Buttermilk Time

by Genji9X

Summary:

Sweetheart's adoptive younger sister, Buttermilk, goes on a journey with Omori to return to the place of her birth at her sister's behest. Along the way, they encounter bizarre foes and situations that will test them to their limits.

It's Buttermilk Time!

Chapter 1: Pyrefly Forest

Notes:

Part 1

Buttermilk and the boy called Omori were on a journey together.

The girl in pink clenched her teeth, face as red as mashed strawberries, as they ventured into the gloomy forest. How can she do this to her?

It all started when four kids were sent to the dungeon the day before after they provoked her sister's ire. Nothing she hasn’t seen a million times already. Then a few hours later, their leader — that monochrome boy called Omori — somehow managed to struck a deal with her sister, convincing Sweetheart to let him go on a mission to escort her little sister back to her birthplace in the Orange Oasis in exchange for letting his friends go once the task has been completed. Why she would trust a total stranger to handle such a delicate task was a total mystery to her.

“Hey knife boy!” she called. “How long would it take to get us out of this creepy forest?”

The boy kept walking as though he heard nothing from her.

Buttermilk elegantly crossed her arms and pouted. The nerve of that jerk. How dare he ignore her?! And now he’s walking faster and leaving her behind!

“Slow down, you dummy!” she yelled, gripping the frills of her dress as she skipped along fallen leaves. The sky was eternally obscured by clouds around these parts, and word has it that certain parts of the forest — filled with all manners of grotesque creatures — were blanketed in a thick layer of fog. The girl wrapped herself in her arms and shuddered. It’d spell big trouble for them if they wandered off where they shouldn’t.

“Over here,” the boy called. Beyond them was a long stretch of railroad tracks reaching all the way to the other side of the forest, shrouded in darkness. There’s a conveniently placed minecart right where the track began. Omori examined it, tapping on its body, likely searching for a hidden compartment that might contain explosives in it. Very careful and meticulous. At least he had that going for him, hmph.

“Get in,” he said. “And make it quick.”

Buttermilk scowled. “Excuse me? Who do you think you are, knife boy?!” she snapped, glaring at him as hard as she could to show her displeasure. “Is that the way to talk to a fine young lady?”

The boy sneered. “Fine? I’ve seen sprout moles who fit that description better.” He hefted himself inside. “I don’t have the time nor the patience to babysit a spoiled princess. You can walk to the other side if that’s what you want.”

Buttermilk was fuming. She’s never felt so disrespected before. No one, not even her big sister, has regarded her with such bluntness. Curling her fists into balls, she shut her eyes tight and fantasized about beating the crap out of this insolent boy to teach him a lesson. After a few deep breaths and calming down, she got inside without saying a word and sat behind Omori. The boy took a quick glance at her before kicking the front, sending the cart moving down the slope.

The cart launched forward and Buttermilk was taken aback by how fast they were suddenly moving. As the cart zipped past dead trees and jagged rocks, she latched herself onto the left side of the cart and held on for dear life, squinting her eyes to protect them from the aggressive rush of wind. As the cart reached its maximum speed, Buttermilk resisted the temptation to scream by clenching her teeth, refusing to give the boy a reason to see her as easily frightened and weak.

“Doing okay?” he asked in a barely audible voice, with a slight hint of mockery in it.

“Why do you care?!” she yelled back at him. “Do you think this is my first time riding a minecart?!”

“Actually, yes.”

Buttermilk angrily stomped and the wood beneath them creaked. “You know nothing about me so just shut up, okay?! Pancakes, you're so obnoxious!”. She thought she heard the boy chuckle but he didn’t say anything more. Curse Sweetheart for putting her up with this!

“Hold tight now.”

Buttermilk was taken out of her daze just in time to notice a dead sprout mole blocking their path. The cart collided with the corpse, sending it tumbling upward. Buttermilk lost all sense of thought and screamed at the top of her lungs, wrapping her arms around Omori’s waist and burying her face on his back in sheer panic. So much for acting tough.

“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh, I don’t wanna die! HEEEEEEELP!”

The cart landed with a strong impact that shook her entire body to the core. Buttermilk did not let go for a while, fear and anxiety overriding her disdain for the boy. Omori took it in stride and that kind of annoyed her. How can one remain so calm after this?

“You can let go now,” he said, gently prying her arms from his waist.

She looked at her still shaking hands. “What now?” she asked, noticing that one of the cart’s wheels had been detached and flew off to some unknown part of the forest. Omori jumped out of the cart and leaned on a tree, a thumb placed on his chin.

“We’re walking.”

Buttermilk’s heart sank. “Ugh.”

“I’m not carrying you.”

“Shut up!”

 

---

 

“Are we there yet?” she asked, feeling the bones in her legs crying in agony.

Omori shook his head.

“Hey look, can we stop to rest for I don’t know , a few hours maybe? Darn it! I can’t take this anymore,” she grumbled, standing on one foot while trying to shake off a rock that got lodged in her shoe. It made soft clunk as it hit the ground. Once again, Omori had already left her behind. “Hey! Are you even listening? My sister will kill your friends if anything happens to me, you know? Come back here knife boy!”

Giant trees surrounded the path forward like some kind of a protective wall, leaves rustling as unseen small creatures scurried on the upper branches. Sweetheart trained her from a young age on how to defend herself, despite not being allowed to step foot outside of the castle grounds under any circumstances. Just another one of her sister’s eccentricities she would never understand. One of those techniques Sweetheart taught her was on how to summon a magical staff she can use to cast offensive magic spells. If things went south, Buttermilk was confident that she could handle the threats on her own. She didn’t even need this Omori boy to protect her.

Grrrrrrrrrt

Buttermilk flushed red, hugging her stomach. Why now?

Omori paused and dug something out of his pocket. A small cookie. “Catch.”

Buttermilk barely caught the cookie he tossed at her. “No thanks,” she said. “I’m not eating this. Who knows what else you put in those pocket of yours. Gross.”

She threw the cookie back to Omori who caught it without even looking. “Suit yourself,” he said as he took a bite out of it. Her stomach rumbled again not long afterward. “My sister has a picnic blanket set up near the Vast Forest,” he said, munching on the cookie. “Would take hours before we get there though.” He took another one out of his pocket as if taunting her.

Buttermilk groaned. It’s not like she had much of a choice. “Fine! Gimme that!” she yelled, snatching the cookie and turning her back to him. She sniffed and examined the surface very carefully. Nothing seemed wrong, it was just an ordinary chocolate chip cookie. She nibbled at it and to her surprise, found it to be actually rather good. Her taste buds sang in delight as she took a larger bite. Amazing! Better than any other cookie she’d eaten before, that’s for sure. Omori had another one out after she took her last bite and handed it to her. “T-Thanks,” she said grudgingly.

She eventually convinced Omori to let them rest for an hour under the canopy of a tree not far from the railroad track. This gave her some much needed time to gather her thoughts regarding her current situation.

Buttermilk had never stepped foot out of the castle since, well, forever; the confines of its walls was her entire world for as long as she could remember. Sweetheart and Buttermilk weren’t related by blood. According to her and to the sprout moles who knew, she was abandoned by her parents shortly after birth. It just so happened that a friend of theirs, Donut Grandma, took her up and raised her as her own. For reasons unknown, Grandma sent her away to Sweetheart just a year later. Buttermilk had no memory of what she even looked like. Eleven years have passed since then and now, Sweetheart was insistent that she had to come back to the place of her birth. “You’ll understand when you’re older,” she said. But Buttermilk saw no reason to come back to a place she can’t even remember. It was already abundantly clear that Sweetheart just wanted her gone. This whole journey was just an excuse to get rid of her, so why did she agree to it?

“Time to go,” the boy said, standing in front of her, arms crossed.

“Already?” Buttermilk got up and walked past him. She’s decided that she’s not going to let a lowly commoner like him boss her around like she’s his darn slave anymore.

From now on, she’s taking the lead.

“Hurry up knife boy!” she barked. Just follow the tracks and you’ll find your way out of the forest, she heard from one of her instructors before.

The boy followed along stoically which unnerved her. Buttermilk stole glances at him as they walked, careful not to be too obvious about it. He seemed to be taking Buttermilk leading the way in stride which annoyed her greatly for some reason. Just who was this guy anyway? Everything about him — his abhorrent demeanor, his complete lack of grace and decorum, treating Buttermilk like she’s beneath him, and that knife — everything felt wrong and repulsive. Though he did give her some tasty cookies earlier but still, keeping her strong for the journey was part of his job! The girl gritted her teeth. What on earth was her sister thinking hiring a knife-wielding weirdo like this as her escort?

“Stop.”

A smirk formed on her lips. Nope, not happening. Buttermilk kept walking, increasing her speed just to annoy him.

“Buttermilk.”

Her legs stopped. That’s the first time he called her by her name. Whatever it was that he wanted to say, it was probably serious.

“What is it, knife boy?”

Omori was already next to her and she hardly noticed. “Spider monsters. They’re coming,” he said, looking uncharacteristically troubled. Was he scared of spiders?

Something hissed at her from behind. Omori threw himself before her and slashed at it, bluish-green blood splattering on the ground. The horrid creature writhed and turned into dust. Buttermilk was aghast. She didn’t see that coming. What would’ve happened if Omori wasn’t there?

“There’s more of them,” he said, wiping the blood from his knife with a leaf he picked up. Though he didn’t say it, the look in his eyes asked for her to pull her own weight and assist him in fighting off these spiders. Fine, I’ll show the knife boy what I can do, she thought. Buttermilk raised both hands forward to form a heart shape as wisps of pink light sprang from them, filling the surrounding air abuzz with vibrant energy. A pink staff with a crimson red heart at its tip materialized between her hands. Buttermilk smiled proudly. She’s never used the thing other than for training and causing some mischief back when she was younger, but now she’s free to let loose and realize her full potential. A part of her wished that her big sis could see her right now.

“Pretty cool huh?” she said, striking a cool pose in front of Omori as she twirled it. He seemed thoroughly unimpressed.

Buttermilk pouted. “You suck.”

The distant sound of rustling got louder and soon, a huge mesh of colors made itself visible, swarming not far from the tree they rested under. There were dozens of them. Buttermilk swallowed and tightened her grip on her staff, trying to stay calm in the midst of the situation. Upon closer inspection, they didn’t appear to be spiders at all but rather bunnies and… potted plants? They still have the legs of a spider though which was weird. The existence of these aberrations was omitted from her education so she had no idea that such monstrosities existed outside until now.

Omori stepped forward and changed into a fighting stance — one leg forward with the knife leveled lengthwise to his chest. “Try not to get in my way,” he said.

“Stupid jerk,” she muttered. She can’t lose to him now.

