The Second Archon War, Imperatrix Umberosa 8 (Patreon)

Beta’d and edited by The Grand Cogitator and Dr_Feelgood

Brought to you by my patreons. Turns out, Worm really is that popular.

The warehouse was packed full of bodies, rows and rows of gruff looking men with calloused hands and weathered faces, and a few tough women as well. The scent of the sea was mixed with diesel and sweat, but instead of the stink of despair, it smelled of hope. Standing atop the pile of pallets, Daniel grinned out at his fellow longshoremen, and lifted up the newspaper. "THE BEAST IS DEAD!"

There was a rousing cheer, and several people threw hats into the air, stomped their feet, or whistled loudly. A few even cried tears of joy and hugged the other union members. Their livelihoods had been in serious peril for three years, not to mention the ever present fear that one day Leviathan would wake up and destroy their own home.

But no more. Leviathan had been slain the day before in Japan, and despite the global power outage that had killed one of their brothers when a crane suddenly quit working, the mood was raucously joyous.

Daniel lowered the paper, grinning hugely. "This is the dawn of a new Era for us! As your ILA chapter president, I will personally make sure that the bosses don't use this chance to enrich themselves while keeping us down!"

More wild cheers and applause, along with a few cries of, "Get 'em Danny boy!"

Normally being called a boy or a youngster would have ignited Daniel's legendary temper. He was a young man, but he was ambitious, and he had a vision for this Union. Some had called him mad becoming a longshoreman union president with Levithan was methodically dismantling global shipping, but he’d done it anyway.

Though the world turns its back upon, you shall not waiver nor falter: Your vision is clear.

Today though was a day for celebration. Daniel grinned, embracing that voice in his head. He did have the vision to see this through. “No more cut shifts, no more layoffs, no more stagnant wages! It’s a new world for us, we only have to reach out and seize it, grab it with both hands!” Daniel declared, raising his own fists as if to wring manna from the heavens.

The crowd cheered and clapped, so loudly that they filled even the high roof of the warehouse with their merriment.

Even if the winds blow and the waters rise, they shall not hinder nor dissuade you: Your ambition is too great.

To the side, the crowd suddenly quieted, then a few angry voices started swearing, even as a ripple passed through the union members. Daniel turned, and what he saw made his blood boil. Six people in loud clothing with tattoos marking their skin, and neon colors dying their hair. Their leader wore dark clothes, bore a bandoleer affixed with half a dozen grenades, and had a knife at each hip.

“Get the fuck out of here!” Daniel snarled, pointing to the door behind the intruding gangsters. He had ambitions for this union, for this town! And this was not a part of it. “We don’t need you any more!”

Come what may, you will face the storm, shouting your defiance to the lightning and thunder, never backing down. Your obsession will drive you forward.

“I think you’ll find our deal is still in force,” the leader growled, drawing a knife and casually flipping it in his hand.

The man was the leader of the Kkangpae in the city, and the bane of Daniel’s existence. For a long time, the Longshoremen had reluctantly been paying protection money to the Kkangpae. The Protectorate was around, yes, but there were an inordinate number of villains in Brockton Bay, and with the threat of Leviathan, the Longshoreman had been desperate. They’d taken to smuggling drugs for the Kkangpae, and while Daniel had tried to put an end to it, there were just fewer and fewer sources of income.

But he was an obstacle to the future, and he wasn’t a part of the past that Daniel looked to for inspiration. This man and his gangsters couldn’t stop Daneil and his dream.

No matter what you face, you will push on, demanding that the old and the new come together as you see fit. Eternity will be your goal.

“That was then, and this is now! Now scram. Hey Dave, you call the police yet?”

“The PRT is on their way,” Dave said, putting his empty hand to his ear like he had a phone. Good man.

“You can call your heroes, but I know where you live. And I have enough dirt on you and all you dockrats to END you,” the gang leader snarled.

Rage filled Daniel, along with something else. Something more.

No matter what life brings you, you will always drive forward, unto Eternity, though your years are but a moment, you will burn brightly.

“I’m warning you, bastard! You and your gangbanger friends get the fuck out of my warehouse! This is a new day for this city, and the Longshoreman’s union! We will-”

The leader vanished, then reappeared, right in front of Daniel. The knife came slashing down at him, and in a fight of madness, he struck back.

