Apocalypse Reset: My Crab Can Heal the World!

"So to recap," Maria says as she sets down the dossier on the table for anyone who wants to take a second look. "They all have sensory powers. Nazakiel’s got the eyes, ’Four-Eyes’ has future sight. Sounds like touch is accounted for with the demon lady."

"Lamashti," Osmond notes, speaking her name aloud. "A terrifying woman. I was born with memories of her, but I didn’t know she was a ’Sentinel’."

"This bloodhound is probably ’smell’, if we look at it from the senses. One plays music, so I bet she controls sound. And Donatella…telepathy? Telekinesis? What does that leave?"

"The one who operates the hideout," Barns says. "And we’re missing someone with power over ’taste’."

"Well, surely she’s not just sitting there licking the walls. Or is she? My darling Maria, is that idiotic or genius?"

"Idiotic."

Osmond falters.

"It sounds like sensory deprivation is the way to go about killing them, anyway," Osmond continues. "Wouldn’t you say? Good news for all of you - Maria and I are somewhat experts at ’sensory deprivation’, if you know what I mean."

Clancy clicks his claws. "HOT." Nobody else bothers to give a follow-up answer.

"Donatella…is only #6 among them." Haima’s voice cuts through the gathered leadership. Her words are heavy with self-doubt.

"I wasn’t even able to touch her. To think she is among their weakest." Haima covers her hand with her mouth. The sinking pit that formed in her stomach when she was defeated by Donatella grows deeper and deeper. She once believed herself to be among the top echelon of fighters. Now, she couldn’t even land an attack on one of the weakest Sentinels. What could she hope to contribute to this looming war?

Barns puts his arm around Haima, rubbing her back gently. "You did great, Haima. You were the first to engage her, and you lived to tell the tale. That’s a big deal."

She slinks away from his touch, ever uncomfortable from physical contact - even if it’s from Barns. She’s lost in her mind, but she knows what must happen.

’I need to leave Dimartino,’ she realizes. ’My powers are not what they should be. It’s time to visit my ancestral home and do what I must.’

Haima clenches her fists. The realization is bitter, but undeniable. If she stays here, she will never be enough. If she leaves, she has a chance. A chance to prove that her failures do not define her future.

"If you’d all excuse me," Haima says, stepping away from the table. "This is much for me to think about, and I’m not sure I’ll have anything useful to contribute. My apologies."

She begins to walk away, but not before she’s interrupted.

"Actually, Haima," Maria interjects. "I was hoping to chat after this, just you and me. Think you could wait around a bit longer?"

Haima tilts her head toward Maria. The request startles her - she couldn’t imagine what Princess Maria of all people would have to say to her. Nonetheless, she reluctantly agrees and tells Maria she’d be waiting in the conference room down the hall.

As Maria gets her confirmation, she exchanges a quick, knowing glance with Underhill. This is about Underhill’s accusations against Haima, of course. Maria needs to confirm for herself whether or not Haima is a killer or not.

Barns exhales slowly. He isn’t sure which part’s worse - that they were so outmatched, or that the Sentinels weren’t even trying yet. All of this planning, all of their power…was it enough to even defeat Donatella? What if all seven attacked at once?

"So, Donatella was the one who attacked us. She’s the one we should prioritize coming up with a plan to defeat." Barns reels the conversation back in, focusing on their top priority - making sure these Sentinels don’t push Dimartino into an early end. He just had to hope they wouldn’t bring their full might down upon them - at least not until they have a solid plan of action.

"I might have some ideas cookin’," Underhill smirks. "Got me someone on the police force who knows some Secret ’Gravity’ Arts. Maybe they can be our trump card - prevent the Sentinel from throwing any more buildings. You catch my drift?"

Haima is still only halfway across the throne room as Underhill makes his comment, but she feels the need to speak some sense as she strolls away. "That woman is unnaturally powerful," she says, loud enough for all to hear. "No Secret Arts will work as a direct counter - it could never be so easy."

Haima’s words are cold, but everyone assembled understands the truth behind them. Secret Arts, no matter how powerful, would struggle to counter Donatella’s strength which defies reason itself. Her ability to manipulate objects was no Secret Art - that was deep, powerful magic that may be related to the origin of the apocalypse itself.

"What recourse do we have, then? Perhaps among the newly revived twenty thousand there are some with Secret Arts or combat ability?" Maria suggests. "But against such an opponent, do numbers even matter?"

"MUST GET STRONGER!" Clancy bellows. "HAVE IDEA. BARNACLES AND CRAB, UNDERWATER. SECRET CRAB KINGDOM, CAN’T TALK ABOUT WITH MORTALS."

Eldrie bows as the king speaks, showing his utmost respect. "The King speaks true," Eldrie decides for the group. "The answer is truly that simple, is it not? We must get stronger."

Eldrie places both of his hands on the table and leans in close, looking to each of his gathered allies in turn. "It’s no secret anymore that I have the power of Adon and Adea in my left eye," Eldrie says quietly. Each time he acknowledges his eye, it feels more real - and more dangerous.

"I can cultivate this power and become strong. I know I can. And it seems Barns and Clancy have some ideas on how to improve their strength as well." Read latest chapters on freewebnovel

"Adea was no match for me," Maria gloats - and she was right. With the full power of her custom Royal Art, Ave Maria, she was able to devastate Adea who was herself a Master Vampire. "But my power comes at a great cost. I won’t be able to fight like that for some time. I fear I won’t be much help if the Sentinels attack again soon."

"Lamashti is a demon, just like me," Osmond thinks aloud. "If she is powerful enough to be a Sentinel, then I must also have the potential to be as strong as she is."

Osmond’s hand reflexively reaches down to touch the glowing mark on his stomach. He wasn’t just a demon - he bore the mark of Gluttony. A mysterious power that, much like the magicks wielded by the Sentinels, defies reason.

Osmond’s fist quivers as he resolves himself. "When my dove was hurt in battle, I realized that I lacked the strength to protect her. Truly, since I’ve been born, I have never had to push my powers to their absolute limit. But I will get stronger. The Sentinels will never have Dimartino, not as long as I draw breath."