The two kids stood back to back as swarms of spider creatures advanced to their position. Some of them looked downright mad, as though they’ve trespassed upon hallowed ground. What the heck was going on here anyway? Omori made the first strike as an overly excited potted plant lurched at him. He shattered its body in three strikes without any effort. Buttermilk frowned as three spider bunnies approached her. “Take this!” she yelled, three orbs of pink light manifesting at the tip of her staff and incinerating the hapless creatures. The staff’s power depended upon her own stamina and strength so she can’t afford to just blindly fire away or she’ll be out of juice soon, leaving Omori to do the rest of the work. As of now, the knife boy’s taking the lead in the number of kills. He stomped on a dazed bunny just as his knife plunged into a spider’s eye. Buttermilk cringed as she watched him attack the horde of bunnies in front of him. His way of fighting was just… brutal and needlessly violent, like a cat angrily lashing out with its claws. For her part, Buttermilk materialized nine orbs, combining it into one giant bright ball of energy. Omori had to shade his eyes as the gigantic orb floated above them, before it descended and violently crashed into a group of enemies, sending a surge of electricity coursing through their bodies and incapacitating them. Buttermilk gasped as she held onto her knees. Whew, that took a lot out of her. Omori grabbed a spider bunny by its throat after it failed to stab him with one of its sharp legs and slit its neck, before swiftly following it up with an intimidating stare thrown at one of the larger spiders headed his way. The spider backed off, seemingly frightened by the display. She took this chance to cast one more light orb on its way — a direct hit on the back. It shrieked before collapsing on the ground, dead.

By now, almost half of their enemies had been taken care of but they can’t afford to stay where they were any longer. Buttermilk and Omori ran to a more open space to get a breath of fresh air; an elevated field where the enemies can’t back them into a corner. As the enemies poured out in droves, Buttermilk decided to use a more complicated spell involving a trap. She waved the staff in a clockwise motion, strands of light bundling together to make a thicker, translucent rope. She snagged the edge of the rope and carefully hurled it at a group of angry bunnies headed their way. The rope coiled itself around their bodies and with a firm squeeze, drained every energy they had, putting them to sleep. This particular attack did not work on dummies so Buttermilk had to use it on some poor sprout moles who disobeyed Sweetheart and got sent to the dungeons as part of her training. Though she never admitted it to Sweetheart, Buttermilk found it needlessly cruel and derived no enjoyment from it.

Omori switched the knife to his other hand after killing a few more monsters and stretched his arms and legs. Seeing his toned body drenched in sweat and spider blood made Buttermilk blush and her heart beat faster. She had to forcefully pry her eyes away from him and reminded herself to focus. What’s wrong with her?

Omori’s expression turned grim. “Something big’s coming” he said, shuffling next to her. Buttermilk could feel it too as the trees shook in the distance.

Then a loud roar.

A wild bear leapt and landed right where some of the monsters were, crushing them instantly. The rest of the monsters scurried away. Buttermilk shrieked.

Pancakes. “Is t-that a—”

Buttermilk could barely get the words out of her mouth.

Bears. She hated them. Sweetheart had a secret dungeon full of them somewhere under her maze for some reason. She’s only been down there once and it was one of the worst days of her life.

Never again.

“D-DO SOMETHING!” she cried, hiding behind Omori as the bear sized them up. Her legs felt wobbly all of a sudden and the thrill of fighting fizzled out within her, replaced by dread and anxiety. The bear raised both of its paws before them, with claws longer than Omori’s knife, and roared fiercely.

“EEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

Tears began to well in Buttermilk’s eyes as she squeezed the boy’s arm, pleading for him to take action. Do what you have to do. Anything.

“Run and hide behind one of the trees,” Omori whispered as he stepped forward and changed back into his fighting stance.

Buttermilk nodded and did as she was told, finding a tree where she could watch the fight from a safe distance, wiping her tears as she watched in horror as the bear slumbered towards Omori. What are you doing, you stupid girl? Are you just going to leave him back there with a bear? He’s going to die!

Omori leaped as the bear pounced on him. He landed nimbly on the bear’s head and gave it a few kicks while balancing himself. Right when he was about to plunge his knife on its skull, the bear rolled over and threw him off its body. Omori quickly recovered and got up on his feet as the bear swiped again, putting some distance between him and the beast. Buttermilk leaned in to get a better view. Unlike with the spider monsters before, Omori showed some restraint in the way he fought the bear, making calculated attacks and dodging efficiently to put himself in a position where he could strike at the bear again with ease. As fast and ferocious as the bear was, Omori had a good read on how it moved and reacted accordingly.

He’s actually kind of cool.

Buttermilk slapped herself in frustration. No, he’s not. He’s just an overconfident brat who’s going to get the both of them killed. Ugh, why did it have to be a bear of all things? Omori dodged another swipe swiftly by jumping back. The bear now stood on its two hind legs, eyes red and frothing with rage. Buttermilk hugged her knees, cursing herself for being so useless. Her big sis wouldn’t be hiding behind a tree if she was here, that’s for sure.

Omori spun and rolled to the bear’s side and struck it on its left leg, causing the beast to howl and thrash in pain.

The bear retaliated by doing a low sweep with its right paw, catching Omori off guard. He fell on the ground and hugged his bloody leg in pain.

Buttermilk screamed in horror. “No!”

The bear limped towards him.

Get up. Please get up.

Omori gritted his teeth as the shadow of the bear loomed over him. He didn’t have enough strength in him to stand anymore after that.

Fight.

Buttermilk gripped the handle of her staff and jumped out of her hiding place.

“GET AWAY FROM HIM, YOU DUMB BEAST!” she yelled, staff pointed at it.

The bear turned to her and glared. It seemed confused.

Tears rolled down her cheeks. “THAT’S RIGHT! FACE ME!”

The bear stepped over Omori and slumbered towards her, baring its fangs.

Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh…

Now that he’s walking on two legs, the trap she used earlier should suffice, but it’d have to be an extra strong rope for it not to snap. Buttermilk closed her eyes and did the required motion to form the magic rope. This would probably take up all of her remaining energy, but whatever. The air hummed as strands of light, longer and brighter than before, bundled up and formed the rope. The bear growled as it approached, its paws leaving a mark with every step. All that’s left to do now was to throw the rope and hopefully put the bear to sleep.

“HA! You’ll never be as amazing as me but that’s okay,” said a voice. “You’re perfect just the way you are.”

Buttermilk forced herself to look the bear in the eyes. Those nasty red eyes. Her legs were still wobbling but she stood as high as she could.

Just a little closer…

NOW!

Buttermilk hurled the rope.

It looped around the bear’s leg with a satisfying snap, making the beast collapse with a loud thud.

The bear kept struggling however, using its forelegs to slowly drag itself to where she’s standing.

Buttermilk stepped back in horror. What’s going on? Why didn’t the spell work?! The girl stumbled feebly and struck the ground, having expended the last of her energy with that trap.

The bear’s maw was fast approaching.

 

Her eyes felt heavy.

 

Everything was hazy.

 

She’s going to die.

 

*STAB*

 

The last thing she saw was Omori, standing atop the bear.

 

His knife plunged on the back of its head.

Notes:

Buttermilk is an OC that sprang from the creative minds of the anons at /omog/. I don't own the character. Here's what she looks like, drawn by one of the anons there.

 

Chapter 2: Picnic

Buttermilk groggily opened her eyes and found herself in an unfamiliar, colorful room, laid on a mattress under a tree with thin and slender purple leaves. Her mind was still foggy and it was physically painful to construct thoughts, so she just lied there blinking and gazing at the ceiling, stuck in a daze. After fully returning to the waking world, Buttermilk took a gander at her surroundings.

Toys were scattered all over the floor but nobody was there. The room was filled with various oddities like a tentacle sticking out of the ground unmoving, a strange plant, and an old... toaster?

Except for that suspicious big yellow cat standing behind the wall.

Huh?

She rubbed her eyes in circles and stared blankly at the massive creature, its arms hanging down the wall unmoving. Was she still dreaming?

“Hello?” she called, leaning closer and waving an arm. The cat’s eyes were focused on that curious door as though patiently waiting for someone to come out of it and ignored her call. “Hey kitty! I’m right here!”

Nothing. Buttermilk sighed. At least it seemed docile. It wouldn’t mind if she walked around and checked out the room, right? Things started coming back to her as she stood up and stretched.

Pyrefly Forest.

That bear.

Omori…

Where could he be?

She went over to the door and knocked three times. “Knife boy, you there?!” No response. Buttermilk peeked inside the keyhole, finding nothing but white space that seemed to stretch endlessly. “Heeeeellooooo!” She stood there for the next ten minutes knocking, fiddling with the door handle, just waiting for something to happen. Omori had saved her from the bear’s maw right before she passed out; that she can recall. But Omori was in a pretty bad shape the last time she saw him. Buttermilk sat down and buried her face in her hands, half-concerned, half-annoyed.

Having decided that she’s had enough doing nothing, Buttermilk finally got up and set her sights on the stairs to her left. There’s a sleeping snake the size of a jump rope guarding it but it didn’t seem particularly dangerous to her. Omori could be behind that door resting, or he could’ve gone elsewhere to take care of something while she was out.

Buttermilk covered her face as the blinding light of the sun assaulted her eyes the moment she had squeezed herself out of the stump. Jeez, why did that hole have to be so narrow? People could get stuck in there! Ah, fresh air. Buttermilk examined the area — a crossroads of sort with the path branching into four different directions. Where to now? Luckily, there’s a convenient board nearby with directions pointing to certain locations — Pyrefly Forest, Deep Well, Otherworld, and Forest Playground. A playground. That’s it. Buttermilk smiled. She could ask around there and figure out where Omori went. Having decided where to go, Buttermilk skipped along and hummed a tune. All energy seemed to have been returned to her after waking up from her slumber.

She reached the grassy fields of the playground not long after. Boisterous laughter and shouts filled the air giving the place an exuberant atmosphere. Kids of different forms and sizes ran around and played with each other without a care in the world.

“H-Hey,” she called to one of the kid scurrying about. This one was barely half her height and had thick eyebrows. The brat ran away and ignored her. Rude. She approached another kid —a girl her age, one that looked like a reptile with glasses. “Excuse me,” she said, trying to look as friendly as possible. The girl crossed her arms, her expression turning sour.

“I haven’t seen you around these parts before. Who are you and what are you planning?!” she asked in an accusatory tone.

Buttermilk strode next to her and looked her in the eye with an air of confidence. “I am Buttermilk, sister of the one known as Sweetheart. You must’ve heard of her. I mean, who hasn’t, right?”

The girl raised her eyebrows. “Sweetheart…has a sister?” She seemed genuinely surprised. Did anyone in the outside world even know about her existence?

“Are you serious?" she said. Buttermilk huffed. "Look, I’m with a guy called Omori. Know where he is?”

“Oooooh, so you’re with Omori eh?” The girl said, seemingly amused. “Hmm, just what would poor Aubrey think when she finds out that Omori’s been spending time with another girl hmm? Better not let her see you hanging around her boyfriend hehe.”

Aubrey.

That girl in his group.

Buttermilk blushed. “Wha— y-you’ve got the wrong idea!” she protested. “My sister hired him to take me to the Orange Oasis, that’s all! I just met him yesterday! Pancakes!"

The dinosaur girl tilted her head, a big smile plastered on her face. “Sure, whatever you say. It's none of my business anyway. Omori? Haven’t seen him.”

“Oh.”

