10

Disclaimers still apply.

Major thanks to Kerrik Wolf for proof-reading and offering spelling and grammar abuse corrections for this chapter. All corrections are his, all mistakes are still mine.

[Chapter 10]

Micah stalked into the large cabin in the stern of the pirate ship 'Lost Chance', having secured the domain for his private use during the stay before Miss Pirate Mini-Top could voice any decision on the matter. The Lupina didn't have any use for the cabin anymore, her being dead and all.

Illya was right next to him, with Ludmilla and Anya close on his heels; Nunnally was in reserve, Cornelia was being grumpy managing the S-Goth elsewhere (granted, the S-Goth was being grumpy in turn), and given that Euphemia was the most fragile of his harem, he wasn't going to risk having her out and kicking around while on the Lost Chance.

"Seal the room," Micah mumbled to Anya, whom took out the Maze Card and did as ordered. Micah wearily searched for and found a chair, slumping down reverse in it and running his hands through his hair, suddenly tired.

Ludmilla eyed him. "You know, I was almost worried there for a minute."

Micah glanced up blearily at the Dire Wolf. "About what?"

"That you were beginning to buy into your own press," the replied in a prompt tone. "You did very well out there."

"It was bloody well terrifying," he muttered. "But it's just like good public speaking. You prepare as much as possible beforehand, but as soon as you start, it's like you just got kicked off a steep hill and the best you can do is hold on for dear life as you ride it down."

"I know I seem to be acting like a broken record and being the one to ask all the questions and all," Anya noted aloud, "But can I inquire why the hell we just didn't fry them all and sink this damn ship? I mean, I know you sent Cornelia away and all, but it's not like you haven't hesitated to wreck bloody havoc on the environment before."

"The StarMystic is wise in this, my Master," Illya murmured in her husky tone. "You should have set me free to glut myself on the blood and sweetmeats this ship offered. Especially that sickening whore of a Mini-top," the Lucarda gave a snarl of disdain. "She's a bitch in heat and already looking to try and fuck you."

"She's a Mini-Top," Micah replied with a wry smile as he let his wings curl around him loosely. "From their entry-derived behavior alone, they typically tend to be, 'See male, savage male, fuck male, repeat.' But. Reasoning." He stared at the wooden deck thoughtfully before shaking his head. "As much as I loathe admitting it, the S-Goth was right. So, we needed to move away from established, easy to locate transportation. This pirate vessel should prove worthwhile enough to get us to the Forest League without anyone knowing about it."

Anya raised one blonde eyebrow. "Forest League?"

Micah smiled. "Forest League."

"Forest League," Anya murmured thoughtfully.

Micah grinned, holding up finger to his lips as if to say, 'Later.' "So, next line of business. The S-Goth herself."

Ludmilla nodded. "I'll go recover her." A moment later Ludmilla appeared, carrying a pokeball and the S-Goth in question along. A flare of decompression, and Cornelia went to go stand next to Micah, eying the S-Goth with obvious distaste.

The S-Goth didn't look any better, feet bare as they padded against the wooded deck, slim hands smoothing out the lines of her dress. "You managed to takeover a Limbec Pirate ship? You're pretty good."

Micah didn't reply immediately, allowing himself to lull in the cusp of lassitude; he then shook it off and stood. "Given everything that occurred, I believe it's well enough that we have introductions. My name is Micah, assuming you didn't already know." He went in turn, introducing and naming each of his harem. "Nunnally isn't here, nor is Euphemia, so you'll forgive me for not introducing them now." His gaze fixed on the chibi pokegirl. "I believe it's your turn."

She smiled faintly. "Wendi."

"Let's say, it's interesting to meet you, Wendi." Micah eyed her for several moments, then went on. "Despite complications, you've been a reasonable and cordial guest, given the situation. You mentioned earlier that you wanted to help. Convince me."

Wendi regarded him in turn. A measure of that calm, cool, collected momentum she had possessed initially was gone. In its place was something a bit more hesitant. "We can offer a private place of -" she almost said 'Sanctuary' and bit the word off hurriedly, "-protection for you to rest, if you wish it."

"Where, exactly?"

"I have a private demesne in the Tropic League," Wendi replied softly. "My island in the clouds."

"And?"

"...and? And what? That isn't enough?"

"No, it's not."

Silence. And then, softly, "What do you want?"

Micah gave a casual, leathery-wing shrug as he picked up his fingers and counted ideas off, "Access to the magical study and spells utilized in the summoning process, access to the S-Goth Sorcerer-Engineers that actuated and studied the process, a StarlightXpress, powerful magical artifacts, hell, access off-planet would be pretty useful. I know Sukebe likely had several space-stations constructed in the Sol System. One of those would be pretty neat."

Wendi stared at him, mouth open. "Wh... wh... what!?"

Another shrug. "You asked."

"We can't just... give you those things!"

"Why not?" Micah regarded her sharply, what hint of nonchalance he had assumed while ticking off ideas gone. "You should know what S-Goths studied and deployed the summoning system. Where they are. What they're doing now. More, even if you don't, you could find out."

"It wouldn't do you any good," Wendi replied tartly. "They're S-Goths, if you recall. They're not like pokegirls where you can just fuck and bond them at your leisure!"

"Do you -honestly-," Micah replied, enunciating his words sharply to drive the point home, "think that being an S-Goth protects them? From -me-? If they had the key to me going home, to escaping this place, all I'd have to do to having them willingly divulge everything that have would be to infect them with vampire venom! And if I didn't like them as -that-, a simple application of a Dawn Stone and I'd have a StarLady to fuck at my leisure."

Wendi stared at him in open horror.

"Simply discounting having my Dire Wolf scoop their brains open psychically," Micah noted aloud, almost as an afterthought.

"They were right," Wendi whispered. "All of them were right. You -are- evil. All of you are."

"Evil?" Micah shook his head slowly. "You're applying a double standard. How is what you've done to me and my kind any different from a Tamer capturing an S-Goth and forcibly taming her with the assumption that she'll follow his orders after he's fucked her enough?"

"That's-"

"...different?" Micah cut her off. "Is it really?" He shook his head again. "Let's try something else. Why are you here? What do you -want-?"

"I..." Wendi paused. Took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. "I'm here because you Authors and the Council are going to get us all killed," she whispered.

Micah canted his head to the side. "Curious. Interesting that you're not putting the full blame on the Authors themselves. What, exactly, has the Council done to make you fear them so?"

"...I'm not acting on my own," Wendi elaborated. "There's a group of us. Similar to me. With your permission, I would like to bring some of them here, so they can be in on the discussion, and add their own opinion to the matter."

Micah throttled his first fanciful thought that she was referencing other Chibi pokegirls, and mentally flinched away from the thought of being surrounded by a horde of Chibi S-Goths. Logical thought won out against fanciful musings. "You're referring to other S-Goths whom have templates, such as yourself."

A nod. "Yes."

"If you believe that they can add valuable insight into this matter, and are willing to fill the role of a cordial and polite guest, I have no issue with you bringing them here," Micah replied, earning an evil look from his harem.

Wendi blinked, and nodded slowly. "...thank you. Excuse me a moment." And teleported away.

