MGM - Chapter 76

Jason Black

The Morning After

Breakfast that morning was a… tense affair. And not for the reasons most would assume that came after a night like last night.

Oh, the constant phone calls and whirring of news helicopters hovering in the sky outside was annoying, but this…

Honestly, I’d already expected this to happen one way or another.

“So…” I sighed, stabbing through yet another pile of fluffy,  Sherrel-scrambled eggs and bringing them up to my mouth. “She’s the sole survivor, huh? Decided not to go for the killshot?”

The ‘she’ I was referring to, of course, was the tiny, comatose goldilocks sitting across from me at the dining table, thoroughly bound and restrained in what could only be described as a ‘vegetarian straitjacket’, vines and all. ‘Sleeping’ peacefully and cleansed of whatever disgusting bodily fluids psychotic, body-experimenting murderers slathered themselves with, Bonesaw genuinely looked like your normal, slightly emaciated twelve year old girl. 

Soft-skinned. Unwrinkled forehead. Disturbingly innocent seeming, if you ignored the restraints.

That was, of course, all smoke and mirrors which hid the reality of the monstrous tangle of neuroses and fucked-upness hiding behind a fleshy shell. This little girl had more of a body count than most of the Slaughterhouse Nine, sans Shatterbird and Burnscar, and no amount of cute innocence would make me forget it. That was why there was a golden spear of mana hovering just out of sight, aimed and ready to shear through her soul the instant she proved to somehow be immune to Amy’s sedation.

My beloved witch in question let out her own heavy sigh of exhaustion, dark-rimmed golden eyes - flecked, I’d noticed this morning, with viridian green - peering up at me with a mixture of shame, worry, and weariness. “I… I had planned to kill her, Jason. Painlessly, right after I managed to disable and get rid of all of the contingencies installed inside of her body, but- … I was weak. That’s the blunt, honest truth. I looked into her eyes, I saw the fear, and the confusion, a-and the real, genuine grief, like we’d actually just slaughtered her entire family in cold blood, and it just-“

Her voice was beginning to shake.

“I’m not blaming you,” I gently interrupted, sliding my arm around her hunched shoulders and pulling both her and her chair closer - into my side. Amy melted against my bare torso, her body shaking and quivering. She wasn’t crying, not really, but it was a close thing.

Amy is sad. Amy is angry. Amy is confused. Amy is ashamed. Amy is-

“Sweetheart, I’m serious. I am not blaming you; fuck, I’m not a hundred percent sure if I would’ve been able to just execute a lil’ girl like that, and I’ve killed before. Quite a few times. You’re not at fault here. Not when you haven’t even been prepped to make those kinds of decisions. I’m just… Wondering about the best course of action now. That’s it.”

Meshed against my side, head bowed and messy, tangled locks of fluffy brown hair pooling down and over her sheer black pajama top, Amy released another low, shaky sigh. “The insides of her body, Jay… It was horrible. She’d turned herself into- into a living, breathing war crime, basically. If I’d messed up my spell just a bit and actually killed her, the city would’ve been gone. Wiped out by a self-replicating, untraceable epidemic . Just like that. And I spared the life of the same girl who made something so disgusting…”

A heavy silence pressed down on our shoulders, and not for the first time, I allowed it to happen. There was more she wanted to say - more she was scared to say, but forcing it out of her would do neither of us any good. 

So I let the situation breathe. 

With the absence of our voices filling the dining room, I could hear the light pitter-patter of rainfall outside, remnants of last night’s Endbringer-sanctioned thunderstorm, along with the distant whirring of helicopter blades as nosy news crews hovered right outside of our mountain, hankering for a flick of the man who killed Leviathan, and his crew of superheroes who put an end to the Slaughterhouse Nine.

All of this… in the same night. 

I couldn’t really blame them for doing their job, just like I couldn’t really blame the amount of Podcasters, News networks, and other such vultures blowing Cassie’s PHO up for an interview. From the brief amount of television I’d checked out in bed after waking up, we were everywhere.

I was everywhere.

Every major and minor news channel was replaying edited-together clips of my battle against Leviathan; from the moment Snowcone and I flew across the ocean to intercept him, several miles out from the beach, to the scene of my Reality Marble breaking as I brought my drill down to actually kill the motherfucker. Through the power of high-speed internet and millions of social media addicts, my feat was the number one trending topic online, internationally. Not just on the Brockton Bay subforums. Not just on PHO. Everywhere.

I didn’t even have my phone right now. Downstairs, past the clinking of glassware as Sherrel and her new helpers washed dishes, I heard Cassie speaking loudly on the phone - to the mayor, if what I was hearing was accurate. Something about a key to the city. More awards and gifts and thank yous.

It was a sweet, sweet gesture. Who didn’t enjoy getting the key to the fucking city from the mayor, whatever the hell that meant? I was just a man; I could appreciate the glazing. The positive attention. I was flattered.

But it was too much happening at once. 

I wasn’t one to be overwhelmed easily, but the helicopters and paparazzi and constant calls and emails and texts - how did they even get our numbers? - was too much. I was pretty sure that the only reason rabid fans weren’t storming the mountain at this point was because of a slumbering Snowcone, draped over the roof of the Palace, and the fact that the most recent trespassers were currently resting in my Dimensional Inventory in several lopsided pieces. 