“His sister would know,” she added. “See that picnic blanket over there?” she said, pointing west. There’s an older girl sitting there. “That’s Mari, Omori’s big sister. I suggest asking her about Omori’s whereabouts. Don’t worry, she’s very nice even to suspicious strangers like you. Go along now.”

Buttermilk smiled awkwardly. Suspicious? “T-Thanks, I guess.”

She headed to where the older girl was in a rush and almost bumped into someone along the way. After reaching the picnic blanket and getting a closer look, Buttermilk can confirm that she was indeed the knife boy’s sister. The similarity was uncanny — she looked like an older version of Omori but with longer hair. It immediately struck her how pretty she was — not as pretty as her sister of course — but in a different, homely kind of way. She gave off the feeling of someone who anyone can trust and depend on.

“Um hello, I'm Buttermilk,” she announced, putting on her best smile and standing straight.

The older girl smiled back. “Hi Buttermilk!” she said, like she’s greeting an old friend. “I’m Mari. Nice to meet you! Hmm, I haven’t seen you around here before. What brings you to this little forest playground of ours?”

“I was with knif— I mean Omori,” she said, averting her eyes from hers. Why was she so nervous all of a sudden? “He’s the one who brought me here.”

“My little brother huh?” she said, scooting closer and offering her to sit, so she did. “I see. I saw him passing by earlier on his way to the Vast Forest. Is he with you right now?”

“Vast Forest? Why?”

Mari shrugged and frowned. “He didn’t stop by.”

Buttermilk took a deep breath and told her everything from the beginning — how they met at the castle, Omori’s mission, what happened back in Pyrefly Forest, and so on. Mari listened attentively.

“I see,” she said, looking concerned. “I had no idea that a bear almost got him. You have my thanks for saving my little brother, Buttermilk. Please stay with me for a while. Wherever he is, I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”

She pouted. “He should’ve waited for me to wake up first.”

Mari smiled apologetically. “Sorry about that. I’m sure whatever it was that he needed to do, it must have been very important.” She placed the picnic basket closer to Buttermilk and gestured for her to dig in. “In the meantime, why not have some cakes and cookies! I baked them myself.”

Buttermilk’s eyes widened in delight.“Really? Then don’t mind if I do!” she said, going straight for the cookies. She tried a little bit of everything from the basket — from honey cupcakes, to candies, and even some of the fruits. The honey cupcakes were beyond amazing; so wonderful that she couldn’t decide if she liked it more than the cookies.

“He must be so lucky having an amazing sister like you cooking for him,” she said, stuffing her face with cupcake.

Mari laughed. “Why, thank you! Though Hero’s much better at it than me. I hope he’s doing okay.”

Buttermilk felt a pang of guilt. She honestly had not spared much thought about Omori’s companions ever since they left the castle. They must really mean a lot to him and his sister if he’s willing to go through all of this.

“No harm will come to your friends,” she said. “Sweetheart might be a lot of things, but she keeps her word."

She does, Buttermilk repeated in her mind.

Mari seemed to appreciate the reassurance. “Of course. You must love your big sis a lot huh?”

She ate the rest of her cake and grabbed a bottle of water. “Sweetheart…she has her flaws even if she won’t admit them,” she said. “But she’s the only family I’ve known so yeah, I guess I do. I’m not sure if she still feels the same though.” She felt her eyes getting misty as she drank some water.

Mari placed a hand on her shoulder to comfort her. “Look, I don’t know much about Sweetheart, but I’m sure she loves you a lot!” she said with a smile. “The fact that he assigned my little brother to protect you and not just anyone means that she wanted to get you to Orange Oasis as safely as possible. Now why would she do that if she already stopped caring about you?”

“What do you mean?” she asked, curious.

“Omori’s the best fighter that I know of and I’m not just saying that because I’m his older sister. Did you know that he once took on a Gator Guy several heads taller than him and won?”

“He did?!” A Gator Guy? Those hulking, nine foot monsters she read about in the books? Buttermilk found it kind of hard to believe even after seeing Omori in action.

“Yep! Rare Bears have a reputation for being real dangerous and my little brother probably just got a little overconfident yesterday, but at his best I’m sure he could take on several of them at the same time with ease!”

Buttermilk tilted her head. Okay, now she’s bluffing. There’s no way knife boy’s THAT good in combat. No way. She grabbed another cupcake. “So you’re saying that my sister waited for the right guy to do the job and she chose Omori?”

Mari smiled proudly. “Exactly.”

She wasn’t quite convinced but her logic made sense, in a way. Though they couldn’t be more different from each other, Buttermilk found Mari surprisingly easy to talk to just like her sister. And so they continued talking for a while, to kill time while waiting for Omori to come back. Mari told her all sorts of stories about her travels, Omori, and their friends, while Buttermilk shared her experiences growing up in the castle. Buttermilk’s assessment of the older girl was right. Mari’s the kind of person anyone can trust and depend on. Knife boy’s real lucky to have such an awesome big sis supporting him.

 

---

 

Five hours have passed since then.

“Little brother! You’re finally here! We were just talking about you earlier!” Mari piped up as someone sat down next to Buttermilk.

It’s him.

She pointed and yelled. “You!”

The boy stared at her blankly. Any traces of injury from the fight with the bear were now gone from his body. He looked completely fine.

“Where have you been, knife boy?!” Buttermilk snapped, barely restraining the urge to strangle him on the spot. Mari turned around and gave them some space.

“We’ll need to leave soon. How are you holding up?”

“Don’t change the topic! Answer my question!”

Omori sighed and dug something out of his pocket. A train pass. “I got this,” he said, handing it to her. “Had to get it from the train station in advance before the crowd started pouring in.”

Her expression softened somewhat. “Why didn’t you wait for me to wake up huh?! How dare you leave me alone!”

“You weren’t alone though.”

The big yellow cat. Right.

“What’s the deal with that creepy cat guarding the room anyway?”

Omori seemed visibly offended by the question and didn’t say anything.

Mari turned to her little brother with a stern expression. “Omori! It’s not nice to just leave an unconscious girl on her own,” she reprimanded. “She was worried sick about you, you know. Buttermilk deserves an apology.”

Buttermilk cringed. Worried sick? She wasn’t worried about this jerk at all!

Omori shrugged and met her eyes. “I apologize for not waiting a little longer and failing to inform you where I was going,” the boy said in his monotone voice while maintaining eye contact. “I promise it won’t happen again.”

Wow. That was the fakest-sounding apology she’d ever received from someone. Clearly he only did it for his sister, but whatever. She just wanted to get it over with.

“Fine, I forgive you. So when are we leaving again?”

Omori glanced at the sky. “Next hour. If you’re up for it.”

Mari placed a hand on his arm. “Don’t you think that’s a little too soon, Omori? Why not rest up, play with the other kids, and eat something? You just got back from the station.”

Omori shook his head. “We’re on a tight schedule, Mari. Sorry, but we need to leave as soon as possible.” He turned to Buttermilk, waiting for her answer.

“I don’t mind,” she said. “We can’t delay this any further. Thanks for everything, Mari. I won't forget this.”

Mari smiled. “You’re always welcome around here, Buttermilk! I’m sure you’ll make plenty of friends here so feel free to visit anytime!”

Buttermilk would’ve liked to stay longer but Omori was right; they can’t waste any more time. His friends were still being held captive by her sister after all. If Sweetheart’s messengers caught them fooling around, it might mean trouble for Omori’s companions. Her sister was not a patient woman.

“I will. Take care, Mari!”

“Bye! Until we meet again!”

She trailed behind Omori who’s already quite some distance ahead. Darn it, why was he always leaving her behind?! Most of the younger, rambunctious kids from earlier have already left and the playground became a much more peaceful place. Buttermilk sighed. Oh, what she wouldn’t give to spend one more day here.

They were about to exit the playground and head into the Vast Forest when something compelled Buttermilk’s legs to stop. “Wait here,” she whispered, before running back.

Back to the picnic blanket.

 

---

 

Mari was surprised when she saw her again. “Buttermilk, did you forget something?”

“I…”

In a move that surprised even herself, she kneeled and wrapped her arms around Mari.

The older girl gently returned the hug. “Is there…something wrong?”

“I’m sorry about what my sister did to your friends,” she said. “It’s not right... using them as hostages just to get me to where she wanted me to be. I’ll make sure that Sweetheart holds her end of the bargain after we reach the Oasis, even if I have to storm back her castle and fight her one-on-one." Buttermilk put on a determined expression. "That’s a promise!”

Mari caressed her hair. Her touch was so pleasant and motherly that she almost felt like a baby again in her arms. “Don’t worry,” she said. “No matter what happens, you’ll always be a friend. Any friend of my little brother is a friend of mine, got it?”

A friend.

Buttermilk scrunched her face and took a deep breath, her eyes somewhat moist. Growing up in the castle, she knew many sprout moles and other guests, but none she can call a friend. Her entire life had been that of luxury and pleasure, but she never grew content despite lacking for nothing. Something was missing.

She smiled at the older girl.

“Thank you.”

Chapter 3: The Train

The train station was already packed when Buttermilk and Omori arrived. Creatures of different sizes and colors — from snakes to sprout moles and even bees (bees?)) — formed a line that stretched all the way out to the station’s entrance to wait for the next train and to obtain their pass from a shoddy, makeshift stall made out of cardboard, and it was in that moment when Buttermilk truly understood why Omori had to go acquire the pass in advance. The boy had explained earlier that their Special Pass — the highest tier of train pass available — grants them unlimited train rides in addition to letting them bypass the line to the train, saving them precious time. At a price of a hundred and forty three thousand clams, it wasn’t cheap at all; well beyond what any normal citizen could afford. Did Omori pay out of his own pocket or did her sister give him the money?

Just when they were about to board the train after weaving past a persistent crowd beyond the stall, a sprout mole sporting expensive-looking sunglasses jumped down from an elevated platform, blocking their way.

“Took you long enough,” he said, whipping out a camera.

Omori’s hand immediately grabbed the camera before the mole can make any move. “Who are you?” he asked.

“Hey, do you have any idea how expensive that camera is? You can’t just snatch it like that, you rude brat!” the sprout mole huffed. “Now give it back before I lose my patience.”

“Answer the question first,” said Omori. “What’s the meaning of this?” He glared at the suspicious sprout mole — the same move he used on one of his enemies back in Pyrefly Forest. Omori towered menacingly over the three foot tall sprout mole and made the creature step back, threatened by the display and at a loss for what to say next. Buttermilk shuddered. Gotta admit, Omori can be pretty darn scary when he wanted to be. She’d probably be intimidated too if she was on the receiving end of that glare.

“I—I…” said the sprout mole, stammering. He took a deep breath and swallowed. “Lady Sweetheart sent me on a mission to check up on you two, to see if you’re on the right track. I—I’ve already taken some photos before,” he said, sweating profusely. “But none of them were clear and I needed a clear one or Lady Sweetheart will have my head on a pike so—”

“How long have you been following us?!” Buttermilk snapped, cracking her knuckles.

The sprout mole quivered under her gaze. Omori was not the only person skilled in the art of intimidation.

