Fantasy Inbound: Volume 3

Prologue

Flames engulfed him, tongues of fire dancing over both the archmage’s burly form and resplendent blue garb. A very strange boy had loosed them upon Quldald of the Whirlwind—an odd warrior by Earthling standards, at least. Devicer Seven, he had called himself. He was a terribly gaunt boy, but from his bony hands he could create powerful explosions, as well as waves of heat searing enough to melt iron.

They had not, however, been enough to best an archmage from the glorious land of Param.

How odd, the mage mused. Yet how very much like Param’s sorcerers, the manner in which he fights. Indeed, I did spy him soar through the skies unhindered!

He examined the radiant warrior of flame at his feet. At last, the sleeping hex had quieted the boy, though the fires he’d been dousing Quldald in yet raged, even now.

Yes, the black and gold warrior, too, once protected himself with a very similar sort of barrier. Resilient things. To pacify this single human, the archmage had been forced to use a spell with the potency to put to sleep a thousand men. It truly is a shame, though, that he doesn’t share the same exquisite suit of armor. And yet, the aegis he does wield is unyielding.

There was a belt around the boy’s waist, and a Wheel of Orison rested just around the navel. A most valuable royal artifact, capable of conjuring immense amounts of magical energy, that the Earthlings used as the power source for their so-called Asura Frames. Quldald, for his part, utilized his own form of arcane protection, preventing the flames engulfing him from so much as singing his clothing. Gradually, though, they died away.

Now, what to do with this...‘seven’ something or other.

He had a few options. He could deliver the final blow now, take the boy prisoner, or perhaps prepare an execution. In truth, however, Quldald had long decided his fate. It was why he had elected to forgo his loyal gales in favor of a sleep spell. As it happened, the boy had become necessary for a plan the mage had concocted. It was truly an inspired flash of brilliance.

The archmage grinned confidently. My parting gift to you, young human. Bear this curse, and soon you will be of great use to me.

Devicer Seven, his desolate eyes hidden behind closed eyelids, grimaced in his slumber as if witnessing a gruesome nightmare.

You fought well, boy, I will admit. Though not as well as the black and gold, Quldald said with harsh finality. "How could you compare, after all, to the wind princess’s prodigy? To the one who bends the Asura’s wrath and all its invocations to his will—not just for might’s sake, no, but with grace? With such strategic beauty, I can not help but liken it to the magnificent luster of the finest pearls!"

The sleeping Devicer said nothing.

Quldald smiled at him, almost tenderly. Ah, but I do commend the hunger that plagues you. Your ravenous appetite for victory. Would that you and I could face each other once you had grown and matured, but that will come later. You must aid me, you see. You will help to create the ultimate stage for the ultimate battle. Between him and me.

With a final incantation, the spell was complete. The Mark Seventh, or whatever those people called it, was inert, its barrier down, and the boy at his mercy.

Leo Makishima awoke with a grunt, finding himself alone. He must have lost consciousness during his battle against the archmage. His body ached, and he noted several light bruises all over. Minor damage. But still.

I lost, he murmured. Leo sat up surprisingly easily. He felt perfectly fine. Why didn’t he kill me? Did something stop him? Or...

He had failed to butcher the mage. It was a shame, but not much else. Leo wasn’t angry. Had he died, nothing of value would have really been lost. Frankly, all being alive meant was that he was forced to live and relive the archmages slipping away from him. Over and over.

I was hardly a threat to that guy. I just have to admit it, Leo muttered indifferently. If I want to stand up to the archmages, I need a Replicant.

A scarf of deep crimson was wrapped around his neck. The Asura Frame Mark VII—Agni’s onboard intelligence called it a Holy Shroud, and it was a vital part of his arsenal. His frustratingly limited arsenal, that is. Aside from the Shroud, Leo only had access to a measly four Gospel Codes.

It’s not enough, he growled. "I’ll never slaughter those bastards like this. I need to unlock more of the Mark VII’s power."

"Leo! a voice called. Leo! Hey, are you all right?! Are you getting this?!"

Shut up, Kiriko. I can hear you all the way to my bruises.

His right palm glowed, his nanofactors activating in response to the commlink from his superior officer. The girl was military, like Leo, and her job was technically to oversee and direct him. There was a youthful energy in her voice, though it was tinged with the characteristic accent of Japan’s Kansai region, and a little bit of frantic worry.

"Oh, thank god! The commlinks stopped working, right? And we just totally lost the Mark VII, and my nanomachines couldn’t pick up a thing. Man, I was so worried!" she ranted at great speed and volume.

Leo ignored her with a short yet firm exhale from the nose. I’m going to need some extra firepower, he mumbled. One of those elf-shaped living access points that can download Gospel Codes straight from Avalo. Without that, I’m stuck.

"A what point that can download what from what? Can you repeat that?"

"I said be quiet, Kiriko, Leo snapped at his superior. A deep pain lurked behind the boy’s eyes. And you know I don’t take orders."

Chapter 1: Waves Under the Moon

1

Earth was under attack from another world. In the first half of the twenty-first century, humanity was invaded by the denizens of the other side. It was just a fact of life, and Shanti Maretta Putri was one of countless people who recognized that.

Shanti was, plainly speaking, just a sixteen-year-old freshman girl in high school living in Indonesia’s capital of Jakarta. Currently, she was on her way home from school and still had her uniform on—a white button-up and a long, blue skirt that fell to her ankles. Shanti was a bit of an idol fangirl, so personally, she thought it might be cute to wear her skirt just a little bit shorter. Not that her parents would ever let her, but that was fine. It wasn’t a hill she’d die on.