Ludmilla nudged up beside Micah, absently reaching out to grip his hand. Micah glanced at her curiously, earning a grim smile in reply as Ludmilla said, "Just in case." Cornelia's smile was less grim, even as the Demon-Goddess readied her key-staff to fire first and apologize later.

Wendi reappeared, carrying with her two other S-Goths. Both, thankfully, looked much older than the Chibi, one a classic copper-redhead with freckles in excess, the other a quiet-looking brunette. Both caught sight of Micah, and stared.

Micah swept a wing back and then forward, dipping it low in a greeting gesture. "Good evening, ladies. I welcome you both to the Lost Chance." He introduced his harem, finishing with himself last. "And you?"

"Udiya," the brunette spoke.

"Tamar," replied the redhead.

"As I said to Wendi earlier, it's interesting to meet you both," Micah stated, sweeping his wing back behind him. "I believe we were discussing your current fears of Sanctuary's Council."

The three shared a brief glance. Udiya was the one to speak first, her voice soft but not lacking in strength. "Not all of us are in agreement with the Council's edicts and machinations. We believe some of them may be far more damaging than they assume."

"Such as their attempt to summon and bind the supposed 'creators' of this world," Micah replied, smiling wryly.

Udiya nodded, even as she shared another look between her, Wendi, and Tamar, this one a mixture of confusion and surprise. "You don't claim to have created this world?"

Micah let out a disgusted snort. "Of course not. Just because I know of it doesn't mean that I have the power of creation and annihilation. Not, mind you, without some damn good proof to back it up."

Tamar was looking at him weirdly even as Udiya replied, "But your... abilities, the way you hide, what you know! Doesn't that speak to something of a godhood?"

Micah's lips curled into another wry smile. "No. Are some of my capabilities helpful? Yes, of course. But to extrapolate that to the grandiose claim of Logos and Omega... heh, no thank you."

"And your appearance?" Tamar asked.

A leathery shrug. "I honestly don't know. But getting back to the point of this discussion, you'll excuse me if I don't quite find your claims plausible. Despite what some people from my world think, political disagreement isn't exactly enough to cause full-blown, bowel-shaking fear."

"Even if those 'disagreements' lead to a conflict that could wipe us all out?" Wendi replied softly. "You may make claims of grandiose humbleness, but the fact remains that a mere handful of individuals have shaken the very foundations of power that has slowly grown for over two centuries! You can't ignore that! Nor can you ignore the fact that the Authors hatred of the S-Goths will more than likely result in the Dark Continent being sterilized down to the bedrock! Blood and darkness, what will happen if any of you somehow manage to start working together?"

"For one, I don't hate the S-Goths as a whole," Micah replied.

"How can you say that, after all we've done to you?" asked Tamar, her expression making it clear she found his statement dubious at best.

"Oh, trust me. I was there whenever your kind was created. Had I known the end result, I might have been a -tad- more vociferous in my concerns with the breed and setup." For a brief second, all three S-Goths present felt a chill run down their spines. "Probably would have solved the issue right quickly, there. After all, -your- creator didn't exactly flourish in a setting that wasn't sycophantic to his outlook." Micah waved the matter off. "But I'm rambling. No, I might hate the S-Goth whom effectively tortured me while I was in your gentle care," Udiya winced, "But I don't hate the S-Goths as a whole. That would be stupid. I -do- think that your overall culture is a cesspool of self-propagating hypocrisy, but I don't -hate- all of you."

"Hypocrisy?" Wendi threw back at him. "Explain that."

Micah smiled faintly. "Cheetits."

All three looked back at him blankly.

"Before the Dameosaur breed was created, Sanctuary utilized the Cheetit breed as a warning fence to prevent encroachment upon their boarders, correct?" Micah elaborated.

Wendi nodded slowly. "Yes."

Micah went on, "And whenever the Dameosaur breed, with her lesbian orientation, was proved to be a superior security measure, the cheetits were slaughtered en masse, correct?"

Tamar nodded. "Yes."

"And what political outlook does the whole of Sanctuary support?" Micah asked.

Udiya winced, having an idea of where he was going with this, and murmured in a miserable tone, "Parity."

Micah nodded. "Yes. Parity. Equality between humans and pokegirls. Yet, whenever a breed of pokegirls was proven to be a liability, they were treated as animals. Chattel. Things, to be slaughtered simply because it benefited Sanctuary."

"What did you expect Sanctuary to do?" Wendi replied sharply. "Capture them all and humanely sell them to Tamers on the world market?"

"No, I would have expected you to follow up your philosophy with action and convert en masse the Cheetits to S-Goths."

"Ebony stones are -not- an inexhaustible resource!" Wendi stated.

"So? Capturing them would be just as easy as slaughtering them -putting them in stasis, just as much. Even if you didn't convert them all at once, the option to slowly convert them as the opportunity presented itself is very much a plausible scenario. If anything, it's the perfect reward for a job well done. By all rights, instituting such a system for Dameosaurs might very well endeavor them to be even more effective fighters. But that's not what you did, or have done, have you? Now," Micah smiled, "It's likely none of you were present for such a decision, so you can easily get into an argument over Primogeniture, First Sin, and whether the sins of the mother are translated down to the sins of the daughter, but the fact remains is that your civilization as a whole bolsters this hypocritical outlook. S-Goths on top, and everyone else can go kiss it. And -that- is why you're typically regarded as villains. Not your isolationist stance, not your rejection of the typical Master/Pokegirl roles. Hell, if anything, that's justifiable. It's the fact that you just want to replace 'humans' with 'S-Goths' that makes you the villain. And you can't even manage that very well, can you?"

"Why do I feel like I should be munching a bowl of popcorn?" Anya murmured softly to Ludmilla.

"Shh," was the Dire Wolf's only response.

All three S-Goths looked as if he was beating them bloody with a baseball bat, as opposed to verbally arguing with them. Only Tamar seemed to be suffering the least, the redheaded S-Goth standing with her arms folded, looking down at the wooden deck as she murmured, "And why can't we do that?"

"The 'Pet' issue."

Udiya glanced up, expression confused. "'Pet'?"

"The majority of your society is structured around security derived from independence from male humans," Micah noted. "If this truly was the case, the idea of a human 'pet' would never have arisen, due to the dangers inherent thereof. But, again, that's not the case, is it? As much as you might want to deny it, you still crave human contact and affection. You may be able to fool yourselves socially as a group, but actions don't lie. But I think we've gotten more than a little off-track. I believe we were discussing your fear of the Council?"

"You're right," Tamar stated. "We're not afraid of them just because of the decisions they've made."

"Tamar," Udiya began.

"NO!" Tamar's fist lashed out, embedding itself in a pillar of wood that she extracted the un-damaged appendage from without even thinking about it. "I am not going to lie about this!" She pivoted to face Micah. "The council could go and fuck Typhonna if this was just a case of them making stupid decisions! Do you honestly think we get along well with other S-Goths? Of course not! Because we're not 'pure'. Because we remind them of what they came from and where they could end back up as!" Panting, Tamar went on without care for volume of her words. "If Sanctuary wins, eventually, some day, we and all our types will be -dead-. Already I've heard some discussion about forced sterilization regarding unwanted templates. Just because I don't want a daughter -now- doesn't mean I won't think differently in the future! I. Want. That. CHOICE!"