“Haha, er, since you got out of the castle? I’m sorry, Lady Buttermilk, b-but I was just doing my job…”

Omori handed the camera back to him. “Make it quick.” The sprout mole barely gave them any time to prepare as the camera flashed all of a sudden.

“How annoying,” Buttermilk muttered, cursing under her breath. She knew that Sweetheart employed informants and spies all over the land so this didn’t surprise her one bit, but being confronted with the reality of it still stung and made her feel trapped; no different from the last eleven years of her life. Sweetheart just wanted to make sure that she’s okay and that’s fine, but sending creepy sprout moles to hound them was NOT okay. The girl frowned as she watched the sprout mole strode away in a hurry.

“Let’s go,” said Omori, nudging her arm as the train doors parted and people poured out.

 

---

 

The interior of the train had a calming, purple tint to it, like one of those giant grape cakes Sweetheart’s head chef used to prepare for her grand parties. The train was surprisingly empty with only a few seats occupied; less than a quarter from the looks of it . Buttermilk could’ve sworn that the number of people who got in from the station were more but now she wasn’t sure. Omori, looking visibly vigilant, led the way to an empty spot. He had his knife out, his fingers curled tight on the handle, as though waiting for someone to make their move.

“What’s wrong, knife boy?” she asked. “Noticed something?”

“Try not to sleep while we’re here,” he said.

Buttermilk tilted her head. “Huh? Why?”

The train entered a tunnel, cutting off light from the outside. Omori turned his head left and right, examining the curious passengers that faced them on the opposite side. Some of them had suitcases laid next to them that almost matched the color of the train’s walls. Strangely enough, there wasn’t any chatter or other sorts of noises coming from them; only the whirring of the train’s engine and the clickety-clack sound it made could be heard from within, giving the place an eerie, almost surreal dream-like atmosphere. Even stranger though were their faces when viewed under the dim light from above. They all looked the same to her —indistinguishable mass of shapes that formed the outline of human faces, but the details were… lacking. Buttermilk rubbed her eyes and squinted. No, this can’t be right. Must be a trick of the light or something, she thought.

Putting a halt to that thought, she looked at Omori and asked something that she’s been wanting to ask him ever since their trek through the forest. “How can you be so calm all the time?”

Omori shrugged.

She continued. “Back in the forest, when you—I mean when we were struggling for our lives, you seemed fully in control while fighting, like you’ve already seen everything and nothing ever fazes you anymore. How long have you been doing this?”

“Doing what?”

Buttermilk struggled to put her thoughts into words. “Uh, this? You know, adventuring and stuff? Fighting monsters. Protecting people.”

As much as she didn’t want to admit it, if it wasn’t for Omori she’d have already been toast back in the forest. Omori remained silent, mired in deep thought. His eyes wandered to his knife as he skillfully twirled it in his left hand. “It’s all that I’ve known,” he said.

Buttermilk crossed her arms. “Since you were little?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

“It’s not important.”

Buttermilk pouted at him. “Jeez, at least give me a clear answer, will you! Why do you have to be so darn cryptic?!”

Omori leaned forward and slowly raised the knife to his face. “I have to protect someone at all costs,” he said, gazing at his reflection with a blank expression. “Apart from that, nothing else matters.”

Buttermilk blushed at his words. “S-Shut up!” she said, putting some distance between them. “Ugh… why are you being so embarrassing all of a sudden?” She’s heard all sorts of cheesy stuff from the many lame sprout moles serving in the castle grounds before but she did not expect that from Omori of all people. Buttermilk covered her face and grunted. Stupid knife boy.

She sighed and leaned back, gazing at the light from above, curling her toes. “I never did thank you for saving my life,” she said, resisting the desire to bite her tongue. “So… thank you…Omori.”

Her heart thumped inside her chest with great speed as she spoke the words and her hands turned clammy inside her pink gloves.“I…was wrong about you.” She took a deep breath before looking at Omori, who met her eyes unflinchingly; those beautiful eyes that know not what fear is. “I guess my sister knew what she was doing when she hired you for the job.”

She gave a sigh of relief. There, she said it. One less thing left unsaid.

Buttermilk was still in the middle of her current thought when Omori stood up, knife raised with the sharp edge pointed away from his chest — his fighting stance. “What’s wrong?!” she asked, standing up and summoning her staff in the blink of an eye. Normally, it took anywhere between three to five seconds to summon the staff but she felt particularly great today after a long period of rest, so she managed to do it in just under a second. The lights flickered as they walked in sync with their backs pressed against each other, wary of anyone who might attack them from a blind spot. Buttermilk shuddered as they moved on to the next car. There was something incredibly uncanny about these other passengers who continued to sit still and remain silent even in the midst of what’s going on. Pancakes... they felt less human and more like lifeless dolls; lifeless dolls that might try and murder them when they least expected sit.

“It’s them, isn’t it?” she said, sweat dripping from her forehead. “We’re surrounded.”

Omori shook his head. “No. The passengers are harmless. It’s—”

The flickering stopped and darkness enveloped them like a fog. Then she heard an awful scratching from the next car, accompanied by a low, guttural sound. Buttermilk’s blood froze. What the heck was that? She instinctively clung to Omori’s free arm as the demonic sound got louder.

“Eek! W-What’s happening?! Omori?!”

The Presence that approached them was oppressive, almost to a suffocating degree, the likes which she had never felt before. It was a different kind of threat from the bear — more abstract, more… evil. “Buttermilk, listen to me,” the boy said. “The enemy attacks from within — using your own memories and thoughts against you. Fight with everything you got. Don’t let it win.”

Buttermilk trembled. Her own memories and thoughts? Just what was this thing? Letting her eyes slowly adjust to the dark, she used Omori’s voice to help anchor her to reality as the Presence drew closer, emitting a dreadful sound — something halfway between a screech and a howl. It rattled every bone in her body.

“Omori…”

“I’m right here.”

Two bright orbs manifested ahead. It wasn’t like the energy orbs produced by her staff, they were smaller and more compact yet brimming with so much more power.

“Don't panic,” he said, holding her hand in his. “I'm right here with you.” The warmth in it helped stave off the cold that surrounded them, even if just by a little. Buttermilk squeezed his hand. This would be actually kind of pleasant if it wasn’t for the shadow monster breathing down their necks at the moment, she thought. She waved her staff to produce a rope trap, only for Omori to stop her hand by covering the tip. “It won’t work,” he said. He sounded certain of it.

Something odd happened next.

Bright, translucent bubbles rose in the air and surrounded them, floating in a spiral, clockwise motion, trapping them in a circular wall that isolated them from the rest of the train and passengers. Unfortunately, Buttermilk failed to get a glimpse of the monster when she shielded her eyes from the sudden illumination.

Omori’s hand was gone.

The air fizzed as the world around her melted in bright colors.

When she next opened her eyes, she found herself back in her room.

“What?”

Back in the castle.

Chapter 4: Sister

Buttermilk stumbled backward and plopped on her bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, exhaustion catching up to her. Oh gosh, to lie down and sleep for hours in the familiar and comforting warmth of her own bed; Buttermilk wanted nothing more in that moment. She grabbed her Mr. Lemonhead plushie by the pillow — a little guy with an oversized lemon for a head — and cuddled it. “I’m back, Mr. Lemonhead!” she said giddily.

I shouldn’t be doing this right now.

The girl sat down and pinched herself in the cheek. None of this is real, she told herself. Don’t let your guard down. As Omori said before, it’s an elaborate trap concocted by that terrible monster, using her own memories and thoughts against her, and now she’s trapped.

Don’t let it win. Fight with everything you got. But how? She’s going to have to see more of this dream to find out.

The creases on her forehead deepened the more she observed her room. It looked different from how she left it. Somebody had changed the color of the curtains from purple to pink, the dresser was in a different spot, and her toy chest was open! She strode in front of it and saw something that surprised her. In it was Deb, a giraffe plushie she lost two years ago, sitting there like it was brand new. Buttermilk crossed her arms and pondered what this could possibly mean.

Wait…

She just realized what was going on.

This was her room roughly three years ago. That was around the time when she got Deb as a present from her sister. She ran to the mirror and looked at herself, confirming her suspicion. The reflection that greeted her was shorter by a few inches, wearing a bow that she hasn’t used since she was ten. The face was rounder and more child-like.

And her chest…

Oh gosh.

Buttermilk frowned. She needed to get out of here.

Someone just knocked on the door. She sat on the bed and waited to see if the knocking would stop. There’s a recognizable rhythm to it which could only have come from one person. “You may open the door,” she said.

It’s the sprout mole butler, Rodrick. “Good morning, Lady Buttermilk,” he greeted. She had never seen the guy wearing anything other than his refined butler attire — an expensive suit with a neat bow and polished black shoes tailored exclusively for sprout mole use. “Your dear sister’s expecting you at her chamber an hour from now.”

“Oh hey Rod,” she said, feigning nonchalance. “How very good to see you.”

Rodrick was not convinced. “Is everything all right?”

Buttermilk stepped back. “Of course. Of course.” She clasped her hands behind her back, tilting her head and smiling sheepishly. “Uh, what does sis want me for again?”

The sprout mole butler bowed his head. “She did not say, but judging from her expression, it seemed to be of the utmost importance.”

Buttermilk put a finger on her chin. What time of the year was this again? “Rod, this is probably going to sound weird but just humor me, okay? What season is it right now?”

“It is spring, my Lady,” he answered curtly without any hint of judgment. Rodrick’s been with them since she was a baby. She’s not close to him or anything but she trusted Rodrick more than any of the other sprout moles serving in the castle. He’s dependable like that.

Buttermilk crinkled her forehead. Spring? What happened on spring three years ago? She remained silent for some time and pondered over it.

Spring…

Her eyes widened.

Oh no.

Her smile turned into a frown. “All right. Thanks for letting me know,” she said, trying to hide her panic. Oh no.

That darn monster. Buttermilk seethed as she closed the door, pressing her back against it and curling into a fetal position. This was the day when she and Sweetheart had a big fight. A nasty and unpleasant fight that put a noticeable dent in their relationship ever since. Should’ve seen this coming, she thought. Omori was right. She did the requisite motion to summon her staff. It floated between her hands and caught it in a tight grip. At least she still had access to that. When worst comes to worst, no one else could save herself here but her. Buttermilk stood in front of the mirror again, laid the staff down, and looked at herself. Appearances aside, she’s not the little kid she once was anymore. She’s stronger now.

“Wait for me, Omori,” she muttered, eyes filled with determination. “I’m coming.”

Buttermilk wasn’t going to fall for the monster’s trap. She still had an hour left to find a way out. Perhaps confronting her sister wasn’t even necessary.

She strode the hallway, passing by two guards on patrol who ignored her. The girl decided to head to the kitchen first to replenish her energy. She won’t be able to fight on an empty stomach after all. Stealing from the pantry was strictly forbidden and she had been caught many times before, but she’s Sweetheart’s sister so of course she always got away scot-free.

Except for that one time…

The place should be empty this time of the day, save for the head chef who came by every hour to check if everything was in order. Buttermilk deftly sneaked past the head chef who had his back turned to her, reading a cookbook, and proceeded to where the pantry was. Ah yes. As expected, cinnamon rolls were in stock. Buttermilk grinned, grabbing three pieces of the sugary treat, one in her mouth and the other two in her hands, and then ran off.