Two classmates wearing the same uniform walked alongside her. They were all sharing some shaved ice that they’d bought at a stand together. It was topped with vanilla ice cream, white shiratama dumplings, a helping of red bean paste, and drenched with some brown sugar syrup. The three each took turns taking bites while Shanti fiddled with her phone.

Taeyang’s got a new video up! she exclaimed.

Her friends grinned in excitement. The two of them wore jalabib (or hijabs, as they were more commonly known in other parts of the world), each hiding their hair beneath a cloth wrapped around their head. It was Islamic custom for many Muslim women, but not Shanti. She liked to dance, play sports, and she just couldn’t ever sit still, so she found it a bother to mess with, much to her mother’s annoyance. But she was sixteen, so her parents let her act her age for now.

She tilted her phone so her friends could see. A handsome man (who Shanti remembered would be turning nineteen this year) appeared on the LCD screen, his hair dyed from black to blond.

How’s it going, everyone? his voice came from the speakers. He spoke in fairly fluent English. I hope all my pretty kitties are having a lovely day! I’ve got a bit of bad news for you all. Y’see, I got a little hurt in the fight yesterday.

Oh no! Shanti’s friend said. I hope he’s okay!

"He looks okay. Where was it? Where’d you get hurt?" the other friend interrogated the screen.

No answer came, of course. They were simply streaming a video. Though Shanti could relate to the sentiment.

Taeyang was a male idol and member of a mega-popular K-pop group that had been sweeping across all of Asia: UNIONZ. Their fans were positively rabid, and Taeyang’s fame in particular was widespread enough to reach even a group of high school girls all the way in Indonesia.

I’m sure some of you know already, but yesterday I was sent out to the provisional capital, Incheon, on Devicer Four business. A portal-keep appeared nearby, and I had to intercept it, Taeyang said. You’ll see some clips of me and my partner doing just that in a bit, so don’t forget to like the video!

The terms he was using—Devicer Four, portal-keeps, intercept—didn’t sound like things a Korean pop star should have been talking about.

Taeyang had enlisted in the army when he came of age, as all Korean men were required to do, and it was during his time of service that he had been chosen as the Mark IV Asura Frame’s Devicer. Nearly everyone in Korea’s military had undergone fitness testing and compatibility trials for the Mark IV, regardless of rank or status. And as fate would have it, Taeyang the lowly infantryman had scored the highest.

There was no denying the results he and Mitra were producing on the front lines. On the field, Taeyang was East Asia’s protective warden; at home, he was an idol supporting the fight from the PR and information front. Videos like the one Shanti and her friends were watching were for the purpose of raising awareness of the threat that the other side posed to everyone. Even his fancy hair was a special exception to the military’s traditional dress code, all for the sake of helping his publicity.

Shanti watched the man on her phone jabber on with his story until she couldn’t help but ask out loud, So? Come on, where were you hurt?

So yeah, the fight was no biggie, he finally concluded. But right when I let my guard down after I de-armorized, I stumbled...and I kicked my big toe against the wall. I cracked a nail too! It was so bloody, you guys have no idea. Total gorefest.

Seriously?! This dork! Shanti exclaimed. I swear, he’s such a drama queen.

Taeyang’s uniform—standard camouflage—was the most military thing about him. A large green robot fringed with gold accents was kneeled beside him, still taller despite being on one knee and idling patiently as he spoke. It was lean and sturdy, reassuring in its presence. But contrary to what its size might lead one to believe, it was not a robot. It was a suit. Taeyang’s partner. The Asura Frame Mark IV—Mitra.

We’ve got those clips of me and Mitra putting in work coming up soon for you, so stick around, the idol reminded them. Don’t forget, the Anomalies could come for any of us. Even you, watching at home. So always remember, in the event of danger, prioritize safety above all else. Find shelter, hide, and wait for help! He wagged his finger at the camera cheekily. Until next time! Love ya!

Footage of battle replaced the talkative pop star. Mitra was holding a big, long machine gun one-handed, mowing down monsters crawling from the ocean. They looked like giant snakes and had wings like bats. Creatures that could only vaguely be described as bipedal alligators waddled onto land with harpoons in hand, while octopus things flew through the air, wiggling over a dozen tentacles with which they crushed the life out of fleeing humans.

Shanti sighed despondently at the sight. It’s like this all over the northern hemisphere.

It doesn’t feel real, down here at the equator, her friend said. I mean, there’s weird stuff like supply shortages, I guess.

The other nodded. I hear we’re getting more refugees from up north. It’s awful in Russia and Japan, apparently.

Eastern Russia had taken the brunt of the other side’s first assaults. Upon seeing the unilateral devastation, China and Korea took immediate action, concentrating people, supplies, and their militaries at specific urban locations and preparing to make contact with the Anomalies at a moment’s notice. Korea ended up losing Seoul, but their forces regrouped swiftly, established a new center of command, and the government was still holding on.

And then there was Japan. Japan had done none of these things. Rather than take drastic and sweeping measures, the government instead decided to reluctantly place troops at possible invasion points and wait for the storm—a typical Japanese response. Well, when the storm came, it came hard, and magically induced floods reduced the nation to rubble.

The government had stubbornly refused to bring all their weight to bear for fear of the economic repercussions. Shanti had heard someone on the news call the disaster in Japan mutually agreed destruction, attributing it to the timidity and persistent unwillingness to rock the boat that was