Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Milaarc had been acting rather unusually these past few days.

At first, Vanessa assumed Millaarc was just going through it, so to speak. It was no doubt the stress of the current situation, which… well, Vanessa couldn’t blame her one bit; it was unendingly stressful. Hunted down by the Symphogear adapters, the agonies that Fudo Kazanari had dragged them through just so they could live… it would weigh on anyone. Milaarc had been incredibly vocal about just how ‘bullshit’ it was.

At least, that was until they entered the Château du Tiffauges for the first time, well in advance of the day they were to take Hibiki Tachibana’s… girlfriend? to the massive structure. If they were to make this scheme of Kazanari’s work, they needed to scout the place out—find anything that might be used against them.

All that Vanessa and Elsa had found was a crumbling ruin and the ‘bodies’ of multiple Auto-Scorers. Not the most… pleasant thing, but nothing that would set their plans awry.

Millaarc had wandered off, her curiosity piqued by something in one of the Château's many chambers.

When she returned, all she had found was—in her words— ‘a sick-ass cloak.’ It was rather striking; red and black, with far more detailed patterning than the one that Tsubasa Kazanari and her friends had destroyed in one of their recent bouts. A red gem hung from the set of tassels that tied both sides of the cloak together, glimmering in the shadows of the Château.

Certainly, she was welcome to her novelties. Millaarc was always one to get excited about fashion, not that Vanessa nor Elsa were in much position to try to accessorize as much as she did. In any case, anything that made Millaarc smile was more than welcome in Vanessa’s book.

She should have told her to put the cloak back where she found it.

She shouldn’t have allowed Millaarc to leave her sight—or Elsa’s, for that matter.

She shouldn’t have let the girl get close to Miku Kohinata.

Vanessa only realized this when Millaarc, when demanded an answer of as to why, just why in God’s name she threw the Vambrace of Shem-Ha into the depths of the Château, when that was their only salvation, replied simply:

“I shall suffer no lord beyond my own to rule this land.”

It was at about this time that Millaarc had flashed her fangs, her eyes glimmering with a dark glee.

Then, the vampire stabbed her hand through Miku’s chest, the girl’s eyes widening in horror and a wordless pain— and the world cracked.

CASTLEVANIA: RUBATO OF THE VALKYRIE

Chapter Text

Hibiki awoke in the catacombs, her everything aching. She didn’t know how she realized they were catacombs (and she had only ever heard the word when playing Shadow Spirits with Chris), but it just felt like she was in some catacombs. The sound of dripping water echoed through the chamber, the dim light of the candles on the wall flickering as the droplets passed them by. The feeling of smooth stone greeted her return to consciousness, as well as a stiff, cold breeze.

What happened?

How did I get here? 

What even is here—

Flashes of memory darted through her brain.

Miku, kidnapped by Noble Red.

A desperate attempt to rescue her.

The vampire plunging her claws into—

“Miku!”  

Hibiki leapt to her feet, pushing through the wave of stinging, dull pain that followed. She quickly took stock of her surroundings, looking for some kind of exit. Okay, remember what Genjuro told you: situational awareness! There’s a dark stone wall, candles lined up down the hallway, a creepy coffin in the back, a guy bleeding out against the wall, a—

Wait, what?!

Hibiki held back a retching noise as she looked to the opposite side of the wall. 

An older gentleman slumped against the wall, his breath coming out in short, ragged bursts (punctuated by harsh coughing). His long, brown hair and neckerchief was dripping with red—though in the low-light, it was hard to tell if that was part of his natural hair color. The stains on his brown duster certainly implied the former, though; specks of crimson dotted the inner, leopard-print lining of the coat. A drop had trailed down his button-up shirt and down his left jean leg, ending in a growing stain on his boots. 

Is he some sort of… cowboy or something?

“Mr. Cowboy,” Hibiki called, in lieu of a name. She stumbled over to him, kneeling by his side. “Are you okay?”

“Cowboy…?” The man grinned, despite the immediate wince that followed. “That’s a first.” He tilted his head, and Hibiki followed his eyeline. A whip sat by his right side, sprawled onto the floor. “I suppose that could be used for cattle rustling… maybe I’ll consider it someday.” He coughed again, his grin replaced with a dire frown. “Or, perhaps I should be realistic,” he rasped.