Nothing strange so far. Next up was the art gallery — Sweetheart’s personal favorite room in the castle, but certainly not hers. With the gallery open to the public, people from around the world can be found within, chatting over art stuff and other such nonsense Buttermilk never cared about. Buttermilk held a special hatred for the place and avoided it like the plague. Something about pompous art snobs drooling over paintings and sculptures of her sister made her die a little bit inside every time she had to witness it. Ugh. On her way out, Buttermilk almost bumped into a servant sprout mole carrying a tray full of drinks — just fruit juices — and offered her some. Buttermilk politely declined. She ate the last of her cinnamon rolls before leaving.

She checked out the other rooms — the library, the theater, and the ballroom, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The door leading to the garden was shut tight, preventing her from going outside. Think, Buttermilk, think! It was looking more and more likely that there wasn’t an escape. Confronting her sister seemed like the only way out of this dream, but just remembering what happened on that day three years ago…

Buttermilk shuddered.

She would really rather not experience that again.

They fought because of a thing she did the day before. Buttermilk had not only been caught stealing from the pantry, she was also caught giving a block of tofu she stole to a very young sprout mole whose mother worked as a gardener. The little thing tagged along with its mom every afternoon while patiently waiting for her shift to get over out in the yard. Buttermilk bumped into her one day, felt bad that the poor thing had to wait for hours with nothing to eat, and so she rummaged the pantry for some tofu and gave her an entire block as a gesture of kindness. Surely, her sister wouldn’t mind, right? Wrong. Word got out and Sweetheart was furious. It was the angriest she had seen her sister. Tofu was practically everywhere in the castle! Why did it matter if she took some from the kitchen and gave it to a sprout mole in need? Well, apparently, the tofu she stole was extra special — created inside the belly of a giant whale that resided in Deeper Well.

“You idiot! Do you have any idea how much I paid for that particular block of tofu?!”

It had regenerative capabilities, the power to keep someone young. A product of extensive and laborious research.

And Buttermilk gave it away to some kid, just like that.

Sweetheart called for her that day just to tell her how much a fool she was.

She had twenty minutes left. As she zipped past the hallway in the eastern wing for the fifth time, Buttermilk heard a strange crackling noise inside the wall. She tracked where the sound was coming from and stopped in front of an inconspicuous alcove. A lead perhaps? She looked for a hidden switch but to her surprise, just when she was about to push a suspicious block that jutted out, her hand went straight through the surface. Buttermilk immediately yanked her hand and stepped back. An illusory wall? What if this was a trap? What if the monster was waiting for her right there when she goes in? She took a deep breath to calm herself down. Curiosity kept nagging at her like a thorn stuck in her flesh. Buttermilk needed to see what’s in there.

She lifted a foot inside, slowly, then took another step to bring the rest of herself in. Opening her eyes, Buttermilk found herself standing in a dark and damp corridor, like the pathway to a dungeon, lit only by a few torches propped up on the dirt-encrusted walls. She turned a corner and saw the entrance to a cellar. An eerie grate on the floor emanating red light from below lay before her, but her instincts told her not to gaze at it for too long or something terrible might happen. Averting her eyes from it, Buttermilk went around the grate, summoned her staff, and proceeded to the cellar.

A slender black figure appeared before her. Its enormous body was made out of shiny black goop that reflected the torches’ light. There’s a pale face with a mouth that was stuck open in an O shape, with eyes as deep and dark as the darkest abyss.

Buttermilk was at a loss for words. She stepped back and nervously flailed her staff around as though trying to snuff out an imaginary flame. “Y-You! W-What the heck are you?! You’re the monster who trapped me here, are you?!”

“Welcome, young one,” it said in a deep voice — not deep in an intimidating way, but deep like the sound of someone’s grandpa’s voice. Kind of calming.

“And to answer your question, no, I am not the monster that you speak of.”

Buttermilk didn’t know why, but something told her that it was telling the truth. Appearances can be deceiving and all but her fear already vanished after her initial shock of seeing the creature had passed. This thing was not the monster.

“I am the Keeper of the Castle,” the voice boomed. “Do not be afraid child, I am not your enemy.”

It reared its head towards her but Buttermilk stood her ground. She’s done being a pushover.

“You came here to ask for a favor, did you not?” it said, sizing her up. “I sense that you are in dire need to find a way out of this place since you do not belong here, correct? Then I am willing to help.”

Buttermilk carefully considered what she should say next. “You know about that monster…did it trap you here too?”

The Keeper wagged its head. “My existence predates this castle. I have stood here since the beginning of this world and will continue to do so until the end of days. One might say that I am trapped in this castle, but perhaps it would more accurate to say that this castle and everyone in it are trapped in here with me. It is simply a matter of perspective, young one.”

It stretched its neck, reaching up to the ceiling, gazing upon her. “Allow me to get to the point. This dream is a test; a test to see how truthful you are to yourself. You guessed right. A confrontation with your dear sister must happen if you ever hope to break free from this place.”

Buttermilk groaned. She didn’t want to hear it but she already knew that somehow. “So, what should I do when I confront her?” she asked. “What’s going to happen?”

The thing jerked its head upwards, a shrug-like motion, though she wasn’t certain. “Remember who you are and everything will be clear, child. The Darkness preys upon those who would turn their back to the truth.”

Buttermilk squinted. Great. More cryptic stuff. Just what she needed.

“I don’t understand,” she said, tilting her head. “Omori… he told me to fight with everything I got. So am I supposed to do that just by being truthful to myself? What does that even mean?”

“You will know when the time comes, but before that, there is something I must give. A gift. Your staff, child. Hand it over.”

Buttermilk handed it reluctantly. She gasped as the staff started floating above her head. Did that thing have invisible arms or something? The Keeper hummed as it gazed at the staff with hollow eyes. The heart at the tip glowed white as the humming intensified; the Keeper imparting some hidden power unto it. Excitement and anxiety welled up within her as she sat and watched the mesmerizing display. Would this make her weapon and by extension, herself, more powerful? Powerful enough to overcome whatever lies ahead?

After a few seconds, the staff descended on her lap with a warm glow.

“It is done,” the Keeper said. “May the light of the truth guide your way out of this nightmare. Now go forth, little one. Your friend awaits.”

Omori. Buttermilk bit her lip, wondering how he’s doing at the moment. Was he trapped inside his own dream too?

Buttermilk turned back before reaching the steps. “Will I see you here if I visit the real castle again?”

The Keeper produced a noise that sounded like a laughter. “Of course. But I see no reason why anyone would bother to see an old twig like me in a damp cellar. Regardless, I await our next meeting.”

Buttermilk smiled and then went off.

She took the elevator to Sweetheart’s chamber. It was off-limits to her and she was only allowed access whenever Sweetheart wanted to, which was exceedingly rare. Sweetheart was a busy woman and she took her alone time very seriously.

Anything can happen once she’s inside. Sweetheart might turn into a monster or something worse, or the whole room might gain sentience and try to kill her. Buttermilk summoned the staff and held on to it, hoping for the best.

The elevator opened and she stepped into the spacious chamber. Not much had changed since her last visit. That’s just the sort of person Sweetheart was.

Her sister stood on the balcony. Buttermilk wasn’t sure if she had noticed her so she sat by the foot of her massive bed while waiting for her to come in.

A test to see how truthful she was to herself, the Keeper said.

She thought of Omori, who was probably experiencing something similar at the moment. What was his dream like? Who or what did he have to confront?

“I see that you’ve made yourself comfortable,” her voice called.

The girl immediately got up on her feet and bowed before Sweetheart. There’s a big frown on her face that highlighted her abject disappointment. “I assume you already know why I called you here, dear sister?” she said, arms crossed.

That she did. Now, all she needed to do was to stay true to herself.

She was ready.

She would tell Sweetheart what she should have told her that day.

“I know,” she said, a wistful smile on her face. “It’s just some stupid tofu, sis. Surely it can’t be that important.”

Sweetheart chuckled. “Not important? Do you have any idea where that block of tofu came from?! Do you—”

“I know. Very expensive. Cultivated from the stomach of a whale,” she sighed, looking her right in the eye. “I know. So what?”

Sweetheart was taken aback. “Are you giving me lip, young lady?! Since when did you learn how to talk back, hmm?”

Buttermilk did not waver. “I get it now. It was never about the tofu, was it? You’re mad not because I gave a rare and expensive block of tofu away, but because I gave it to a lowly sprout mole. Is that right?”

She forced herself to continue. No going back now. “It was just an excuse. You’ve known for a long time that I was stealing from the pantry, but you chose to look the other way and said nothing because it was your sister. But the moment you hear that she was giving food to a sprout mole, you get furious like she just smashed one of your precious statues in front of you!”

“I’d be very careful with my next words if I were you,” the older girl warned, glaring at her. Buttermilk caught a glimpse of a strange shadow pooling at her feet. “You may be family but I will not tolerate disrespect from anyone. Not even you.”

That’s it. Just keep the truth coming.

“You see the sprout moles here as nothing but tools, meant only to serve and worship you and do nothing else. That’s why the very thought of your little sister doing favors for them seemed unacceptable. Not fitting for someone of her stature. Jeez, I was such an idiot. Tell me sis, that block of tofu wasn’t special at all, right?” Sweetheart turned pale and shrank before her. “I bet it was just normal tofu, same as the ones packed inside the jars you have everywhere in the castle!”

“Stop it,” she said, eyes turning red. “I forbid you to speak any further! You will apologize for that scandalous accusation! Right now.”

“I accepted your lie because I didn’t want to face the awful truth. I wanted so badly to believe that my sister was better, that despite all the roughness on the surface, she was still a good person deep down. Someone who cared for more than just herself. I was wrong.”

“You insolent, ungrateful brat!” she screamed. “How dare you speak of me that way! I’ve fed, clothed, and taught you since you were a baby!”

Buttermilk succeeded in altering the script. Their confrontation before went differently. Sweetheart screamed at her, called her an idiot and all manners of hurtful words, and grounded her to her room for the rest of the week. Buttermilk defended her actions but she never grasped the true reason why Sweetheart got mad at her. She was too young back then. But now…

She saw dark tendrils surrounding Sweetheart, wriggling around her like extra arms. So the culprit finally decided to show up huh?

May the light of the truth guide your way out of this nightmare.

She knew exactly what to do. “I’ll always love you sis,” she said, pointing the staff at her with shaky hands. She fought back the urge to cry. “You know that.”

“Put that thing down or I’ll send you straight to the dungeon, Buttermilk, I mean it!” she screamed, her voice growing deeper and distorted. The tendrils advanced towards her, snapping and slithering on the ground in a snakelike motion.

The heart at the tip of her staff flashed white. “We’ll talk more later,” she said. “Goodbye for now, sis.”

Wisps of light shot out of the staff, melting the shadowy tendrils before her with ease and with it, Sweetheart herself. Buttermilk winced. Though she knew it was just a dream, the thought of ending Sweetheart with her own hands still disturbed her greatly.

