Campione 06 Page 2

  "Hello Annie. Come to think of it, we haven't met recently."

  "That is because I went away on a trip, and only returned yesterday."

  Annie Charlton spoke with her usual stiff expression.

  She was Professor West's research assistant, a Caucasian graduate student with vibrant red hair that appeared as if on fire and cut in a short refreshing style. This was one of her most memorable features, as well as her women's suit in black.

  "A trip... How enviable, did you have fun?"

  "Well enough, there were some good and bad things. In terms of a cost/income ratio, probably break-even exactly, so it was not especially fun."

  In response to Jack's casual conversation, Annie's reply was especially stiff.

  A cool beauty akin to an ice sculpture, she was rational, calm, reserved, extremely observant, and possessed an air of intellect and upbringing. If only she had some gentle feminine charm, she would be completely perfect. Regrettably, God did not prepare such a gift for her.

  She was the woman regarded as beautiful and reliable, but completely removed from the description of "cute."

  "I'm sorry, I have to go now, there's a full schedule."

  "Is that so? My apologies for taking up your time."

  It was going to get busy. Hearing Jack cut the conversation short, Annie lightly shrugged her shoulders and answered without raising an eyebrow, adding:

  "Let us have a good chat another time. If you are free, I do hope you can make time for it."

  "Got it, let us chat again then."

  Jack replied wryly, for her social awkwardness was a little strange.

  Though she did not act like the passionate and forthcoming American stereotype, Annie Charlton was definitely not lacking in emotions. She just wasn't good at expressing them.

  Bidding goodbye to the research assistant he met by chance, Jack walked over to his beloved car.

  By the way, Annie's workplace currently had a "barrier," though Jack wanted to warn her, he discarded the notion -- it would take too long to explain.

  As soon as Jack got in his car, he totally forgot about her.

  Part 3

  In the end, the trump card did not accomplish its intended purpose.

  Disheartened, Jack stared at the ritual under way.

  As the sun set, night had descended. The full moon was occupying a position high in the sky slightly to the west.

  On the decks of the luxurious passenger ship docked at the pier of Long Beach, there were around fifty people of both genders and all ages dressed in exotic costumes, reminding one of the Venice Carnival.

  --No, everyone had arrived.

  Wearing all sorts of suits, capes, hats or wraps, it was like an anachronistic fashion show.

  They also wore masks that only showed the eyes, with all sorts of intricate masks.

  This was not a costume party held on a whim by a group of leisurely gentlemen and ladies. They were all sorcerers belonging to [King of Flies], demons gathered here for the revival of the divine ancestor Asherah.

  However, virtually all of them were critically injured and covered with blood, on their last dying breaths.

  ...Going back to the events that happened an hour ago.

  Under the cover of this evening banquet that seemed like a joke, the sorcerers had gathered together, laying the sleeping coffin of the divine ancestor in the center, waiting for the ritual to begin when the moon reached the peak of the sky.

  Tonight, no one on the ship was an ordinary person. All crew and staff were members of the [King of Flies].

  Except one. Jack Milburn had disguised himself, wearing a black cape and a tuxedo with a mask.

  "Gods granting us protection, pray bestow your blessing to our queen!"

  "Gods granting us protection, pray bestow your blessing to our queen!"

  Forming a circle, everyone was chanting some strange incantation, immersed in the ritual of sorcery.

  Jack showed a displeased expression and mouthed responses along with them.

  Though he had never received any training, his aptitude in magic allowed him to sense that magical power was increasing. It was almost time. Thanks to his thick cape, concealing the magic gun was not an issue.

  The lack of a body search made Jack feel less tense.

  Feeling the magic gun under his cape, he muttered the words to himself: "by this good fortune, pray grant me your blessing." Its effects were instant, immediately negating all magic in the area, causing the ritual to halt in failure.

  However, the sorcerers then said:

  --It failed.

