The horror ends as soon as Zutiria mutters, “Shaddaswap,” under her whispered breath. The Mage’s eyes twitch from the stress spellcasting brings upon her body, but shortly after the incantation Sam and Meri fall into their shadows. This removes Pimpington’s rapier before he can impale the Princess any further, thank the gods...

Unfortunately for the pimp, his lunge continues on straight into Meri’s tower shield as soon as she emerges from the darkness. She digs her cleats into the golden floor and clenches her eyes as the shield tanks the immense power of Pimpington’s art.

The Shield Maiden’s eyes burn bright with determination and she pushes forward, shouting, “REFLECT!”. The shock on Pimpington’s face is priceless, especially when the blast sends him flying into the nearest wall. He falls face-first down onto a rose bush, just narrowly missing the closest statue.

Meri stands there, triumphantly watching the pimp as he is knocked back once again. Her face is covered in a hundred tiny scratches, some of which are bleeding. Even if she stopped the brunt of the attack, the petals still flew past her guard and scratched her up... still, despite all this, Meri smiles proudly.

I’d congratulate her, but my attention is focused elsewhere. “Sam, are you alright?”

“I’m all good, Daddy!” Sam stands where Meri used to, right in the same defensive pose she was in moments ago. She lowers her pierced sword, and to my relief, the pimp’s attack must not have skewered her too far. The blood isn’t trickling as much as it was. “I wasn’t even scared even when the red stuff splurted out! Aren’t you proud?” She grins a toothy grin, and sweet, emotional reprieve washes over me.

“Yes, Princess. I’m very proud.” I smile at the screen, and Snow clasps my hand with her paw. I let out a sigh and squeeze her soft, fluffy hand back. We share a brief look of mutual satisfaction before focusing back on the display. 

Pimpington pulls himself up yet again, this time looking worse for wear. “This pimp is startin’ to get real tired of that Reflect shit, ya dig?”

I feel daring, so I turn on voice transmission and begin to taunt. “Good, the more pissed you get, the easier these girls can walk circles around you.” 

“...You just got no idea what’s at stake here, Master.” Pimpington scowls and walks out of the rose garden back onto the golden path. “I can’t afford to lose to y’all here and now, not when everythin’ is so close to completion.” The emerald ring on the Pimp’s left hand begins to activate, signaling an oncoming heal.

“Myaster, this will just keep repeating if that ring isn’t taken care of.” The head maid brings up an excellent point, and I nod my head in response.

“Zutiria, I need you to take care of that ring- no matter what.”

The Mage considers my words, her eyes darting off to the Wishing Star dangling from the tip of her staff. ‘No matter what?’ She asks for confirmation.

“No matter what.”

She takes a deep breath and nods. ‘Understood,’ Right as Pimpington begins to raise his hand and heal himself, Zutiria clangs her staff on the golden floor. The golden star fashioned to her staff glows brightly as she says, “Strinshadonette.”

Unlike any other spell she’s cast until now this one changes the entire world around her. Darkness doesn’t just envelop her staff, no. Everything becomes dimmer and darker around the Mage. It’s almost as if her spell devoured the shiny, golden sheen of the room, replacing it with melancholic dreariness.

“What in the name of everlovin’ shit-fuck is this mothafuckin’ vile-ass sorcery...!?” He exclaims, dropping his left hand and putting up his guard in case he has to fend off any new threats. Pimpington’s shadow then begins to shift and rumble behind him.

The party watches Zutiria’s spell manifest. Back at home, all three kitten’s fur starts standing on end. Cherry hisses quietly, and Peri even begins to tremble. While Snow is able to keep her composure, it’s obvious that this magic bothers her just as much. Even just viewing this spell from a display screen feels... wrong. It’s no secret that Zutiria has an affinity for dark magic, but... until now, I’ve never seen any spell as horrifying as this.

An abomination made of shade and umbral blackness emerges from the villain’s shadow. Describing the entity is a difficult task, as at any given moment it shifts and writhes with what little light there is in the room. It has no visible legs with which to stand, instead, the lower half of its body is a spiraling tornado of ethereal darkness not unlike a sort of Djinn. Its head is featureless save for long, many-spiked horns and a pair of staggering red eyes the color of festering hatred. Two long, lanky arms reach outwards with spread claws, giving the demon a dominating stature as it looms overhead.

Sam’s mouth opens wide, the brain magic doing little to hold back the terror in her heart from developing. Meri fares even worse until she decides to not even bother watching anymore and hides behind her shield instead. I don’t blame her.

“Oh, s-shadows dark... and l-long... m... make t-this man... dance to my song...” Zutiria whispers in a strenuous tone, ending the sentence with a might cough from the stress of having to say so many words at once. Although thanks to her Wishing Star she’s able to cast this spell without mana, it does nothing to help her preexisting conditions.

