War: 8. Proof (Patreon)

Preface

Right, here’s the first of my commissions this month.

Chapter 8: Proof

Atreus, Aspect of War

It had been several days since I slew Bakuda. The heroes had an award ceremony in front of city hall in which the mayor thanked the heroes for stopping her. Vista and Clockblocker of the Wards were granted positions of honor as they were the ones to defuse the EMP.

I did not attend for I had something more important to do: Master Frank had called me from the city called Providence to ask if I was well. I was, of course. There was nothing these “villains” could do to threaten me.

She looked much better now that she was with her relatives. The shock of sudden violence had faded and she was eager to return. She informed me that she intended to be back by the end of the month, as soon as she could get her store repaired. The building had been in her family for generations even if the name of the store  had been her idea and she was loath to give it up.

It was heartening news. I missed going to the bakery before the break of dawn. There was something rhythmic and soothing about the act of preparing bread for so many people, even if I couldn’t stand the people themselves.

As I could not bake large quantities of bread in my apartment, I instead chose to broaden my knowledge by learning different recipes. Master Frank asked me to learn to bake challah bread, a type of bread with religious significance for a subset of the population called the Jews. She sent me a recipe and walked me through using the text function.

According to her lecture, challah bread was a type of bread that utilized a larger than average amount of egg and sugar, not unlike a brioche, which I learned was from a place called France. The primary distinction between the two, save for the braided aesthetic of challah and its use in religious ceremonies, was that brioche used butter while challah typically used a neutral oil.

The Jews used oil because of a dietary restriction imposed by their god, the One God that was worshiped in three separate ways by three separate faiths.

I did not pretend to understand. The Aspects had soured the notion of gods to me.

In truth, the reason they used oil over butter mattered little. What did matter was that I sought to become a master baker. As per my master’s instructions, a baker ought to care for the cultural values of those he served. Just as important, a master baker knew the different properties of various ingredients and could bring out their full potential, as a spear instructor with his acolytes.

And what a difference there was. Master Frank had me bake two loaves of bread, one with canola oil and one with butter. She coached me through the process and, once I had two loaves side by side, had me taste both. The more I tasted, the more refined my palate would become, and the better baker I would be.

The distinction was subtle but noticeable. The butter made for bread that was richer and more flavorful. If I was to attend a grand feast after battle, this would be the kind I would like to be served. It was hearty, sweet, and had a subtle, nutty flavor that coated the tongue.

By contrast, the oil was not as flavorful, but I could see that it had its advantages. It sat higher in the baking tray even though the quantity of flour used for the two loaves was exactly the same. It was lighter than the one made with butter. I saw that the lightness carried over to the flavor of the bread as well; the fat did not coat the tongue. It was the kind of bread that I wanted served in a light lunch, or perhaps with many different dishes. This was bread that would not dominate the palate.

Thus I learned of my master’s wisdom: The religious significance of challah was irrelevant to my education, but the distinction between butter and oil was.

Through this, I began a series of experiments of my own devising. If oil and butter could result in different flavors of breads suited for wholly different purposes, would not flavored oils also alter the bread?

For days, I worked. I purchased different qualities of olive oil, as well as oil derived from peanuts, sesame, and even coconuts. Many of my experiments were failures, but I did not wish to give up on them yet. I would bake a hundred different loaves if that was what it took. I had resolved myself to welcome my master’s return with bread of my own design.

I hummed contentedly as I waited by the oven. This batch, four loaves, used different quantities of coconut oil. The song was a Ra’Horak marching song, one that promised glorious victory or honorable death, a worthy prize no matter the outcome of the battle to come.

Yes, success or failure, I learned and so I had my worthy prize.

Then, when the bread still had half an hour to bake, a familiar siren rang throughout the city. It was a noise I’d heard only once before: the endbringer sirens had rung less than a week ago, for me. I was here, baking bread. Thus, I must assume that an endbringer in truth was approaching this city.

I groaned with irritation as my phone rang. I was sorely tempted to ignore the call, but I was Rakkor. No Rakkor shied away from war. I had given my word and so I would answer.

“Atreus,” I grunted.

“Leviathan is headed to the city,” I heard Armsmaster say. No greeting, no platitudes, simple facts. I liked that about the man. “He will arrive in thirty minutes. Gather at the PRT building for instructions.”

The line went dead. I looked at the oven, then towards the sea, and back to the oven. With a sigh of supreme disappointment, I pulled the half-baked loaves out of the oven and set them to cool. There they would remain until I returned.