  --If this continues, we have failed the divine ancestor. What shall we do?

  --If we wait for the next full moon to attempt the regeneration ceremony again, how will the revived divine ancestor punish our failures?

  --I think we have no choice. Yes, then the answer is clear.

  --Ok, let's do that, if the moon is only slightly off, we can solve this with our bodies.

  "Gods granting us protection, pray bestow your blessing to our queen!"

  The sorcerers' ritual began once again.

  What were they planning? The one who was not a sorcerer, Jack's question was immediately answered.

  A cult follower's head exploded suddenly.

  Blood, flesh, skin, brains, bones, and bodily fluids were sent flying everywhere, splattering all over the deck and the other members.

  "Gods granting us protection, pray bestow your blessing to our queen!"

  However, the group chanting did not stop, and another explosion occurred.

  A follower's hands, another's abdomen, the neck of the one beside him, the cult members fell down in turn with a series of body part explosions.

  Dead without a doubt, there was no need to even check. Jack was completely certain.

  "Gods granting us protection, pray bestow your blessing to our queen!"

  Yet another died. So that's what they meant by solving with their bodies!

  At this time, the coffin opened with a creak. It seemed like it was opened from inside.

  "I am the heavens. Thou, tremblest before me! I am the earth. Thou, cursest me!"

  From within the coffin, a young brown-haired girl stood up.

  Her age definitely no more than ten and a half, she had a beautiful face like an angel.

  "Enlil[2] be my head, and the light of the midday be my face!"

  The young girl chanted the holy verses loud and clearly.

  A voice crisp as the ringing of a bell and full of seduction, somehow it gave Jack a sense of discomfort with goosebumps.

  "My protector is the incomparable goddess Uras[3]! My neck wears the necklace of the goddess Ninlil[4]!"

  The embodiment of tender immature beauty, her eyes were turning vicious, however.

  It could be described as a savage countenance, for that gaze and facial expression looked as if she was about to tear apart everything within her sight.

  "My hands are the scythes of the moon shining in the western sky! My fingers are the willow branches formed from the bones of the revered gods."

  The young girl took off the red robe she was wearing.

  Her naked skin completely laid bare, the thin and small torso did not carry an ounce of fat, and the body was also lacking in exquisite curves. However, this emphasized its beauty -- the sort akin to unripened fruit, an innocent and undeveloped beauty that is lost to mature women.

  But what caught Jack's eye most of all were the wounds carved all over the young girl's body.

  Upon the white complexion of her back, chest, abdomen, waist, legs and neck.

  As if her skin had been stretched by some external force, leaving behind what appeared to be burns, there were red and black wounds distributed all over the body.

  Pus was continually seeping out from the bloody wounds, and the sight alone made one feel painful.

  Clearly the red stains on the robe the girl took off, must have been the result of this blood.

  "Gods granting us prote
ction, pray drive out the demonic curse in this body! O Lugal Edinnu[5], O La-Tarak[6], ye be my chest and knees! O stars of the constellations[7], grant unto me strong and healthy legs!"

  The frightful voice of the lovely young girl resounded through the sky.

  She was the master of the ritual, she was the ruler, she was the head of the [King of Flies], the divine ancestor Asherah!

  "Gods granting us protection, pray bestow your blessing to our queen!"

  In coordination with Asherah's sacred words, the people surrounding her chanted quietly.

  Praying in unison, the people gathered here, their faith and piety were completely flawless.

  But the object of their faith was the witch bringing disaster, and the precepts they offered themselves to were those of an evil cult. Such actions of faith could only be described as anti-establishment.

  The believers fell one after another, dying in succession.

  "Gods granting us protection, pray bestow your blessing to our queen!"

  The group chanting never stopped. With each new explosion, one more person died.

  Standing in the center, Asherah's wounds were healed one by one as each believer exploded.

