Weeaboo's Unfortunate Isekai: The Necromancer's Gacha

I could feel that pit in my stomach, the sinking weight that pulls down your guts when you realize that you have severely messed up, and things aren’t magically going to get better. I had forgotten to deliver Daphnae's letter to Madame. I hadn’t asked her about the Reverend, and his connection to the monsters. I didn’t close that loop. I turned to her, urgently, desperately, but the Home Guard were on us.

There was a fanatic look in their eye. I could smell the stink on them- sweat and dried piss and metal. Blood. They stank of madness. They stank of magic. The raid would end when the Home Guard arrived. As they pushed through my lines, notionally going to fight the monsters, I could see exactly how they would “save the day.”

Versai was locked down fighting one Titan on top of another Titan. Sebastian was too far away- really, all my hero characters were too far away, or already tangled up with the armored halberdiers of the home guard. My… almost entirely ranged focused summons. Once the word was given, they were dead.

This was it. Game over. I lost. Got so focused on running exploits, I forgot the basics of an RPG. If you have a quest item to deliver, you damn well deliver it. The only exception is to run an exploit, and there was no exploit to run here. Just… death. Just the bad ending. Maybe not as bad as some other endings, if I could manage to get hacked apart by halberds. But a bad ending nevertheless.

No more strategies to try. No more clever maneuvers. All my pieces had been taken off the board. The mystery behind the fall of Gradden March’s Floating Quarter revealed itself, like gears biting each other, teeth grinding to haul back the curtain.

The Marchioness was an idiot, almost certainly neglected and cuckolded by the Marquess, despised by her children, and universally held in contempt by the citizenry, had been left in charge of the city. Presumably under the adult supervision of Sebastian and various competent servants. Unfortunately, she had the ultimate decision making power, and she lacked the wit and the guts to make any decisions. A position that was encouraged by her spiritual advisor, the Reverend.

The Reverend with his hand-like feet. No one had mentioned an iron mask before. Maybe it was new. The holes in him looked new. Must have been that “Circus” or whatever Madame sent with one of Daphnae’s friends. Guess it wasn’t enough. Dyn Hunllef don’t go down easily. I’d known for ages the only thing keeping us alive was monster stupidity. Once they could choose to wait, to employ strategy and tactics- we were dead.

And now we are dead. The last spark of resistance in the city. Undermined by the Marchioness and the Dyn Hunllef, then literally stabbed in the back by the mind-controlled Home Guard. Some people never reached the battlefield in the first place. Some didn’t have the necessary equipment. But in the end, it was the dagger in the back that finished them off. The monsters winning not by numbers and brutality, but by exploiting humanity’s emotional weaknesses.

The halberdiers minced the monsters. The difference between a random thug and the militia was night and day. The difference between a regular soldier and a militiaman… the difference between candle and the sun. At least here in Gradden March. If it was in reach of their halberd, it died. Nothing even came close to them. Limbs were hacked off, heads and hearts speared, they were a solid block of massacre. Focused on the monsters, yes, but enveloping all my troops.

I felt that weakness that the Dyn Hunllef had been exploiting in the Marchioness. If I moved, I would die. If I tried to get someone else to move, I would die. If I didn’t do something, I would die. And no matter what, everyone would be dying with me.

It was a tower defense game built on gacha mechanics, and I didn’t want to play it in the first place. Fair? If you want fair, don’t be kidnapped by necromancers and shoved into a doll body in their death game.

I tried to breathe, to figure out what I could possibly do. Every second made my situation worse. The Home Guard got more enmeshed in my troops. My heroes had all their attention nailed down. And the Dyn Hunllef was strolling over. Looking very pious. Very motivated. Body language-wise, the mask hid the face.

Isn’t my life supposed to flash before my eyes? Some divine moment of revelation? Something? Anything? I saw the burning chaos of the quarter. I saw the flying blood and gore. I saw the arrows and the magic and my ears were going deaf with the sounds of clashing, crashing blades on vile flesh. I even saw the stupid flower shop, its buckets of flowers still offering cheap bouquets on the roadside.