As for Leviathan, it would pay.

X

The PRT building was a hive of activity. It reminded me of the hornets that dwelled in the Kumungu jungle, buzzing with agitation and ready to defend themselves against, from their perspective, some great, unstoppable beast. It was noble. There was desperation and fear, but also grim resolve. I could see in the set of their shoulders that these men and women were ready to lay down their lives for their homes.

I landed in the middle of the parking lot, Astrea flowing behind me. I was not subtle. The ground cracked beneath my feet and a column of constellations traced my path. I looked out from my helm and met each of their eyes. Though the weapons and arms were different, though the culture and language was foreign to me, these were warriors.

A man in red ran up to me. He must have been a crimson blur to those watching. I knew him as Velocity, a “mover” by the classifications of the PRT. He had been a part of the unpowered military of this land, the United States Army. We sometimes talked about the differences between the militaries of my world and this one. It made for interesting conversation and had been a decent enough way to kill time back when I first arrived.

“Atreus, you’re here. Armsmaster is busy organizing our forces and sent me to give you the lowdown,” he said with a grim smile.

“Aye. As I swore, my spear is yours. What is to be done about Leviathan?” He’d attended several of these battles before. Though he could not harm an endbringer directly, there was also glory in saving the injured.

“Capes from around the country are going to show up in the next ten minutes. Legend will probably give a speech. After that, we’ll be divided into teams based on what we’re good at. Brutes up front, blaster support, and search and rescue are the norm.”

“Is there no plan made before an endbringer battle?”

“No, because people come from all over the country, the world sometimes, powers are too diverse, and participation is strictly voluntary, there is no way to know who’s coming and how their powers will interact with those around them. The best we can do is to form small platoons based on power classifications.”

I frowned in distaste, my respect for the leadership falling. The Ra’Horak knew to trust our brothers in arms. Their shields were our shields. Their spears, our spears. There was none of that sense of fraternity here. “This is inefficient.”

“I agree, but it’s what we have.”

“And what of the waves? Is there a way to defend against the tidal waves? You have no Tidecaller to assist you.”

“Who? Never mind. Capes who can make barriers will act as wavebreaks. Eidolon is probably going to join in. The critical buildings near shore have a shield system built by Uppercrust of the Elite so they should survive at least.” He sounded unsure. I could see why.

I looked at Buns ‘n’ Roses, my master’s bakery. It had been convenient for my place of work to be near the PRT. The ocean vista had been welcome and the sea breeze refreshing. Now though, I wished Master Frank’s ancestors had purchased land elsewhere.

It was clear to me that Velocity had no real faith in the barrier-makers’ abilities. Though capable in their own right, stopping a tidal wave was a different matter. Leviathan was known for summoning a series of cascading waves that slowly eroded away at the land, sinking entire islands. And the first to go would be the Boardwalk, where the bakery stood.

“Unacceptable,” I declared. Where would I bake my bread then?

“Come again?”

“I find your methods of engagement amateurish. Your contingencies are insufficient. It is clear to me that your leadership is wholly unequipped to face an endbringer.”

“Look, I understand your frustration, trust me I do, but-”

“And that is why I will go alone. Tell this ‘Legend’ to focus on protecting the Boardwalk from the coming waves. I will stop Leviathan at sea.”

Velocity’s mouth opened and closed but no sound emerged. He looked like a gaping fish, trying to make sense of the world. “What?”

I stalked forward. Sparks of celestial fire began to dance beneath my feet. With unreliable defenders such as these, I had no confidence in leaving the bakery in their hands.

If Leviathan was stopped far from shore, his focus would be on me. I knew mages required time to cast their spells and though Leviathan was like no mage I knew of, he had to have limits as well. If he was distracted, he would not be able to summon tidal waves.

And as many a Darkin learned, I was not an opponent to ignore.

Before Velocity could gainsay me, I sprinted out towards the waves. The drizzle around the city got progressively stronger as I left the shore. A mile out, the raindrops fell like stinging darts, cascading down in what felt like a singular sheet.

The waves were black and angry. They churned so much that I doubted even the most veteran captains of Bilgewater would dare to sail here.

I glared down at the sea but could discern nothing; seeing past the foam was impossible. The storm was unnatural, that much was clear. And yet, my opponent was nowhere to be found. He was said to swim freely through the ocean.