After all: There must always be mortals who will face the Lightning’s Glow.

Thunder sounded, and Daniel found he had the gangster’s arm in his hand, gripping tightly to something smooth in the other. The gangster was screaming in pain as his mask smoked, and lightning arced and flashed around Daniel. He looked at the bandoleer, and saw the grenades. Those are going to cook off! I need to get away, to protect myself, my men, I-

There was a blinding explosion that blew Daniel across the room, engulfed completely in lightning. He slammed into a shipping container and groaned in pain, but managed to stand. He looked down at what he’d had in his hands, and saw it was a small crystal sphere the size of a baseball. Within it, purple lightning crackled and flickered, and the shimmering shape of a triple pronged helix was visible. He tucked it away in his pocket, and staggered forward into a cloud of dust and debris. “Is everyone alright?”

“We’ve got wounded!” someone called back.

Coughing, Daniel made it through the smoke, and found his pile of pallets on fire, dozens of longshoremen down, some with serious injuries. The wooden pallets had turned to shrapnel, along with the body of the former gang leader. His grenades had cooked off, and all that was left was a pile of ash. The longshoremen had grabbed the other gangsters and beaten them so badly Daniel didn’t think they’d survive, not that he blamed them.

“How’d you survive?” Dave coughed, stumbling up to Daniel and looking him up and down. “Shit man, you were at the center of that! Oni Lee started shooting off lightning and screaming, then he blew up! I thought for sure you were a goner.”

“Call an ambulance,” Daniel coughed. “And the PRT.”

Looking around at the devastation, Daniel set his jaw, and reached a hand into his pocket. He felt the sphere there, and tightened his grip on it. This was a setback. Nothing more. They’d come through this, stronger than ever. He WOULD restore the Longshoreman’s Union to greatness. Hell, he’d rebuild the entire docks! No, that wasn’t enough. He’d remake the whole CITY.

For his fellow union members. For his family. For himself. He would not stop.

He had a Vision. And he would see his Ambition fulfilled. Even if it took Eternity.

Lord Nakamura looked at the assembled council, and shook his head slightly. He was wearing a business suit and tie, in a somber black as had been traditional in Japan for the past century. Most of the others looked like they were from before the Meiji Restoration, wearing silk kimonos, some of them rather brightly colored. They were even seated on pillows atop a tatami mat, sitting cross legged around a traditional low table with saki and tea being served in the Imperial Palace near the garden.

The new Tri-Commission government consisted of three branches: the Kanjou Commission, which Nakamura headed, was responsible for overseeing external matters such as trade, immigration and border patrol, and foreign diplomacy. Next was the Yashiro Commission, headed by Lord Kenichi Yoshida, which oversaw interior matters such as education, healthcare, and the now preeminently important Imperial Religion of Shinto and the maintenance of all the shrines and temples that were now dedicated to the Raiden Shogun. The last was the Tenryou Commission, headed by Lord Mushu, who was clearly irritated at his new name and the fact that as he put it, "a former thug is now in charge of the Justice Department, the Sentai, and all the Military!”

Nakamura couldn’t help but privately share Kenta Wang’s concern about such things, but then again, the man seemed one of the few people who could wrangle Raiden when the situation arose, and was a preeminently powerful parahuman. He was the only Japanese cape to join Raiden in her battle against Leviathan, even if he was a half-breed.

Shaking his head, Nakamura chided himself. That was antiquated thinking, and not the sort of reasoning he endorsed. The only reason to cast aspersions on Kenta’s character was that he had been a yakuza enforcer until only a short time ago, not because he had a Chinese mother.

The most important members, however, were the two at the head of the table. The first, was the Emperor, who to everyone’s shock, retained his position, and actually had a great deal of power, overseeing the Tri-Commission and reporting directly to Raiden herself, who sat beside him. The role of Emperor seemed to be that of High Priest along with Prime Minister, though the power clearly resided with Raiden herself in more ways than one.

“Something of grave importance has come to my attention,” Raiden declared, and everyone sat up. She had been mostly silent during their long meeting, listening and asking the occasional question of the Emperor, but otherwise letting her ministers get on with the business of governing. Her only mandate so far this meeting was that China and America both were to be charged high tariffs as a form of economic sanction against their actions towards Japan.