Upon hearing the follow-up incantation, the demon behind Pimpington roars an unearthly roar. It thrusts its spindly, clawed hand over the pimp’s head and begins to mold the room’s darkness to its will. Shadows begin to form in the demon’s palm, soon taking the shape of what looks to be a controller that a puppeteer might use.

“Ah HELL naw! This pimp ain’t stickin’ around fo’ no shady-ass black puppet devil, ya feel me?” Pimpington says while he tries running away from the shadow demon to no avail. Sure enough, inky, jet-black strings fling out from the ends of the structure and attach themselves to the pimp, stopping him dead in his tracks.

“AUGH!” As the threads of darkness pierce his body, Pimpington screeches so unsettlingly loud that it brings to mind a man on a torture rack.

“Hooooooooly shiiiiiiiiiit,” Sam stares, gaping. “Zuzu, I knew you were strong but what the FUCK!?”

“I-Is it over yet...?!” Daring not to look, Meri asks from behind the safety of her barrier.

Zutiria thrusts her hand out towards the pimp and performs a series of motions that are soon after repeated by the shadow demon. It weaves the strings in an intricate motion, forcing the pimp to raise his left hand as well as inflicting a great amount of pain upon him. Soon, the emerald healing ring begins to glow.

‘As I thought. If I just do this... like this... and then do this...’ Zutiria starts thinking aloud and making even more hand gestures which are soon copied by her big friend.

Pimpington points the glowing ring towards Sam and activates the effect. “WAIT WAIT WAIT, AGHHH, FUCKIN’ HELL IS THIS SHIT?!” He screams in protest, but it’s too late.

A green shine envelops the Princess’s body, drawing her gaze down towards the hole in her armor from surprise. “Whoa! The stab wound is gone!” She smirks, suddenly a very happy girl.

“NICE!” Cherry pumps her fists into the air.

Snow smirks and wipes some sweat off of her forehead, “Goodness, nyaa. That Mage of yours really is a clever girl, isn’t she?”

I feel a sense of pride rising up from within me, knowing that that Mage is indeed ‘mine’. “Yes, she really is...”

‘...Hmm. I don’t have much longer.’ Zutiria frowns. ‘Shame, I was enjoying getting to use higher-level magic. It seems for spells that require continuous mana usage such as this, I can’t cast them for longer than my body would normally allow. Not much of a wish come true, but better than nothing.’

“Very much so, but I digress. Get rid of the ring.”

‘Yes, Sir.’

I knew that this large, shadowy monstrosity was too good to be true. Still, it’s refreshing to see a glimpse of the full power of Karnalle’s self-proclaimed strongest Mage, even if only for a moment. I was hoping this spell would last long enough for Zutiria to take off all of Pimpington’s bling rings and throw them across the room at Sam, but that doesn’t sound like a possibility now. Not to mention it’d be bad if he just stole it back...

Instead, Zutiria controls the strings and forces the enemy to take off the healing ring, drop it on the ground, and skewer it with his rapier. Every step of the way the man hesitates and fights against the spell before ultimately caving in. “SHIT, Y-Y’ALL GOT ANY IDEA HOW FUCKIN’ MUCH A STRAIGHT-UP HEALIN’ RING COSTS?!” He winces, but I can’t tell if it’s from the demon’s constant pain or from the loss of such a treasure.

Light returns to the room right after the brilliant green gemstone is shattered. The entity of string and shadow withers back into Pimpington’s shadow, returning to whatever abyssal hell from whence it came. Zutiria suffers no physical drawback from her spell, for once. No doubt that’s the reason she now has a noticeable self-satisfied grin uncharacteristic of her.

Unfortunately, there’s no time to stand around and heap mindless praise on Zutiria. Pimpington isn’t out of it for very long. Despite ragged breath and his limbs shaking with pain, he stands defiantly. “This pimp has always fuckin’ hated the shit out of dark magic,” He grunts and begins approaching the trio with sword in hand. “A man can get used to bein’ on fire, or zapped with lightnin’, and even freezin’ cold... but that mothafuckin’ shadowy shit hurts a man’s soul, ya dig?”

“What soul?” Snow mumbles, eliciting a giggle from Peri.

“He’s starting to wear down, he was counting on that heal. Sam, press forward and get ready to back her up, Meri. We’re slowly getting closer to finishing this.”

Both girls do exactly as I say while Zutiria watches from the back row, ready to cast more support magic as soon as it’s needed. A sense of satisfaction grows within me. Aside from some road bumps, this battle is going better than I imagined. Granted, I’m a pessimist so that’s not exactly saying much.

Everything in my head tells me that there’s no way these three can defeat a gold-ranked adventurer, not even if he’s long past his prime. Still, I believe in them, and I believe in my own ability to guide them to victory.

I still have my observations and misgivings about the current battle, though. What bothers me the most is that while constantly analyzing his body language and expressions, I haven’t noticed a single moment where Pimpington has doubted his chances to win.

As Sam runs off to attack the pimp still mired in dark magic, I hope to myself that his absurd confidence doesn’t actually add up to anything and that it’s all in my head...

PunishedKom

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