“No—no, no, no,” Hibiki hissed, grabbing a portion of the man’s coat. With a growl, she ripped the coat open, and began manually tearing strips out of it.

“I must be hallucinating from the blood loss,” the man muttered, “Because I swear there’s a teenager ruining my perfectly good jacket.”

“Where’s the bleeding?” Hibiki asked.

“I’m too far gone, kid—”

“Where’s. The. Bleeding? ” This time, it was a demand.

“...got a nasty bruise on the side of my head,” the man offered, reluctantly. “Bleeding on the left side—ribs. Maybe my gut. Sure feels like my gut... I think that there’s some internal bleeding, and a torn lung, given the—” He coughed, as if to make his point. “—but that’s to be expected. After all,” he mused hoarsely, “That’s what happens when you get thrown into a wall at Mach five.”

“What?!” Hibiki shifted the man, laying him down as she went to work dressing his wounds. “How did—what were you doing that—”

The man flinched as Hibiki wrapped and tightened the coat straps, sweat dripping down his brow. “You weren’t with Arikado or Yoko… you must have been in this damned place when the Convergence began. I’m sorry about that, kid.” On Hibiki’s blank stare, the man sighed. “Right. Proper nouns mean nothing to someone who doesn’t know them. Tell me,” he asked, staring up at the ceiling. “Where were you before you found yourself here?”

Hibiki paused, not quite wanting to reveal UN secrets to a random person —even if he was in mortal danger. “I… was trying to look for a friend, in this… big castle-y place. A lot more… pale than this place. Did Carol have a dungeon…?” 

“Carol?”

“Uh.” Hibiki shook her head. Not the time. “Anyway, my friend. There’s been… a lot going on, and then—then she was kidnapped. I… I had to try to save her.”

“...huh. Funny. I’ve heard that one before. I suppose there’s something to be said for serendipity…” The man chuckled weakly. “‘Castle-y place,’ eh? That must be why they were drawn together. They’re of a like, I suppose…”

Hibiki finished her work, frowning at how the brown straps began to darken with the man’s blood. We need to figure something else out… “What do you mean by that?” she asked, trying to keep his attention on her—and his consciousness intact.

The man frowned. “What do you call this place—what it was before, I mean?”

“...Uh.” Hibiki really, really didn’t remember the full, proper name for it—so she simplified. “It’s called the Chateau. It kinda erased the world for a second.” She winced at that admission, not intending for it to slip out of her mouth.

“Erased the—” The man sat up, his eyes wide. “The whole world? For a whole second? ”

He believes me? That’s a first. “Maybe? It might have been longer…”

The man slammed his hands on Hibiki’s shoulder. “How?! Why wouldn’t anyone have noticed it?!”

“I—”

“Girl,” the man began.

“Hibiki,” she corrected. “Hibiki Tachibana.”

“Miss Tachibana,” the man implored, deathly serious. “I need you to be honest with me, because this could be extremely important. How did this happen?”

Hibiki felt her heart ache, and promised herself that she would apologize to Genjuro later. With a box set of Bruce Lee movies on Blu-Ray.

…no, that wouldn’t be enough. Were they in 4K?

“...this, uh… alchemist wanted to do something to break down the world. So… she did.”

“...alchemy,” the man repeated. “Are you sure?”

“Very. But—but don’t worry! We fixed it!” Hibiki’s nervous laugh echoed through the halls.

“We…?” The man caught sight of Hibiki’s stricken expression, and let go of her shoulders, allowing her to shuffle back. “We’ll get back to that. Alchemy, eh? Well, that would explain a lot. Some sort of alchemic resonance with the castle, perhaps…”

Hibiki sighed as the man gently patted his bindings, glad he was able to at least maneuver that much with his wounds. “You know about alchemy?”

“Let’s just say that my family has a bit of a… rough history with alchemists.” He stretched his arm over, picking up the whip that had laid dormant throughout the conversation. “Then again, without them, we wouldn’t be able to hunt the night if they weren’t around, so… mixed feelings, really. Can't say it's especially helpful here, since it's likely...” The man blinked and offered a wan smile. “Ah, I should apologize—you introduced yourself, so it’s only fair play.” He offered a weak bow, clearly straining from the motion. “Julius Belmont, at your service. Some call me J.”

