The Bounty Hunter

March 21st, 2090

Terra’s POV

Life is good right now.  That’s the thought I have been having these past two months.  Pandemonium has gone dark, clearly reeling from my systematic extermination of all their criminal affiliates.  Not to say that the threat is gone, but I’ve learned to appreciate the quiet before the storm.  Demons are rather impulsive, and I daresay that Dante won’t be able to reign in his subordinates for much longer.  They’ll appear somewhere, and I’ll be there to exterminate them.  The only real threats are Dante and his six subordinates, the rest of the demons are no match for me and my girls.  They have continued improving by leaps and bounds, and I feel that they’re more than capable of dealing with Dante’s lieutenants.

The home life is great as well.  My parents have had more time off work recently, since Dad’s restaurants are no longer getting harassed by the Health department and Mom’s trouble at work died down.  She was saddened somewhat by Hayashi’s death, but the wounds from all those years ago don’t heal so easily.  Her lingering resentment made it rather easy for her to move on.  The additional money and stock options she received from being written back into the will were also greatly appreciated.

My relationship with my harem has been going well.  Irene’s induction went without issue since she and the girls got along rather well.  Everyone has been having a lot of fun touring the world, which is as easy as can be thanks to my teleportation magic.  Our nighttime activities have been hotter than ever, both on the individual level and the harem play.  Reiji has been doing better, I think he might finally be moving on.  He has a newfound desire to help people, possibly out of guilt, but since it isn’t a destructive behavior it should be fine.  So when a familiar summoning circle appeared beneath me as I sat in my room, I decided to roll with it.  Let’s see how Willow and Verlush are doing.  With any luck, I’ll be given some rare magical materials again.

My surroundings blurred like before, and the power-up I seem to get in this world rammed into me like before.  However, that’s where the similarities ended.  The dungeon that I had been summoned into was completely redone, with elegant white marble instead of the crumbling grey stone.  The summoning circle was made of inlaid gold accents, and they framed the new mural in the back of the room rather nicely.  To my surprise, it was a now accurate depiction of myself, surrounded by luscious plant life.  Beneath the mural there was a bright silver plaque which read:

“To the future heirs of House Meadow, should thee ever be in dire straits, use the summoning circle to call upon our savior.  Unfairly scorn by the world, his goodness persists despite the adversity.  For a price, he will grant any wish.  May our Fortress of Flowers ever bloom.”

            ---Duchess Willow of House Meadow

So… it looks like quite a bit more time has passed on this end then I expected.  But before I thought any further on the subject, there was a breathy gasp behind me.  I turned around to see my summoner, and had to visibly repress the urge to recoil in disgust.  I have seen some hideous things, but this poor soul was ugly beyond compare.  The short man had greasy green hair and dull brown eyes set in a horrendously pockmarked face that had excessive acne.  His teeth were yellow and crooked, his big hook nose looked like a broken beak, and his skin was an off-putting pasty white.  The man was horrendously obese, and he was panting as he exclaimed “The summoning worked!  I can’t believe it!”

And then, before I could say I word, the man started crying.  “Finally, a chance to change everything!  No longer will the other nobles mock me so ruthlessly!  No longer will I be ostracized as Hawthorne the Hideous!”  I assume he was going to continue with his pitiful monologue, but I decided to spare him any further self-loathing.  “Why have you called me?” I asked in my gravitas heavy voice.

Hawthorne snapped to attention with a squeak, finally remembering that he stood in the presence of a supposedly all-powerful extradimensional being.  “A,apologies for my inattentiveness!  I am Hawthorne of House Meadow and I have a wish that I would like granted!”  “What is this wish?”  “I would like you to change my appearance.  Please make me handsome!”  “And my payment?”  I asked.  Hawthorne paused before bringing out a long antique box.  It was covered in various runes that seemed to be imprisoning something.  He fumbled with the latch before unlocking it.

Time seemed to come to a standstill as whatever was within the box resonated with my very soul.  It felt… familiar, like seeing an old friend after a long time.  The 3-foot long handle flew out from the box like a rocket, landing perfectly in my outstretched hand.  It was the hilt of my rhomphaia that shattered at the final battle of Project Redemption.  It looked the same as before, although there was a jagged edge where the blade once was attached.  I thought it was consumed by the rampaging mana, but I was wrong.  As surprising as the reappearance of a fragment of my favorite weapon was, it paled in comparison to the changes I sensed in said fragment.

The handle was emitting an ecstatic joy at being reunited with its creator and wielder, my faithful weapon seems to have gained some modicum of sentience.  Only the greatest arms can develop a pseudo-consciousness.  It is not true sentience, but it is close.  This one piece felt more powerful than Vivian’s Excalibur.  Incredible.  My shock was misinterpreted as disappointment by Hawthorne, so he started to hastily explain the offering.  “I, I hope that a fragment of your old weapon is a suitable payment.  I know the legends after all, about how you slayed the Redeemer and the world with it.  It shattered in the aftermath, and its pieces were scattered throughout the new world.  100 shards and the handle.  I nearly bankrupted House Meadow in order to purchase this.  I don’t care that the apocalypse will come should you make your divine blade whole once more.  I just want you to break this curse on me!”