Because their bodies still had to be officially turned into the PRT.

And now I had this to deal with.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

“She won’t be able to stay here,” I said after another half a minute of introspection, my voice cooler now. I grabbed my left hand, balling it up and placing it firmly on my lap. “That ain’t gonna work out well whatsoever. There’s way too many eyes on us. It’ll ‘prolly be like that for months.”

“I know,” Amy breathed, her fingers soft and warm as they cradled my clenched fists. She rubbed her nose against my shoulder, breath gentle against brown skin. “... Maybe Cauldron would take her in? I’m going to work on her some more. The Bio Pod’s already prepped. I’m confident I can reverse everything she’s done to herself. Maybe take away her powers if I study and feel out her brain for a bit. But-”

“You misunderstand me,” I sighed, flicking my gaze to the unconscious Bonesaw. “I don’t mean here, as in the Palace. I mean here. Earth Bet. This world. And while I trust ‘Becca, can’t say I trust her boss.”

“... Oh.”

I didn’t consider myself a paragon of moral virtue.

Truthfully, I still considered myself a bit in over my head with this superheroing shit. Months ago, when I first arrived on Bet, I probably would’ve said ‘fuck it’ and left this world to its fate if my first roll had been Quantum Transition Energy. But things happened, love blossomed, and for better or worse, I ended up actually caring for this world and its people. I didn’t like social media, but I’d seen the posts they made about me online. I’d taken note of the people who practically worshipped the ground I walked on. I’d even been invited to my own fan club, which was numbering in the hundreds of thousands last I checked a couple weeks ago.

Most likely a lot more now.

That was why I fought Leviathan with so much fervor. I cared for Brockton Bay. But just because my heart had grown since I’d come here didn’t mean I suddenly considered myself Superman, or The Flash, or even Batman. I wasn’t some gung-ho, uber good superhero out to save kittens and destroy every villain. I was still selfish… just slightly less so, now. And no matter what, if it came down to the world against my loved ones, I would choose my loved ones ten times out of ten. That was just the type of man I was.

The Slaughterhouse Nine had been lucky I hadn’t been around to notice them in my backyard., because five curbstomps to the head and a bolt of lightning would’ve been the least Jack Slash would’ve gotten from me. I was protective. Possessive, Cassie would say with a blush and a dirty little smile on her face, though I didn’t-

Whatever. I was possessive.

And that was what made this so hard for me. 

Bonesaw was a monster who’d killed countless people, tortured even more, and spread hatred, pain, and grief through the world for years. And, more recently, she came to my city to hurt my people. That was a big, fat no-no. I was still beyond pissed at her for that, even though I kept my emotions in check.

But Riley was a traumatized little girl whose chance to grow up and be happy was forcibly taken from her by the very same man who tortured her family, making her run to each dying person in an attempt to save them for hours… Only for them all to die in the end. He broke her mind and her spirit, and in those fractured remains, Bonesaw was born.

Would I be able to live with myself if I stood up right now, summoned my Armament, and lopped this broken little girl’s head off at the neck? 

… Yeah. Yeah, I was pretty sure I could.

But would it sit right with me? Would I safely be able to say that I respected myself and my actions, and held myself to the standards my mom raised me with?

Probably not.

She hadn’t necessarily taught me not to kill traumatized, mindbroken little girls if I could help it, but I’d like to think that that had just gone unsaid.

I had power now. I had magic. In some cases, too fucking much to know what to do with. Even now, I could feel that my mana was topped up, my body freshly healed and recovered after the battle with Leviathan. The Winds were present, a nice blend lightly overshadowed by the Azyr brought on by the rain outside, and their presence was comforting and intimate, like a security blanket. With my power, I was certain that I could give this little girl an opportunity to live her life again. 

Not Bonesaw. Never Bonesaw. But Riley. 

I didn’t enjoy the idea of killing a child. 

I could if I had to, as fucked as that sounded… but if there was an alternative, I wanted to explore that. I was sure that there’s countless arguments that could be made on either side of the fence; Bonesaw doesn’t deserve a second chance. Bonesaw is evil. Bonesaw is no different than the rest of the Slaughterhouse Nine. Everyone has a traumatic backstory. Blah, blah, blah. And some of those arguments would’ve been valid. They made sense to a degree. Bonesaw was evil. Bonesaw wasn’t the only member with a traumatic backstory. This was all true.

But right now, sitting before me, was Bonesaw. Not Burnscar, not Jack Slash, not Mannequin - but Bonesaw. And it was only her life that was in my hands now, not anyone else’s.

If I could carve away the poisonous growth Jack Slash created with his disgusting games, and let a little girl have another chance at a happy and peaceful life… 

Why the fuck not?

Her former victims were already dead. They would stay dead, whether she lived or died. And whether she lived or died, no one else would suffer because of her - I was making absolutely certain of that. So honestly, the choice was between executing this girl, slaying both Riley and Bonesaw, and ‘avenging’ a bunch of people who were already dead - bless their souls… Or waggle my fingers, erase Bonesaw completely, bring back Riley, save a little girl, and feel slightly better about myself afterwards.