The world around her melted into a swirl of blinding colors, just like when she first entered the dream. Bubbles filled her vision as her body was whisked away.

She won the battle.

 

---

 

Buttermilk was back in the train, laid on an empty seat.

She saw Omori, engaged in a fierce battle with a massive shadow that looked like an oversized deer with pointy ears and legs as long as Omori was tall. Buttermilk rubbed her eyes. So this was the true form of the monster that trapped her. It raised its hind legs to stomp on Omori but he managed to dodge at the last second, sliding in between its legs and slicing its belly with the knife. Smoke puffed out of it but the creature seemed unharmed.
Still dazed from the sudden change in her environment, Buttermilk weakly stood up and summoned her staff. Would her new spell also work against this thing? She had to try at least.

Nothing came out.

Buttermilk huffed. Guess that would’ve been too easy huh?

Omori finally noticed her after some time as she stood awkwardly. He dashed and took her by the arm, looking like he just fought an entire army on his own. “I’m going to need your help,” he said, shaking off what seemed to be residues of blood on his knife.

“Tell me what to do.”

“Summon as many orbs as you can and surround the monster with it.”

“And?”

“I’ll stab both of its eyes. It’s the only way to render it vulnerable. Once I’m done, hit it with all of the orbs. Can you do that?”

Buttermilk nodded nervously. “O-Of course! I can. Just tell me when you’re ready.”

If she had to guess, there was still enough juice to create at least fifteen orbs. Okay.

Omori got into position, standing before the mighty beast without any fear. “Do it. Now.”

Buttermilk closed her eyes and drew strength from within; the air vibrating with ample energy as the orbs took form. She made them less bright this time so Omori can carry out his plan without having to cover his eyes, but they’re still going to hit as hard.

Omori sprinted the moment the beast got distracted as the first five orbs flew over its head. His plan was risky but she could tell that Omori’s been battling the monster for quite some time now and was about to run out of energy himself. He intended to end the battle as soon as possible. Gosh, how long was she trapped in that dream?

The deer spun and raised its hind legs, ready to crush him once he got close, but Omori anticipated it and rolled sideways just as the hooves descended. The impact crushed the metal floor underneath them and sent sharp debris flying in the air; one of it cut Omori right in the cheek and drew some blood. Buttermilk cringed. That didn’t stop him from climbing on the beast’s back, however, hands clinging to its rear as it thrashed in the air. The orbs started flickering. Buttermilk wouldn’t be able to keep them around much longer. “Hurry up. Please.”

After nearly slipping, Omori finally got on the top and clambered on its back, knife on the ready.

The monster flailed but Omori held tight, determined to bring down his prey.

“You can do it, Omori! Take him down!” she found herself cheering.

It was as good as dead. Omori grabbed its neck and hoisted himself just as the beast crashed its body on the door in a last ditch attempt to throw him off.

It didn’t work.

Omori raised his knife.

STAB

STAB

Blood spurted like a geyser from where the eyes once where. The beast’s howl shook the whole train as Buttermilk used almost all of her remaining energy to lob the orbs at it, making sure not to hit Omori who still clung to its neck. He jumped off before the last orb struck the odious beast right on the face, decimating the upper part of its skull, black sludge spilling on the floor. The nasty, acrid smell made her want to throw up.

Omori quickly ran back and instructed her to cover her eyes as the beast thrashed and dissolved, smoke particles from its body dispersing in the air, bathing the interior in complete darkness. Crouched down, Omori wrapped his arms around her while Buttermilk buried her face in his chest. Nothing terrified her more than pure, unending darkness. Not even a room full of Rare Bears. The train screeched to a halt but neither of them let go. Despite the sheer terror she was experiencing at the moment, Buttermilk found comfort in Omori’s arms.

“I did my best,” she said. “I fought back with everything I got.”

“I know.”

Chapter 5: Deep Well

“We’ll have to walk,” said Omori as he pried the train doors open, offering a hand to Buttermilk as she stepped out after him. With the train stopping to a halt, walking through a dark tunnel to get on the other side was their only option. Fear and anxiety returned to her in full force as they prepared to head toward the unknown.

Dark thoughts raced in her mind. What if there were dangerous monsters prowling in the tunnel, something even worse than that deer abomination? Buttermilk shuddered. She knew it was pointless to think of such things, but she just couldn’t help herself. Darkness permeated the tunnel so thoroughly that the light coming from the tip of her staff couldn’t even penetrate that far ahead — only a few meters at most, leaving them blind as to what’s further ahead. This was bad.

Something just brushed on her leg.

“Aaaaaaaaaaah!”

“Just a rat,” Omori said as she heard the nasty critter scuttle away. Buttermilk slowly opened her eyes, breathing heavily. A darn rat. She almost had a heart attack because of a stupid rat?

Omori turned to her. “You okay?” He sounded genuinely concerned.

“What do you think?!” she snapped. “Do I look okay to you?”

“Don’t worry. The exit’s not far from where we are right now.”

Buttermilk cocked her head. “Exit? You sure? How can there be an exit nearby when there’s no light in sight?”

“You’ll see.” Omori sounded certain of it. How did he know? He mentioned that he’s been adventuring for a long time, didn’t he? Had Omori gone through this tunnel before? Buttermilk followed along while keeping her eyes on the ground, staff on the ready, waiting for any rats that might come out. She won’t get startled again.

Fortunately, no more rats showed up.

They soon reached a section that sloped uphill, making movement noticeably more difficult for them. Buttermilk grimaced as they trudged on. “So, did the monster trap you in your very own dream world too?” she asked.

Omori shook his head. “I’m… resistant to it,” he said. His voice sounded tired. “I was awake fighting the beast while you were trapped.” He’s clearly lying, but Buttermilk decided to drop the topic. It’s not like she’d be comfortable telling Omori about her dream either. “I see”. Whatever he experienced was probably just as awful, if not worse than her dream.
Surrounded by the damp walls and soaked in grime and sweat, Buttermilk felt sticky and gross. The adrenaline boost she got in the train earlier had worn off by now, leaving her an exhausted mess, legs wobbling like jelly with every step. “Are we there yet?” she asked in a whiny voice. “You said we were close but it doesn’t feel like it at all. Ugh, I don’t think I can take much more of this!”

Omori paused and kneeled before a wall, examining it with a careful touch, before plunging his knife right in the center. The wall slid open. Buttermilk stepped back in awe.

“A secret passage,” he said. “Come.”

“You knew about this how?”

Omori dusted off his knife. “That’s not important.” They entered a small room with only a ladder submerged in a puddle of water in it. “This ladder will take us all the way down to Deep Well,” he said. “From there, we’ll need to reach another ladder on the other side of the highway.”

Deep Well? Highway? Buttermilk raised her eyebrows, unable to grasp anything. She placed her hands on her hips. “Can you at least explain why we have to go through all that trouble when crossing the tunnel will likely get us to our destination faster?”

“Sure, we can do that,” he said. “But there are packs of rats waiting near the end of the tunnel. I’m sure they’d love to have your company.”

She froze up. “W-Why didn’t you tell me before?!”

“Well, now you know.”

The ladder stretched down for what seemed like miles. Omori touched the puddle with a finger. “I’m sure you already know this, but you can breathe in the water just fine.”

It was written in her books. Nobody knows why, but the water in Deep Well wasn’t the same as the water in the castle’s fountain, or to any other body of water for that matter. Everyone can breathe when in Deep Well just fine, like it was normal air. Though she was sure the journey underwater would not be a walk in the park, encountering the rats that awaited them at the end of the tunnel seemed like the worse option so against her better judgment, she went on and dipped her shoes in the puddle and began her descent. Buttermilk sighed, finding the lukewarm temperature of the water to her liking. Once she was fully submerged, she took a deep breath. Yep, just like normal air.

“H-Hey! You better not look up or I’ll beat the crap out of you later, knife boy!” she yelled. The water annoyingly pushed her dress upward as she descended. If Omori were to look up, she would look ridiculous, like a flower whose petals are being spread outward. Ugh. Luckily, Omori didn’t seem interested at all. Buttermilk felt her pulse quickening with every step. No, she won’t gently sink down if she accidentally let go, she would plummet like if she had just jumped from the castle balcony and die a horrible death. Gosh, how awful. Filled with dread and anxiety, her hands clung tightly to every rung of the ladder, just in case she lost her footing. Just don’t look down and everything will be okay.

Omori finally reached the bottom and sat down to wait for her while she still had around halfway to go. Typical Omori, always leaving her behind. Buttermilk distracted herself by focusing on her surroundings. She noticed how clean and well-maintained the shaft was, the school of tiny fishes that swam along the corners, the blue light that glowed faintly behind the cracks in the wall and illuminated the whole place, and the bubbles that formed above her head as she descended. They were about to enter an entirely different world; one she only heard about in books and stories. Despite the dangers that lurked underneath, she still looked forward to it.

Gasping for breath, Buttermilk got off the ladder and shot Omori an annoyed glare. “So, what’s the plan now?” she said, observing some of the plant life that clung to the walls. “How long before we reach that ladder back to the surface?”

“We’re going to have to cross the Underwater Highway to get there,” he said, pushing the metal door open. “It’s a long walk.”

Buttermilk stared in awe at the vast expanse where underwater plants and creatures, both big and small, mingled. It wasn’t the kind of beauty she was accustomed to, but it was beautiful nonetheless. Truly spectacular.

Sweetheart told her all sorts of stories about the Deep Well when she was younger. One thing that caught her attention was The Last Resort — a large casino resort owned by an unscrupulous shark businessman going by the name of Mr. Jawsum. The Gator Guys on the surface were apparently his lackeys, and they’re all fiercely loyal to him, much like how the sprout moles were loyal to her sister. “Hey, are we going to see The Last Resort on the way?” she asked.

Omori shook his head. “That’s in the other direction. Sorry, but we don’t have time for sightseeing.”

Buttermilk pouted. What a shame.

 

---

 

They finally reached the first toll gate after walking straight for an hour. The Gator Guy manning the booth wore a cheap-looking purple suit with a tie of matching color. He looked bored out of his mind. “You’re gonna hafta pay the fee to cross!” he said in a gravelly voice. “Spin this thing for me will ya?” he said, pointing to a roulette by the side of the booth.

A scam. She heard about this before. What a bunch of scoundrels. Buttermilk leaned and nudged Omori in the shoulder. “Mari told me you’ve beaten a Gator Guy in a fight before.”

Omori narrowed his eyes. “Yes.”

“Just, I dunno, maybe challenge the Gator to a fight? If you kick his butt, maybe he’ll let us pass. These guys are running a scam and think we’re easy prey!”

The Gator craned his neck out of the booth “What did you just say little girl?” he said. “A fight? I’d love to fight your boyfriend, but not now,” he said. “I promised my boss that I’ll be on my best behavior.”

Boyfriend?!

Buttermilk blushed. “He’s not my boyfriend you idiot!” she protested.

“We don’t have to pay anything,” said Omori. He pointed to an ominous construction site by the east. “We can reach the destination by cutting through there.”

“And what’s this I’m hearing about us runnin’ a scam?!” the Gator bellowed. “I don’t appreciate you throwing nasty accusations around. This ain’t no scam, ma’am, we’re just following the rules!”

