The Last Dryad
With a sharp crack, the whip lashed the factory floor, carving a deep gouge. Of course, Roque had already flipped backward through the air, leaping clear.
Moments later, Emily followed his movement, hurling herself forward. Her whips, glowing green with crackling lightning, chased after him.
Roque, who had landed atop a pressure cooker-like machine, had to leap again right away. Her whip struck where he'd been, splitting the cooker clean in half. Half-formed cultured meat oozed out thickly, splattering the floor.
Emily shouted as she pursued him.
"You just gonna keep dodging, Aura Master?"
Her two whips whirled like a vortex, shredding anything in their path. They weren't an Aura Blade, but their current fury matched one.
Those whipping tendrils chased him like hungry tentacles, so Roque couldn't just keep evading. He swung his right hand at an incoming whip.
The Aura Blade clashed with the lightning whip.
A sizzling hiss erupted, sparks exploding like fireworks. The embers rained down on Roque's jacket, closer to the impact.
"Nngh..."
Emily yanked her whip back at the moment of collision and paused. Roque, who had swung his Aura Blade through the sparks, froze in place as well.
Emily's eyes flicked to the tip of her right whip. The end that had met the gray blade was slightly severed.
She turned back to Roque. He stood with his Aura Blade at mid-guard, staring her down steadily. He just stood there, immovable even by storm or tsunami.
Emily, who had been frowning slightly at him, relaxed her face into a smile.
"Really, we could've done without meeting like this."
She flicked her right hand once, and the severed whip regrew to its full length, green lightning crackling fiercely.
"Hiyah—!"
In the next instant, she screamed like a forest savage and swung both whips. Twin bolts of lightning plunged toward Roque from her hands—twice as fast as before.
But Roque didn't leap away. He just bent his knees slightly, lowered his stance, and whipped his two-handed Aura Blade with blinding speed.
Lightning met Aura Blade again. No—twice this time.
The result was the same. A deflating whoosh and sparks scattering everywhere. The severed whip tips flew wildly, gouging deep trenches into the factory grounds.
But Emily's assault didn't end. She lashed wildly, green flashes whipping into a frenzy.
Roque stood his ground, parrying every strike. Explosions of noise and sparks erupted around him. So many embers flew that a circular wall of fire seemed to encircle him.
Emily's lightning whips kept getting sliced. Yet their length stayed the same—they regenerated as fast as they were cut.
Instead, the severed fragments flew everywhere like shrapnel. With sharp whooshes, they turned the cultured meat vats, conveyor belts, walls, and ceiling into Swiss cheese.
"Roque! Got all the factory workers evacuated! That guy outside with the missing limbs—fuck!"
Daniel burst into the chaos just as the internal lights shattered, punching holes in the ceiling.
He'd entered through the production entrance and froze at the flying lightning shards and the two fighters at the center. He drew his pistol on reflex but chose to hit the deck instead of aiming.
"What the hell is this mess... Weren't we here to stop a terror attack...?"
As his mumbled words from flat on the floor suggested, the factory was beyond salvage.
The initial fight with Roque and the masked figures had wrecked the internals. This one seemed hell-bent on collapsing the whole building. Blinding lights exploded, riddling walls and ceiling with holes as rain poured in.
"You gonna keep blocking forever? This place'll collapse completely!"
Emily yelled amid her frenzy. Seizing the opening, Roque burst through his ember wall like a shot. A long gray afterimage trailed his Aura Blade.
"Hah!"
Emily short-breathed and leaped back as the gray flash grazed her throat. Their moves synced perfectly. She flipped backward and landed softly.
The factory fell briefly silent amid the cacophony. Frayed wires sparked, rain pattered through ceiling holes—but after the frenzy, it felt still. Shattered lights dimmed it further, amplifying the quiet.
Then, one of Emily's horns, wobbling from her retreat, snapped off and fell. Its cross-section was charred black.
"...Stings a bit."
Her face looked off as she muttered quietly. Her once-smooth skin was hardening from the outside, like tree bark.
She looked up at Roque. His jacket was pocked with ember burns, but otherwise unscathed. He stared back blankly, light sword at the ready.
Emily rose slowly.
"Impressive. Now I get why the powerful still hire Aura Masters as bodyguards..."
She flinched suddenly. Something dripped from above. Looking up, rain fell through a gaping ceiling hole. She stared blankly, then closed her eyes to let it wash her face.
"...Even tainted by factory smoke, rain is rain. Slow clouds rise to the sky, then fall as slender streams like blessings. Even weeds in asphalt drink it and grow. Longing for forests full of grass and trees..."
Her rain-slicked face turned to Roque. His expression remained blank.
She said,
"I felt it the moment our weapons met."
"What?"
"Your loneliness and sorrow. The kind we all carry."
Roque didn't reply. Emily smiled faintly, as if understanding.
"Truth is, I don't believe in 'small sacrifices' either. Sorrow doesn't divide into big or small. It shouldn't be tolerated at all. I just..."