Reportedly, the little girl sitting behind Raiden and playing on one of those new fangled video games Nakamura’s grandchildren loved was the one who had told her what a “tariff” was. Normally Nakamura would have been opposed to alienating Japan’s two largest trading partners, but considering they now had free and unlimited electricity, Japanese industry was already taking off and his ministers were gleefully counting the new sources of revenue already.

“What is it, your Excellency?” Kenichi asked. “Do you not find the proposed celebration of your Birthday this June to be adequate?”

“Hmm? No, you have assured me there will be coke and ice cream, and I am certain the other festivities will be enjoyable for the populace. No, this is a matter of real import, one that must be addressed immediately.”

Nakamura held his breath. Was this where she showed her true stripes? An invasion of Korea? Attempting to annex Taiwan from the weakened CUI? What would their new ruler command?

“I have been informed that nearly all anime and manga is not, in fact, produced within our Japan, but imported from somewhere called ‘Earth Aleph.’ This situation is untenable.”

There was stunned silence from around the table, save from Lord Mushu, who sighed heavily. “Aren’t you getting enough manga and anime already? I just bought you all of Dragon Ball and Sailor Moon.”

“Japan has a rich and ancient culture,” Raiden said, seeming to ignore her ‘familiar.’ “I desire that all my people should be proud of their history and achievements, and to spread that culture around the world. I have heard the Yankees have their Hollywood, and Disney of this world still makes many fine films such as Mulan, a favorite of mine.”

Mushu groaned audibly and rested his head in his hands on the low table.

“You…wish to commission a historical epic of your deeds?” Kenichi asked.

“No, though I would not mind if someone were to make an anime movie about my battles, preferably by Hayao Miyazaki. He has made a few movies here, but they did not do well. We should sponsor him. I have very much liked Castle in the Sky and Princess Mononoke.”

“Er, I am sure we can find Mr. Miyazaki and commission him to make a film,” Nakamura said, feeling a bit baffled by this, but understanding. Warlords did often wish to have propaganda made to make them look good.

“I am charging the Yashiro commission to fund the development of various anime studios, as well as finding and financing manga artists and light novel authors. Also, we should invest in our video game industry. Ami is very fond of Zelda and Final Fantasy.”

“No, I like Pokemon and Kirby. You like Zelda and Final Fantasy better. You just want to play more video games,” Ami interjected, causing Raiden to blush slightly.

Nakamura sat back, his mind racing. “You want to fund the development of our arts and entertainment industry…in Earth-Aleph, they’ve been a major source of revenue as their industrial sector faded. Ours is set to explode, but Hollywood isn’t making as many movies with the instability in America, and more and more entertainment is smuggled in from Aleph and copied and distributed. If we were to start producing our own entertainment media…the potential for an economic boom is massive.”

“Oh? This would generate tax revenue?” Raiden asked, sounding curious.

Once more, Nakamura could not tell if Raiden was toying with him and five steps ahead of everyone, or if he was dealing with a complete idiot who didn’t have the first clue about how anything worked. Or, well…a capricious goddess from the Edo Era who had never seen movies and manga before and was hypnotized by them.

“Yes, I think it would,” Nakamura sighed.

“Excellent,” Raiden said, smiling like a delighted schoolgirl. “Oh, and there is one other thing: locate the finest blacksmiths, and the young officers and sentai with the most potential. I shall be instructing mortals in the Isshin Art of blade forging once more, and starting a school of the Origin Bladework. My warriors shall not go into the field unarmed and untrained.”

“You want us to use swords instead of guns?” Kenta asked, sounding skeptical. “You realize people started using guns for a reason, right?”

“Guns are sufficient against mortal foes who lack a Vision, but against Vision Holders and demons, a blade is required. Besides, I have seen your steel katanas, and while they are well made, they are not of the Isshin Art. A blade made by a master of the Isshin art has divine properties that protect the wielder and enhance their combat potential.”

“So, you want to make tinkertech swords. Gotcha,” Kenta said, shrugging. “Sure, I can find some guys. I take it this is my commission’s area?”

“Yes, though members of each commission should master the Isshin Arts and the Origin Bladework. I would not have our high ranking nobility defenseless, nor have the Isshin arts lost should anything ever happen to me,” Raiden explained. “This will take some time of course: to master the blade takes more than a mortal lifetime. To be a true master of crafting, not even the gods can attain in a mere millenia.”