I was no Tidecaller, who could contest Leviathan’s control over the sea. Nor was I the Tidal Trickster, whose skill at hunting beneath the waves reached even my ears.

No, I was Atreus. I was War. I would have my battle whether he wanted to face me or not.

Fire coursed through my veins as my resolve firmed. My star surged as mortal will harnessed the power of a god. Once more, I took the form of a celestial. I swelled as a construct of cosmic fire enveloped my body. The armor of celestial fire projected my form, enlarging it. I stood half as large as Lung had been, enough to tower over most opponents.

I loomed over the sea as my relic weapons shone with the light of Targon. I had mixed feelings about these. Splendid though they were, they were proof that my people relied too heavily on the Aspects. But these belonged to no Aspect. Pantheon was dead, leaving only Atreus the man. And I would use them as a man ought: to protect what mattered.

So decided, the halo around me burst upward and outward, spreading out over the sky. The storm clouds that had seemed so overwhelming were swept aside, burned away as tinder before a forest fire.

Astrea spread out across the sky, reaching from horizon to horizon and painting the sky with the myriad constellations of my homeland. This was Astrea, a shroud and mantle, proof of my station, and tribute to the very celestials who protected Runeterra from the Void. From the Messenger to the Traveler to the Immortal Fire, I saw them all. Though my thoughts on them were often bitter, there was respect there as well.

And out from above the clouds, Atreus, my star, blazed like a second sun.

I gripped Skyfall, now as long as a building and gleaming with a brilliant inferno, and aimed down.

The rain? I would sweep it aside.

The sea? I would burn it to dry land if I must.

What was the ocean before a star?

It was a simple thrust, executed with timeless perfection. A cataclysmic wave of fire and force erupted from the point of my spear, depressing and evaporating the sea for miles. The sea boiled, only for the steam itself to ignite and burn. A conflagration of brilliant white burst from the point of impact and I had to leash the fire with my own lest the city nearby suffer for my carelessness.

There, in the canyon I’d carved out of the ocean, I found a scaled, lizard-like creature. He stood on two feet, taller than three men, and had four eyes yet no mouth. His eyes were misshapen and placed asymmetrically, with three on one side of his face and one on the other. I knew that this was Leviathan, the “city-killer.”

He shot me a baleful glare and surged up along the walls of water before the sea had a chance to collapse upon itself. Good, it was no coward.

I banged my shield with my spear and let out a Ra’Horak warcry. Spear poised for his heart, I lunged as blood pumped in my ears.

We clashed with a deafening roar. I felt Skyfall shatter the beast’s scales and part its flesh. It was a sensation at once familiar yet foreign. Though my spear pierced its skin with ease, it quickly met resistance the further in it dove.

He clawed at me with one massive hand,nails grinding against my shield. He was stronger than any I’d faced in this world, but that was not a high bar. I would compare his strength to an Ascended or Darkin, unusual but not exceptional.

Then the echo hit. I had been told to expect it, but the sudden pressure caught me by surprise nonetheless. I grunted as my shield braced against my shoulder. It felt as if a tidal wave had followed his hand, crashing into my shield and my shield alone. The force was enough to push me back so went with the blow and allowed his own strike to gouge my spear from his flesh.

Down below, the ocean collapsed upon itself with the sound of crashing thunder. A water spout enveloped us both with enough force to tear down castle walls. I felt Leviathan take hold of the rising spout, bludgeoning me away. My world became seafoam and crushing waves as he tossed me about, stronger than Lung had ever been. It was clear that he had survived the beast below with constant regeneration, not with any true skill.

It was wonderful.

A Rakkor sought worthy foes. Though I was content to remain retired for the most part, that instinct that had been honed and beaten into me as a young lad had never truly faded.

Here was a beast who could push me far. He fought with water magic that was beyond even the Tidecaller, strength beyond some Ascended, and finesse in his magical control. I saw now that the Caretaker was right to send me here for no man in this world could be his match.

Perhaps I could finally face an opponent at my best. With a smile on my face, I charged my foe once more.

X

Lisa Wilbourn, Tattletale

I cursed Leviathan for showing up now of all times. I cursed my power for never quite being good enough. Most of all, I cursed Coil for saddling me with this bullshit.

He didn’t just out the Empire. He had Kaiser and Purity’s daughter kidnapped. Those meatheads of his even killed off Theo Anders, Kaiser’s son from his first wife.

And he blamed it on me.