Before she could voice her thoughts, Omori had already grabbed her by the hand and dragged her toward the site. There’s a rickety ladder reaching up to the upper level. Buttermilk broke free and glared at him. “Omori, you can’t be serious!” she yelled. “Who knows what sort of nasty creatures are lurking in there! We could end up as food for a giant squid or something!” Omori climbed the ladder and left her behind without a word.

“Hey, just slow down for a moment will ya!” Reaching the top, her heart sank when she saw him standing before the entrance of a cave. Omori gestured for her to keep up. Great. Another dark place. She lit her staff, illuminating the inside of the cavern with a dull glow as they entered. Aquatic critters scuttled on the sea floor as they scavenged for food, undisturbed by their sudden intrusion.

“Jeez, would it kill you to stay close?”

The path branched into many different directions from where they stood. One led to a higher platform guarded by a trio of fish bunnies. Another led to a crevice surrounded by an entanglement of dangerous-looking vines. Omori chose the path to the east and she followed along, keeping her eyes open for any surprises.

The first surprise happened not long after that. Just as they were about to head to the next portion of the cave, the wall behind them suddenly collapsed. Buttermilk jumped, pointing her staff at the source of the commotion, and found something truly bizarre. A muscular arm nestled in a mussel shell? Now she’s seen everything. Buttermilk fell back. “What the heck is that thing?”

With blinding speed, Omori threw his knife at the hideous creature and grazed its wrist before the shell clamped shut to protect the arm from further damage. That wasn’t enough to kill it, apparently.

Buttermilk stepped forward. Wasn’t there this one spell she’s been meaning to try since their journey began? “Let me handle this,” she said. The spell in question only worked under special circumstances. The Mussel slowly approached, using its meaty fingers to advance right to their position.

“FREEZE!”

Light in the form of an intricate snowflake pattern shot from her staff. The pattern encircled the enemy before embedding itself to the shell, instantly freezing it and the surrounding water. Their foe fell with a heavy thud.

“Good job,” said Omori, sounding genuinely impressed.

Buttermilk beamed. “My freeze skill only works whenever there’s water nearby. Or in this case, if we’re in the water ourselves. Don’t worry, I won’t mess this up and freeze us over,” she said, smirking. “I had plenty of training with this, you know?”

Three fish heads with spindly legs jumped out of a hole above them, babbling incoherent nonsense while glaring daggers at them. Omori picked up his knife and sliced one in between the eyes, killing it, while Buttermilk conjured another snowflake and froze the remaining two once they got too close to each other.

All her exhaustion seemed to have evaporated in that instant as Buttermilk held her staff triumphantly, feeling powerful. “Did you see that? I’m so awesome!”

Omori responded by giving her a thumbs up.

The two fought their way out of a series of caves, dealing with dozens of enemies that stood on their way. Omori made quick work of anything that got close to them, while Buttermilk pelted the enemies that poured out of the holes in the distance to reduce their numbers before they could overwhelm them. Buttermilk realized that they’ve gotten so much better at working together, even though it’s only been a day. A few more days together and they’ll be unstoppable as a team.

Buttermilk stopped to catch her breath after they cleared another wave of enemies. “Whew, that was amazing.”

“You’ve improved,” he said.

“You too.”

She didn’t want to admit it, but she’s starting to have fun. They went through a few more caves before eventually reaching an open area surrounded by rocks of various sizes, arranged neatly in sets of circles.

A curious white creature blocked their exit. It stood at a height of about three feet tall.

“Hello, friends,” it said in its squeaky voice. “I’m Snaley!”

The creature called Snaley resembled an oversized marshmallow — with a perfectly cylindrical head and two stubby legs attached to it. It would be adorable if it wasn’t so out of place. What’s a mascot-looking fella like this doing in a dangerous cave full of monsters?

“Now, don’t get mad, but I’ve been watching you for a while in secret”. He dusted his feet off before continuing. “You two are pretty amazing fighters, I must say. Will you help me become strong like you? How about a little fight?”

“Get out of our way,” she snapped. “We don’t have time for this.” Buttermilk was itching to have more fights by Omori’s side, but something about this Snaley was heavily suspicious.

Omori changed into his fighting stance.

“Omori?”

“We’ll take you on,” he said.

Buttermilk saw that he already made up his mind. He must have sensed something too.

“I’ll be out of your way after you give me a taste of your strength,” he said. Snaley skipped around, presumably to warm himself up. Buttermilk had a bad feeling about this.

I just have to end the fight in an instant before he could try anything funny.

Without any warning, she threw a snowflake in Snaley’s direction. It struck him, freezing his entire lower body, but leaving the head intact.

Snaley erupted into a laughter. “Oooooh, that’s what I’m talking about.”

Buttermilk met his gaze. “Had enough?”

Snaley closed his eyes and sighed. “Yes, yes. Thank you.”

The ice around him hissed and melted.

“Now we can begin.”

Buttermilk just stood there, dumbfounded. Melting the ice without the requisite spell. Nobody has ever done that before. Before they knew it, Snaley was high up in the air, spinning like a madman. He landed with a soft plonk and went straight for Omori. Omori blocked a strike with his free hand and counterattacked with the knife, grazing Snaley by the leg.

“Ow!”

He spun and tried to kick Omori with his other leg but Omori saw it coming and dodged, switching his knife to his other hand to throw him off, before slicing at him again, chipping off a part of his head. Buttermilk summoned three orbs and hurled them at him once Omori had put some distance between them, but Snaley slipped away at the last second and vanished, leaving a trail of smoke behind. Darn, he’s fast. She sensed footsteps coming from somewhere, but it’s too faint to determine where exactly.

Omori ran to a conspicuous rock on the other side and with one swift motion, slashed it in half, revealing Snaley behind it. “Woah, that was quick!” he said, jumping around trying to avoid Omori’s flurry of slashes. Watching the little marshmallow skillfully dodge everything Omori threw at him made her realize just how dangerous the little fella was. Determined to get a hit, Omori kept his calm and repositioned himself, then hacked away with renewed vigor. Each strike was carefully calculated and precise. Buttermilk summoned three orbs and made them hover above Snaley. Just wait for the right moment, she thought. Don’t mess it up.

“Ha, I see what you’re doing,” he noted. “Very clever.” He leaped again and in a move that completely surprised her, the tiny marshmallow kicked all of the orbs in quick succession, sending one straight to Omori, the other on the ground, and the last one right back at her. Buttermilk threw herself to the ground and barely dodged it, seized by a sudden fit of panic as the orb crashed with an angry hiss where she stood just seconds ago.

Omori ducked and narrowly avoided the orb. He swung right back at him with his fist, which connected with Snaley’s face and sent him flying over some distance. Buttermilk followed up by producing a rope trap which she hurled at him.

It missed.

“Darn it!”

“Nice try.” Snaley quickly recovered and retaliated, punching Omori in the gut. He reeled back and fell to the ground.

“I’m a quick learner, y’know?” he said, a satisfied smile on his face. “Now let’s see…” Snaley closed his eyes and made a snowflake appear out of thin air.

Her jaw dropped open. It had the exact same pattern as hers.

The freezing spell. But how?

The little snowflake struck Omori right in the heart. For the first time, Omori’s expression showed fear as he struggled, flailing his arms to prevent the spread of ice, but Buttermilk knew it was too late.

Soon, Omori’s whole body was frozen solid, encased in a block of ice.

Pancakes! Panic gripped Buttermilk as she fell back and hid behind a rock, forced to review her options. She could go all-out and use as many orbs as she can conjure — at the cost of her remaining energy — but Snaley’s speed alone made it risky. If he did get hit and it wasn’t enough to finish him off, he would probably be able to replicate it and use it against her, making it doubly risky. The rope trap already failed once and would be even trickier to pull off now that Snaley’s aware of it, so that was a no, too. And then there’s the ice spell. Buttermilk still hasn’t figured out how Snaley negated its effect on him. Using it again would likely produce the same result as before.

She slumped on the rock and sighed. There were two tools left in her arsenal.

One of them, she must never use under any circumstances. Ever. Her sister was quite clear on that matter. Doing so would cost her her life.

Then there’s the other.

Buttermilk shook her head. No. No. No. There has to be another way.

But Omori would surely die if she can’t unfreeze him in time. Slowly, she peeked and saw Snaley sitting on top of the block, patiently waiting for her to come out. The little brat had a smug smile on his face. Buttermilk seethed. That darn marshmallow was clearly taunting her.

She stepped out. “You’ve gotten what you wanted,” she said, maintaining eye contact with him. “A taste of our strength. You win. Now let Omori go!”

Snaley beamed at her. “Thanks to you, I learned a nifty new skill! I have become even stronger.” He giddily jumped off the block. “Lovely weather, isn’t it? What’s the hurry? Let’s fight some more, just the two of us, then I’ll be out of your way. Deal?”

Buttermilk gritted her teeth. This little gremlin won’t let them leave until he gets a good fight. Fine, if it’s a good fight he wanted, then she’ll just have to give it to him. She needed to hurry up though.

There was no other way. It looked like she’s going to have to use that technique after all. She was just thankful that Omori won’t see her use it. Gosh, the embarrassment from that would be enough to kill her several times over. Buttermilk sighed, waving her staff to do the required motion for the spell.

Snaley jumped up in excitement. “Ooooh, a new move! What’s this now?” Unbeknownst to him, this was one move that he won’t be able to copy.

Pink light shone from above, blanketing Buttermilk in all its dazzling glory. Snaley watched with a mesmerized expression and clapped. The transformation soon began. Her arms and legs shrank and her clothes disappeared as the hole in her stomach grew in size, around five to ten times larger. Thankfully, her clothes would come back after the transformation had worn out. Buttermilk awkwardly wobbled in her new, rotund form. Yep. Still as unpleasant and disgusting as ever.

“Wow! Amazing!” the marshmallow praised, cheering like a fanboy. Buttermilk was mad. Furious even. So much that she felt like she could spontaneously combust at any second. She already towered over Snaley before but now, in her Donut Form, she must’ve been truly gigantic compared to the puny creature that stood before her.

She glared at him. “Any last words?”

Snaley just stood there gawking at her like an idiot, mouth wide open. Disgusting creep. Did he not realize the danger he was in at that moment?

“I think… I’m in love.”

Gross.

“Die.”

Dust dispersed as Buttermilk started spinning furiously like the tire of a car. This form afforded her immunity to physical damage and nausea, so she could go all-out and destroy everything in her path if she wanted to, but right now, she just wanted the darn marshmallow dead. She rushed toward him in a blitz but Snaley jumped and dodged at the last second.

Buttermilk lost control and collided against a large rock, smashing it to smithereens, but no damage was incurred to her form. She spun and found that the marshmallow had hidden himself. Again. “Show yourself! You wanted to see what I was capable of, right? Well now you got it!” Anger, it seemed, was the perfect fuel for this form. She thrashed the place without any restraint, determined to put an end to the marshmallow. Rocks flew and scattered all over the place in her rampage.

Leave no rocks unturned.