Micah smirked. "Good."

Eyes slightly wild, Tamar sucked in deep breaths as she tried to calm down. "'Good'?"

"It's pretty clear to me that the group of you want to settle a colony of Goths outside Sanctuary with similar outlooks and views as yourselves." Grinning, Micah clapped his hands together. "So! What work have you done toward that to accomplish your goals?"

Udiya, Tamar, and Wendi all shared another look. "Uhhh..."

"...-please- tell me this isn't the first occasion where the idea has occurred to you," Micah replied with a heavy measure of disbelief in his tone.

"You said 'please'," Udiya muttered.

"Oh, boy." Micah rubbed at his hair, running a hand along the curve of one horn. "So I shouldn't ask about your harem compositions, what fighting pokegirls you have access too, magical and artifact resources, Ebony Stones...?"

All three of them looked embarrassed.

"Right," Micah couldn't keep the smile off his face as he turned to Wendi. "You'd be better off utilizing that island of yours as a private colony, depending on what resources it has available. Enough Ebony Stones and you should be able to put together your own private S-Goth army."

"Ebony Stones aren't an inexhaustible resource," Wendi murmured. "I told you that already."

"So? Get enough of them together and you might be able to construct a magical breeder reactor. The right geomantic surroundings and you might not even need to replenish the magical feeder reserves. Never mind experimentation with the Ebony Stones themselves, to see if you can somehow break the stones into smaller quantities with the same effect. You know magic and have a brain. Use both. Granted, Sanctuary likely keeps Ebony Stones under lock and control when able, so the real challenge will be acquiring your own reserve without raising any eyebrows. For that, you likely need pokegirls of your own."

Wendi sighed. "Talking with you feels like I've been in an hour-long battle." The Chibi S-Goth regarded Micah, and then asked softly, "We need time to think and discuss about this with our fellows. Would you excuse us for a day or so?"

"One last question," Udiya broke in.

Micah quirked a blonde eyebrow. "Yes?"

"You said we need harems of our own," Udiya murmured. "How can we, and not resort to the same hypocrisy you mentioned earlier?"

"High-minded ideals are all well and good to look towards," Micah replied, "But you need to take into account realism, as well. If you promise the girls in your harem a period of service - say, five or seven years - before letting them evolve to an S-Goth, and keep to that promise as well as you're able too, then I would view that as morally permissible. Not to mention, inspire loyalty in your harems, as well."

"Okay, we're good," Tamar broke in. "Let's go before we get bogged down any further."

"Your contact information?" Wendi asked. Micah gave it to her, and the three of them gave their departing words, and teleported away.

Cornelia sighed. "Master."

"No, they won't throw me to Sanctuary," Micah grinned, even as he put his arms above his head and stretched, being careful with his wings as he did so. "If the Council learns of internal machinations of a private group of Template-enhanced S-Goths, well..."

The Demon-Goddess let out a gust of breath.

"So why did you not let us pin them down so you could fuck them, my Master?" Illya inquired, the Lucarda still in her adult guise as she innocently canted her head to the side. She giggled. "You've been most gracious today. You have a Limbic ship all. To. Your. Self. Should I eat a few of them, just for you?"

Micah glanced over, and simply gripped the Lucarda's hair, giving a tug, as if telling her to cease that line of thought, which lead only to another giggle.

"Is that what you're planning to do with all those S-Goths we caught?" Cornelia asked. "Turn them into Vampires?"

"We're not doing anything with them," Micah replied. "Their abductions are simple psychological tactics. Using them as hostages or sources of info would be less than worthless."

"So, what's next in our plans of domination and destruction?" Anya queried with a wry tone in her voice.

Micah smiled wryly in return. "Now, comes the worst part of this entire deal - we wait."

-[***]-

No one dared bother them until well-past nightfall, Micah and his harem - whom on the ship currently comprised of Ludmilla and Illya -having sequestered themselves comfortably in the stern cabin.

Micah glanced up from reading the Grimorum Astra. The cabin's door had been rudely pushed open, a pokegirl hanging onto it's handle as if it was the only thing holding her up. The black-and-white Mini-Top, whom Micah had only learned later was named Fiera, leered at him before slugging back a swallow of rum from the bottle she carried.

Micah calmly placed his hands to each side of the Grimorum, leveling a gaze at said Mini-top while stifling a surge of irritation at being interrupted. "Is there a problem, Captain?"

"Yeah, there's a fucking problem," Fiera slurred, then giggled to herself.

"The problem is," she went on, taking a stumbling step away from the door, letting it close behind her, grinning, "Is that there's -one-fucking male on this ship. And he's not doing any -fucking-."

Micah closed the Grimorum, setting it to the side as he rose from his seat, letting his wings curl loosely around him. "I don't recall that being any part of our agreement, captain," Micah intoned softly.

Another giggle, as Fiera stumbled closer, heedless of the glare Ludmilla had leveled in her direction. "Oh, who gives a fuck about tha' agreement," she slurred, reaching up to grip his curved horns and yank him down, tongue forced into his mouth as she slobbered over him in a rough kiss.

For a brief second, Micah flashed back to dim, pain-filled memories of his time with Sanctuary, and with it, the seething, shame-filled helplessness. Quick on it's heels was hatred, thick and hot, filling his brain and obliterating any other consideration or thought. His teeth clacked together in an uncontrollable snarl, almost taking the Mini-top's tongue with it, as he forced enough air through to utter a single word past an anger-tight throat.

"-Bind.-"

Ideogramattical circles erupted with an electronic scream around Fiera's limbs, terminating in thick bars of energy locking into place. With a single, sharp motion, the Mini-top was yanked away, suspended in mid-air with a comical and confused expression on her face as she tried to twist and writhe out of her bindings. "HEY! What the fuck!"

"You know, Captain," Micah snarled even as he licked away some of the saliva that had been smeared across his face, his claws unsheathed as he gestured. The ankle binds forced the Mini-top's legs apart, splitting them vertical as she hung in mid-air, her expression shifting from one of confusion to fear mixed with lust. "Perhaps you've a point. I have been a poor guest." Moving forward, Micah's claws came to rest on the Mini-top's stomach, the tips pricking hard enough to draw blood, eliciting a drunk moan of confusion from the Mini-Top. "Allow me to correct this failing. Starting with -you-."

-[***]-

Laelia was on night watch whenever the door to Micah's cabin thudded open. She sucked in a breath of fear, half-thinking that, just perhaps, he had come for -her-.

Micah emerged, naked, smeared with blood and sexual fluids, moving as if this was the most natural thing in the world for him. He carried Fiera with him, gripping the back of her neck, her comatose-body dragging heavily on the deck of the ship. For one terror-stricken moment, Laelia thought the Mini-top was dead; her fur was matted with blood, long claw-rendered gashes were etched up and down her back, and several bite marks peppered her shoulder. Then she moaned briefly, dispelling the notion of her demise, as Micah unceremoniously dumped her well clear of his door.