Either way, the people Bonesaw slaughtered were dead. And they were staying that way. Vengeance, in this case, would help no one. Vengeance usually helped no one. There were, like, hella movies about that exact thing.

‘I’m just ramblin’ to myself now…’

After all, I’d already made up my mind. 

A plan was swiftly forming in my head - one that would, if all went well, get me away from the limelight for a little bit. Two birds with one stone. Three, when I thought about the fact that I needed to actually practice with my wormholes before I risked taking the loves of my life through them with me. 

I glanced back down to Amy, whose gaze had never once left my face. “She can’t stay here; not unless we want to kill Riley too, and at that point, we may as well actually kill her. But we have options. Leviathan’s dead. Jack’s dead. As far as I know, no one else is gunning for our heads. Not after I put an Endbringer on a t-shirt, and y’all tea-bagged the S9. Good job, by the way. That’s real gangsta shit.”

“Cassie said we did, but she lied,” Amy shook her head, a tiny, wry smile pulling at her glossy black lips. It only barely reached her tired eyes. “No one got tea-bagged. She actually puked when she watched the footage back and saw what she did to that Jack Slash asshole again. But, um… that’s not important; what exactly are you suggesting?”

“Easy.” I pressed a soft, chaste kiss to her brow before standing up and stretching out my back. Bones popped, vertebrae snapped, and I let out a low, pleased groan. “Fuuuck. Ah, man. I’m sayin’ you finish reverting all of the bullshit she did to herself. Heal her up. See what you can do about her brain, and her powers if you feel confident-”

“I don’t.” 

I raised my hands placatingly, “And that’s fine. Take a nap and see how you feel afterwards. But you handle the body, and once she’s clean, I’ll go in with the magic feelers and pull a magical Men in Black. What’d they call that thing that flashed and wiped your mind? A neutralizer?”

“That’s-...” Amy gave me a deadpan stare, even as she plucked a lukewarm piece of bacon from my plate and tossed it in her mouth. “That’s- mm, good bacon. But no, the memory-wiper thing wasn’t called the ‘neutralizer’. That’s what baking soda is used for… in high school science projects. You’re thinking of the neuralyzer-”

I snapped my fingers. “Shit, yeah! That’s it.”

“-And it’s futuristic technology used in a sci-fi movie series from the 1990s,” she frowned at me, crossing her arms beneath the swelling depths of her large, freckled bust, “You have an actual spell to wipe memories? Six years of them? Just like that?”

“I don’t.”

“Then how-”

“And once again… that’s fine,” I repeated myself, smiling at the unimpressed glare she burned through my retinas. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, baby girl, but your man’s pretty fuckin’ good with magic. Like, scarily good. A certain Goddess ensured that. Let me worry ‘bout coming up with the spell and relocating Goldilocks here. I needed to make a few practice hops anyways.”

She raised her eyebrows, frown replaced by a sardonic quirk of the lips. “Mm. You’re going to use your wormhole power, aren’t you? Cass is going to be mad if you leave her behind again, Jason. She still complains to me about you pulling Rune into your Reality Marble before her.” 

“In my defense, I’ve apologized and given her a shit ton of gifts since then. Magical sugar daddying has to be worth something,” I sighed, running a hand through my hair. The elastic I’d been using to tie the unkempt locs back promptly popped out of place, and without looking, I gently plucked it out of the air and pocketed it. “Besides, I’ve already told her… This is serious business. I don’t know the first thing about multiversal travel, or quantum energy. I’ll be goin’ in raw. No condom. Just me and my magic.”

Amy snorted. “And a little girl. You should probably use better phrasing.”

“Touche,” I grimaced. “My point still stands. When I take you two with me, I want to have, at the very least, some sort of baseline experience with navigating the multiverse. Some sort of vibe. Imagine if we went through for the first time together, linking hands like a Kindergarten field trip, and it drops us in some poison-filled hellscape several miles beneath the Earth’s crust? Or SCP? … Or, heh, Teletubbies? ‘Cause that’s an option too. Real horrifying shit. They got a sun with a giggling baby face in the middle of it. Like, drooling gerber baby type shit.”

She rolled her eyes, visibly holding back a grin.

“Teletubbies. Right. Very scary. Seriously though, it doesn’t matter; you’d figure out a way to save us, freaky cartoon mascots or not. Somehow. And probably in a way that wouldn’t even make sense to us, because that’s just how you work…” She shook her head fondly, the smile on her full lips both sardonic and soft. Propping her cheek against one pale fist, Amy shrugged and popped the last piece of bacon in her mouth. “But I understand. I trust you. Cassie might still throw a hissy fit, but she’s smarter than the both of us. She’ll understand, too.”

She paused, before narrowing her eyes. “But you better tell her before you leave. That’s non-negotiable, Mr. Multiversal Wallflower. No random vacations.”

Her tone was light, but the intensity in her face was immense. Utterly serious.

Ha. 

God, I loved when she got all stern and sassy with me. What a cute little woman who could absolutely kill a fully grown man with a touch of her finger.

