8. Nonlethal

“Hold on, you two! We don’t have the time to take this slow!”

Aurora and Veritas both give me firm nods, their wrists clasped with mine, and I lift into the air as fast as I can without hurting their shoulders. We rapidly rise into the air above the alleyway we exited base from, each of them holding onto me with one hand and keeping their mask in place with the other.

As relatively new magical girls, the two of them haven’t learned how to manage their emotions well enough for sustained, long-term spellcasting, and that includes maintaining their transformed selves. It’s dangerous and irresponsible to wait until a fight starts to transform, but as young as they are, they don’t have a choice. My girls are strongest in the moments immediately following their transformation, and we cannot afford anything less than their absolute best.

I am extremely unhappy about this mission, but worse than that, Uma’tama didn’t look happy about it either. It can be a bit hard to read the Preservers sometimes, but Uma has been with me since I was first chosen. During the briefing they were tense, uncomfortable, disapproving. They don’t want us to go on this mission any more than I do, but something is forcing their hand.

I know exactly what that means. It means this is the kind of mission that gets girls killed.

Fear hammers in my chest. They’ll die. They’ll die. They’ll die, they’ll die, they’ll die. I’m not a leader, I’m not a good teammate, I’m going to fail these girls and they are going to die. I hold onto the panic, focus on it, let it permeate my thoughts and power my will. There’s a trick to it, really. Lean into the spiral of panic like blowing warm air over an inferno, but soak up just enough of it as power to not let it overwhelm your thoughts. I channel the fear, believe its truth, and use my terror to focus ever harder on its source: the need to keep my team alive.

I’ll fail someday. It will probably be today. How can I stop it?

That’s the thing about using emotions as a power source. They are limitless. Emotions tend to build on themselves—especially negative emotions—so that the more you fear, the more you fear. And the more you rage, the more you rage. Emotions are created ex nihilo, spitting in the face of entropy as they pop arbitrarily into existence from fertile patches of the mind, where they themselves are their own fertilizer. It’s incredible, but that is also their largest weakness.

I consume my emotions to cast. When I transform, when I attack, when I fly, I am perpetually making myself less afraid. And if fear is the fertilizer of fear, what happens when I use it all up? It’s certainly not impossible to simply feel more fear anyway and restart the process, but the momentum gets lost. It takes time to build up that spiral of panic again, and all the while you’re still trying to use it, to consume the sparks before they can turn into flames. Both letting yourself feel an emotion too strongly and not letting yourself feel it strongly enough are fatal mistakes in battle, and that’s not even considering how the battle itself is going to be constantly messing with how you feel.

“Minerva,” a voice in my ear rings out. “Can you hear me?”

“Loud and clear, Uma,” I answer, keeping my eyes forward as we rush over the rooftops towards our target.

“We have finished our perusal of the archives,” Uma’tama tells me. “As we suspected, there is nothing. There is no record of the Antipathy possessing an artifact of that nature.”

“What does that mean, exactly?” I ask.

“Very little, but none of it good,” Uma’tama answers. “Effectively, it means it was developed around a similar time to the great execration, at the height of the Antipathy’s hatred. It was almost certainly built for war, though never fielded.”

“Alternate theory,” I say. “It was fielded, and there were simply no surviving witnesses.”

“…It is not impossible,” Uma’tama admits. “We fear the extent of your pessimism, Minerva.”

“It keeps me alive,” I tell her. “So we’re potentially dealing with something on par with whatever artifact caused the shattering of the Dark World?”

“In power? Not necessarily,” Uma’tama says. “In malice, however? Almost certainly. You face a weapon made not to end suffering, but to cause as much as physically possible. The how or why, we do not know. Please be careful.”

“I will, Uma.”

“I mean it,” she presses. “Come back safe, Minerva. Promise me.”

“…Okay, I promise,” I lie. A promise like that could never be anything but a lie. “If things get too hot, I’ll pull everyone out. Worst case scenario, we gather some information and have to retreat.”