“Why? Julius is a neat name,” Hibiki replied, tilting her head. “Don’t think I’ve ever met an American before. Well, one who wasn’t trying to kill me. Though, Maria’s Ukranian…”

“It’s French, actually. Why does everyone assume—” Julius halted mid sentence, raising his eyebrows. “Hold a tick. Why are people trying to kill you, little lady?”

“Urk.” Hibiki blanched. “I said that out loud?”

Julius laughed, clutching his chest briefly as coughs burst from his chest. “Miss Tachibana, you could whisper and it would hit my eardrums like a cannonball in this place,” he managed. “I’d love to play catch-up, but I really must be going. Places to be, vampires to kill. You know how it is.”

Hibiki grimaced. “So you’re fighting Noble Red, too…”

“Noble what now?” Julius leveled her with a wary stare. “I’m hunting Dracula. Who are you hunting?”

Hibiki blinked. “...Dracula? Like… the counting guy from Sesame Street?”

Julius barked out an even harsher laugh. “I think you’ve got some wires crossed there, Miss Tachibana—the only thing Dracula counts is the number of innocent souls he’s taken from this Earth. He’s got far more important matters to deal with than the letters of the alphabet, or the amount of cookies eaten by blue, furry monsters. You’ve really never so much as read the Stoker novel?”

“I can barely find time to read my school textbooks…” She didn’t like the grin on the man’s face, so Hibiki pushed forward. “What do I need to know?”

“A girl of action, eh? Can’t hate that.” Julius paused, mumbling under his breath. Then, after the mumbling ceased, he cleared his throat. “The man’s essentially king of the vampires, and darkness incarnate besides—the embodiment of all that is evil. He cannot be killed, only sealed; so long as evil exists in the world, Castlevania will rise again.”

Hibiki blinked as the world around them got… hazy. The dark, brick-laden walls faded briefly to reveal the beige and tan of the Chateau, before reverting back. After everything I've seen so far today, and in general? Real vampires not surprising me kind of surprises me. “Castle…vania? What’s that? Is that what’s causing this?”

Julius shrugged. “To make a long story extremely short, yes and no. Castlevania is Dracula’s lair, at its core, but it is also connected in many ways to his power—his continued survival. We can kill the dastard a thousand times over, watch his stronghold crumble with the dawning of the sun… and it will return, all the same, so long as his strength still lingers. So long as there are those who covet his power.” He winced, the whip dropping from his hand with a clatter onto the stone below. “Like her .”

“...you mean the vampire? As in, the girl with blue hair?” Hibiki asked, realizing that she never actually caught the name of any of Noble Red’s members besides Vanessa. 

Rocket boobs were pretty distracting, so sue her.

“Mm. Not so dark, from what I recall—but…” Julius nodded. “I can only presume so. I… well, I and my team, so to speak, were dealing with…” His face fell, briefly. “...another vampiric threat in Castlevania before we all found ourselves here. Our quarry went missing, and…” He rasped out his last few words. “I fear that our foe and yours are now one and the same.”

“They’re teaming up?” Hibiki asked.

“...in a sense.” He seemed to want to say more, but a pained groan was all that followed. Julius dropped once more to his knees, clenching his knuckles tight enough to whiten them. “Do forgive me; I think I’m losing consciousness.” He stuttered out a garbled swear. “What did she imbue that strike with? Ugh. So much for ’places to be...’”

“Forgi—we need to get you out of here, or to a hospital!” Hibiki tried to lift him up again, but he had gone leaden.

All except for his right hand, once more clasping his whip.

That had moved in front of her.

“Hibiki, I’m only holding on but by the grace of God and your help.” Julius’ tone was serious, and the light in his eyes was beginning to fade. “The soul is willing, but the flesh is weak.”

“W-wait, you’re—you can’t—”

I can’t let someone die in front of me again…

“I have allies here—they can help you, if you find them,” Julius continued, his voice growing weaker. “One is in this very room—but he needs time to recover. His last act was to make this a sort of… point of return. I’ve stowed a few crystals in the hilt; crush them, and you’ll return here.” He rattled the whip, and Hibiki indeed heard a clattering noise within the hollow grip. “Whatever you do,” he implored, looking toward— the coffin…? “Do not open that until you hear it knock. Any earlier, and he will die. ” Who is he talking about?!