[Intended to get rid of Empire. Meant to force them to rampage, incurring Atreus’ wrath. Did not expect Leviathan.]

‘No fucking shit, power,’ I swore. I knew that already. I was the one who found those names in the first place! And what the hell? No one expected Leviathan to pop up today!

I was freaking out. This wasn’t okay. This wasn’t me.

[Heart rate is abnormally high. Can cause health complications if sus-]

“Gaahhh!!!” I yelled, chucking my coffee mug at the wall. It didn’t help my migraine or panic attack, but at least it reset my stupid, autistic power.

I took a deep breath and forced myself to calm down. I was Lisa Wilbourn. I was Tattletale, calm, cool, and collected. I was Sherlock Holmes on steroids. I could do this. I was smarter than Coil. I had more information than Coil. I’d planned a break from him since the beginning. This changed nothing.

No, maybe Leviathan’s arrival was a good thing for me. If anything, this was an opportunity. Nothing promised chaos like a magic Spartan and an endbringer about to trade hands. I could use this. I could disappear. And for that, I needed a plan.

‘Think, Lisa, think. Everything begins with a question,’ I urged myself.

What did I know so far?

Coil had me find Purity’s name long before Atreus popped up. I initially thought he wanted to use it to blackmail Kaiser or forcibly recruit Purity, but he had me do the rest too. Making the Empire rampage was always the plan; it just happened to include Atreus now.

There was no doubt in my mind that under normal circumstances, Atreus would kill them off. This could be Coil getting rid of the other big gang, but that made no sense to me: He had no way of dealing with Atreus and he knew it, which meant becoming the sole crime lord in the Bay just wasn’t worth it at the moment.

So what did Coil want?

[Wants to leave,] my power suggested. It finally decided to be useful.

That made sense; it was what I’d do. Coil had everything poised for a complete takeover of the Bay, until an unexpected variable flipped the chessboard. He had no way to control Atreus. Rose Frank was an option, but everything I knew about Atreus’ personality suggested that threatening her would end in catastrophe.

So he wanted out. He couldn’t remove Atreus from the board so he was looking for a new board to play on. Which meant I had to rethink my earlier conclusions.

The goal wasn’t to get rid of the Empire; the goal was to distract Atreus. Relocating would mean he’d need to consolidate his forces and cut loose ends. He’d want to burn the board that he no longer controlled because he was that kind of petty asshole.

I was on that board. I was a loose end.

[Wants you dead. Destruction of the Empire no longer the goal. Chaos is the goal. Scapegoat cannot be permitted to hide. Coil has Empire contacts. You are the scapegoat. You have been outed.]

My mind whirled with the implications. Coil wanted me dead. He wanted the Empire chomping at the bit. He could have them remove the loose end while using me as bait. And if I was outed…

“I need to get out of here,” I whispered.

That thought spurred me into motion. I couldn’t be Tattletale; the outfit was too noticeable. Lisa Wilbourn was just another blonde teenager with freckles. I’d have better luck going unnoticed as a civilian.

I shoved a knife and some headache meds into my pocket and strapped a holster to the small of my back. It’d go unnoticed with a jacket. I then tied my hair into a bun and wore a beanie over it before grabbing an umbrella and running out the door.

My mind raced as I melded onto a side street. I knew what Coil wanted to get out of this. How would Leviathan impact this? What could I do to optimize my chances of survival?

I had two options before me. I could abuse the truce. If I went to the PRT right now, even in my civilian wear, I would be guaranteed safety for the duration of the attack, assuming Leviathan didn’t kill me and no one in the Empire tried to arrange an “accident” in the confusion.

No, that was bullshit; there were no guarantees. It relied on the goodwill of the heroes and honor of the Empire. Worse, I had no way of leaving after the fact. I wouldn’t receive any protection from the heroes if they thought I’d outed everyone in a major gang. I’d be hunted down like a dog, if I even got the chance to run at all. Hell, there was a good chance Purity would evaporate me the moment she saw me, truce be damned. Too risky.

The other choice, really the only choice, was to meld into the background. I could join the crowd, be a cute, homeless girl scared for her life. I could play on others’ sympathies and hide out in a nearby shelter before disappearing with the refugees leaving the city.

My power blared out a warning and I pressed myself against the wall. Across the street, Alabaster ran by, his stark-white skin standing out even amidst the downpour.

I swore. I’d been outed by Coil, which meant my apartment was known too. I’d be reasonably safe if I could make it to an endbringer shelter, but my current priority was leaving my immediate neighborhood unnoticed.