Then she caught scent of it, the smell hitting her like a physical blow; A thick miasma of male seed that clung to the Mini-Top like a perfume.

Micah caught sight of her, and Laelia froze. He smirked in reply, turning without a word and disappearing back inside his cabin.

"Fuck... me..."

Laelia glanced down worriedly. "Captain?"

Fiera let out a hoarse cough even as she tried to push herself up on her elbows. "Get your anemic elven ass over here, bitch, and fucking well heal me." She slumped back down on the deck as her arms gave out, and gave a weak giggle.

Laelia swallowed, and did as she was ordered. Dimly, she could only hope that whatever happened, this nightmare would be over soon.

-[***]-

Micah stumbled back into the cabin, feeling that horrible mix of utter exhaustion and adrenaline that promised he wouldn't be sleeping any time soon, despite his personal desires on the matter. Heedless of his nude state, covered in various fluids as he was, he instead made a bee-line for a chair and slumped down backwards in it, careful not to let his blood-soaked hands mingle with his blonde hair.

Ludmilla padded over, letting her hands run through sweaty strands as she made a soft cooing noise of comfort. Micah glanced up at her, squeezing his eyes shut before focusing on Ludmilla and asking blearily, "What time is it?"

"You were at it for several hours," Ludmilla murmured. "It's around 2 o'clock in the morning, as time goes."

Micah gave her a skeptical look, but didn't have the energy to argue the matter. "Right." Slowly the notion of just what exactly he had done began to percolate through his hormone-soaked brain. With it, came a sense of crushing exhaustion. He just wanted to curl up somewhere and let the rest of the world go to hell.

"Master?" Ludmilla blinked her green eyes, ears perked forward, completely focused on him and him alone. "What's wrong?"

"...why didn't you try and stop me?"

"Stop you? I..." Ludmilla's ears flicked back as her tail drooped, pale skin blushing as she glanced away. "I... the... it didn't occur to me."

Some of his exhaustion was scoured away to be replaced by a dawning sense of disbelief. "It didn't occur to you?"

Ludmilla's blush deepened as she fidgeted, obviously at a loss for words to describe her reasoning.

"Alright," Micah murmured a reply. "Second question." His voice rose to carry. "Illya. Why didn't you stop her from entering?"

Illya emerged from the shadows with a liquid sound, grinning broadly in her chibi form. "Why should I have, Master? You seemed to have handled the matter quite well, and enjoyed yourself a good deal. Why should I have deprived you of your pleasures?"

His claws bit deeply into the wood of the chair as he worked back a flare of irritation, swallowing back the anger and bile. He was tired, irritated, and not thinking straight. He was not going to say words he'd regret in the morning. "Noted."

Ludmilla was now looking at him with an open expression of worry; she tried to mentally reach for him, only to skitter off the liquid shell of his mental defenses. "Master? What happened?" Never mind the spell he had utilized; she couldn't recall using it before. She certainly would have recalled if he'd used it on her.

"I don't know," Micah replied, voice heavy as he slumped where he sat. "The way she was acting just... set something off." He was not going to discuss his time with Sanctuary. Not with them, not now. "And I got... very, very angry." A disgusted snort. "And extremely horny." Both of which were... new. Not for the intensity behind them, but the fact that they didn't -go away- like they should have. Worse, what if he did that to one of his harem?

No. Think it through. It was a struggle, exhausted as he was - but he knew exhaustion, and starvation, and how to work against that utter crushing despair of hopelessness. Compared to his greeting when he entered this world, this? This was -nothing-. The likely-hood of any of his harem acting like that thrice-damned Mini-Top? Slim. Very slim.

Still. At several points during his... discipline... of Fiera, he had explicitly threatened to kill her if she didn't pleasure him as he told her too. And he could still feel the sensation when he had done so; not flat, bland task-making. No. It had been sheer, gleeful exultation. She had been helpless. -Prey.-

Micah turned that thought over in his brain, and let his forehead rest against his folded arms. Well. He knew he had a plethora of instincts that he'd yet to fully flesh out. He just hadn't expected them to sneak up on him. Now that he was cognizant of that little... quirk...

He refused to be ruled by them. Ultimately beneficial or otherwise.

Ludmilla swallowed a snarling growl at Illya and forced her ears up, directing her attention to Micah instead. "When did you learn that spell?"

Micah let out a hissing sigh. "I'd only been studying it. I didn't think I could actually manage casting the damn thing." That spell on top of everything else - he had several spells in his mental workspace that were only based off of theories mentioned in the Grimorum Astra as opposed to anything strictly written out. He just didn't have the time or space to practice in, lately. Though if things kept up at this pace, he'd be forced to try out a number of those spells sooner than later.

Blonde hair shifted as Ludmilla gave a slow shake of her head. "Come on. We need to get you cleaned up, and you need to rest."

Micah grimaced. Sleep seemed unlikely - worse, trying to sleep would just make him consider what he did to the Mini-Top. The horrible part of it was just how much said Mini-Top had enjoyed it. There were certain things you just couldn't fake.

Exhaustion hit him once more like a physical blow, and he leaned into Ludmilla and nodded dimly in agreement, not thinking much at all as they both teleported away.

-[***]-

Black flame burned slowly in a chevron-orb configuration between the cupped grasp of Micah's hands. A bead of sweat rolled down his face. He licked it away, only half-thinking of the motion, as his gaze remained fixed on the manifested attack spell in front of him.

He drew a hand away in a gesture, and murmured quietly, "Sagitta Magica."

Ideogramatic ribbons flared to life in a circular orbit, focusing to manifest another chevron-orb of black lightening that seethed within the held confines defined by his will. He let out a soft breath, pleased to see that had had the focus to invoke two different elemental types of the magical archery.

Nunnally regarded the display with a hint of interest. Magic, after all, was not her forte, and if nothing else, the show of power was rather pretty, albeit in a dark, gothic way, given the chromatic variation Micah had begun to employ in most of his spells.

Micah held them both for a few moments later, then snuffed them out, not wanting to slip up and accidentally fire them off in the confines of a -wooden- cabin aboard a sea-going vessel.

Realistically, he shouldn't have been doing this. There was still a chance of a slip up by sheer unfortunate luck or if, chaos forbid, another one of the damn crew decided that tempting a demon in his claimed lair was a marvelous plan of action and wanted to be a part of it. Not something that had occurred since Micah had... educated Fiera, but he wouldn't count on his luck holding.

That, and he couldn't just sit there, wasting time, when he could be using it to do -something-.

Granted, there were a number of theoretical spells he was researching he didn't even want to try testing yet, but small things like this -yes, he could do.

He exploited a small spell he had learned recently, manifesting it's effects through sheer force of will, and a mug of hot tea lifted from a table to rest neatly in his hand. He sipped from the near scalding liquid gratefully. The telekinesis spell wasn't useful for much beyond theatrics, but he wasn't going to count minor theatrics out when they'd served so nicely in the past.

He let out a near-snort as he set his mug aside, amused by the thought of what image he likely presented to anyone looking on the outside. Keep this up, he noted wryly, and I might just start looking like a mage.