  The red and black scars gradually lessened, the pus-oozing skin recovered, and the bleeding stopped. In what seemed like an instant, the majority of the wounds on the witch's body had disappeared, other than on her back. Her pure white complexion was so pristine that it could reflect the silvery moonlight. By this point, only three or four surviving believers remained.

  Jack made his decision. Since things have come to this, his only choice was to defeat Asherah personally and then leave.

  He pulled out his concealed automatic pistol.

  From roughly ten meters away from Asherah, he aimed and fired at the abdomen, followed by the right leg and left leg. All the bullets reached their targets, but no harm was done!

  This witch could not be hurt by guns alone!?

  "I was thinking what kind of stray wandered into here, but it's you. I remember you as the dog of John Pluto Smith."

  One vicious glare from her shattered Jack's mask. The horrifying feeling carried in her cute voice made Jack feel like his internal organs were frozen.

  "Servants, offer me your lives! This is an order!"

  Asherah commanded her believers as she stared at Jack with eyes of despise as if looking at worthless rubbish.

  The remaining believers instantly exploded all at once. Heads, bodies, and limbs were blown to smithereens, spattering the area with blood and the stench of death.

  --That's right, the witch's small body no longer had any wounds, and was completely healed.

  Asherah had revived in splendor.

  She was the ruler of these dismembered corpses scattered all around, as well as the witch of this blood-stained space. This was the embodiment of death and violent abuse. In front of her, Jack Milburn was just an insignificant and powerless flunkie, without a single chance of victory.

  Jack threw his gun onto the deck. Even in this kind of hopeless situation, he did not abandon his last and only hope. Reaching under his cape, he pulled out a revolver from the holster on his back.

  The steel-colored magic gun, the bow used to fire the black-clad hero's magic bullets. Jack aimed the muzzle at the witch.

  "Oh, you still wish to struggle? But what kind of trick can you pull out?"

  Asherah's vicious face showed a twisted smile.

  She considered the magic gun aimed at her completely harmless.

  "I know very well, that ugly lump of steel is the toy used by John Pluto Smith, and not something that could be used by the likes of you, get a clue!"

  Seeing the relic of the deceased hero before her, the witch could not help but jeer.

  "This chunk of metal does not shoot lead bullets. It is the rare artifact specially created for firing the magic arrows John Pluto Smith usurped from the moon goddess Artemis. It would be different for a [King] of his level... But trash like you won't even be able to pull the trigger!"

  Asherah's mockery was perfectly reasonable.

  He had already tried many times, but no matter how hard Jack pulled, the hammer did not budge at all. However, this was the only weapon left that could damage the inhuman witch.

  Accompanying his prayers, the hammer finally cocked, and the trigger was depressed.

  Unlike a normal muzzle flash, what fired out was a bright light similar to blue-white lightning.

  The bright flash transformed into a blue dragon of light, piercing the divine ancestor Asherah through the bottom of one of her tiny breasts, exiting her back and ascending into the center of the heavens.

  Jack watched in shock at what took place before him.

  Success was completely unexpected, for he was just struggling and gambling without hope. Just as Asherah pointed out, this magic gun was not a tool that Jack could use.

  "--Ugh! Impossible, how could this...!?"

  Vomiting blood, Asherah roared in pain. Yes, how?

  Clack clack clack clack. This was a very familiar sound. Clack clack clack clack. The sound of metal tipped boots striking the ground, those distinctive footsteps were approaching.

  It was the man with no sense of timing, who always appeared at the climax, the casual footsteps of the latecomer.

  Every time Jack heard these footsteps he would wonder. Clearly tardy, but never displaying any embarrassment, a complete lack of frantic haste, the leisurely footsteps of that man.

  "Impossible...! How, how could you be here!?"

  "What a pointless question. Aren't you people the ones who call me Pluto the king of the underworld?"

  With an elegant tenor voice, he refuted Asherah's question.

