Around Eleanor, chaos reigned.

Inside a safe shelter, several merchants who escaped arson and riot were fighting over good exchange.

“Please! I need to exchange all my Accel for goods!” One merchant screamed at another, while hiding from the mobs.

“No way in hell,” the other guy pointed at the raining money from a broken window. “Do you think I am short on Accel?”

One saner woman hiding with them came in with the logical solution, “We need to get out of Eleanor. The news about a mass counterfeiting of Accel probably hasn't spread yet. We can still trade our Accel for more liquids goods.”

The merchant groaned at the raining monies, “What the hell is that idiot Empress thinking? Accel is the world’s sole currency! If the news of this spread out, the banking system across the planet will be affected. It will take forever to filter the real Accel from the counterfeit, if the circulation widens. Is she planning to cause a global price spike by pumping up so much money into the system?”

“Can the bank store the excess Accel, and heighten the interest rate?” the woman asked. “That is economics 101 to deal with this.”

“With what?” the guy snorted. “They need to sell bonds and equity to do that. The debt across the planet will rise with no way to pay it off. The market confidence will crash and burn, if they default on those bogus debts. At that point, we will be eating an economic contraction.”

A little girl beside them was confused.

“Dad,” said the girl. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m sorry,” the merchant comforted the girl. “But you might have to go hungry in the future.”

…

The consequence of raining money wasn’t the only sociological disaster Etaceh had incubated. 

After burning most of Eleanor, the rioters had finally done what every rat does in the fire.

They turned against themselves.

“I am taking this artifact!” A gangly man with more bones than muscle brandished a rusty knife, with a helmet in his hand. “No one — ack!”

A savage seven-years-old leaped at the thin bony man and stabbed him in the neck. He didn’t even pause when he grabbed those pieces of artifacts. The boy didn’t get far, a haggard looking hag and an old man tackled the feral boy down and began choking the kid.

The streets were littered with mutilated bodies as the long oppressed army of the slum’s thieves and whores celebrated their newly gained wealth and freedom and showed why they should get neither. The underbelly of Eleanor had spent the first fifteen minutes of the devastation to kill, rob, and burn everything they had their eyes on. It was like their lives, spent suffering beneath the boot of unfairness and bias law, had been for this very moment. This was the day they had been waiting for — a moment in which the disenfranchised turned against their oppressor and took what was rightfully theirs.

It was the image of every revolution fantasy. The oppressed mass rose against the rich.

But the tale of Robin Hood and uprising was just that — a fantasy glorifying a robber.

No revolution was bloodless. While some idealistic revolution was justified, there was a reason most revolutions ended in a confused clusterfuck primed for another dictatorial takeover. Revolutionaries simply didn’t make good administrators. The few exceptions that created a functioning government afterward often hesitate to declare their independence aloud in fear of making the situation worse. The most successful case of rebelling colonists already formed a continental conference, spread the idea via pamphlets, wrote the declaration of independence before formally moving from armed conflict to full-blown war for a regime change.

It didn’t take the genius to say the poor-to-the-dirt, feral, and brutal slum denizens didn’t operate by the same logic and prudence that created the bed-rock of the strongest among all nations. No, they were selfish, rabid, emotional, and undisciplined. A collection of volatile powder kegs ready to explode once they lost the plot.

Their revolution was a two stages process with no check or balance or a chain of command. The two processes in question?

1) Rob everything and everyone

2) Improvise

Any smart junior school with a fondness for world history could tell you this plan belongs to the strategic-tier of the smartest troglodyte. It was the recipe for a violent mob exploiting the chaos to be stuck with no plan, no solution and too much wealth to manage once there was no one to rob anymore.

And turned against themselves, they had.

Like starving packs of wolves, the slum-rats turned insurgent rioters began praying on each other for gold and shiny jewelry they had looted, ignoring the fires and dangers surrounding them. Blood pooled on the streets as a man with greed filled eyes bashed his childhood friend to death with a brick. He clutched the prize — a bloody fountain pen — above his head with a fanatic crackle. Few feet away three men were beating each other, ignoring the wailing form of a woman who had watched her house go up in flames with her children inside. As the destruction reigned, a few slum-kids, led by a girl who learned a valuable life lesson from a scary lady, called it quits and escaped from the burning wreck with bags stuffed to the brim with food.

These were simply a few selected cases of the chaos brewing across the falling mercenary city. It was a battle that wasn’t worth fighting solely because nothing could be won.

For the battle that could be won…

…

A gaggle of ten men in mixed uniform marched to the half-broken gates to meet their doom with glee.

The collection of men were unified by one thing, loyalty to the beautiful voices in their ears and the promise of salvation it provided. For that voice, they attacked the largest treasure in Eleanor. It was the vital mission given to them but the goddess in the flying city.

However, things weren’t as they expected. The ground stretching to the golden door of the majestic ivory building was littered with corpses and barricades of broken walls. Drunk on the emotion the men ignored the warning signs, and proceeded.

The carnage and fires across the city had marred the surface of the white building, but it was built to last.

The men stepped into the building and met a figure of a black-haired woman in a suit walking to meet them. Around her, on the bank’s marble floor, were piles of bodies. The woman walked forward, and they registered the blindfolded face.