He gave a shake of his head, eying how blonde hair brushed in front of his eyes for a moment. Snorted. Needed to get a hair cut soon. Set the mug of tea aside, and focused on the beginnings of a spell that was mostly his personal theory as opposed to anything in the Grimorum Astra.

Of course, if it worked...

Raw magical power formed between his hands, shaping itself under his mental direction into a bladed shard. Micah frowned, his blue-on-black eyes narrowing as the brilliant white shard shifted, elongated, then shrank, grew diffuse around the edges as he mentally pulled this way and that, changed one factor and watched the overall result propagate. The end result was a brilliant leaf-shaped energy dagger without any cutting border, instead diffusing to nothingness with wisps of energy radiating from the 'hilt' area.

"Could you bring that block of wood over here, please?" Micah murmured to Nunnally, not moving from where he sat. The Arkhangelsk did so, setting it within easy reach. Micah nodded his thanks, and then directed the apparent energy blade down upon the piece of wood. It cleaved through it effortlessly. Had Micah not been paying careful attention, it would have gone through the wooden decking, as well.

"...well," he murmured thoughtfully. "That did better than I expected."

"What is it?" Nunnally murmured in a similar hushed tone, taking up the halved piece of wood, surprised to find the cut edges weren't as charred as she was expecting them to be.

"A rotating virtual light particle fountain," Micah replied, eying the blade that floated between his hands. "I was testing to see if I could create such a thing without an accessory spinning conductor. Apparently, I can."

"...so it's an energy blade," Nunnally groped for, hoping that she was more or less correct. "How sharp is it?"

"Technically, the cutting is done by the rotating field stripping away electrons from the matter it comes into contact with, so there isn't really a cutting blade per se," Micah replied, as if distracted.

"...Master, is this something Euphy and Anya would understanding?"

"Uh?" Micah blinked. "Yes."

"Good," Nunnally replied with finality. Eyed the end result of her Master's spell. "Do you name your spells, Master?"

Micah smiled wryly, committing the magical pattern to memory before letting it disperse, the 'blade' snuffing out as if it were a candle guttering in the wind. "If it had worked, I had the idea of naming it after a particular fictional blade, or it's sister twin, just for fun. I immediately reconsidered."

Nunnally canted her head to the side, her silver waterfall of hair shifting as she did so. "Why, Master?"

"Despite people's relative aplomb with Kelvin throwing about Lovecraftian Mythos references in some of his pokegirl fanfics, I'm not exactly thrilled with the notion of accidentally bringing this world to the attention of the Lords and Ladies of Law and the Anarchs of Chaos."

"I assume that would be bad, Master."

Micah smiled. "Let's say, it would be interesting." He stood carefully, stretching out his arms and wings as well as he could in the tight overhead confines of the cabin. "Michael Moorcock wrote a large plethora of stories involving a myriad of characters cavorting across a Multiverse, where the forces of Law and Chaos battled for supremacy through various proxies. His characters often had multiple methods of multiversal travel, and his most infamous character was a doomed albinistic prince, sickly in body and supported primarily through the energies granted him by the blade he carried - a blade that consumed souls and was powerful enough that no force I can recall could battle against it. If it struck a foe, then that foe would die, even if it's target was a god." He grinned ferally. "So you can see, I'm less than thrilled at the idea of accidentally invoking any of them. No matter how amusing the end result could be."

"...I see, Master."

"...come to think," Micah glanced at his wings, looked curiously at his hands. "All I need would some webbing and some face tentacles, and I could... no, no, the payoff wouldn't be worth it, no matter how the Sanctuary Goths would freak if I showed up with such accoutrements and muttering commentary on 'f'tagen'." An irritated shake of his horned head. "Then again, if -he- shows up, I'm having calamari for dinner."

"..." Nunnally carefully did not say a word.

Darkness pooled on the wooden decking, Illya surging upward in a manner more akin to breaking through the surface of water, and not phasing up through hard mass. Shook out her hair, and grinned, blood-red eyes glowing in the dim cabin lighting.

Micah let his wings wrap around himself as he regarded Illya. "The prisoner count?"

"Two male tamers," Illya grinned. "One female tamer. An Angel, a NurseJoy, and a Damsel."

"Hmph," Micah grunted thoughtfully, letting a wing claw absently reach up and rub against the curved edge of a horn. "Manageable."

Nunnally carefully did not react. The motion had been casual, like some barely considered habit. Natural.

It was something no human could do.

It could be something harmless. More than likely, her Master was simply growing further and further used to his new... additions. But it was still something to consider in the future. "Should we simply take them now? It would be the merciful option."

Illya smiled sweetly. "I'm sure we could make a convincing argument for your feasting habits, master."

"Unless any of the crew take a sudden fit to kill any of the prisoners, we won't act," Micah replied firmly.

Nunnally canted her head to the side. "And if they do?"

Micah snorted. "You heard the Lucarda. I'll simply get peckish all of a sudden. Do you honestly think Fiera would disagree with me by this point?"

Nunnally scowled, then blushed, attempting to school her expression into something more neutral. "I'm sorry, Master."

"Yes, god forbid that you have issues with whom I'm sleeping with," Micah replied in a wry tone, earning an even deeper blush from Nunnally. He reached over and pulled her close into a hug, earning a jealous look from Illya that was stifled with a sharp glance from Micah. He went on, "Don't ever think I don't want to hear your opinion. Just because I might disagree with you on an issue doesn't mean I want you to -shut up-, and this is one little thing you're likely correct about. Trust me, barring horrendous luck, the Mini-Top is not getting anywhere near my harem."

"Good," Nunnally and Illya chorused, earning identical startled looks from them both as they eyed their opposite.

Micah chuckled softly, and extracted himself from Nunnally's grip to retrieve his pokedex. "Need to talk with Euphemia while I'm thinking about certain matters..."

A few moments later, and the redheaded G-Splice teleported in, sliding on a t-shirt as she did so. "Master?"

Micah paused a moment to enjoy the sight of how Euphemia's flesh moved beneath the fabric, then gave a shake of his head. "I take it everything is nice and boring at the cache?"

Euphemia smiled wryly. "Delightfully boring."

"-Good-," Micah replied emphatically. It things kept up at this pace, he was going to get adrenaline poisoning. "This is a task I've been meaning to put up to you for a while, but given everything... Manifest a holo-screen, would you please? I want to test something."

Euphemia blinked, nodded, and did so, the holo-screen popping up in mid-air.

Micah smiled, summoning up the Grimorum Astra, which floated obediently in midair in front of him. The clasp unlocked, pages fluttering open like leaves in the wind. Once it had settled, Micah concentrated, an white globe of energy manifesting above the pages, orbited by ideogramatic script, as a similar globe manifested above the Holo-screen.

Micah flexed a hand in concentration, and murmured quietly, "Invoke Protocol. Transfer."

As Euphemia, Nunnally, and Illya looked on in surprise and shock, inked script began manifesting on the blank page and just as quickly appeared on the surface of the holo-screen, the identical orbs pulsing with energy.

Micah let out a slow breath once the information transfer was done, letting the orbs disperse, locking the Grimorum away and banishing it to it's personal dimensional pocket.