I couldn’t help the crooked grin that formed on my lips. “Of course. Who do you think I am, a deadbeat sugar daddy slash boyfriend?” I curled my finger, tugging the dirty plate into my hand with a casual flex of Aethyr. My gaze flicked back to the bound Bonesaw. “But yo, do you want me to take her down to the Garden, or…?”

Amy’s mock glare abruptly softened into something more subdued and unamused at the reminder of what was to come. She looked across the table at her newest ‘patient’, a conflicted blend of emotions flickering across her face, one after another, before settling on resolute. 

Flinty. 

“I’ve got it. She’s light, but if need be, I can ask Sherrel for help now that she has those Spirit Attendants. You’re going out, aren’t you?”

I inclined my head, resisting the urge to sigh.

I thought I’d love the limelight, but the more fame I received, the more I realized just how much of a fucking hermit I actually was.

“Got a bunch of bodies stinkin’ up my Inventory,” I waved a hand tiredly through the air. “Better to get the S9 sorted out now rather than later, before I put all of my attention towards our projects here. Besides, the Triumvirate’s still in the city. A lot of the heroes who came down to fight Levi are. Leaving ‘em high and dry after blowin’ their minds like that is kind of a dick move, ain’t it?”

She shrugged again, peering up at me through long, dark lashes. “Maybe. Maybe not. But you don’t really owe them anything if you’re not feeling up to it, Jay. You just killed Leviathan. No one could blame you if you suddenly went off the radar for a while. And if they did?”

The viridian flecks in her bright, clear eyes glowed green with magic and genuine, raw anger. “Then fuck them. You deserve your rest. After the condition Sherrel brought you home in, you’re forbidden from overworking yourself for the next two months, minimum. Once again, a non-negotiable clause.“

I blinked. “Clause? For what bill?”

“The ‘We Don’t Want Our Boyfriend to Die’ bill, signed by the three women you’ve decided to seduce with your overwhelming dumbassery, whorish flirtations, and slutty waistline.” Amy flicked a messy lock of hair out of her face, tucking it back behind her ear. Her eyes practically dared me to refuse. “Do you agree to these terms?”

Did I?

“… Sure.” 

I doubted I’d face something like an Endbringer in the next sixty days anyway.

‘But a slutty waist, though?’

I slowly glanced down, only somewhat self-consciously, and Amy’s stern mask cracked. The frown on her face faded away like clouds beneath the rising sun, replaced by a small, genial smile - one that fully reached her eyes in spite of the day’s tribulations. 

She snickered quietly, shaking her head in mock disbelief. “Go play nice for the cameras, love. Cash in the bounties. Flirt with the leader of the PRT. Sign autographs. We can handle everything here. I… I’ll prep the Bio Pod for surgery.”

She exhaled, damn near silent, before standing up and embracing me. Her arms wrapped around the small of my back, her warm face pressed tightly against the cleft of my chest. “And thank you.”

I blinked.

“... Why-”

“For not judging me, or belittling me for my weakness. For going through the extra work to save this little girl’s life. I know we deserve a break, you most of all. This isn’t fair to you.” 

Her voice was muffled against my skin, but not so much that I couldn’t understand her. There was a weight to her words. Meaning behind them that wasn’t outwardly said. “It’s naive, I know. And foolish. But Jay… When I looked at her, terrified and confused and hurt like that - I saw myself. It’s dumb, it’s fucking cliche, but I did. I saw what could’ve been me if things had gone different. I- I was six when New Wave attacked Marquis. My ‘father’. And I was six when the Dallons took me.”

She hesitated, licking her dry lips. “The memories came back a while ago, probably because I’d been repressing them before. It wasn’t much, just flashes of screams and fear and fighting. Flashes of his face. But it’s enough. It’s a completely different scenario, I know that. Me and her, me and Riley, we aren’t the same. But if… If we can fix her too, I want that. It’s fucked up, and probably hypocritical, but I just-”

“I know, Ames. It’s chill. I know.”

Of course I knew what she meant.

It had been clear to me, several weeks back when I’d first told them about the S9 and Bonesaw’s backstory in particular, that Amy was particularly affected - not so much outwardly, but Hidden Intuition was a bit of a cheat code. It was why I’d been planning on handling the S9 myself once I felt secure in Invictus’ power and standing in the Bay. Whether I would spare or kill her, at the very least I would’ve been able to spare Amy the inevitable turmoil and confusion and despair that came from dealing with such a dark and grimy mirror to her own life and insecurities.

I was used to taking shit to the chin to spare my loved ones turmoil. With the way my brain worked, it was just easier that way. I adapted faster than most. I bounced back easier. Was it a bit of a martyr complex? Maybe. But it worked.

Only, now the decision had been taken from me, all because I’d waited too long to hunt the bastards down. I’d gotten complacent, thinking that they’d let me roll up on them instead of the other way around. I hadn’t thought that my fame would bring me to their attention so fast. 

Hindsight was a fucking bitch.

“I know,” I said again, quieter this time. I stroked her shoulders through the silky, thin material of her shirt, placing another kiss against the bedraggled mess that was her hair. “And I’m being so deadass when I say this, Amy; it’s not your fault. Whatsoever. So don’t apologize to me. This ain’t even too hard of a task - not with everything we have at our disposal now. I’ll consider it as a lil’ sidequest, even, since it’s on the way anyways. Let’s just-”

The fluttering of parchment and the twinkling of stars suddenly invaded my senses, before everything turned black.