Here, monsters. Let it never be said I’m a poor loser. Enjoy these flowers along with your well earned victory.

I mean, I was doing okay. Living by myself in New York City? I was doing way better than a lot of people. My eyes fixed on the flower shop. Something nice to look at. You know. Given everything.

Never really found out what that flower garden I was growing was going to do. Shame. Lots of people waving flowers around in Anime, but a bouquet always seemed like the hallmark of shojo. Never featured much in boys, or mens, manga.

Heh. It does remind me of some really prime early Nineties manga nudity though. God, that…

My brain jolted. I remembered a chad. No, not a chad, the chad. The chaddest chad that ever chadded in late eighties/early nineties manga. Tall, strong, incredibly handsome, an internationally successful artist who had his own place out in the country. He got kidnapped, mentally compelled to kill, got a sick tattoo, a smoking hot japanese wife, and learned all kinds of sweet, elite assassin stuff. Like how to eat holding your chopsticks with your toes, that kind of elite.

He was so chad, they gave him an international drug cartel and a harem just because he was so awesome. And he could handle the harem because, in addition to being the best at everything to do with being an assassin, and a potter, and running a multinational, multi-ethnic, submarine equipped drug empire, he was the best at sex too.

And his very first kill…

Although, speaking of assassins, vastly more PG assassins, you have to consider the effeminate teen with an innocent smile and a live grenade around his neck. Nobody had their guard up when someone came up with a smile. Especially if you knew you could bully them.

Never going to be chad, not even with this amazing doll body. Can’t imagine I look good either. I’m definitely never going to be able to pull off Nagisa’s schtick. But since I’m going to die for sure, and the flowers are right there… lets hide in fantasy one more time. Let’s not be the mopey, “It’s not fair!” Protag-kun. Let's be the filthy, back biting, sneaky weeaboo that I’ve always been. Let’s goddamn cosplay.

I quickly moved towards the flower stall. I’m sure the Dyn Hunllef saw me. I hope so. It was crucial that he did. I grabbed three of the biggest bouquets that still looked to be in good shape. Hid my little surprise in the middle of them, blocking it with my body and the bodies of all the soldiers lining up to cross the wall.

This was insane. There was no reason to think the Home Guard wouldn’t turn on us even if I managed it. No reason to think I would manage it.

“Reverend! Reverend! Thank God! Thank God! Reverend, we need you!” I shouted, trying to make my way through the crowd. I let all my fear ride my voice. Did I sound desperate? I was desperate. If this doll body could stink, he’d smell the stink of fear on me.

“Reverend! Reverend! At last! Please, we need your blessings! We need buffs, debuffs, heals, Damage Over Time, Area of Effect, kiting! We need mercy pulls, guaranteed rares and legendary shinies! We need big busty anime girls with long legs and narrow hips. We need waifus, and characters we can hate!”

I was waving the bouquet, smiling maniacally, pushing closer towards him. “We need alternative costumes, unlockable cutscenes and romanceable characters! We need upgrades, people, upgrades! We need happy music that absolutely goes and sweet art that blows our mind!”

I was getting closer now, closer. I was babbling, but it was okay to babble. It was okay to be scared. To be insane with fear. I should be. I was exactly as I should be.

“We need you, Reverend! We need you to take charge here! We need you to save us all. The monsters are very big and scary, and we need you to save us all!”

“Of course, my child, of course! I have always been here to help.” God, his voice sounded warm. Something in the rhythms of it, the depths of it. Like Idris Elba had just downed a big mug of honey tea. I wanted to believe him. Even with those too long fingers, and too big feet. Even with the iron mask, I wanted to believe him.

“Can you take me away from here? To the place where nothing hurts, and everything is safe? I… miss it.”

“Of course, my child, of course. It will all be over soon.” I walked closer. I would have cried if this body would let me. I probably looked like I was about to cry.