“Mr. Julius,” Hibiki tried, “You can’t—”

Her words fell short as with his one free hand, Julius snapped up Hibiki’s own. More gently, he placed the grip of the whip into her palm. “This will protect you for a time. I can’t speak to whether its properties work for non-Belmonts, but a whip is a whip.”

“I don’t want this,” Hibiki whispered, desperately. “It’s your whip. I could help—if we can get back to—”

“I’ve lived too long, Hibiki.” Julius smiled, blood beginning to drip from his lips. He wrapped her fingers around the weapon, Hibiki allowing the gesture silently. “I’ve seen what happens to those who allow that. Plus, I got a good feeling that—if I had to kick the bucket here—fate wanted me to stick around just long enough to pass the torch.” Loosening his grip on her, he offered the girl a pat on her clenched fingers. “Let’s hope it burns yet, eh?” He shot one last look at the coffin. “Sorry. I’ll see you when I… see…”

His hand slipped from her own, as the light slipped from his eyes. He began to slump forward, but Hibiki caught him before his face could meet the stone. Carefully, she propped him against the wall. 

She closed his eyes.

Then, whip firmly clenched in hand—holding back the nausea and bile she felt—she offered one last look toward the coffin.

Then, to the body of a man she barely knew.

She began to move forward.

Toward Miku, she hoped.

Chapter Text

“I have information.”

Millaarc lazily raised an eyebrow, watching her new ally(?) with a modicum of wariness. After all, it was not often that one directly commanded Death itself—she couldn’t be too sure which way its scythe would turn, if it was in the service of their shared liege. “Well, then—out with it. Don’t leave me on the edge of my seat, here.”

“ Your seat. Hm.” The Reaper hovered before her, its cloak swishing as if pushed around by an unseen storm. Perhaps the cloak itself was a storm of souls… food for thought. “The Belmont is dead. While his soul is yet to enter my domain, he will no longer pose a physical threat to us.”

Millaarc beamed, leaning forward in her throne—

Well. Death wasn’t too far off with his asides (she had better hearing than it would admit); it wasn’t her throne, but it had been afforded to her while their Master had taken leave. He was likely midway through the castle by now, surveying the defenses against the vampire slayers that had already wormed their way inside. Not that there are many left to oppose us… 

—and giggled. “That’s great to hear! So much for the guy who ‘finally’ killed Dracula, huh?”

“The man was nearing my embrace in age alone,” Death replied. “He would not have survived this night, even if he were to prove victorious.”

Millaarc shuddered at the thought. “The fact that he managed to even last a little while after we blasted him did have me worried…” She tapped her chin. “And he was the last Belmont, right?”

“The last of the immediate line, at least.” The new voice, as smooth as marbled stone, startled Millaarc, and she quickly sat up straight; Death offered a bow. He sure works fast. “There are still those indirectly related to the Belmont clan—half-brothers and half-sisters, cousins, aunts and uncles. It is a foolish endeavor to presume to wipe out the Belmonts entirely. I wouldn’t be surprised if Julius had children somewhere down the line, either…” A small smile, as dark as the abyss, met Millaarc’s eyes. Dracula’s smile. “But, for the time being, the Belmonts will not be a problem.”

“Then that means—”

“Very little,” Death interrupted, ignoring the startled growl that Millaarc offered in return. “The whip still exists.”

“What’s a ratty old piece of string got to do with anything?” Millaarc asked. 

Her Master chuckled, gesturing for her to vacate the throne. Quickly acquiescing, Millarc made her way down the stairs to stand beside Death at the bottom step. Dracula, without moving a muscle, vanished in a blink, reappearing not a second later at the seat of the throne. “That ‘piece of string’ is blessed with the power to kill vampires—most of them on a permanent basis. It’s given me trouble from time to time,” he drawled, twirling a strand of stringy, pale hair. “You don’t need to be a Belmont to use it—John Morris comes to mind. Whatever happened to him?”