“Thank you, Minerva,” Uma’tama sighs. “We will attempt to secure you backup. In the event of an emergency, we will contact Castalia.”

“Don’t,” I say firmly. “She’s earned her rest.”

“You all have,” Uma’tama insists. “And both we and she would want you to make it back to have yours.”

Then they hang up on me, leaving my instinctive protest with nowhere to go but a scowl.

“Any intel?” Aurora asks, her voice loud to combat the rushing wind.

“No,” I answer. “Our target is an unknown. Fight defensively and try to lure it away from the Dark Worlders.”

“The Witches of Darkness!” Aurora insists. “They’re the Witches of Darkness!”

“They’re the Monster Queens,” Veritas grunts.

“Okay, so fight defensively and try to lure the artifact away from the Monster Queens of Darkness,” I say, unable to completely hide my smirk. “And rather than arguing with me on how to title our enemies, you should both be focusing your mind on your color.”

“I’m blue da ba dee da ba di—”

“Veritas,” I snap. “Listen to me.”

She shuts up.

“This is not a mission in the liminal space,” I tell my team. “This is not a fight against a bumbling billionaire who happened to nab some basic Antipathy tech on the black market. This is easily the most complicated and dangerous artifact that either of you have ever encountered, and the ones using it are exceptionally dangerous mages in their own right. If either of you disobey my orders for even a second, you will be running drills until you forget what week it is. Am I clear?”

I feel them both shudder in my grip, followed by a pair of weak calls of “yes, Minerva.” Hopefully that will hold back Veritas’ disobedient streak long enough to get them both out alive.

I’m focusing too much on survival. The problem with fear casting is that I keep forgetting to think about how to actually WIN.

I shake my head in irritation at the thought. Surviving is the first step to winning. And I certainly don’t win if Veritas or Aurora are dead or gravely injured, even if we capture the artifact.

The first step isn’t enough. Yes, survival is important. Obviously. Plan beyond it. Have backup plans. THINK.

Think. Right. Unfortunately, I’m not sure what sort of plans I can make. Aurora and Veritas have been drilled on their formations and how to support each other in a fight; anything more complicated than that isn’t likely to be within their ability without prior practice. Moreover, while they have significant experience fighting on rooftops because of city-based liminal zones, they don’t have much experience fighting on Earth, in situations where civilians are likely to be nearby and in the way.

They will need to get that experience, but I wish it wasn’t in a situation as volatile as this. And that’s the problem, isn’t it? I can’t make plans because the situation is too volatile. I don’t know the degree to which Anath and the other monster woman will be in the fight. I don’t know what the artifact we are after is capable of. I have barely seen it fight, but it seemed fully capable of outmaneuvering and overpowering Veritas. I have no idea if adding Aurora and myself will change that equation. I don’t think I’ve seen anywhere close to the artifact’s full capabilities.

There isn’t really any time to think about it anyway. Off in the distance, I see them. The once-human monsters and the artifact. I have no doubt that means the artifact sees us, too.

“Prepare to transform!” I shout, though I have no doubt that it’s somewhat redundant to say. My girls know how this works.

Anath appears to be lying unconscious on her back, her companion kneeling over her to cast a healing spell. Healing is not and has never been my forte; as much as the idea of being on a team absolutely terrifies me (not to mention leading the team) it is nice to work with someone who can do it, even given healing magic’s countless limitations.

Aurora is our team’s healer, as most yellow mages tend to have some skill with that kind of spell. In fact, I would be surprised if there are any magical girls with love as their primary emotion who can’t excel at healing magic. The emotion you burn to create mana greatly influences the effectiveness, capabilities, and extraneous elements of a spell. There’s nothing more inherently effective than burning your love for someone as fuel to heal them. Love is one of the most difficult emotions to generate, but it is also one of the most difficult emotions to run out of. It’s ideal for healing in countless ways.

Anger, conversely, is horrible at it. I know that firsthand. And yet I watch as a red circle hums around the healer’s inhuman arm, pushing power into Anath’s mangled body. How? How does she do it? What sort of magical secrets have these dark witches—or whatever they are—teased out of the corpse of the Antipathy? How are they so strong?