  Concealing his face was a mask made from black armor. Like the safety helmet of a racecar driver's, the visor was like the compound eyes of an insect.

  "Could it be that you assumed that I was defeated in the last battle? If that's the case, you underestimate me. As the king of the underworld, I do have to visit home once every now and then, oh?"

  Fluttering his black cape like a vampire, he approached slowly.

  Beneath the cape, he was dressed like an early modern European aristocrat in courtly attire, in a high class blue-themed outfit.

  The elegance of his every move, reminded one of an experienced theatrical actor, but his height was not that impressive, and his figure was rather slender.

  "Even if I died and visited the underworld, one day I will return to the earth. This is a law of nature, and if you can't even predict that, divine ancestor Asherah, you are too foolish. The cause of your defeat is your own stupidity."

  "Mmmm--! Damn John Pluto Smith! You detestable god-slayer!"

  The powerful witch glared menacingly at the masked aristocrat.

  It was true, his name was John Pluto Smith after all.

  "It's great to see you in such fine spirits, Jack. Have you finally taken an interest in my beloved attire? This is cause for celebration."

  The black mask vibrated from his smile.

  John Pluto's sight was now drawn to the black cape and tuxedo worn by Jack. Standing beside him in such attire, it was really like a costume ball.

  "Let me make myself clear, I don't share your interest in costume play. Don't compare me to your pathological interest in dressing up. I only did it because I had no other way to slip in here undetected!"

  "In that case, then let tonight be the first step in cultivating such an interest!"

  He was smiling happily on the deck of this luxurious passenger ship, where dead bodies were strewn everywhere.

  Bathed under the light of the full moon, the glamorous hero showed off his handsome appearance to all around.

  There was no other lead in the spotlight apart from him. Even the fearful existence of Asherah was nothing in the presence of John Pluto Smith.

  "Listen well, Jack, tonight we are the victors, the joint victory of we who share similar tastes, should we not have a great celebration together?" br />
  Jack couldn't help but be perplexed by John Pluto's victory declaration.

  "Victory? Smith, don't be careless. The battle is not over yet!"

  "It's over... Am I right, Asherah?"

  He turned to face the otherworldly witch with his visor.

  Despite having her heart pierced by the flash of light from the magic gun, Asherah was still alive.

  However, she looked like she did not even have the strength to stand. Kneeling upon the deck, massive amounts of blood were flowing from the giant hole in her chest. Though coughing blood nonstop, she was alive.

  The bloodshot eyes of the witch, cursed frightfully at the black mask.

  "This gun is a tool existing only to shoot my power. If I am not present, it is a useless piece of metal as you say. However, as long as I am near and activate my authority, other shooters can use it."

  So that was the reason, which was why Jack could pull the trigger just now.

  Hearing his friend's explanation, Jack finally understood.

  "Due to my absence, you were carelessly hit by Artemis' arrow. Even for the Heretic Snake, you cannot reverse the tides of battle at this point. It is our victory."

  The immensely powerful magic gun did have its restrictions.

  Its ammunition was refilled only once a lunar cycle, and could only be fired six times each month.

  On the other hand, it was extremely powerful. A bullet fired from this magic gun, transformed into an ascending blue dragon of light, penetrating buildings, vaporizing thick rock, and could even reshape landscape.

  The trajectory could be controlled by the shooter's will to chase after enemies. According to rumors, if the power of all six bullets was concentrated and compressed, much greater firepower could be produced.

  As implied by the name of the magic gun, it was like a weapon of demons.

  "Jack... Actually I already returned to Los Angeles a few hours ago, and I found out about your plan. Though I could have stopped you, I had to observe silently in anticipation of this development."

  "What did you say? Smith, you keep treating others like tools --"

  "What a heart-breaking assessment. I truly believe in my friends, that is why I entrusted my hopes to you... That is how you should interpret things."

  What outrageous words, Smith's style was like a reckless gambler, everything goes as long as there was a happy ending.