“He entered my embrace following the matter with Brauner in 1944, my lord,” Death replied, “If you recall.”

The vampire frowned. “...ah. Yes—fuzzy though my memories may be, I do recall… an unfortunate setback at that time.”

“Should I go get the whip, then?” Millaarc asked. “I’m…” She frowned. “I’m not true, not yet; so, I should be—”

“No.” On Millaarc’s frown, Dracula offered a serious stare. “Whether or not the whip affects you, I can’t risk you being taken off the board by a lucky strike from an enemy. Not so soon. You are far too necessary.” 

Necessary. Millaarc hoped she wasn’t preening too much. “Of course, my lord.”

“It’s been some time since I’ve been at the start of one of these nights as opposed to the end,” Dracula mused. “I suppose that would be Dienheim’s doing.”

“Dienheim…” Millaarc tilted her head. “Carol, you mean? I didn’t realize she was trying to resurrect you.”

“Why else would she have seen fit to collect my pieces, as it were?” Dracula let his fangs show as he reminisced. “I’m certain our last encounter left an impact. Perhaps I was her… backup plan. ”

“Not that she had the opportunity to put it into practice.” Death’s raspy voice echoed through the hall. “Strangely, I have yet to claim her as my own...”

“You worry about the departed, my friend,” Dracula replied—with more warmth than Millaarc had expected. “We shall worry about the living.”

“Uh.” Millaarc cleared her throat. “I-in that case, what do we do about the whip?”

“Has it been claimed?” Dracula asked.

Death nodded. “I found the body of Julius Belmont—the Vampire Killer has been taken.”

“Then we need not worry.” Dracula reclined on his throne, lounging with an elbow on one arm of the chair and his head propped up by his fist. “The Vampire Killer’s… unique quirks will see to it that its wielder never makes it through these doors.”

“Of course… they will be with me in due time.” Death paused. “Although, I should let you know that I have yet to locate Al—”

Dracula’s red eyes sharpened their gaze on Death. “Arikado is not our concern at this time. Wherever he might be, leave him. I will handle it personally.”

Death bristled. “...as you wish.”

“Still,” Dracula admitted with a smirk, “Even if any of our erstwhile foes were a danger, Millaarc has seen to it that the obstacles in their way will prove quite difficult to pass through. I'm rather impressed.”

Millaarc’s grin matched Dracula’s own. “Why, thank you. I didn’t think I’d be able to get all of them in my palm at once, but this place just… super-charged me! The Adapters live for you now, Lord Dracula—not one of them will stand against your rule!”

“Indeed… except,” Dracula noted, with a hint of disappointment, “For the one that you missed. ”

Millaarc blanched. “Urk.”

“Not to mention those friends of yours…”

The former Noble Red member flinched at the reminder. “Lord Dracula, I may have failed then, but I swear to you—”

“As such,” he continued, ignoring her pleas, “It would be reasonable to presume that there aren’t many possibilities as to which of our lucky survivors took on Belmont’s dying wish…” A chill ran down Millaarc’s spine as Dracula’s expression grew cold. “I personally suspect the rogue Adapter is the most likely candidate, given the sheer number of them that littered the Château. Tell me, would that be a problem for us, given her abilities?”

Millaarc shrunk down, ignoring the way Death’s shoulders seemed to be shaking in what she could only presume was a muffled laugh. “I-I really couldn’t say, but… but she’s just one girl. Sure, she has a relic, but so do our new Generals! I-it should be fine!”

Dracula stared back at her, implacable. “I believe I heard one of your former allies refer to her as a Godslayer? ”

Gottver dammt, Vanessa. Millaarc gulped. “Well, uh… you’re… not a God, so you should be fine…?”

At that remark, Death slowly turned toward her, scythe in hand—only to be stopped at Dracula’s boisterous laugh. A genuine smile seemed to form on his lips. “You’re entirely right, my dear Millaarc! I would never wish to be as pathetic as Him. Truthfully, were she only on our side, I’d ask her to slay the Almighty Himself for His wretched actions—still, the future's not set in stone; it is carved endlessly onward. Ah, one more thing,” he added. “The pseudo-Adapter and the Vambrace. Have they been sealed as I asked?”