I ducked behind a dumpster and dialed Grue. He could flood a city block. Even just that bit of misdirection would raise my chances of survival exponentially.

“Pick up,” I whispered urgently. “Please pick up.”

“Tats? What the fuck did you do?” Grue yelled. I’d never been happier to hear my team leader’s voice.

“I need a distraction,” I spoke quickly. “Flood a street near my apartment in smoke. I just need them to think I left that way. Quickly.”

“You outed the Empire! Why the hell would I help you?”

“Think, Brian! Why the hell would I out them? What would I gain from that? I’m being framed!”

Grue took a deep breath through his nose. “Talk fast.”

“Coil. He’s our mystery boss. He wants to cut ties and leave the city and needs a distraction to do it. The goal was to make the Empire run wild and have Atreus intervene while he consolidated his holdings and bugged out. He outed them then me to give them a target.”

“Fuck…”

[Believes you have nothing to gain. Believes you wouldn’t out the Empire.]

I felt a wave of relief at that. Brian was good, as good a man as a villain could be. He was in it for the right reasons.

“Help me, Brian,” I begged. He saw himself as a decent human being, one with morals. I knew his buttons, what he wanted most. “I swear I’ll get you custody of Aish-”

“Oh fuck, Aisha.”

“Coil hasn’t outed you. Or anyone el-”

“He could,” he said with dawning horror.

I cursed inside. I fucked up. Aisha was the button to press with Brian. It was also one Coil had firmly in his pocket. Stupid. Stupid. So fucking stupid! “Brian-”

“I can’t, Lisa. He’ll help with Aisha so long as I work with him.”

“No he won’t!” I yelled. “He’ll never give you custody because he knows that’s his hold on you! He never planned to help. He doesn’t give a damn about Aisha!”

“And you do? Don’t act like you give a damn when this is the first I’ve heard of it from you. What do you think is going to happen if I help you now? I can’t risk my sister for you!”

“I was recruited at gunpoint! I would’ve died if I talked!”

“And so you do nothing? You always have options, Lisa! You’re the one always telling everyone how smart you are.”

“The bank robbery. Remember that one? The real reason he wanted that job was to distract the heroes. He kidnapped the mayor’s niece, Dinah Alcott. She’s twelve, Aisha’s age. She’s stuck in Coil’s basement drugged to the gills, Brian. That’s the man you’re trusting. You think he’ll keep his word? Help me, please!”

[Shaken. Believes you. Afraid for his sister. Afraid that if he pulls back now, the same will happen to his sister. Afraid that he’s in too deep.]

I laughed hysterically like a cackling witch. Now Brian understood. He finally realized the deal he got was too good to be true, too perfect. It was almost hilarious how laughably naive he was. He was the frog in the pot who just realized the water’s started to boil, just in time to damn me to hell.

Coil arranged this perfectly. Brian could help me if he hurried, but he hadn’t been outed. His sister was safe. His life wasn’t in shambles. Coil was making him choose between me and Aisha.

And that was no choice at all.

I knew his next words before he spoke them. “I’m sorry, Lisa.”

The line went dead. I stared at my phone. I wanted to chuck it against the wall, but I was already drawing attention to myself.

Fine. I didn’t need Brian. I could… call Taylor. Her bugs were just as good. A distraction. Overwatch. She could guide me towards a shelter and avoid the Empire.

[Heroic at heart. Would help if she knew. Compulsive need to make a difference. Endbringer siren took precedence. At PRT HQ. Cannot help in time.]

My knees felt weak. I’d have to go it alone.

I forced myself to run, my umbrella abandoned on the sidewalk. My head throbbed but I forced myself to push on. I made a point of keeping fit, not to Brian’s obsessive standard, but at least enough to be considered athletic. My career revolved around playing high-stakes tag with criminals. It wouldn’t do to get killed because I gained a bit of pudge.

The nearest shelter was only two minutes away, but it was also the first one they’d check if they couldn’t find me. The second was near the Towers, a luxury apartment building. Coincidentally, it also housed Purity, as well as a handful of Empire sympathizers. That was a death sentence.

So, with little choice, I started a full sprint to one of the shelters near the university. It was a good pick. There were thousands of young adults my age, hundreds of white girls. I reached up and made sure my beanie was on. No hint of hair color, no need to help any watchers narrow things down.