Celestial Quest Issued:

“Kill Bonesaw, Save Riley!”

You’ve taken it upon yourself, o’ Champion, to carve the cancerous growth of an irredeemable monster from the traumatized psyche of an innocent child. Free Riley from the bars that Jack Slash imprisoned her behind, and erase Bonesaw from existence. Forevermore.

Reward: (1x) Moderate Might Perk

Accept? Y/N

Time was frozen.

My body was frozen.

And just like it’d been when I delved into my Celestial Grimoire back at the Crossroads, I found myself standing in a star-lit void - only, instead of dozens of perks scrawled across the pages of my humongous Grimoire, I saw the text for the ‘Celestial Quest’ emblazoned over the top of its own page. 

‘Kill Bonesaw, Save Riley…’ 

So this was a part of the new ‘update’, eh?

Sweet. I wouldn’t say no to another perk.

I eyed the large Y/N emblazoned beneath the quest for only a split second before mentally willing reality to ‘circle’ Y. The ink seared itself around the letter immediately, and the instant it did, the pages of the Grimoire began fluttering and flipping rapidly to another section of the magical book. Like before, it only took a couple of moments before it found its destination, and the fluttering halted on a familiar page - the one titled with ERUDITION.

At the bottom, emblazoned in large, loopy letters, was the word ROLL.

Right. Because I had a roll banked from completing my first Trial. It was damn near impossible for me to forget shit with my perfect memory, but somehow I still managed to forget about it. 

‘Fine. Might as well while I’m here, right?’ I thought, since I had no fucking lips to actually speak, ‘Let’s rock and roll.’

A sensation not unlike vertigo struck me in that moment, like I was falling from an extreme height with no parachute or flight powers.

And the letters changed. 

They warped, filling the entire bottom of the page with illegible script. Symbols. Glyphs. It was a language that I couldn’t decipher, no matter how much I stared, and it just kept changing - lengthening, shortening, before…

It stopped.

And the text shifted to English.

Holy Hexes (Konosuba) - Major Erudition Perk

Spells becoming more powerful isn’t just a matter of having more mana, at least not in this world. Upgrading those spells more with Skill Points is usually the main path. At least if you can be bothered, which it seems you’ve skipped past entirely. Magic that you use now scales to your general level of power, regardless of how much points or energy you put into it. 

If you cast a fireball you learnt at level 1, using the same amount of energy, but were a level 80 wizard when you cast it now? You’d be summoning a conflagration that could consume half a town instead of a mid-sized fireball attack. Even things as simple as a low level voice changing spell could become a spell that allows the target to freely make any sound they wanted, rather than just a single different voice. 

You can still expend energy or points to improve spells, provided the spell can be improved in such ways, even more but their base level of power will rise alongside your own general power level.

I raised my nonexistent eyebrows.

This… could either be really fucking good, or really fucking destructive, depending on how much control I had over this ‘base level of power’ increase. But no matter which way it shook, I couldn’t see how this was a bad roll by any stretch of the word. If I was reading it correctly - and I was certain that I was, then this meant that every single spell I knew and would later learn would be scaled up to the general peak of my magical power. And judging by the shit I pulled off with Leviathan, Reality Marble or not, my ‘general peak’ was pretty fucking high. 

I didn’t have levels, but if I was in Konosuba, I knew damn well that I’d be higher than a level one. Taking the example used in the perk at face value, this meant that even my more basic spells would be throwing around enough raw magical power to destroy entire fucking city blocks. And what counted as a ‘spell’ was finicky, anyway. Would my Conveyance Sorcery scale up, since my teleportation was a form of magical ability? Could I teleport across Brockton Bay now? Could I pull a Kirin by casting a simple Lightning Bolt? Could I kill Bonesaw and save Riley with a simple memory charm?

And what about that last part, where it stated that I could ‘expending energy to improve spells’? 

Where did this power increase begin and end?

Holy shit was I excited to find out.

Besides, it didn’t seem as if I could accept or deny the perk anyway. This was it.

Since everything in this odd soul-scape relied solely on my will and desires, I willed myself back into my body. The sensation of falling suddenly reversed, my stomach lurching as the void of stars snapped away like a collapsing canvas, and the Celestial Grimoire slammed shut without even a puff of air or a single sound. Reality surged back into focus, and I found myself once again in the upstairs dining room, Amy still pressed against my chest, unaware of the few minutes I’d spent in the Grimoire’s domain.

I took a slow breath, steadying myself. There was no need to freak her out over something that took place in what was essentially a pocket of frozen time. I’d tell her and the others about Hecate soon, but we were all too busy right now, and it would hardly make a difference anyway. One thing at a time.

Her grip on me tightened ever so slightly.

“…Thanks,” she murmured again, almost too quiet to hear. “For being you.”

I let my fingers trace soothing circles against the small of her back, the gesture instinctual at this point. My face nestled into her messy locks of deep brown hair, and I inhaled the pleasant, familiar scent of cinnamon and apple shampoo. “Mmmmh. Anytime, babe. I love you. And I fuck with the shampoo.”

