Reincarnated Into A Dead Woman's Body In Another World-Chapter 448: Arc 6, - 64: Resurgence

Reverberations shook the building. All the citizens and authorities outside stood like livestock behind a barricade the police force had quickly put up.

The entrance of Palais Celneir was baron—a view not often seen even in the early hours of the morning. The afternoon sky grew grey, as dark clouds formed to block the Sun. Everyone felt the heat being pulled away from the air; the chill of winter had arrived in spring.

There was a sense of dimming around the vicinity of the opera house; it was not merely that the skies grew darker, it was more as if the light of the surroundings were being subtly drawn towards the roof of the palace.

What magics were at work were beyond anyone’s theories. Whispers and shouts were exchanged equally while waves crashed against the sea wall and the rivers undulated unrhythmically.

While crowds blocked the way and authorities kept them at bay, a red-armoured figure clanked his way through and caught his breath in front of a policeman.

"Don’t worry," Ben panted and then stood upright. "The Scorching Inferno has arrived!" he exclaimed loudly and flexed his armour.

The crowd looked at each other confused at the man. "Sir, you’re carrying weaponry in broad daylight, I’m going to have to ask you to come with me," the policeman reached for the handcuffs around his belt, pointing to the sword on Ben’s back.

"Well it’s not really daylight- Wait! I’m, I’m here to help! I’m the Scorching Inferno!" he pleaded.

"Who?" the policeman readied the handcuffs while two other policemen closed in around Ben and had a hand on their pistols.

"I’m an adventurer! I’m, I’m- I know the Thundering Blade!" he tried to defend.

"We’ve had a slew of accounts reporting suspicious activity and potential Deuctus Cult involvement, I’m going to have to ask you to slowly put your hands up sir-"

"DUFFF!!!"

The entire crowd flinched back, all the authorities surrounding the vicinity turned to face Palais Celneir. Rubble exploded outwards of one side of the rooftop, busting down the angels that perched on top.

Debris hurtled into the balcony, sides of the building, the columns and the bricks of the entrance. Like meteors they crashed, causing the general public to flee into more of a panic.

Within the fly loft which had a massive gash in its ceiling, the pillar glowed no more; the sphere was broken open like an egg. Those present had ducked down and blocked their eyes from the blinding light and the explosion that followed.

Several cables that held up the walkways came undone with shrill metallic tears. Undead cultists took a tumble; Rose grabbed the flimsy fabrics of her hat that she had affixed to her corset and yanked it off.

Before she lost her footing off of the falling catwalk, the flimsy fabrics puffed out dark purple mist, at which point she threw it as far as she could to the still intact side of the loft—a cord extending from her corset to it.

With a loud puff, the purple dust jetted the fabric across the way and hooked onto cabling on the other side before a mechanical click could be heard from it and Rose’s corset.

She pulled a drawstring and with purple dust, she was rapidly reeled towards the hook, just in time for the catwalk to go completely vertical.

Guards of Palais Celneir fell, with nothing but the hard stage to catch them. From the armour they wore and the height from the loft, most of them would only have grievous injuries that will haunt them for the rest of their lives as they clanged and broke through the stage and concrete.

One unlucky eccentric blonde, caught on the other side of her party entered free fall upon the floor beneath her slanting in an instant.

Tiffany screamed, sending out unintentional echoes to burst upwards, causing more structural damage and injuring the guards falling around her.

Recognizing the shriek and with an eye winced open, Fumeko shot like a rocket in shadows towards and below the sound. She blinked beneath the pale blonde and grabbed her by the waist to pull her-

"BFFf..."

Tiffany landed on Fumeko who landed on the stage. At least their fall was broken by momentum; Tiffany’s even more so by a brunette she underneath her which she whimpered and rolled off of. Fumeko groaned and crawled out from under Tiffany’s weight.

All the undead collapsed where they were; Ambrose had to massage his ears to soothe the ringing of a magical scream. Wind gusted into the space, flapping any unpinned fabrics and cables.

In the quiet of an oncoming storm, Hotaru’s braid was coming undone to flutter over her eyes. Through her gaze, a hand reached down, "Are you alright?" the voice of a songbird, elegant and calm. Her blonde locks swayed by the gale coming through.

The redhead smiled sweetly and took her hand, "I feel better now, my golden knight," she tittered. Mirroring that smile, Jotou pulled the wolf-woman up to her feet and the two surveyed the wreckage before them while holding both hands.

Her crimson ears pricked and Jotou felt shocks go down her hair; they both looked up, knowing a thundering rainfall was soon to come through the half-broken roof. "Where’s the slime-woman?" Asobi was soon by their side.

"Slime-woman? So you were fighting her?" Hotaru queried.

"A few minutes ago in a gallery," Jotou replied. "She fled upwards. We figured she’d come to where you were." She side-eyed Ambrose who was not too far.

"Mhm. We also followed the guards here," the elf added while the guards recovered from the concussive forces that were at play.

"She did. Then she ended up in there," still holding the blonde’s hands, Hotaru peered up to the cracked sphere.