A fresh flash of fear pulses through me as I recall my fight against Anath, most of it feeling muddy and indistinct except for the moment of sheer terror immediately preceding my escape from the artifact’s grasp. My desperate leap off its body, twisting through the air as I aimed Fulgora’s staff like it was my rifle. It was like I had completely forgotten which body I was in, completely forgotten which weapon I was holding in my hands, because the rush of fear was so potent I couldn’t imagine being anything but Minerva. Anath has attacked me close to a dozen times over the past year or so, but she’s never fought this hard before. I never knew she could. I always considered her somewhat of a nuisance, bothering me by making empty threats that I had no choice but to respond to so she could presumably get her kicks having her butt kicked over and over. Today, she proved willing and able to bring us both to the brink of death, and I have no idea why she never showed that power before, nor why she chose to show it now.

If that red-aligned healer has been similarly holding back, we are officially on a time limit that ends the moment she finishes healing. We haven’t fought her much beyond quick skirmishes that she retreats from, but the ease with which she escapes doesn’t give me confidence about beating her while she has her back to a wall.

No time to think about it now. We’re close, close enough that I have to think about where to throw. The monsters ignore us while the artifact stares right at us, waiting as it always does for us to make the first move. Again, never acting, only reacting.

To capture it, we’re going to have to take advantage of that.

“Veritas, hornet! Aurora, barrage! Box it in and take it down hard!”

I shout my orders and toss my girls with all my might, aiming Veritas straight at our target while directing Aurora to an adjacent rooftop where she can better take advantage of her range. The moment I let go, they both engage their transformations.

“Bʏ Mʏ Rᴇsᴏʟᴠᴇ!”
“¡Lᴀs Pʀᴏᴛᴇɢᴇʀᴇ́!”

The artifact reacts immediately, thrusters emerging from the back of its frame.

“Hᴏɴᴏʀɪɴɢ Vᴀɴɢᴜᴀʀᴅ Dᴇғᴇɴᴅᴇʀ Vᴇʀɪᴛᴀs!”
“Lᴏᴠɪɴɢ Sᴀᴠɪᴏʀ Pʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛᴏʀ Aᴜʀᴏʀᴀ!”

And though I’ve already transformed, a pulse of sympathetic resonance compels me to match their words as their leader.

“Bʀᴀᴠᴇ Pʀɪɴᴄᴇss Dᴜᴛɪғᴜʟ Mɪɴᴇʀᴠᴀ! Earth Guardians, engage hard and fast!”

As I speak the words, I’m already summoning my incarnate weapon and moving to track a bead on the artifact. Before I can fire a shot, though, its thrusters ignite, launching it slightly to the side and then rapidly bursting it directly towards Veritas. Its jump takes it on a path to not only collide with her in midair, but to knock her towards where Aurora is about to land. I fire off a quick beam to intercept it in midair, but I don’t have time to make it powerful enough to knock the artifact off course. Veritas fails to summon her weapons in time, and the artifact wraps an arm around her shoulders and yanks her in the direction it wants her to go.

Without anything to brace against, Veritas stands no chance at resisting the force of a rocket-powered hunk of humanoid metal. She manages to slip away before the artifact can get a firm grip on her, but she still tumbles onto the roof next to Aurora, rolling once before managing to get back to her feet and summon her weapons.

I think the artifact’s intention might have been to try and throw Veritas into Aurora, but Aurora is quick and already retreating to a better position by the time Veritas hits the roof. Her own fist weapons are summoned and ready, the glowing orbs they remotely control already launching towards the artifact to strike. It weaves between them, narrowly avoiding damage while Veritas charges forward to follow up.

Throughout it all, I keep one eye on the monster women. The healer isn’t even looking at us, all of her focus seemingly on keeping Anath alive. Good, that’s exactly what we were hoping for. Now we just have to do this fast.