She giggled against my neck.

“Hehe. Dork. I love you too.”

________________________________________

Things moved fast after that.

After dropping my plate off with Sherrel and her ghostly Pit Crew (her name, not mine), kissing a swamped and overwhelmed Cassie (she nipped my bottom lip for interrupting her), and re-equipping my Pocketspace Boutique with several fresh new outfits, I’d thought I was ready to leave the Palace and finally take on the world. Neither Malcolm nor Rachel was around, Aisha was outside napping beneath Snowcone’s left wing, and the helicopters seemed to have fucked off for the first time since I’d woken up. 

The coast seemed clear.

And then I ran into a wild Sabah.

“Jason! You’re finally awake, hm? That is a relief…” The brown-skinned beauty smiled at me, leaning beside the closed entrance to the Atelier. She was as radiant as ever, long, ass-length black hair pulled back into ornately-twisted braids and her petite, soft body clad in a silky looking white gown that looked like a  mix between sleepwear and a summer’s dress you’d wear on a picnic date. Her feet were bare, sans thick, wooly socks, and she cradled a cup of coffee in her lithe hands.

From beneath the door beside her, I could hear the low, humming drone of machinery emanating from the inside of the workshop, meshing with the odd, high-pitched squeaking of what sounded like a… stuffed animal?

Several stuffed animals, actually. What the hell?

“Sabah,” I greeted warmly, somewhat confused but fully willing to just go with the flow, “Moved in while I was knocked the fuck out, huh? That’s good; Leviathan sorta fucked up our initial plans.”

She hummed, watching me languidly from beneath long, dark lashes. After a slow sip of her steaming beverage, she gave a pleased nod. “I am, too. I was looking forward to moving in - Cassie gave me quite the tour during the party, and I'd already chosen a room before the sirens started. They let me stay the night since my belongings were here, and now…”

The woman shrugged and gestured towards the Atelier with a cool tilt of her head. There was a proud glint in her large, dark eyes, brightening up the rest of her pretty face. “I’ve been getting settled, and inspiration has recently struck me. Would you like to see what I’m working on?”

Sabah is pleased to see you. Sabah is relieved to see you unharmed. Sabah has a surprise for you.

“Sure,” I smiled, giving a casual shrug of my shoulders. “I’m headin’ down to the PRT headquarters in a bit, but I’m down to check out the digs before I fly.”

Her smile grew. “Beautiful. Follow me.”

Sabah pushed off of the wall with a grace and poise that seemed out of place in her thick, woolen socks, but the air outside was a bit nippy today - I couldn’t really blame her for bundling up. As the very respectful and professional leader that I was, I took extra care in avoiding looking at the swaying of her thick hips as she led me into the Atelier, the door seamlessly sliding open upon approach.

And as we walked in, I saw that my earlier insight was more accurate than I’d thought.

“Holy Build-a-Bear, Sabah,” I paused in the doorway, an amused snort unwittingly ripping itself out of my chest. “Fuck kidnapping lil’ kids… You’ve made yourself a teddy bear sweatshop all on your own, huh? That’s one way to save on cash.”

Though her back was to me, I could practice feel her roll her eyes. “Hardy har-har. Your sense of humor is as mature as ever, Jason. Good to see that the fame hasn’t tarnished any of it; the depressing slave worker jokes and terrible dad puns remain one of your more attractive traits to this day.”

“Why, thank you kindly miss! But seriously… Where’d you even get all this stuff?”

Sabah raised an eyebrow, looking entirely unconcerned by the inquiry. “I should be asking you that, Sir Money Bags. The room was stocked full when I arrived at the party yesterday. Though, now that I think about it, Cassie had seemed awfully excited to show me around this workshop. I’d check your business expenses if I were you.”

Riiight. The rest of the team had their own black card connected to Invictus’ Number-Man account. And clearly Cassie had been gearing up in preparation for Sabah’s recruitment. I just hadn’t noticed before because I hadn’t had the time to really sit down and craft anything since I’d made Amy’s staff.

But now, the Atelier had somehow turned into a scene from motherfucking Pal World.

Several large pieces of machinery that I couldn’t really coin at first glance took up the far right side of the room, a respectable distance away from my own little setup on the left. Some of them could’ve been looms, judging by the sheer amount of cloth being pulled and folded over itself by thick metal rods, but others were entirely foreign. Their exact purpose remained a mystery to me, but the small army of animated stuffed animals that flitted around them didn’t seem to have the same problem.

A chubby, winged rabbit in a miniature apron sat perched atop a control panel, jabbing at buttons with stubby little paws while a round-bellied cat - no, a chubby, midget tiger - hauled spools of thread larger than its entire body across the floor. A pair of disturbingly focused-looking teddy bears, one in a tiny beret and the other in what looked suspiciously like a lab coat, scrutinized a pattern laid out on a worktable, nodding along as a third bear, this one with glasses perched on its fuzzy snout, made adjustments with a disproportionately large drafting pen.

The entire scene was a mix between heart-meltingly adorable and deeply, deeply unsettling.

I turned slowly to look at Sabah, who sipped at her coffee with all the unbothered elegance of a queen surveying her domain. “Y’know… I think I’ve seen this horror movie before.”

