45. The Dread Queen's Armada

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My bare feet slapped against the crashed train's metallic surface as I paced to and fro. My breath was short and strained, a mixture of anger and guilt choking the sense of calmness out of me.

Innocents.

I killed innocents.

And worse is that I was enjoying myself throughout it!

This was supposed to be a dangerous mission I could recklessly throw myself into without a thought for my safety, but instead...

"How is this even possible?!" I screamed to no one in particular.

"I don't know, but I have my suspicions."

"Oh do you now?" the blonde woman asked the captain.

"I do, and unfortunately I'm probably right," the captain, whose name we learned was Reece, raised one of the collars for us to see. "The construction, albeit larger, is nearly identical to that of a control collar. But the magic is notably different."

At the mention of his choice of words, Lyubov looked at him in genuine surprise.

"A control collar? Shit..." she said as she began to rub the bridge of her nose, "Not even Bosco looks at those fondly..."

"Are control collars exactly what they sound like?"

"Worse. While forms of mind control such as charm magic are common among the slave trade, control collars connect directly to the nervous system. Any independent thought is completely overridden, and removing the collar means you kill the person it's attached to. That's why they're frowned upon even in countries like Bosco, where they have an active and unstoppable slave trade. Too easy to kill the merchandise by accident."

"And these collars are heavily modified, and match an old case from a few years back I worked on..."

"Okay, so if these are all attached by magic, then all we need to remove them is magic, right? Because I know a spell that will work perfectly for thi-"

"No." Reece cut me off. "The collars need to be deactivated before that can happen, and without the control ring and code from whoever's wearing it, magic won't mean anything."

"Find the control ring, get the code from the wearer, deactivate the collars, and make whoever did this scream and rot from a cramped prison. Easy as paella. Give me an opening at the top!" I shouted as whirlwinds of purple flame wrapped around my feet.

"Wait, young miss! You shouldn't-"

"Oh hush it, captain. We were hired for a job, so shut up and let us do it!" Lyubov shouted as she held her hand out in front of her. "Mist-Make: Giant Swan."

"Are you ladies sure?"

"I can't get paid if I can't do my job, so open up," she said as she climbed up the swan.

"Alright...good luck. Give them an opening!"

The two of us flew towards the opening at the top of the magic barrier, a large hexagonal hole disappearing as we reached the roof. When we were out of the Rune Knight's protective dome, the sound of the angry beasts that were muffled inside the barrier hit us again with renewed vigour.

"My flames are too dangerous to fight them, so I'm going to hunt down the leader."

"Before you do, use those flames to cut off any chances of escape. I'll stay here and take some of the strain off the mages holding the barrier. Together, we'll make a whole lot of noise to get attention from the idiots in Era. Maybe they'll even show up and take up the work for us."

"Got it."

The two of us split, me going high and her floating in front of the train. Once I reached high enough to see over the entirety of the mountains, I pressed my palms together as black flowery tattoos grew all over my body from my palms and stretched up to my chest. "Heart's Eye: Release."

An uncomfortable vertigo washed over me for a brief second, but when it washed away an ethereal blue hue blanketed the landscape. The aura condensed on living things, even more so on the humans and beasts fighting below. All the other animals in the vicinity would have long since run away from the conflict, leaving only me and my quarry as an exception.

"You can hide all you want, but there's one aspect no one can camouflage..." My eyes scanned the mountainous region for an area with a denser hue than the rest, away from the amassed hoard. My lips arched in a mirthful smirk at the sight. "Because even your soul is prey."

I let my hands stretch out on opposite sides of each other, reactivating the seal in the process. They ignited, propelling me in a spinning motion mid-air as violet flames surged from my throat. "Fire Devil's Rage!"

—

As Lyubov observed, the young girl she had brought along as cannon fodder transformed the once serene blue sky into a foreboding purple hue, spewing forth torrents of flames from her mouth as she twirled. The inferno expanded effortlessly, spanning three kilometres in diameter, an indicator of the battlefield's scale.

"At least one klick in all directions, huh? Perfect," she mused, perched atop the misty swan.

With a sinister grin, Lyubov clasped her hands together, summoning a dense fog that enveloped her, the shattered train, and the horde of green beasts. Within the impenetrable mist lingered an oppressive aura of magic, thick and suffocating.

Her confidence swelled as she sensed the chaos below, the creatures blinded by the fog, and the Rune Knight's confusion amplified by the magical cloud.

"Ehe~ I never tire of this reaction," she chuckled, her voice resonating with eerie clarity, transmitted to all within the fog's grasp, "Mist-Make: Dread Queen's Armada!"

The fog slowly lifted and twisted, rising into a dozen amorphous clouds that shrunk and moulded themselves into ghostly pirate ships that loomed over the mountains. Standing atop the bowsprit of the largest ship was the "Dread Queen" herself, a misty tricorn hat atop her head and a shining silver sabre in her hand. The guard of the sword matched that of the boat's figurehead, a skeletal mermaid whose hands were thrown behind her screaming head, desperately grasping onto the object she was grafted onto.

The woman smiled as she looked over the battlefield that had gone silent. The beasts paused as instinctual uncertainty made them betray their orders to destroy everyone and everything on the train. After all, one of their prey is now no longer on the train, but still fully intends to fight them. The Rune Knights, on the other hand, used the opportunity to swap out the mages casting the barrier spell. Each of them made a silent prayer in thankfulness for the diversion.