"Master...?" Euphemia wondered aloud, even as she was skimming over the reams of text.

"The starting basics, the median information, and some of the advance theories on artifact crafting," Micah explained. "I've been remiss on not abusing your magical capabilities more. Not," he held up a hand to forestall blushing embarrassment and stuttering apologies from Euphemia, "your fault. Mine. But given everything, I'm going to have to delegate further than I'd like." He grinned. "I'll simply have to trust in your genius and skill."

If Euphemia blushed any more, she would have spontaneously combusted. "Yes, Master," she murmured softly, then shook her head. "What should I be building?"

"I want you to look for artifacts that can boost magical skill, not power," Micah elaborated. "Designed into jewelry. Piercings."

Euphemia blinked. "Earrings, Master?"

"No, piercings." Micah reached up and tapped his chest. "Nipple piercings, likely ring configuration. If you can have magical rings on your fingers..." A shrug.

Euphemia instinctively reached up to her own breasts, as if protectively covering them, and visibly winced.

Micah seemed to take a measure of perverse delight in this reaction. "If it works..." A leathery shrug of his wings. "I'm not on for fancy bangles of earrings, jewelry, and whatnot, but if I need it to survive, you're going to see me drilling piercing holes in my horns and plating the suckers with metal sheathings, never mind all the other things I could hook into my flesh..."

Euphemia shivered even as Illya burst into delightful laughter. "As long as you don't do anything to your taming equipment, Master, I think I'll survive."

"Oh, I don't know," Micah replied in a sotto tone. "I suppose tracking down the One Cock Ring and using it to fuck Typhonna into compliance -is- an applicable tactic. Though given her size, I suppose I'd just have to contend with her Eidolonic form..."

Euphemia glanced worriedly at Nunnally, then back to Micah. "I almost know I'm going to regret asking this, but... Eidolonic form?"

Micah shrugged again, waving the notion off as if it wasn't important. "Oh, just one of those amusing ideas I had at one point. The thing about Typhonna is that she's basically a biological planetary-class seige/war machine, not a pokegirl per se. But I always thought it would be interesting if that wasn't technically the case, and that she had a sort of pokegirl-like 'interface terminal' located on her body that was the directing will, the 'sane' element of her controlling systems. And that you -could- tame. I always thought about writing a short story involving that idea, but never got around to it."

"...well, at least you don't know where Typhonna -is-," Euphemia weakly replied.

"Oh, I know where she is," Micah replied.

Silence. Horrible, horrible silence.

"Please don't tell us," Euphemia whispered.

"Okay!" Micah grinned, sounding far too cheerful. "Besides, we're safe. Even if I could gain access to the Eidolon portion of her systems, the problem would be is that said Eidolon wouldn't have access to her primary systems, which is the entire point of her little 'psycho wrecking spree' she managed... anyways."

"I'm beginning to think," Euphemia said uneasily, "The reason Gods stopped answering prayers is that they learned the one thing people feared most in the world is that they'd get a truthful answer."

"Oh, don't worry," Micah replied, still grinning. "I'm reasonably certain we tracked down all the pantheons in the pokegirl world and murdered them horribly before taking their stuff..."

Euphemia placed her head in her hands and replied in a muffle tone, "Master, I beg of you, don't take this the wrong way, but please shut up."

Micah's laughter was her only answer.

"...so, is that everything?" Euphemia reluctantly ventured.

"Not quite. I want you on hand for some experimentation I'm going to be doing. If I'm stuck on this bloody ship, I might as well get some work done."

Nunnally looked curious. "What kind of work, Master?"

"Work on you, for instance." Micah ignored her surprised expression and settled back down. "You evolved from a Valkyrie to Armsmistress, correct?"

"Yes, Master."

"Good. Can you still summon your armor?"

Nunnally blinked golden eyes. "I... I don't like to, I haven't tested it since evolving... I didn't really -need- it..."

Micah smiled. "That's okay. If Armsmistress truly is the penultimate fighting pokegirl, then that includes armorless fighting as well. Just try, please?"

The Archangelsk blushed faintly, pale skin tinged pink around the edges, then closed gold eyes, and focused.

The armor was barely there, greaves on her legs, fingerless gauntlets on her hands, an offset pauldron hanging off one shoulder, and a gorget set around her throat, protecting it from blows.

Micah nodded. All humor, sadistic or no, was gone from his gaze. "Good. Excellent. Euphemia, get over please, start setting up magical observation spells. Illya, you're on guard. And Nunnally?"

"Master?"

"De-summon your armor please. And then do so again."

Several hours later of doing nothing but summoning and de-summoning her armor while Micah and Euphemia muttered amongst themselves and made commentary about information on Euphemia's floating holo-screens, Nunnally had to privately admit to herself - she was -tired-.

"Alright, I think I have enough data to think on the matter," Micah commented thoughtfully. Nunnally gratefully de-summoned her armor for the last time that day.

"I'm glad you do," Euphemia replied. Even as she had been working with him, she wasn't certain she saw the point. "What was that all about? Why do you care how a Valkyrie can summon up their armor and weapon?"

"Aside from overall curiosity? General... well, forum consensus on the matter is that a lot of pokegirls access the Akashic Record to get information on things they may need to fill their breed role."

Euphemia blinked. "...Akashic Record?"

Micah glanced heavenward. "Sorry, I'm using an older term. You probably refer to it as the 'cosmic awareness'." He sketched the quotation marks in the air with his fingers. "Which just sounds so... mystical. For all we know, Sukebe engineered the entire thing as a sort of Clarketech internet. Which would certainly do one up in regards to information distribution. Screw training, instant downloading into your brain, all because you evolved into a GunBunny."

"...Clarketech?" Euphemia asked helplessly.

"Sorry, 'Technology so advanced, it might as well be magic.'"

Nunnally was looking at him with a confused expression. "But... why don't you -know-?" How can you not? was implicit in that gaze.

Micah grinned. "Oh, there's a whole number of elements of the setting that we never bothered to explicitly state out, that just arose due to being grandfathered in. Take evolution stones, for example. How did they come about? No one knows. Certainly none of -my- kind. I could think of a horrendous number of explanation - Geomantic Ley line Infection, massive Archmage-driven ceremonies during the war, D-Gate Apertures opened from high-magic dimensions to irradiate the planet's ley-lines in a certain fashion... for all we know, there's ceremonial sites on the Moon, Venus, and Mars that conflux with Terra Ley lines and drive Evolution Stone Production via magical accretion. Maybe the Legendaries have more effect on their surroundings than simply claiming the titles of 'Queen Bitches of the World'. Who knows?"

Nunnally, Illya, and Euphemia just kind of stared at him.

"...right." Euphemia swallowed. "You mentioned something other than general curiosity."

"Mmm? I did? Oh. Right. I wanted to see what was the engineering function of Nunnally's summon ability, to see if I can design a spell to do similar. Or modify it further, but I'm not certain I want to do that, or really can. I may have to wait till I can engineer permanent armored clothing or artifacts." A wry smile. "Nothing else, maybe I can start dressing myself in the morning from now on, rather than letting Anya do it?"