She smirked - the barest upturn of soft, full lips. “Oh? And how did it end?”

“With the protagonist getting strangled by a fluffy scarf and buried in an unmarked grave beneath a pile of deceptively soft corpses.” I smirked wryly, shooting her a faux, shifty-eyed glare. “I’m just sayin’... If I go missing, start with the bears. I don’t fuck with those empty, beady eyes. Or the lab coats.”

“They would never.” Sabah reached out, running a hand fondly over the head of a passing plushie; a tiny fox with a pincushion strapped to its back. “I control them. Give them directives to follow, sort of. They’re like extensions of me, and I like you. Ergo, they like you. Besides, they’re very productive. You’d be amazed at how much they’ve gotten done in just a few hours.”

One of the teddy bears turned its little round head toward me.

I locked eyes with it.

It waved.

I pointed accusingly. “That one freaks me the fuck out, Sabah.”

A half-amused, half dismissive snort was her only response.

Shaking my head, I took another look at the cluttered room. Stacks of neatly folded t-shirts, sweaters, and other assorted merchandise lined the shelves against the wall, and I could see a large embroidery machine in the process of stitching my own face - grinning, lidded eyes, the whole shebang - onto the center a navy-blue cap. Above it, hanging proudly on a line like a particularly cursed set of laundry, were hoodies emblazoned with stylized images of my own face, starry silver eyes and all. Each and every single one of them had ‘ENDER OF ENDBRINGERS’ written in jagged gold lettering beneath my smirking visage.

“…Are you cashin’ in on the Levi fight? That fast? Shit.”

Sabah didn’t even bother trying to look guilty. “It’s good business. You’re popular. Internationally famous, even, after what you pulled last night. Invictus is a sensation, and people love heroes with a little bit of flair. You’d be surprised how many pre-orders we already have for the new line of merchandise. With all of this new equipment and space, I can really start expanding. I have actual elbow room now.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” I stepped further inside, eyes sweeping over the sheer volume of work being produced. There were even plushies being made of all of us. Not just me, but the entirety of Invictus. I picked one up, turning it over in my hands. It was some sort of romantic piece - with me in the middle, and both Amy and Cassie on either side, their little plushy hands sewn to mine. It was cute, in a weird, unsettling way. A big, cartoonish head. Little sock-puppet arms. I’d been chibified.

Sabah’s low, sensual voice spoke up from my left, sadistic amusement clear in her tone. “You should thank me, really. Cassie was planning to go with something far worse. She wanted little chibi versions of you and Malcolm - sorry, Avalon and Trainwreck - riding Snowcone into battle. I vetoed it, and went for a ‘poly piece’. I doubt she gives up, however."

I groaned, subconsciously raking a hand through my hair. "I don’t even wanna know how she plans to make that actually look cool."

"Oh, she has sketches." Her lips twitched as she nodded towards a nearby worktable. "And Trainwreck has already given his blessing, by the way. He thinks it's hilarious. ‘Gay, but funny’ I think were his exact words."

Of course he said that. The bipolar asshole.

When the fuck did they even get the time to do this shit?

I exhaled. “And how much of a cut am I getting? My face is precious, Sabah.”

She gave me a tiny, wry grin. “Do you want a cut, Jason?”

“Not really.”

“I figured. You’re as gracious as always, but no - a fair percentage will automatically be wired to Invictus’ shared account once I get all of the banking details,” she murmured, before setting her mug down on a nearby table and gesturing for me to follow her deeper into the workshop. “Though, as much as I enjoy discussing our burgeoning empire of capitalism, that’s not why I brought you here. Your new costume-“

“Knew it.”

“-is in a state where I feel comfortable with displaying it to you.” After a very brief moment of hesitation, she gingerly gripped the sleeve of my black turtleneck with her left hand and led me towards the back of the Atelier, where none of the stuffed animals were working. In the shadows, draped over an adult-sized mannequin, was an unfinished ensemble of dark, expensive-looking fabric embroidered with silver and gold. 

It could’ve been some sort of long coat or robe, similar to my previous one, but it had what appeared to be a hood hanging from the back, and sleeves that opened up slightly wider. Beyond that, it was hard to ascertain much detail other than ‘yeah… that looks high quality’.

“Yeah… That looks high quality.”

Sabah narrowed her eyes at me. “Yes. It is. But that isn’t why-... Jason, please. I wanted to get this done for you as a thanks for your financial backing and support, but considering your recent battle, I figured now is as good a time as any to expedite the process. However, seeing as your Infusions are best done in the process of an object being crafted, I figured it would be best if you had a hand in its creation before I finalize the details.”

I scratched my chin as I began circling the mannequin, appreciating the project. “Guessin’ Cassie told you about the Infusions, eh?”

“She tells me a lot of things,” Sabah hummed noncommittally, a sly smile on her lips. “We have very titillating conversations, Jason.”

I huffed appreciatively through my nose. “Hot. ‘Ight, yeah, this is good. And actually really smart. You’ve got the mask and boots and everything?”