And with that, the meeting adjourned. Nakamura gathered up his papers, shaking his head slightly. He glanced at Kenta and nodded for him to go to the garden so the two could speak privately. Passing his papers off to a junior minister, Nakamura went out into the frozen grounds of the garden. The pond was iced over, though he could see koi moving about beneigh. There were a few winter flowers blooming, but most of the garden was sleeping, waiting for the new spring.

He wondered if spring was coming for Japan. He certainly hoped so.

“Yeah, what’s up?” Kenta asked, swaggering over to Nakamura. He still walked like a tough, though considering that he was basically a samurai now, that might not be the appropriate comparison.

“What do you think of our new ruler’s dictates?” Nakamura asked. He didn’t quite have a solid read on Kenta yet, despite knowing him for several weeks now.

“You mean her being a massive otaku?” Kenta sighed, walking over to stare down into the fish pond.

“I…would not have put it in such terms,” Nakamura said slowly.

“Yeah, well, you don’t have to dig her out of her room when she’s discovered a new game or manga and insists on reading it all night. Did you know she doesn’t need to sleep? She only has to meditate for an hour or two a week or some crap like that. So she has more time to play video games and watch anime. I don’t know how, but she’s watched all of Sailor Moon. Twice.”

For a long moment, Nakamura stared at Kenta. Then he looked back at the fish pond. “You’re serious.”

“Yep. The only time it’s easy to get her to do anything is when I mention there’s a villain running around. But you know her. She crosses the country in less than 20 minutes, finds the offender, duels them for about ten seconds, and it's done. Well, that and her weekly planting of the Thunder Sakura trees, but how many could be left? That’s why I got Ami to grill her for hobbies she had. Well, she likes training me and Ami in swordplay and forged our katanas, so I suggested she train some others. She liked that idea, at least it will give her something productive to do.”

“She responded quickly enough to that incident in the Desolation,” Nakamura pointed out.

“Super. Do you want to have something for her to fight every other day to keep her from becoming a NEET? No? Me neither,” Kenta said with a snort. “Besides, half the time I can handle the smallfry capes on my own before she even gets there, and I’ll get bored if I can’t crush the occasional moron.”

“They’re becoming more infrequent too. Japan’s crime rates and incidents of cape violence have plummeted. They’re the lowest in the world by a wide margin,” Nakamura mused. He considered things for a bit, then asked, “Is it so bad to simply keep her placated, then to call upon her should a crisis arise?”

“She actually charged me to keep her ‘engaged with the mortals’ so I guess this is just me trying to do my job,” Kenta sighed. He looked at Nakamura, his eyes flashing purple for a moment, electricity playing over his hands as he clenched them into fists. Then he sighed and relaxed, the power fading. “Look, don’t think I don’t know that I’m a jumped up gangster. I’m not cut out to be the leader of the freaking army, police, judges, and whatever else is in my commission. But I’m doing my best, alright? I don’t want to be Lung anymore. I’ll be…Mushu.”

“You are doing well, especially for a…young man,” Nakamura said, earning a snort of laughter from Kenta.

“Nice catch. Yeah, I guess I’m barely 21 now. There’ve been younger leaders, right? I guess…I guess if I have questions, I can come to you, Lord Nakamura?”

“Of course. I would be happy to pass on what wisdom I can. For an old, failed man,” Nakamura said, sighing and shaking his head.

“Failed? You seem to be doing pretty good for yourself,” Kenta said, sounding puzzled.

“I let democracy die on my watch. Even if our new overlord is benevolent, I cannot help but see my life as a failure.” With that, Nakamura bowed politely, and departed, his mind churning with new thoughts. Would Japan’s future be bright? He didn’t know.

He was pretty sure it was going to have a lot more otaku though.

A light blanket of snow covered the now silent power station. The power lines twanged in the winter wind, and the area was largely deserted. Even in the mountains of Kyushu, Raiden had visited most of the villages by now and planted Thunder Sakura trees, rendering the station moot. It had shut down, and had been largely deserted the past few weeks.

“Are you sure we should be here? It’s kinda creepy,” Hitomei said, shivering slightly. The weather was cold for Kyushu, though not intolerable, but the wind cut to the bone through her jacket.