Millaarc nodded. “The spell should have done its job— I know I couldn’t get in, and neither could the Generals, so they’re not going anywhere.”

“Good. Now, then—off with you both. You have work to do.”

“Of course, my Lord,” Millaarc and Death echoed. They exited the hall, leaving the lord of darkness in solitude. He reached for a wine glass situated precariously on the opposite throne arm, pulling it to just below his lips. The aroma was refreshing—and a sign that he was slowly regaining use of his senses, which was always a good sign. “I do wonder,” he mused, “If she’s capable of bringing the last one under our control. I might need to step in. After all, there is an appeal to the idea of my own personal Godslayer.” He took a long sip—the taste was still muted, but in time he would be able to truly savor it. “Soon enough. Soon enough…”

Chapter Text

Hibiki felt the weight of the Vampire Killer more and more with each step forward she took. Initially, she thought her mind was playing tricks on her—she had opened up the hilt to take a look at the crystals that J had mentioned before—

…before.

—and she took one into her hand. They were small enough to fit multiple in her palm, dyed a blood red, jagged edges protruding from all sides. Most surprisingly, they were light , as if the insides were hollow.

She tried to see if maybe it was the angle she was holding the whip at; it could have been top heavy, given the leather material of the whip itself. But no, that wasn’t it either—heck, she tried cracking the whip, and found the task much easier than she expected to. Draw back, leather unfurled, aim at one of those unlit candles on the wall, and just—

KA-RACK!

The sound echoed through the hallway, and the candle was struck true—true enough that it practically exploded on impact.

Nothing at all seemed heavy or weighty about this whip. 

So why does it feel so heavy…?

Maybe it wasn’t the whip—Hibiki had woken up in her activated Gear, despite having been knocked out earlier. She hadn’t needed to sing to keep it up, either, which was unusual. If the Gear had been keeping her stable when the Castle…mania? Zania? Whatever it was, when it started merging with the Chateau, it must have been something unconscious—or maybe a new power she’d never needed to use. 

It was as though her Gear reacted instinctively to some never-ending danger, which…

…yeah, that was fair.

And while she could turn it off, Hibiki probably needed the Gear up in case Millaarc showed up, or this Dra… Dragon… Dracule? Yeah, if this Dracule guy made an appearance.

“This is probably twenty kinds of bad for my health… ugh. Elfnein is going to kill me,” Hibiki muttered.

“Not before us, she won’t!”

Hibiki’s body moved on instinct, ducking down as a barrage of energy blasts flew down the hallway.

She felt a thin, almost imperceptible sensation of steel at her neck. She thrust her palm upward, knocking away what looked like a sword—

Wait, Hibiki realized, as she saw her reflection in the deflected blade. I know that sword.

A flash of pink and red appeared behind her in the reflection as well, forcing Hibiki to duck down once more. She had just enough time (and presence of mind) to use her other hand—the one holding the Vampire Killer—to thrust her new weapon out into the fray. Miraculously, the leather found its purchase, wrapping around a metallic hilt…

…upon which sat a pointed scythe.

“C’mon, ‘Bikki!” Kirika chirped, her eyes a blazing red—her sharp fangs protruding just past her thin smile. Wait, fangs?! The blonde struggled against the grip of the Vampire Killer as it tugged against her Relic. “Don’t make this so deathly difficult! ” 

“Kirika?! Is that you?!” With a strong pull, Hibiki separated Igalima from Kirika’s grasp, the Vampire Killer’s hold loosening as the scythe clattered down the hallway. As the whip retracted near-instantly— is this thing automatic or just magic?! —Hibiki quickly found herself snapping it forward once more as a silvery glow began to illuminate the hallway. A familiar figure hopped back a few steps, growling at Hibiki like a feral animal. “Maria!?”

“Tachibana,” Maria snarled. “I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time.”

“What are you talking abou— gah! ” Hibiki threw a punch forward, slamming her fist into the flat of one of Shirabe’s saws. The shorter girl was sent hurtling back, and despite her situation, Hibiki breathed a sigh of relief as the familiar sense of relic energy flowed through her body. “Oh, good, that still works.” Shirabe, undeterred, began to approach from the other end of the hallway.