The thin wisps of fog that remained around the ships flew onto and below the decks of each. Those below couldn't see the forms they took, but an uncanny sound of rattling bones and a cheery gang of sailors chattered over the once raucous battlefield.

One of the cheery sailors peered over the edge, revealing the ghastly visage of an undead pirate.

"Oi! Are t'ese te blowhards you want us to kill, cap'n?"

"Can't, Laro. The government stooges are our employers and the beasts, well, they're humans in disguise. I think. Just knock 'em around a bit will ya?"

"Ha! Ye be tellin' us we're gettin' our pockets lined by the council!? We be set to be filthy rich!"

More and more ghost-like pirates peered themselves over the edge and through the windows of the six flying ships. In unison, they all started to laugh after seeing the advantage they had over their targets.

"How in the ghostly seas are they supposed to win, cap'n! This be a jest for the takin'! Easy pickin''s, me hearties!"

"That's the best part! They aren't! Now rain hell!"

The mist ghosts from within began to turn the gunports downwards, aiming the cannons and firing. Those from atop began to fire from pistols and rifles, while those who didn't have firearms hurled insults at the beasts their comrades were firing upon.

The beasts, for their part, tried to reach them. They began to climb over each other and onto the train's shield, jumping upwards and throwing each other at the airborne ships. Those who managed to avoid getting shot out of the air flew harmlessly through the misty figures and fell back down to the earth. Lyubov sat there on a throne made atop the poop deck, listening and watching as the Dread Queen's Armada effortlessly took down the legion below her.

It was a shame in her mind that she couldn't kill them all, since it would be so much easier. But she knew that the council, or even Jose, would dock her pay to compensate the families of those she killed. So instead she would settle with breaking a few bones, or even all of them if it came down to it. If it seemed like they would kill themselves in the effort to kill her, then she would order her "crew" to net them.

This was the state she sat in for ten minutes, carefully monitoring her magic reserves to make sure she didn't leave herself dry. It was the only caveat she had with using this spell at such a large scale, but it was one that never failed her in the past thirty years she'd spent as a mage.

Was it always as powerful as it was? Not even close. But she had spent so long dedicating herself to Dynamic Moulding magic that she was one of the only Maker Mages in the world who was capable of giving each member of her crew a fully functioning personality.

She had studied the basics of magic around the same time as Guild Master Jose and had expected to have inherited the position of guild master instead of him from their mentor, one Clarice "Muscleheart" Whitlock. But no, she passed the position to him in their early twenties before retiring to some tint village out in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. The last she heard about her was that she had become the matron of an orphanage there, but couldn't give a shit about her fate beyond that.

No, she couldn't stand the idea of being in a guild that rightfully belonged to her. So instead, she joined the navy, and when she realised that she could earn more money by being a pirate she didn't even hesitate. She mutinied her crew and stole the ship. She spent ten years terrorizing the seas. By the time she was thirty, she was recognized by Ishgar, Alvarez, and Guiltina as a threat to naval trade. They had tried to send envoys to make deals with her that all turned south, and when they tried to defeat her, they would lose entire fleets to the Dread Queen's Unremitting Mist.

Those who survived would tell stories of getting trapped in a dead fog, and ghost ships piloted by skeletons. The entire time they would be haunted by her mirthful laughing that was carried through the fog.

The only reason she's even here now is because she had interfered with Jose's trade routes as well, which he took exception to.

The battle between the two tainted a heavy section of the sea, Jose's Phantasmal Shades all battling her Misty Armada. Still, the pirate queen lost in the end.

She would have slit her throat then and there were it not for Jose luring her in with the one thing the both of them could agree on.

Money.

Jose would pull some strings and make her criminal past just that, a thing of the past. In turn, she would take exclusively SS Class missions. Just like the ones she's on now. Although the girl she brought with her doesn't know that last part.

When she heard the absence of gunfire, she left her spot on the throne and approached her first mate, Laro, who was casually resting on a barrel with his rifle on his shoulder.

"Ah, t'ere ye are, cap'n! Some of the lads er down roundin' 'em up 'nto neat piles. Wanna watch?"

"Not interested. Just curious about what my little friend has been up to since we last parted."

"Ah, you brought anot'er vic to te party, did ye?"

"Mhm."

"An you sent 'em off to get t'emselves killed so we'd get a bigger pay, did ye?"

"You know me so well, Laro."

"T'ats my cap'n!"

Lyubov smiled and rolled her eyes at the misty skeleton's cheerful attitude, and went to bark orders at the rest of her crew when a large explosion off in the distance caught her attention.

When she turned to look at it, she saw a large fiery purple orb consuming half of the mountain range as it travelled, burning so hot and so bright it felt like a miniature sun was placed just a few kilometres away from her.

The sheer amount of magic power coming from the devastation around it was enough to terrify the woman who could at one point go toe-to-toe with a Wizard Saint, and the death roar of some unseen monster turned that fear into outright dread as it shook even the deck of the mist-made ship. Even the usually boisterous crew of facsimile undead had gone silent in its wake.

"W-What was t'at, cap'n?"

The forty-year-old woman took a deep breath to calm herself, straightening up her hat and hair in an attempt to maintain some composure.

"That, Laro, was my extra pay being burned away right in front of our eyes."

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