It took me fifteen minutes of hard sprinting to get there. The shelter was beneath the university auditorium. It was guarded by PRT squad members paired with police support. People rushed inside in droves, packing themselves like sardines. There was a palpable sense of panic as they consoled themselves. They made it. The shelter was inland. It’d be safe.

I managed to cram myself inside. I was one of the last to get in before the shelter reached capacity. I almost hadn’t been fast enough, but I shouldered past a few slower students to dive inside.

My breath came in ragged pants. Inside, the shelter had a small medic station with only twelve cots and a handful of first-aid kits. Police were already inside, keeping a weather eye for people who caused too much trouble. There was someone standing behind a podium with a mic, shouting orders. The contents of what he said didn’t matter so long as he was loud. He offered the panicking students something to focus on, the illusion that there was someone in charge.

Slowly, I allowed myself to calm down. I felt my heartbeat steady and knew that I made it. I couldn’t trust the heroes to protect me, but hiding here, one among hundreds of white, college girls, was enough.

I’d sit tight and weather the storm. And when Leviathan was driven off, I could sneak out of the city, strike it on my own. Or maybe I’d wait for Atreus if he survived. He owed me for helping him find Bakuda. I should be able to finagle that into protection long enough to plan my next move. Hell, I’d take being the receptionist at his damn bakery at this point.

Either way, I knew that my time as an Undersider was over. There was no going back anymore. I didn’t know what would happen between them and Coil, but that wasn’t my problem any longer. Poor Taylor would just have to find another way to investigate their boss, not that she’d been doing a good job of that before.

I leaned against the wall and waited in line to receive one of those chemical hand warmers. My head throbbed like a bitch from power overuse. I reached into my pocket and popped two pills. They never completely killed the thinker headache, no matter what painkillers I tried, but they did dull the sensation for a bit.

Someone jostled against me as the crowds behind pushed us forward. I clamped down on my power to avoid whatever inane trivia it wanted to give me. I’d used it enough as it was. I’d need it in a few hours and could do without the headache, or worse of one than I already had.

I turned to tell him off, then a cold, sinking feeling bloomed in my back. It felt as if a spike of ice had been shoved up my spine. A dull, chilling ache flooded through my torso, only for that cold to be replaced by a throbbing burn. I tried to turn around, only for the man to hold me straight by the shoulder.

[Stabbed from behind and below the seventh rib. Knife in heart. Blood loss critical.]

How? What gave me away? I purposely avoided the nearest shelter. I hid every identifying feature. I should’ve been a needle in a haystack.

[Coil has mercenaries in every shelter. Watching for specific cues. Noticed the extra-strength pain medication. Pieced together other clues.]

No… This wasn’t right. Just a bit longer, even one more week, I would have mapped out Coil’s organization. I was so close to being free, so close to getting Coil back…

[Blood loss critical. Drawing attention. Mercenary is a fall guy. Death imminent.]

Fucking power… useless to the end…

Author’s Note

Someone said they wanted more scenes of Atreus baking, so here you go.

Atreus shows a great deal of respect for those who are willing to fight against all odds. He however has little patience for the PRT leadership.

I’m taking a great deal of liberty with Atreus’ powers, but in the words of Ryze, "Theirs is the power to carve mountains, drain oceans, and burn skies."

Ryze was referring to something called the World Runes, Runeterra’s equivalent of the Infinity Stones. Atreus is a lot weaker, but he’s also not trying to remake the world.

Can I get an F for Lisa?

I actually like her a lot. She’s Wildbow’s exposition machine, but she’s also a very well-developed character. People who reduce her to “sexy blonde in purple tights with a foxy smirk” likely haven’t read canon. Which is fine, but I wish people who haven’t read Worm would stop making blanket statements about canon as if they’ve read it, especially because I think fanon does her a disservice.

Canon Lisa is an exposition machine and a bitch, but she’s also an unexpectedly good friend and a complex figure wracked by survivor’s guilt who overcomes her own failings on numerous occasions.

So if I like her, why kill her off?

Well, a super powerful isekai protagonist isn’t anything new. The difference here is that they all know Worm, recognize Lisa (or at least her power) as a vital resource, and reach out to her. They give her everything she wants in exchange for her loyalty, and in doing so often turn Lisa’s character into a caricature.

That’s not Atreus. He doesn’t know a thing about Worm. Even if he did, it’d be very hard to justify why he would give a damn about some blonde, homeless girl. With Lisa being the only one reaching for him, her reach falls horribly short.