“I don’t have anything else. Please. These flowers are for you. For your victory.”

“Yes. For my victory.” There was a touch of extra bass there. I smiled.

The flowers exploded. The green stems and pink petals pinwheeling away. Carnations and lilies torn apart by my lunge. Sebastian’s old army knife emerged from between the bouquets. It was buried in the monster’s chest before the firelight could even catch the shine of its blade.

Chance to kill in one hit, if the first strike was covert, odds improving on location. Why trust RNG when I could trust STAB? My hand pulled back, blood jetting out of the hole, spraying me. It was hot. It stank. God it stank! I screamed and stabbed again. Again and again and again. Spitting wildly as the battery acid foulness of the blood sprayed into my mouth. Covered my face.

The hideous thing was falling and I stayed on top of it. My hand moving like a blur. Stab, stab, stab, stabstabstabstabstab. I punched a hole in it until I could see the cobblestones clean through its chest.

He was dead. I won. I spent exactly two tenths of a femtosecond bathing in that comfortable thought, then dove on the monster's neck, stabbing as hard and fast as I could. I sawed that head clean off! Like HELL I was letting some freaky monster regenerate with some freaky monster powers!

I cut it off. It had been alive. Alive as me, at any rate. Sentient. Sapient. It had worked really hard for its triumph. I looked around. Why hadn’t the Home Guard stopped me? They were lying on the ground, frothing at the mouth. Well. That wouldn’t be good for my front line.

The smell was… overwhelming. The sheer mess of everything, but the smell of that rotting blood, the stickiness of it all. It was just one more overwhelming thing. It should have been paralyzing. If it had happened two days ago, three days ago, it certainly would have been. Now? I picked up the severed head by it’s long, coarse hair and made my way back to the wall. I didn’t bother taking the mask off. Nothing I wanted to see there.

Things sounded weird on the other side of the wall. Not bad weird- actually, strike that, it sounded horrible. Like all the denizens of Hell were rioting and turning the torture implements on each other.

You ever try to climb up on a wall one handed? It’s not easy. I had to toss the head up first, then climb. I knew I wasn’t physically tired, but I felt exhausted. Just. Wiped. Not ready to process what just happened. The monsters were surprisingly sympathetic to my problem. They had turned on each other.

I don’t know how to describe what I saw in that street. I don’t have the words. Like someone shredding pork while the pig’s alive. Like rats clawing each other to escape rising water. They stomped one another into the cobblestones, down into the gaps between the cobblestones. They tore at their own flesh, as though the physical pain would help release them from their terror.

I saw Jim stomp the downed titan’s head into a meat paste on the pavement. You would have thought his foot would go straight through. It did not. If you needed proof that Jim was no longer playing by the rules, the four foot diameter pulverized disk of gore that appeared under his boot would serve well.

Versai was just playing with the titan Murder Baboon. She was damn near skinning it while it was trying to run away. She eventually severed something important in its spine, dropping it to the ground. Everything after that was just tidying up.

I had lost people. None of my summons, thank God. I was right about the collapse of the home guard screwing my front line. The thugs were down, and so were some of the militia. They were in too many pieces to be saved. Not a perfect win today. Well. Maybe I’d three star it or five star it or whatever anyway. With all that crap and I only managed to lose a tiny fraction of my total troops?

No, all that was a side point. I had won. I had solved the mystery of what happened to the floating quarter of Gradden March. The surviving monsters ran back up the street, torn up by the ranged units. I checked the tower. Good to go. “VERSAI! JIM! Get off the street!”

They did, jumping up the shop fronts like they were climbing out of a swimming pool. I triggered the tower. There was a thrum, a tearing noise and a blinding white light. Then the world became quiet once more.

The noise of the burning buildings intruded slowly, like a rising damp in the basement. A barrage of fireworks rose over the street, blinding golden showers carried by endless trumpets. I had won. I had won!