There’s no question about this.  “Deal, on the condition that you also provide further information about my blade afterwards.”  I said eagerly.  The contract seal appeared on both of us and I immediately appeared at Hawthorne’s side.  I conjured a mirror to show his reflection and had various options pop up around it in text.  These said various things like “Weight”, “Height”, “Hair Color” and so on.  Anyone from my world would recognize it as a complete replica of a character customization screen from a popular virtual reality video game.  I even went so far to include a stats page.  Strength, Dexterity, Agility, Endurance, Intelligence, and Wisdom, the usual stats popped up.  An average adult’s stats in this world (as estimated from my last visit) is from 10 to 15 in each category.  I gave him 200 points.  This is not a game world, but I found this format the easiest way to do this.  His payment far exceeded my price, so the least I can do is provide the best service possible.

“You may change your appearance and abilities as you please in this mirror, press your finger to the text to see how to alter whatever you desire.  Once complete, these changes will be permanent and they will pass onto to any children you have.  Ask me if you have any questions.”  I said as I gave Hawthorne a brief tutorial on how to operate the mirror.  He immediately went to work, while I chose to ignore him in favor of examining my rhomphaia handle.  It’s near useless to me the way it is now, but I can’t help but feel happy to have it in my hands again.

Several hours later and Hawthorne finally finished.  I looked in the mirror to see the end product.  The reflection showed a classically handsome, very well-built man.  His green hair was bright and glossy, with warm chocolate colored eyes set in a sculpted aristocratic face.  His teeth were straight and a brilliant white.  He was tall, with slightly tan, smooth skin and excellent muscular definition.  The stats distribution was an equal 33 in each category, meaning that he would be 3 times stronger, faster and smarter than the average human citizen in this world.

“Are you satisfied with your selection?”  I asked.  Hawthorne nodded eagerly.  “Very well.  Answer my questions and then I shall start the transformation.”  “Yes!  What do you want to know?”  “What has happened to the rest of my blade?”  “Well, um, I know that the shards of the blade are scattered throughout the world.  The legendary weapons wielded by heroes and champions, as well as many of the national treasures of various countries all were forged using a fragment as a base.  That’s why they are so sought after.  The only reason I could get the handle is because it was impossible to forge into a weapon, since it kept killing the blacksmiths trying to work it.  Heck, only a grandmaster blacksmith can forge a shard into a weapon or armor without dying from the blowback let alone trying to forge the entire handle.”  Hawthorne explained.

“You mentioned something about an apocalypse.  Explain.”  “It has been foretold that you, the Peerless Devil, are continually seeking to finish what you started and annihilate this world.  However, you lack the power to do so, since the leader of the Redeemers shattered your blade in the final battle.  It contained a great deal of your strength, so if you make the weapon whole once more you will be able to destroy this world once and for all.”  Hawthorne said.  I heaved a big sigh at those words.  “I will tell you what I told Willow, these stories are all gross misrepresentations of what actually happened!”  “Willow, as in my ancestor?”  “Yes, how many years has it been since I was last summoned?”  “Um, I believe it has been 300 years since Duchess Willow and the Miracle of the Meadow.”  Hawthorne answered.

Wow, it has been a while.  “I see.  Very well, you’ve answered my questions, let us begin with the transformation.”  I said, much to Hawthorne’s delight.  “Be warned, however, that your change will be gradual.  This is so others don’t mistake you as being someone else.”  “How long will it take?”  Hawthorne asked.  “One month.  You will claim that you had a curse of ugliness on you that was broken.  I will mimic the aftereffects of such a curse to make it believable.”

And with everything said, I slammed my fist onto the mirror.  Contrary to common sense, the mirror didn’t break.  Instead, it reverberated like a gong, with the image of the new Hawthorne rippling like it was a reflection on a pond that had a stone thrown in it.  The current Hawthorne let out a gasp as he clutched at his head, clearly feeling the unusual sensation of having your very body reworked down to the DNA. 

I slammed my fist onto the mirror once more, this time shattering it and ejecting the image of the new Hawthorne out into the room.  The now ghostly looking image merged with Hawthorne, who let loose a loud yell of pain.  He fell to the ground and started fading away into unconsciousness.  My work was done, all that is left is to wait for the changes to finish.  “Remember, one month until the complete change.”  I whispered to Hawthorne as I felt the summoning end upon completion of the contract. 

I reappeared back into my room, where I glanced at the clock.  5 seconds had passed since I left.  In my hand was my rhomphaia’s handle, which was all but purring in contentment at being with me once more.  I was thinking about Hawthorne’s words, about my rhomphaia being a divine blade.  It’s certainly possible, since it got sucked into a ritual that was meant to catalyze an ascension into godhood.  Does that mean I’m a god in the new other world?  Is that why I feel all-powerful there?  Or am I a demigod since most of my divine power is apparently trapped in my broken blade?  I shook my head at the thought.  Focus on the present for now.  Potential god or not, it means nothing here on Earth.