"The StarMystic will be crushed," Nunnally murmured, slightly dazed.

"Do you ever stop thinking?" Euphemia wondered aloud.

Micah shrugged. "I'll stop thinking when I'm dead. And as I don't intend to die, ever, well..." A feral grin. "Granted, some people might have issues with this, but I'll blow up that bridge while crossing it."

-[***]-

Illya kicked bare feet as she laid claim to Micah's lap, wearing her younger form as she squirmed nicely until she was apparently content with her perch. She giggled, trailing delicate fingers along his throat as she gazed up at him with an innocent smile, incidentally pushing a cup of tea away from his grasping fingers. "Does Daddy like it whenever his little girl crawls in his lap?" Her smile deepened as she felt his reaction. "He does, apparently."

Cornelia let out a snort of a laugh as she snagged a sugar-crusted scone from the basket that Ludmilla had laid out for everyone.

Like a light-switch thrown, Illya glared fiercely at the Demon-Goddess. "What?"

"There is no way possible that he could be your father," Cornelia replied as she spread cranberry jam over the confection and bit thoughtfully into it. "Older brother, maybe."

"Older brother, definitely," Euphemia noted, adding far too much sugar to her tea. "The blonde hair just cinches it."

Illya seemed to like this idea far too much. "Older brother?" she glanced up at Micah timidly. "Is that what's going to happen? I'm a pokegirl now, so you're going to put me in your harem, and fuck your little sister to keep her sane? Please, big brother?" She gave another hip-wriggling squirm as she said this.

Micah didn't know whether to laugh, cry, blush, put his head in his hands, or lurch after his cup of tea. Tea won out, Micah near getting up out of his seat to retrieve his cup, Illya clinging with a delightful giggle as he growled, "No, what I'm going to do is -kindly-request my harem to not give you any -ideas-. Chaos knows you can come up with enough of them by yourself!"

That elicited several giggles from his assembled harem, Illya among them, before the Lucarda shifted closer and gleefully extended her fangs to bite down on Micah's shoulder, pricking just light enough to get a steady trickle of blood. Micah grunted as the pain blossomed, and sipped his tea as the sensation went from light pain to that of pleasure.

A timid yet clear knock interrupted the little get together. Ludmilla frowned, pulling her face into a neutral expression as she stalked over to the door, ready for near enough anything. She found the one Milktit of the crew on the other side of the door, the scarred, timid, and milk-leaking pokegirl flinching away from Ludmilla, wobbling where she stood.

"The... the Captain wants to see... -him-. As soon as possible," she whispered.

Ludmilla stared at her long enough to make it uncomfortable, nodded, closed the door none to gently, and repeated the message to Micah.

Fifteen minutes later found Micah up on the forecastle of the ship, escorted by Nunnally and greeted by Fiera, her Ka-D-Bra XO, and the Dark Lady that Micah had made a point of not even acknowledging. He allowed himself the pleasure of letting his wings wrap around himself as he eyed Fiera calmly, expression darkly neutral. "I assume there's a point in this little distraction, Captain?"

The Ka-D-Bra glared at him, antennae uncurling, the Dark Lady glared at the Ka-D-Bra, and the Mini-Top glared at all of them. "Yes, there's a fucking point to this little distraction, 'Ma-" Fiera had intended to have the word come out as sarcastic, but something in her throat made her cut the word off midway. "-fucking demon," she spat, then gave an irritated shake of her head, her long ears slapping against her back as Micah smirked. "We've got a cunt-biter of an airship that's been sharking us for several hours that -I- thought you might want to fucking know about."

A laconic roll of Micah's neck; a near approximation of a shrug. "And? What are the chances of them being aggressive?"

A Megami-sama teleported in, carrying with her a Warrior Nun and her Tamer. The Warrior Nun dropped to the ship decking, sprinting toward the Dark Lady, who barely had a chance to turn to face the assault before the Warrior Nun's hand punched through her torso, sending a splatter of blood to the deck. A sharp swipe of the Warrior Nun's blade send the Dark Lady's head skittering away like some unholy soccer ball.

The Ka-D-Bra didn't even attempt to mourn her compatriot's death as she let loose a telekinetic wave of power that slammed both the corpse and the Warrior Nun away. Nunnally was already moving, body-checking the Megami-sama away even as the Celestial pokegirl was about to attack, sending them both away from the forecastle in a tangle of physical blows. Fiera drew the pistols that hung on her shapely hips and began squeezing off rounds in the direction of two other angelic pokegirls that had dropped to the Lost Chance's decking, and spared a yell over her shoulder as she leapt into the fray, "I'D SAY THE CHANCES ARE PRETTY FUCKING GOOD, MASTER!"

Micah didn't bother with a reply, the momentary chaos of the grand melee having deprived him of any pokegirl protection. His opposite number, the Tamer the Megami-sama had been carrying, had already drawn the blade from his side and advanced at a quick pace with an intent for a single powerful overhead blow to finish the matter in one strike. Micah moved on training alone, stepping into the high arc, forearm coming up to block the Tamer's arms as he reached up and drew his unsheathed claws across the Tamer's face, scoring deep, bloody lines and ruining one of his eyes.

-[***]-

Cornelia didn't think whenever the sounds of battle reached her; she was already in motion, teleporting out of the cabin into clear air above the Lost Chance.

She only had a moment for a quick survey before she was met by her opposing force; a Seraph and an Angel that were both attempting to keep the skies clear. She blocked the Seraph's blow, didn't even give the Angel a glance as she attempted to flank her, and simply teleport-hopped out of the combat-lock she had shared with the Seraph. The Celestial pokegirl had a clear superiority in terms of strength, but in mid-air, she had no leverage to apply that strength properly as long as Cornelia wasn't stupid; and both the Angel and the Seraph had to at least pretend to obey some sense of aerodynamics with their flight capabilities.

A weakness Cornelia most certainly did not possess.

She accelerated skyward only to have both Seraph and Angel follow after her, pushing the entire circumstance into a demented game of teleporting cat and mouse, with both sides hell-bent not to be the mouse. It was a loosing game for the Angel and Seraph both; no matter how they attempted to entrap the Demon-Goddess, she simply refused to let them bait her as the trio climbed higher into the sky; worse, Cornelia had them clearly matched in terms of ranged fire as she peppered them both with tracking bolts of magical energy.

A brief and desperate ploy by the Seraph ended with her and Cornelia locked energy blades for a brief moment, the Celestial glaring at her as if her force of will alone could kill the Demon-Goddess. "Limbic bitch," she spat.

Cornelia glared back with her one good eye, matching that hatred without even trying. "Wrong fucking group," she actually bothered a reply as she caught the airship just out of the corner of her eye.

"With -it-, then," if anything, this only fueled the Seraph's anger. "You're nothing more than a weak slut if you'd fornicate with something that's best purged with fire."

Cornelia almost rolled her eye in contempt, and muttered, only half-paying attention to the discussion now, "I think it's time I took a page from my Master's book."

A clash of energies, as the Seraph thrust them both apart. "Which book is that, you whore! A book of demons and lies!?"