I level my weapon and start charging energy, flying to a spot above the battle as fast as I can move without disrupting my aim. The artifact responds immediately, twisting to keep itself out of my line of fire in the same movement it uses to avoid Veritas’ thrust, keeping Veritas between itself and me. As I thought, it’s the exact same strategy that it used the first time we fought. I adjust my aim to track it and it moves accordingly, as if my gun had a laser sight and it was fleeing from the dot. It can just see exactly where I’m aiming, from the opposite end of the barrel, and move to avoid that spot. It’s exceptionally impressive.

And naive.

“Fᴜʟᴍɪɴᴀɴᴛ…!”

I speak the first word of my spell slowly, leisurely, taking time to prepare my shot. I’m floating high above the battlefield, positioning myself almost directly above our target, around fifty to sixty feet up. The artifact can’t try to hide behind my girls without grabbing them and lifting them up like an umbrella, and Veritas is keeping her temper in check and refusing to give the artifact an opportunity. I adjust my aim left, and the artifact moves right. I adjust my aim right, and the artifact moves left.

If I miss, I could hit Veritas. I’d never forgive myself. It’s a terrifying thought, and I pour it and countless others into the spell, the artifact once again moving to dodge. Not that I’ll let it.

It might be fast, but it’s not faster than lightning. If it wants to dodge, it has to do so preemptively, but no degree of precision of movement can let it outmaneuver my gun. I only need to make tiny adjustments to my aim in order to substantially alter the ultimate trajectory of the attack, and I can slightly twitch my arms until its attempted dodge inevitably intersects with my target line.

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I don’t even have to predict it. It might be able to react instantly, but it can’t move instantly. The moment it overcommits, I speak the final word of the spell and let the lightning crash down.

“Tʜᴜɴᴅᴇʀ!”

It’s a satisfying direct hit, and against any normal opponent I would be happily celebrating a victory right now. Unfortunately, today is clearly not a day of normal opponents. The lightning strikes hard, full of my magical intent to harm just as much as it is of electricity, but the attack still falls across its frame like water, forcibly dispersed by some kind of shield despite no evidence of a spell being cast. There isn’t even any visual sign of damage, but I just put the fear that this battle is hopeless directly back into another spell.

We are going to capture this thing. We can’t let the Dark Worlders use it for whatever horrible scheme they’re cooking up next.

My power reserves are down to 17%. This is starting to make me a little nervous.

I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be fighting these children. I don’t want to be fighting any magical girls, but the fact that they’re little kids is an extra kick in the tit. I have never been great with kids, but I do like them. I babysat for my neighbors in high school a little. Their twins would run circles around me, leaving me exhausted by the time their parents finally got home. This is kind of starting to remind me of that, except that the children are actually trying to kill me and the longer this goes on, the more I start to feel the urge to respond in kind.

I don’t want to hurt them. I don’t. But I physically, literally cannot allow them to get closer to Nanaya. This isn’t the sort of weak compulsion that’s open to my personal interpretation. I have witnessed Melpomene express deep trust in Nanaya, I know for a fact that Melpomene would want her allies to be safe, and I cannot convince myself that my desire not to harm these children is in any way more in line with my master’s wishes than my need to disable their ability to harm us.

And that’s fucked up, isn’t it? It’s so depressing that I would definitely be giving myself a net increase in power during this fight if not for the damn lightning bolts. No matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to avoid them. I might be able to react in slow motion, but I have to commit to my reactions in ways that the flying artillery child simply doesn’t. She’s good. Really good. A way bigger problem than her two allies. She keeps adjusting her aim in ways that force me to move into bad positions, enabling her teammates to score glancing blows that wear me down whenever I try to dodge. But if I don’t dodge, she just shoots me with a lightning bolt! How am I supposed to—

Assuming I minimize thruster output and continue avoiding damage from most other sources, target three (‘Minerva’) will reduce my power reserves to zero in less than two minutes. It is unknown if this will be enough time to heal Anath, but the affirmative cannot be assumed. The answer to the question ‘how am I supposed to stop these children without hurting any of them’ is ‘I can’t.’