Emily trailed off, hesitating. Should she say she was the last of her vanishing race, lashing out in final throes? Or that she just wanted to shatter people's isolation?
The Aura Blade drew from the heart's depths, so Roque felt her thoughts as she had his.
Thus, he knew the word she couldn't grasp.
"You believed it was what had to be done."
She nodded with a warm smile.
"Yeah. Something like that."
Then, a shout from the entrance.
"Freeze! MLPD! Drop your weapons!"
Daniel, finally rising, aimed at Emily. He didn't know the full story but figured he should back Roque.
Seeing him, Emily muttered,
"...Maybe flowers instead of bombs would've been better."
Her green eyes flashed. Her whips blazed fiercer than ever, forming a net of pure lightning.
It filled Roque's view entirely.
"Damn it! Don't move!"
Daniel's scream came with muzzle flash. Roque's Aura Blade met the net simultaneously.
The gray blade sliced through like all before had been play.
Lightning shards flew past Roque's shoulder, demolishing the last production remnants in a crash of debris. That seemed final—Emily's whips went dark.
But Roque didn't rush to finish her. No need.
"Kuh... heh..."
Bullet-riddled in the throat, Emily slumped against wrecked equipment. Thick green blood poured from her neck and mouth. Trembling, she clutched it, staring at Roque. He met her gaze silently.
"Grrk, dinner... keh, couldn't... eat together... krrk..."
Roque nodded.
"Yeah. Shame."
Her pained smile faded as she toppled fully.
Her dying eyes held the perforated ceiling and Midland's storm-choked sky beyond. Countless raindrops fell toward her—blessing or acid rain, only she knew.
As her final breath escaped, her skin hardened fully into tree bark. Moss even sprouted on the green-bloodied concrete.
"Wh-what?"
Daniel gaped. Roque retracted his Aura Blade.
"The last of a race. Ended with one trigger pull."
"What? What does that mean?"
"No more terror."
Roque turned and walked out. Rain pattered his shoulders.
Daniel blinked between his back and the dryad's grave, then hurried after.
"Hey! But the property damage—this is insane! I could get docked pay! Or unpaid leave..."
"Well, they finally nabbed 'em."
An old man at the bar table chuckled dryly at the TV news, as if wondering why they bragged about it now.
His remark drew eyes from the few late-night patrons at the 24-hour Change Diner to the screen. But attention waned in minutes. To folks nursing their own woes and loneliness, another criminal takedown was just noise.
The head chef felt the same. With the night waitress no-showing, he was stuck front-of-house, no time for ancient races like dryads. Serving and cooking was killing him.
Then, a customer at the bar beckoned. Beside him sat a drowsy girl, eyes half-shut, munching pancakes.
"Ah, yes. More for you?"
"Coffee."
"Right, coffee."
The chef filled the mug from the pot behind. The man nodded thanks.
"Heh heh, anything else, just say."
"One more here."
The girl beside him ordered, sleepy but demolishing plates of pancakes. The chef eyed the man, who nodded—one more plate.
As the chef vanished into the kitchen, the man stared into his black coffee, rippling gently.
The diner door opened.
"No, Sarge, stay in the car. I'll handle the greetings..."
"Idiot. Why'd I leave the hospital then? Lie there till they fit new legs?"
"Well... yeah, but..."
The pair caused a minor commotion: a young blond man and an orc swathed in bandages, crutching along. Most wounds looked grave, but his right leg below the thigh was a glaring void.
Undeterred, the orc crutched boldly to the man's side. The man barely reacted.
The orc sat naturally beside him, sighed deeply, then spoke.
"Th-thanks for helpin' that fool. And stoppin' more terror."
"Just the job I got paid for."
The orc's eyes—Harry's—turned to the man, Roque.
"...Still gotta thank ya. Saved a lotta lives."
Roque neither replied nor looked up. He just sipped his coffee. Harry cracked an awkward smile and glanced at the bar.
"Ended up, me and the fool get the credit. Chief forced it. Can't have mercs savin' the day—cops'd look bad..."
Unpleasant for a beat, then he relaxed, tapping the table with his good right hand.
"Anyway, thanks to you, I keep my badge. Promotion too. Need anythin'? Anytime. Legal or not, I'll roll up sleeves."
Roque nodded silently. Harry, satisfied, rose—wobbling on unfamiliar crutches. Daniel steadied him quick.
"I'm fine, punk."
"Like hell. Say thanks when helped."
Harry snorted but let it go. Daniel helped him out, glancing back with a bow. Roque still ignored them.
After they left, the chef emerged with pancakes, tilting his head at the door sound. He set it before the dozing girl.
"Enjoy. Need more?"
Roque shook his head. The black-haired girl beside him just stuffed more pancakes, eyes barely open.
Someone called the chef from across the diner. He hurried off.
Roque fiddled silently with his mug, then sipped. Bitter aroma lingered.
Outside, damp rain fell steadily.