“You always did like to solve your problems with your fists, dummy.” Chris held Ichaival aloft, taking point next to Tsubasa (the latter’s blade still pointed toward Hibiki). “‘Basa, am I good to go for the head?”

Tsubasa shook her head, a kaleidoscopic glint shining in her eyes. “It will do us no good. We must take out her fists, and then cut her down to size. Otherwise, she’ll keep fighting.”

“What are you talking about?! ” Hibiki cried out, taking a defensive stance. “I’ve been looking all over for you guys—what’s gotten into you?!”

“Tachibana. We never settled our battle,” Tsubasa noted. “This opportunity has been a long time coming.”

“Not to mention ours,” Shirabe added, taking her place at Maria’s left (Kirika cheerfully skipping over to stand at Maria’s right). “Or did you forget that we were your enemies?”

Kirika tilted her scythe forward. “Yeah! If you really want Igalima that badly, you can take it over my dead body!”

“Ver ruined everything, but now…” Maria raised Airgetlam just below her eyeline, staring out over the blade. “We’ve been granted a chance to set things right.” She shuddered, briefly, as a wave of red and black shadows rippled through her form. “Yes—yes, this is just what I’ve been waiting for.”

“It is a shame that you have that whip with you.” Tsubasa looked almost sincerely apologetic as she spoke, eyeing the Vampire Killer. “Our orders were just to capture you… unless you had that whip in your possession. Now, I’m afraid this will be our final duel.”

“Girls… girls, please—” Hibiki could feel tears stinging her eyes. “Something’s going on. Noble Red did something to you, right? Or—or is it Dra—”

Another shot whizzed past Hibiki, singing the tips of the hair on the left side of her face. “Don’t you dare speak our Lord’s name with your filthy, human mouth,” Chris snarled. 

Hibiki’s heart ran cold. “C-Chrissy…”

“Y’know what? I get first dibs. Once I put one between the eyes,” Chris began, taking aim, “Then all of you can just get her with the pointy bits. Sound fair?”

“Like deathin’ Hell! I want a stab at her!”

“Not before me, Kiri.”

“All of you, stand down. She owes me a fight.”

“I’m sorry, Tsubasa, I’m going to cut her up into pieces and see if any pieces of Gungnir are still in her heart. If we’re lucky, Kohinata missed a few…”

Hibiki felt her hand tremble around the grip of the Vampire Killer, watching her friends discuss the order in which they were going to kill her.

What in the world is going on?

What did Millaarc do to them?

I—I can’t fight them. Not like this—even if I could, I…

Hibiki, quietly, began to claw at the hilt with her free hand. She couldn’t risk them noticing, but she had to get out of there. She had to.

Unfortunately, Shirabe’s eyes landed on Hibiki just as she managed to pop the hilt open.

In the literal blink of an eye, a sawblade separated from Shirabe’s Gear, aimed squarely for Hibiki’s hand.

She could have moved her hand, even just let go of the whip for a moment—but then the projectile might bounce against the wall, ricocheting and hurting one of her friends.

Hibiki already knew how it felt to lose an arm. Maybe losing a hand won’t be so bad, a treacherous part of her mind suggested. Not to a friend, anyway.

It was too late, anyway.

Or so she presumed.

KA-CLANG! SKRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRT!

A metallic screech burst forth from the air, and Hibiki could see embers from pure friction land on the floor beside her. The light from these embers gave her the briefest glimpse of an azure-clad sleeve, as well as the hand holding back the sawblade. The flicker of synthetic skin,  flying into the air in bits and pieces, crossed her vision.

“What the—” Shirabe started, eyes widening.

“What are you doing here?!” Maria cried out in frustration, the shadows licking at her frame once more.

“Ha! Doesn’t this seem familiar?” A cheerful, familiar tone reached Hibiki’s ears. “Or, at least, I think it’s familiar. The good ol’ memory banks are a little scrambled, but I’m sure I can nick some memories off of you once we get out of here, Tachibana. You’re still single, right? Or are you and that one gal an item?” 

Hibiki managed to regain enough wits to ask the obvious question: “How are you alive?”

Garie Tūmān let out a hiss of stream and exhaust, her bared teeth almost as sharp as her opponents’. “I’ll tell you for a kiss, little Miss.”