She merely gestured, and one of her sweatshop workers - this one a gray-furred bunny rabbit that came up to about chest height - shambled over from one of the shelves. Draped over its forearms was a bundle of materials and accessories - golden clasps that gleamed in the light, calf-high leather boots, a large, overflowing pile of folded black cloth, and resting atop it all, clearly half done but already polished to a gleam, was…

A crown.

Royal gold.

I cleared my throat. “A bit ostentatious, ain’t it?”

“What?” Sabah smiled, folding her arms over her chest. “You don’t like the ostentatiousness? We could always melt it back down and mold it into another half mask. Though, considering what has become Invictus’ symbol, I'd only thought…-“

“Nah,” I cut her off, holding out my hand. The half-finished crown flew smoothly from the pile, alighting over my palm. I stared at my cloudy, warped reflection peering back at me from the shining metal.

There was a big, fuck-off grin on my face.

“I like it. A lot. Me like shiny things.” I turned to look at her, the coppery taste of Chamon making my mouth water in anticipation. The clock-like sigil - a reminder from my battle against Leviathan, not yet reversed by Immutable Form - burned golden against the surface of my tongue, drawing in the Iron Winds with an excitement that challenged my own. "Let's keep it as is, yeah.

Sabah nodded calmly. “Of course. I knew you would like the aesthetics. I can be quite insightful at times.”

“Cocky. What do you need me to do first, o’ Grand Tailor? Consider me yet another sweatshop worker to be used and abused.”

“Mm. Be careful what you consent to, Jason. And let’s start here; the crown is already halfway complete. If you can start heating the metal, I’ll etch the rest of the design work along the edges, and-“

We worked.

It was tiring and complicated, but with Sabah’s guidance and the assistance of my fellow squeaky toy workers, we got it done in only a couple hours. 

Finally, at exactly 12 o’ clock in the afternoon, I made my first public appearance since my battle against Leviathan, wearing my brand new costume.

…

And I was not prepared for the sheer magnitude of the ‘warm welcome’ that I received.

__________________________________________

Perks Received:

Holy Hexes (Konosuba) - Major Erudition Perk

Spells becoming more powerful isn’t just a matter of having more mana, at least not in this world. Upgrading those spells more with Skill Points is usually the main path. At least if you can be bothered, which it seems you’ve skipped past entirely. Magic that you use now scales to your general level of power, regardless of how much points or energy you put into it. 

If you cast a fireball you learnt at level 1, using the same amount of energy, but were a level 80 wizard when you cast it now? You’d be summoning a conflagration that could consume half a town instead of a mid-sized fireball attack. Even things as simple as a low level voice changing spell could become a spell that allows the target to freely make any sound they wanted, rather than just a single different voice. 

You can still expend energy or points to improve spells, provided the spell can be improved in such ways, even more but their base level of power will rise alongside your own general power level.

A/N: So, here we are. The die has been casted.

It took me so long to finish working on this chapter because I wasn't sure how I wanted to handle the Riley situation.

On one hand, Jason absolutely would kill her with only minor hesitation if he had no other choice, but on the other hand, Amy absolutely would not. She doesn't like violence in the first place, and actively tried her best to avoid it for most of her life. Not to mention the parallels between her and Bonesaw. She couldn't make the decision to euthanize her after the fact, and has felt guilty about it ever since. It's a very fucky-wucky situation.

If Jason had been there during the S9 fight, he most-likely would've pulled Bonesaw into his Archway or RM, and killed her away from civilization so that her plagues would not kill anyone. But he wasn't there. And now, with her clearly bound and cleaned of any and all chemical backups, he doesn't wanna straight up execute her.

But he doesn't have to. He has avenues to do the alternative, and bring out Riley. And with his newest perk, it's just gotten easier. Is it completely morally righteous? No. Is it hypocritical? Probably. But Amy already admitted to that, and Jason's logic is clearly there in the story, so if you disagree, I'm sorry. If you agree, then cool. Either way, it is what it is. I didn't want to let this decision freeze the story because I was indecisive.

Anyways, the resolution - he obviously plans to wipe her memories, regress her body back to its pre-Bonesaw state, and drop her off like a magical, sexy stork in a different world where she could have a much happier life and be raised right. This is the smoothest avenue to him, since he'd already planned on jumping worlds for a little bit alone anyway, to get a bit of practice with the Wormholes before he brought his girls with him. Having Riley tagging along in his Inventory or Archway won't change that.

This way, the plot and story continues as it would have otherwise - except he has a parcel to drop off once he stumbles across a suitable world. We won't spend so-and-so amount of chapters focusing entirely on Riley. I know that was a worry some people had, but I have no interest in doing that. Jason isn't a therapist. He really, really isn't. And he won't try to be one. Bro would be horrible, even with Hidden Intuition

The world I have in mind is already decided, by the way. I won't spoil it, but needless to say... it's probably the perfect place. And any little six year old girl would recognize it the instant they saw the first character there. My little sister watched it all the time when she was younger. First one who guesses it gets a cookie.

Now! Long ass A/N aside! Next chapter will PROBABLY be a PHO chapter, since I know a lot of people wanted one. If it IS one, then it will officially be the last one of the story.

First mini world hop will begin Chapter 78. Ideally. I think we all agreed that it'll be My Hero Academia? I'm excited!