you told me to do it.”
He scowled at me, fury beginning to trace lines across his features.
“Allow me to explain!” I turned, having raised my voice to the whole audience hall. I had a lot more energy than the others, and it was clear in my perfect posture and controlled volume. My voice wasn’t loud, it just projected well. “This is not my first rodeo. I’ve done this whole thing before. Get summoned, learn magic, fight for the whims of some self-important jerk for the promise of some road home!”
The lie was worth it for the drama. For the hope I could give to my charity cases, making them look up to me and trust me to guide and protect them. I had to sell being someone important, or the otaku would run off on adventures and get themselves killed. Look important, but not reveal divinity and draw unwanted attention there. Hard line to walk, really.
I turned to the king. “I can smell the magic on the air. You summoned us by sacrificing a dozen or so people. Not pleasant business. You ended up with a few hundred heroes because you grabbed me, and your spell further fuels itself off half the energy from each person summoned. Let me guess, you wanted to grab four heroes to enslave and serve your interests?”
Without waiting for an answer, I reached a hand for the sphere, sliding a single finger along the surface as the magic tried to tug at my being in order to assess me. That tug got it more than it bargained for, and the orb didn’t just break, it vibrated before disintegrating entirely, leaving behind a pile of glass dust.
“Oops.” I smirked at the gawking chamberlain, stepping away before things went downhill fast.
The king bolted off his throne, no longer thinking my speech was an entertaining little performance. “Seize her!”
Right, step one, place myself above the little heroes, giving them a good reason to listen to me, complete. Next, get them out of immediate danger.
I still had on my full Fate Testarossa outfit. I could play it up, actually.
I leveled an accusatory finger at the king as pretty golden lightning filled the air around me, dancing off the carpet and singing the fabric black while leaving my precious costume untouched. Should buy me a few seconds from the guards and mages.
“You’re already a murderer. This ritual is a taboo, and you should, realistically, be punished with imprisonment for your crimes. Right now, these kids need more supplies and support than I have. I’ll cut you a deal, criminal. Help them in good faith by giving them weapons and armor and food, and I won’t turn you into a crisp stain on this nice carpet.”
There. Succinct, forthright, and justified. I think I sold my character pretty well, too.
The king held his hand up, clenching his fist and raising it high so the marking on the back of his hand faced me.
“In the name of King Euclid, I order you to submit!”
His words twisted and reshaped reality, trying to layer a command onto my being.
A small hole in my plan, then. Command spells were based on a strange sort of scale that was hard to describe. People had more value than others inherently, and deities generally stood at the top of the list. A king stood above his subjects, especially within his own lands. If I were just another hero that had been summoned, I’d stand below him in the pecking order.
But I wasn’t.
My divine aspects sneered at the attempt and laughed it off like it was a light drizzle. My reality didn’t bend or warp under his pressure.
A man in pristine armor lunged, expecting my resistance to be ended by the Command, only to be hit full force with [Lightning Armor] as soon as he entered the radius. His armor probably saved him, having less resistance than his skin, and being separated by the padding beneath it. A full bolt still grounded itself through his boots and into the marble floor, though.
A lot of his armor plates melted from the heat, and he was blown backwards in a hailstorm of liquid metal particles. It was gruesome, and I was willing to bet nobody nearby had quite enough surgical training to remove molten metal from a person’s skin before healing them.
“Yeah, don’t screw with lightning. It’s the heat that gets you.”
King Euclid blinked at me, lost for words and coming to terms with his own weakness before my power. I let myself be a little smug about that, but I was the picture of self control.
There was a clamor and a few screams from the conventioners, and I briefly flicked my eyes their way, annoyed to notice that the guards were arranging to use them as hostages. Personal power was all well and good, but I had maybe gone a little too direct in that approach. It wasn’t my fault the primitives had reacted so poorly, though.
I couldn’t go overboard and disintegrate the soldiers, since it would traumatize my charges. I also couldn’t go really nuts and reveal being a divinity. I’d become a senior deity of black magic a long time ago, and that meant interacting with the others would be… tedious. Mostly, I didn’t want to end my retirement. I’d have to stick to some heroics, but only just enough to defend the independence of the conventioners.
“She has magic?!” “I thought they were just special effects for her costume, but that looked real.” “Badass.” “I wonder if we can do magic, too? Nobody could boss us around then!”
Delightful. Juggling too many things at once was causing the otaku ones to get ideas about self-importance and grandeur. If they tried to act tough suddenly, they’d get themselves hurt. After all, self-importance was my thing. I was actually important.
How to end things quickly? I could see it in the king’s eyes already. He was trying to work through how to scheme his way out from under my thumb.
The man clearly trusted in his own strength and had combat proficiency. My spell was buying me a lot of cushion as he tried to find a way to regain his ground. His chamberlain was still dumbly holding the powdered crystal ball like his reason to live was gone. Other advisors were gawping like fools. The court mages were… staring at me with wide eyes.
Fucknuggets.
I messed up. Elemental magic world. Lightning came from blending multiple aspects together from their primitive spells. And I’d done it with pretty much zero prep time or effort. While supposedly being drained to half my best energy form to boot. I’d probably blown their fragile minds.
One person alone seemed different. The mage who’d been in charge of the ritual that summoned our group.
“Lady Mage Hero,” he knelt reverentially, “I beg you, spare us your wrath. Our darkest hour is nigh, and we will all perish without aid.”
I stumbled. Not from injury or anything. Just shock.
His fealty was no performance. It was devout. The man worshipped magic. He worshipped me. By directing a supplication directly at one of my strongest aspects, it felt like I’d been dipped in a hot tub for the first time in a century. Being prayed to was a different experience for every god and goddess, but for me? It was euphoric. I revelled in praise, sure. I’d felt it while at the convention, but a fervent prayer was something entirely different.
It was a very heady feeling, and one I hadn’t felt in a long time. A proper, dedicated worshipper of one of my aspects was directing everything he had towards me.
Self-control never came close to being one of my aspects. It was a real hardship trying to stifle the surge of energy in my own state of mind. That urge to explode the room under that high was a chore to tamp down on, and even with the best efforts, [Lightning Armor] still grew by a half meter in radius.
I felt blissed out as all hell.
Embarrassed, I coughed lightly into my fist, trying to shove the feeling down. “Very well. You have bought yourself long enough to explain. Why sacrifice people to summon us? An offering of magical gems would be equal in value at similar expense.”
The king cut in instead, outraged by the question. “They were mere elves! Prisoners of war. Their lives hold no value next to our precious resources!”
I glanced down at the gathered conventioners. “Well, new heroes, how do you feel about a nation’s ruler espousing racist slander?” It was a dumb ploy. Elves differed across worlds, and some were literal monsters who were basically apex carnivores. Without seeing the world for myself, it was a bit of a leap, but most anime-lovers would only be seeing beautiful, voluptuous women with golden hair and slender ears.
That turned public opinion against the king quite soundly for the audience I felt mattered.
“Minion #1,” I addressed the mage kneeling before me, “I will require lodging for all of the heroes immediately. Please see to it that it happens properly.”
I turned to King Euclid. “Now what to do with you?”
Really, I was already over the song and dance. My mind had rounded back to all the flavorless slop I’d have to eat in a fantasy world after having tasted Earth’s culinary delights—assuming one ignored British cuisine.
Yeah, you heard me. Shots fired indeed.