“It’s fine, trust me,” Yuki told her, looking around. They were standing by one of the outbuildings, having snuck through the fence. The area was largely abandoned, though there were still “DANGER: HIGH VOLTAGE” signs despite the plant having been shut down and the workers gone. “Did you bring the matches?”

“Yeah,” Hitomei said, looking around furtively and digging them out of her pocket. “Did you get them?’

“Swiped them right out of my dad’s jacket,” Yuki giggled, and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. She stuck one in her mouth, then handed the pack to Hitomei, who copied her. The two young teens then tried and failed for several minutes to get a match lit in the wind, and then to light their cigarettes with their numb fingers. They finally managed, and both did their best to look cool as they took their first inexpert drags.

“It’s so good,” Yuki rasped, trying desperately not to cough or vomit.

“Yeah, it’s awesome,” Hitomei agreed, her own eyes watering at the stench. She couldn’t hold it in, and coughed, her cigarette falling out of her lips and landing in the snow.

“Pfff, weakling,” Yuki teased.

“Shut up,” Hitomei snapped, and beant down to pick it back up. She sniffed, wrinkling her nose. “Ugh, it smells weird.”

“They’re menthol, see?” Yuki explained, turning the pack towards her.

“Not that, like…something’s burning? No, shut up, I don’t know, it’s just odd,” Hitomei grumped, brushing off the now wet cigarette. She looked up, and her jaw dropped open.

“What? If it’s ruined you can have another, I have a whole pack,” Yuki said, holding the pack out as she tried to talk around her cigarette.

“L-look,” Hitomei said, pointing behind Yuki. “What…what is that?”

Turning, Yuki gasped, her own cigarette falling out of her mouth and extinguishing itself in a slushy bit of ice. Behind her, a purple blob with two glowing white eyes was staring at her from the shadow of the main plant. Electricity sparked along its body, especially on the odd antenna poking up from its head.

“Holy Raiden, that’s a slime!” Hitomei gasped. She pulled out the cheap camera she had brought, and snapped a couple of pictures.

“It’s kinda cute, don’t you think?” Yuki said, slowly moving closer. “Hey there, little guy, you lost?”

“Don’t, it’s a monster! Like in Dragon Quest,” Hitomei cautioned.

“Otaku,” Yuki laughed, and slowly reached out a hand.

The slime blinked at her, then bounced forward, slapping into her chest.

“AAAHHH!” Yuki screamed, convulsing as the slime touched her and falling back.

Hitomei screamed as well, then raced forward dragging her friend to her feet as the slime hopped forward. “Are you OK!?”

“That…that hurt!” Yuki whimpered. “Let’s get out of here!”

The two teens ran back to town, where they waved down the first policeman they found.

“Officer, officer there’s a monster!” Hitomei shouted, waving frantically towards the derelict plant. “It attacked Yuki!”

“It shocked me, and got my clothes slimy and burnt!” Yuki added, pointing to the jelly-like substance on her jacket, as well as the burnt tips of her hair.

“Monster? What kind?” the policeman asked, turning towards them. Then the officer frowned, and reached out, plucking the pack of cigarettes out of Yuki’s jacket. “And where did you get these?”

“Uh….” Yuki went bright red, and both of them ended up at the police station, the slime forgotten. They didn’t remember until a week later, when several slimes attacked thieves who’d gone to steal some of the old parts, seriously injuring one. In the end, the Sentai had to be called in, as guns proved to be completely ineffective at harming the creatures.

Before long, reports around Japan came in of the same creatures, something straight out of a video game come to life. The slimes were generally harmless, but were found anywhere with a high concentration of electrical energy, from old power plants to industrial sectors. They could be easily killed or driven away with metal or wooden weapons, but their control largely ended up falling to the Sentai.

At first, the phenomena was a complete mystery, until the issue was brought to the Shogun.

“Slimes? They are a common monster. I believe their remains are used in several alchemical and industrial processes. Is it only electro, or have you seen the other varieties? What of other monsters?”

And so, Japan was prepared when the first Whopper Flowers sprouted in the spring, as well as the other monsters. When the global community first heard of them, they were baffled at first, and Cauldron even briefly worried about a new Endbringer or mad biotinker.

Alexandria, however, heard, and her doubts grew. Was Raiden really what she claimed? But from those doubts, came hope. The world was changing, and perhaps, just this once, for the better.