Without a second to spare, darkness erupted from her, cloaking the room in an undecipherable shadow from her artifacts.

The Reaper of the Unity Lord then went to towns, exploiting her familiarity with being completely blinds in the darkness. Surrounded by the dark, three knives flew impaling two men — one in the head and the second man found his kidney and liver dismantled by blade.

A mage of the group lit the room up with Bolt. The red light briefly illuminated the darkness, revealing the blindfolded woman behind him, but that hope was cut short by a meter long blade sprouting from his chest. His body fell to the ground, alerting his friend who swung his sword in panic. An unseen sword quickly decapitated him. Two more men beside him receive a flying knife in the eye.

With six people down, the other four came to their senses, coming together back-to-back to stop this silent assassin from sneaking behind and taking them out one-by-one. They wait in the darkness for the silent assailant to strike.

But they never glanced up to find Hikari falling down with two blades in hand, pirouetting like a blender.

Her blade cut cleanly to the neck of his enemies—a brutal quadra-kill then sent four headless bodies tumbling to the ground. The darkness disappeared, returning vision and the image of ten new bodies joining the number on the floor.

Hikari looked at her two blades, “These are pretty sharp blades, balanced too.” Hikari flipped the duel stiletto. “Caislean, I have a feeling that Ceil didn’t ‘awaken’ these blades.”

From the Residence, Caislean responded.

Caislean: He doesn’t have an idea about what to enhance it with. Do you like the weapons I recommended?

Hikari grinned while walking out of the bank, “You have a superb taste. The throwing blades you recommended were up to the specification I require. I believe Ciel could add some tricks like Mana Poisoning. It is extremely useful against mages.” Hikari admired the twin blade she used. “Hmm, maybe we should add a classic acceleration enhancement. It would be perfect for a blade this maneuverable.”

Caislean: I’m noting your comment right now. Hey, do you mind testing more weapons? Ciel made all of this clutter and Xia lacked the experience to test everything aside from a rapier.

Hikari began lining the bank with explosives she took out from the [Workshop], “I will be happy too. Do we have enough explosives to bury the structure? We don’t want anyone to rob it after I left with everything I need.”

Caislean: Hikari, Ciel did nothing but being paranoid that Etaceh well somehow penetrated the Residence and murdered us in our sleep. We have explosives for days.

It was then that Betty butted in.

Betty: Guys, I am downing another squad of Etaceh men, but they are unending. I don’t think this is productive.

Caislean: Come back to the Residence, Betty. Amy is preparing something for you to eat. It is time to change your shift with Xia.

Betty: What is Ciel doing anyway?

Caislean: Exploiting the marketable opportunity.

…

Apolline looked at what Ciel prepared with a quarter of respect and three-quarter disgust.

“You are a bastard,” she said to the Unity Lord who had appeared out of the crack in the air.

“I agreed,” Ciel said. “But it is this, or Etaceh walked out scot-free. Plus, I’m not killing anyone, right?”

It was then Betty appeared from the crack in the air swapping for Xia who delved into a search and destroy mission in the burning Eleanor. She absorbed what she saw in awe and horror.

“Oh my god,” Betty stared at the set-up in awe. “This is outrageous.”

What Betty saw was an open air tent guarded by troops of Eleanor with several hundred chairs. The entire Montgomery military was occupying Eleanor’s harbor and all its sea-faring vessels. A massive temporary forge, something Ciel bought to support his hobby, was heating to prepare for the massive forging party.

Betty turned toward Ciel, “Are you serious?”

“We need to stimulate trade to empower Borbonsi,” Ciel said. “And here come the costumer…”

Right on cue, the first wave of the panicked citizen of Eleanor — merchant, tourist and mercenary — arrived. Men, women, and children—some with slaves and servant in tow—met the flabbergasting image of their only salvation away from the burning hellscape being occupied.

“What?” A portly man with a curly mustache said.

It was then that Ciel flexed his talking-skill.

“Ladies and Gents,” the Unity Lord addressed the crowd. “I’m incredibly sorry to inform you. We have been running into transportation problems. Fortunately, our friend from Montgomery is here to help, but these are war vessels, not transportation ships. It is tragic, but we couldn’t rescue every one of you from the mobs that would soon arrive to drink your blood and feast on your property. However, we have good news.”

Ciel smiled sweetly at the desperate merchant.

“We are in Eleanor. Here everything can happen given the right price! How much are you willing to pay for your survival? My friends. There are no good options at the moment. Would you rather trust Etaceh to be merciful with her track record of — I don’t know — murdering nobles to appease the unappealable masses, planting mind-control device and stealing people properties like your nation.”

Ciel let the message sink in, trying to ignore Betty glared, and the worried look of his ‘customer.’

“Or you can accept my hospitality and celebrate the fall of this nation with a bang like it always should be,” Ciel raised his voice. “With the protection from the trained and skilled contributor of Montgomery’s very own Red Archangel Apolline, I — Ciel of the Lord — in place of my old buddy Borbonsi, the Lord of Onren, opted to celebrate the closing end of this fair nation with a bang.” Ciel said, ignoring the Eleanor burning in front of him. “Gentleman, ladies welcome to Eleanor’s final trade festival.”

A pause.

“““A What?”””

No one could believe their ears, nor the audacity of this man.