A single hawk soared up and glid over the broken structure. It perched on the cracked glass-like material. All that was there was a puddle of ocean blue slime; the same observation could be discerned from all angles.

Jotou disconnected hands with Hotaru, sparked up from head to toe and unsheathed her sword to face the dark-haired man across from her, "What did you maniacs attempt?" she asked with a tick of her brow, not even shouting.

Ambrose corrected his posture and tilted his head in almost a half nod of greeting, "Something divine in nature; much too late for your intervention I am afraid."

"That judgement lies on me," her lightning crackled with the narrowing of her eyes.

Blood seeped out of the pores of Ambrose’s right palm, which he brought up before him. It snaked the lines of his hand and wound up his fingers past his nails.

The blood formed into crimson claws at least a quarter metre in length, which he flexed and stretched. He himself was fascinated by it, "I must commend the Azure Firefly’s ingenuity. To form the siphon spell into feasible weaponry...

You have my admiration and my gratitude for the trick madam. The same respect extends to you oh blade that carries the might of thunder. Subduing a new God is no easy feat; your brief standing upon the podium of victory has not gone unnoticed.

However, the time has come for you to be knocked off. The audience now awaits in bated breath in fear or intrigue of what we of the Deuctus Cult have achieved. Our promises will not go unfulfilled," he proclaimed, raising his claws as if awaiting applause.

"I’d be careful with making any sudden moves darling," a crossbow was aimed right at Ambrose’s head from a detective who stood on the same platform as him.

Rifles aimed at the same man and one guard shouted out, "Dispel your magics and put your arms in the air or we will open fire—this is your one and final warning!"

"Oh pitiful lambs," Ambrose lamented. As if any bullet was going to be more than an inconvenience—the exception being a bolt from a crossbow which would be slightly more impactful. He said loudly without moving, "Darwin, what seems to be impeding Beauregard?"

The hawk angled its head multiple times like a bird is wont to do. Its talons morphed into paws; the body turned into a lion, with a goat’s upper half protruding from its spine and a tail that was a snake.

It dipped its lion head down and pawed at the slime, which would have acidified most organic material that came into contact with it. It stung the paw with a hiss, but the creature made no roars of pain, unfazed.

"Dramatic timing takes time unfortunately," Ambrose’s fangs shined.

"Fthck!-" "Shlick!"

The crossbow bolt that fired was slashed in an instant by his long crimson claw, diced into for parts. "Blast! Blast! Blast! Blast! Blast!" The bullets did nothing but leave scratch marks on his suit and cause a mild bit of annoyance in his eyes.

Fumeko and Tiffany looked up to hear the volley of gunfire. Broken stage, surrounded by destroyed expensive equipment and infrastructure, and guards that needed to be in a hospital—all things considered, it was still going relatively well?

"Oure ascension to stage a reappearance in the fray is beyond the void’s grasp to comprehend."

"That’s a problem for you," Fumeko replied as shadows wisped at her feet, about to blink back up.

"Hmph."

"Brrrr..."

In unison with the thunder’s roar from above, the entire building- No, half the River-City began to quake. Waves crashed over the sea wall and mixed with the rivers, while the last of the boatmen made it onto the mainland.

It was not sudden, it crept—to a greater and greater magnitude till it felt like the darkened sky itself was shaking. Rain fell as drops, but none hit the ground.

Each droplet descended and then its trajectory was curved towards the top of Palais Celneir, into the broken roof and into the cracked sphere.

The slime within writhed and bubbled; each crash of the waves, each ripple of water, each splash against a surface was taken away from gravity’s hold and flew in the same direction to cause what was a puddle of slime, to grow to fill the bowl of a sphere it resided in.

Larger and larger and larger—it spilled out, but was attached to the pillar. The gunfire ceased—eyes were turned towards Beauregard’s face forming over the mass.

Tendrils of slime twisted together like the muscles of a limb and formed her legs that were the size of marble columns. Each foot burst into the stage below, crushing several guards under her titanic still-increasing weight.

Fumeko seized Tiffany’s hand and dragged her into a sprint, jumped off of the stage and ran further diagonally away from what now emerged.

Knees busted further through the booths and seats, breaking walls down to allow her to move; most of her obstructions having already been blasted away for her convenience.

Arms formed droplet after droplet into the length of a winding river; each fingers grasped onto the broken roof as it was forming. Her feminine figure began to take shape from the mass and the titan, climbed out of the roof.

The quaking earth never ceased and Ben, alongside the panicked public who had not yet fled, saw the slime-woman emerge with a bright smile from a height that dwarfed Palais Celneir or the palaces of Cravolta.

One foot stepped onto the stonework of the entrance and the other took a large stride towards the sea wall’s edge, over the barrier.

The still-attached slime from the fly loft was stretched and snapped off of her back, before it disintegrated into wisps of blue water, freeing Beauregard like she was released of her puppet strings.

More water gathered into her new form, with no seeming end to her growth. Her eyes the size of lakes blinked, surveying the public of Belle-Ventrialis fleeing, panicking or already crushed and dissolved.

Oh faithful and faithless, pray that her ire does not befall ye; for the waking world now beheld, a new God in all her glory...