"Hah!" Cornelia grinned. "More like the Book of Chaos! READ HIS BLOODY SCRIPTURE, YOU PATHETIC BITCH!" Ignoring the Angel pokegirl that was desperately trying to catch up with them both, Cornelia short-teleported next to the airship, pivoted, and fired a hyperbeam directly into it's lift envelope.

-[***]-

Micah and the Tamer both struggled apart, strict and proper form dissolving into a chaotic wrestling match that broke them apart. Micah tried not to let out a pained hiss, having instantly regretted having blocked that overhead swing. Even aborted, it still had enough strength to jar his entire left arm numb, leaving a deep, radiating pain in it's wake. He didn't even want to think about the strength enhancements the bastard had to actually manage that.

Not that the Tamer had gotten out any better; one entire side of his face was ruined, Micah's claws having bitten deep enough that his teeth glistened wetly through the holed flesh of his gum. Blood burbled past bruised and torn lips as he grunted and hissed in pain, glaring at Micah with his one remaining eye.

"Last chance, boy," Micah snarled, tried to work some feel back into his left hand. He was definitely the worst off, lacking any weapons. That sword gave his opponent far too much reach. "Take your harem and -go-."

The Tamer actually smiled. "Or else what? -Boy-?"

Temper frayed, in pain, adrenaline poisoning his blood like a high-octane rocket fuel, Micah was far less gentle than he would be normally. "I kill you and take -far- too much pleasure in fucking each and every last one of your harem."

His ruined smile only deepened, despite the obvious pain that gesture caused him. "Suffer not evil to live," he replied, falling into stance with both hands on his blade.

A dull, deep-throated 'BOOM' echoed up in the sky. Both Micah and the Tamer shared identical looks of confusion, both sparing a glance to see the airship that had carried the Tamer and his Celestial Harem falling from the sky, a hole in it's side.

Raw, desperate panic fueled Micah's inspiration as he bellowed out a single word; "STORMBREAKER!"

Ideogramatic circles and ribbons erupted into existence as the working attack form of his virtual light particle fountain spell manifested in his grip, a whispering bar of glowing, brilliant light that he just managed to get up in time to parry his attacker's blade, and instantly regretted it. It felt like being hit by concrete, with the sheer power this Tamer could put behind those blows. He stifled a pained outcry from his jostled left arm into a simple grunt as he fell back, electric-blue sparks flying as their two weapons came in brief contact with the other, Micah working desperately to parry rather than take the full brunt of that assault again. Of course, a dim part of his brain noted, he would be using an -enchanted- blade to fight.

Ludmilla teleported behind the Tamer, her face a snarling rictus of raw, feral hatred, and turned his skull into a spray of bone and gore with a vicious swipe of a clawed hand.

The Megami-sama let out a tortured scream at her Tamer's death, high and keening. Ludmilla pivoted in midair and let loose with a massive bar of pure-white psychic energies that cratered the Megami-sama into the Lost Chance's decking with such force that a shockwave radiated from the impact.

A minute or so later, everything was more or less over but the crying.

"What have I turned into?" Micah muttered under his breath as he surveyed his 'reward' from the battle - the beaten and half-dead remnants of a harem populated entirely by Celestial Pokegirls. "A bloody Celestial Pokegirl attractant?" The Warrior Nun, amazingly enough, had actually survived, despite Illya's attempt to crucify her to the wooden decking via the Warrior Nun's own blades. The Tamer dead, the Megami-sama had finally given up, while Anya and Ludmillla had managed to deal with the Ophanim and Archangel that had been rampaging below decks, and Nunnally had assisted Cornelia in making the Seraph and Angel behave.

"I swear to fucking god, I'm going to fuck that bitch's cunt with a fucking switchblade," Fiera snarled, looking rather bruised and bloodied from the melee. Micah had to admit some sympathy with her state; he hadn't had a chance to heal his arm, and as the adrenaline left his blood he was becoming acutely aware of a whole slew of pains that he couldn't fathom how he had received them. Near as he could figure out, the Tamer must had gotten a lot more blows in when they had tussled than he remembered.

"I don't recall giving you the option," Micah replied calmly. Fiera snarled at him, and Micah almost snarled in return, feeling a surge of hormones even as he had to resist the urge to mentally order Ludmilla over here to put the Mini-top through the decking.

"Actually, re-evaluating options was just something I wanted to discuss," a voice called out, and a piece of timber telekinetically lashed out and impacted Fiera's legs, breaking her knees and making the Mini-top collapse to the decking with a pained scream of vile cursing. Another lash of telekinetic power sent her pistols skittering away as Fiera writhed in pain.

Micah turned, scowling. The Ka-D-Bra met his gaze, unflinching. Behind him, a Psi Dyke teleported in, close enough that he could feel her hissing breath on the back of his neck as she whispered, "Don't move, meat."

"Please don't do anything rash," the Ka-D-Bra stated aloud as Micah's harem looked ready to wipe her from the face of existence. "I may not have raw power, but I'm skilled enough to render your precious freak of nature brain dead before you could manage to kill me."

Micah rolled his eyes heavenward. "Curse your sudden but inevitable betrayal," he muttered, half to himself, and then spoke up. "Well, come on, then. I'm sick and tired of this little farce - try and crack open my mind. I've got things to do today, not sit around and listen to you stand on your soapbox and complain about how you're not getting a good dicking."

The Ka-D-bra frowned, mouth half opened to reply, even as a telepathic feeler lanced deep inside his brain -

- or, at least, attempted too.

A look of brief confusion flickered across her face as she let out a soft cough, blood burbling past her nose and streaming down her face in an unexplainable volume. And staggered further as a bullet went through her lungs as Fiera shot her, having finally crawled to her discarded guns. Several loud 'clicks' were heard as Fiera attempted to squeeze off a few more rounds, and the Mini-top loudly complained, "For fuck's sake! Why the fuck did I have to run out of bullets nooooooow!?"

Ludmilla teleported behind the wounded, bleeding, and confused Ka-D-Bra, and announced dispassionately, "Should I kill her, Master?"

Micah shrugged, the Psi-Dyke having staggered away from him in horror, giving him room to maneuver if he so wished. "Waste not, want not."

Ludmilla scowled, but nodded, and telekinetically levitated a pokeball over to capture the Ka-D-Bra. She then telekinetically backhanded the Psi-Dyke, sending the now unconscious pokegirl down upon the ship's decking.

Fiera coughed, scowling up at Micah, but her eyes lacked the will, regarding him with more than a little fear by this point. "Um. Little help here. You fucking demon. Fuck, this hurts."

Micah regarded Fiera for several moments, then sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose, and gestured to Ludmilla to float him over a pokeball to capture the Mini-top with. To her credit, Fiera didn't resist the capture.

Off in the distance, the airship that had carried the Tamer with his celestial harem finally came down, wind and aerodynamics having carried the vessel a good distance away. Micah watched the display for a moment, somehow thinking that it encompassed this entire recent enterprise in one gesture, then let out another sigh and turned away. "Okay! Let's go have a talk with the remaining Limbec crew and take care of those thrice-damned prisoners, shall we?"

-[***]-