After obliterating the twentieth rock in her way, Buttermilk finally found the bastard, his head half-buried in the ground. So he planned to hide underneath eh? Clever. Snaley got himself out of the hole he just dug and kneeled before her.

“I surrender! Please have mercy!” His sweat pooled under his legs and he was trembling. Unfortunately, Buttermilk wasn’t feeling merciful right now.

“Come here.” She rolled and caught the marshmallow in her stubby arms, making sure to hold extra tight. He struggled to break free with everything he got but Buttermilk dwarfed him in strength. There was no escape. “Please, no!”

With as much speed as she could muster, she rolled in circles around the whole area, taking him along for the ride.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh!”

Buttermilk rolled with such ferocious speed that if someone was watching her from above, it would seem like a race car’s been let loose on the seabed. The water turned murky as rocks and soil particles were thrown into disarray by the mighty donut girl. This went on for over a minute until finally, she decided that it was time to let go. Buttermilk released her grip on Snaley when she was at her fastest, producing enough force to send him flying all the way up to the surface, out of the water. Good riddance.

Having accomplished what she set out to do, her Donut Form deflated with a poof, and she was back in her adorable human form just seconds later. Buttermilk slumped on the floor as the dizziness started to set in.

She threw up.

“I…am…never…doing…that…again.”

No more Donut Form again. Ever.

After partially recovering, she staggered to where Omori’s frozen body was. She still had time. Staff in hand, she conjured a pattern known as an inverted snowflake. As the name implied, it was just the same snowflake pattern from before but inverted, and its sole purpose was to undo the freezing spell. A realization occurred to her. From her understanding, Snaley had the ability to learn and copy any ability if it hits him, so did that mean that when he broke free from the spell, that was because he instantly figured out that the pattern for melting the ice was just the snowflake pattern but inverted? Buttermilk shivered at the thought. That darn marshmallow…

The pattern embedded itself in the ice block, melting the ice. He’s still breathing. Good. Buttermilk held his hand in hers and rubbed it in circles to warm him.

“How dare you let your guard down?” she said, shaking him by the shoulders. “You owe me big time for this, knife boy. Maybe my sister should’ve hired someone else after all, hmph.”

Omori groaned. The boy opened his eyes and tried to get up, but Buttermilk gently pushed him back. “Idiot. You can’t get up just yet.” She sat down and placed his head on her lap, running a hand through his hair. It had a smoothness to it that she found very pleasant to the touch.

“Just rest for a while, all right? I can’t have you dying on me now.”

Chapter 6: Orange Oasis (Part One)

The desert was an unforgiving place.

Buttermilk stopped in her tracks, dollops of sweat dripping down her face, gasping for air as the merciless heat of the desert bore down upon them.

“You said it was a shortcut,” she sputtered. It’s been three hours of nonstop walking since they’ve emerged from the depths with no end in sight.

Omori nodded slowly. “It is.” He proffered a bottle of water which she eagerly took like it was the most important thing in the world. It might as well be, for she had a feeling she’d drop dead in about two more steps if she didn’t drink something right there. She emptied half of the bottle’s content and handed it back to Omori, thankful. How on earth was this guy taking all of this like some simple stroll in the woods? “Believe it or not,” he said, waiting for her to catch up, “Walking the rest of that tunnel would’ve set us back by a day, maybe more considering those rats nested—”

Buttermilk rolled her eyes. “Jeez, I know, no need to remind me.” She took a few deep breaths and stretched, groaning at the sound of her muscles screaming in pain.

“You can hop on my back if you want.”

“Haha very funny.”

“It wasn’t a joke.”

Yep. Dead serious indeed. Buttermilk pouted, furrowing her brows. “No! Don’t you dare treat me like some frail little girl!”

It took only five steps before her legs buckled. She collapsed face-first on the sand, some of it getting in her mouth, much to her frustration.

“Hmmmmph!” She furiously spat until all traces of sand were gone. “Aaaaaargh! Darn it! I hate sand!”

“There’s no shame in accepting help,” he said softly as he went down, his arms stretched backward. Buttermilk sighed, feeling her legs wobble. Guess there’s no other choice.

“Fine.”

She wrapped her arms around his shoulder and Omori supported her weight by securing her thighs around his back with a firm grip, lifting both of them up. Buttermilk felt stiff and awkward, trying her best not to put too much pressure with her arms and slow them down, but Omori didn’t seem to mind, walking briskly as though he was carrying nothing but a lightweight pack. Desert wind lashed against her face as she held to Omori, but now it was more refreshing than punishing.

“I’m sorry.”

Omori tilted his head. “What for?”

“Because of my carelessness, I gave that stupid marshmallow an opportunity to copy my ice spell and use it against you. I… should’ve been more careful.”

Omori grunted. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I had a feeling we were up against something…dangerous.” She bit her lip, looking slightly upward. “And yet I acted rashly, wanting to finish the fight as soon as possible. When I trained with my sister, she warned me about that spell’s many dangers.” She paused, taking a deep breath. “Heh, guess I should’ve paid more attention huh?”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” he said, repositioning his arms so he’d be able to support her weight better. “You made an error in judgment, but that’s understandable for someone who’s only been out in the world for days. You’ll find as you get more experience in adventuring that things don’t often go your way. Many times, monsters lurking in the shadows may catch you unaware. The very ground you’re walking on might collapse without warning. Friends might get hurt when you least expect it. These sort of situations are in no short supply once you’ve made the decision to face the world and its many dangers. But the ability to adapt, to turn a bad situation around and triumph against overwhelming odds, that’s what’s most important. You finished the fight even without my help. I’d say that you’ve done remarkably well back there, so don’t beat yourself up over it.”

Buttermilk mulled over what Omori just said. The wisdom of an experienced adventurer. That was also the longest she’d ever heard him speak, which was highly amusing now that she thought about it.

“Thanks for the advice, knife boy. Once this is all over maybe we could…uh, meet up and do some adventuring!” Buttermilk blushed, realizing how stupid that must’ve sounded. After all the trouble her sister put him and his friends through, what made her think that Omori would want anything to do with her after the mission’s over?

Omori simply nodded. In that moment, Buttermilk was struck with the realization that their journey was nearing its end. It’s only been two day or less, yet it felt like so much had happened. Her adventure with Omori pushed her to her limits, exposed her to perils beyond her wildest imaginations, tested her in ways that put all those rigorous training exercises she’s had with her tutors and Sweetheart to shame. Buttermilk felt tired, both physically and mentally.

And she didn’t want it to end just yet.

She yawned and rested her head on Omori’s shoulder, feeling his body heave up and down with every step. Omori. The knife boy. Much of his character was still a mystery to her. Will she ever see him again after his contract with her sister had ended?

Mari and her picnic blanket. A new friend. The playground in the forest, filled with laughter and joy. She told herself that she’d come visit again but there’s no telling what will happen after she reached the Oasis. Will she be able to keep her promise to Mari?

Sweetheart. Big sis. What was her reason for sending her on this journey? Did she do it out of love, to help toughen her up? To meet her true parents? Or maybe she just wanted her gone, now that she had the capacity to question her authority?

So many questions.

So much to think about.

Not much time left.

---

Omori doubled the speed of his pace while carrying her, which led them right to the Oasis entrance just an hour later. An impressive feat. Buttermilk hopped down and brushed the sand particles that clung to her clothes, wondering just how on earth Omori managed to do it. Was this guy even human?

“Here we are,” he said.

“Orange Oasis,” she read, gazing at the sign that bore the words “WELCOME TO ORANGE OASIS” in bright, colorful letters. East of them was the train station. The train wasn’t the same as the one they rode hours ago; it had a bright-yellow exterior that blended well with the desert environment. Operations were currently suspended upon closer inspection.

Omori’s expression turned dark. Without warning, he grabbed her arm and pulled her towards the side as a crowd from the main area poured out and marched in their direction. They strode in a single line and all of them bore vacant, glassy eyes, trudging along like puppets unaware of what’s really going on around them. Buttermilk gasped, remembering the passengers from the train before.

“What the heck.”

These ones were exactly the same! She backed off slowly, her senses warning her of incoming danger. Something had gone wrong. It was as though they stepped into a completely different world; a very good imitation of the Oasis but a fake nonetheless.

“Omori.”

“I know.”

She found herself shaking. “I don’t like this.”

Omori brought his knife out like it was the most natural thing to do. “Neither do I. Stay alert.”

She spotted something peculiar. That huge pyramid looming over everything — the site of Dino’s Dig, a popular tourist attraction that she read about in one of her books. The structure was as every bit as imposing as described in the book. Any other day, she’d be in awe gazing at it but right now, she sensed the presence of an ominous aura somewhere inside the place, powerful enough to cloak the entire pyramid in its essence. She squinted, focusing for a few seconds, and confirmed her suspicions. A dark, smoke-like barrier of some sort wrapped around the entire pyramid like a protective bubble. It clung to it like tar on an otherwise spotless piece of white clothing.

“Do you see what I’m seeing?”

“Yes.” Omori gestured, asking her to follow closely. His normally stoic expression was replaced by a look of subtle frustration.

“Hey there!” a voice bellowed behind.

Buttermilk yelped. A peculiar old man stood, sporting a gaudy cowboy hat with baggy dark brown pants and weathered boots, stained thick with mud, with an equally thick gray beard that extended well below his chin. He put his arms up, palms facing outward, asking them to calm down.

“Oh dear, sorry ‘bout that,” he said, hopping backward. “Didn’t mean to scare ya!”

Buttermilk wasn’t going to take any chances with this weirdo. With a wave of her hand, she summoned the staff and pointed it right at him, giving the man a ghastly glare. “Who the heck are you?!”

“Whoa, whoa, I’m not an enemy kiddo! The name’s Mr. Outback,” he said, waving his arms wildly. Omori didn’t seem convinced, stepping up between her and the old geezer. Though he didn’t point the knife at him, his expression radiated sheer distrust. Mr. Outback sighed as he sat down, gesturing for them to do the same. They didn’t. “All right, all right, I’ll get straight to the point. This place ain’t doing so well as you can obviously see… A dark presence strolled in here not long ago and made itself comfortable, trapping everyone in a dark haze! Lucky for me, I wasn’t around when it happened, hee hee!”

Omori’s frown deepened. Buttermilk lowered her staff. “That presence, it’s holed up inside that pyramid right now?”

“Right-O!” He muttered something to himself, stood up and brushed his legs, straightened his hat, then looked to the horizon. “Girl,” he said, a thumb on his chin, sizing her up. Buttermilk shrank under his gaze. “I sense a particular power within ya.”

“…Power?”

“Hahaha! This place might not be doomed after all!”

Omori crossed his arms and tapped his foot.

Mr. Outback paced back and forth for a while. “Yes! Yes! So you’ve met an old friend o’mine eh? Listen, girl. You and your monochrome friend here are going to hafta fight your way up that pyramid. You’ll find the baddie at the top level, just sittin’ there, waiting to consume ya both just like the others. But it won’t succeed, because you’re gonna purify the living heck outta it with that spell of yours before it could!”

Purify…

Buttermilk’s eyes widened. That spell the Keeper gave to her in that dream. “How do you know about that?!”

He rubbed his chin. “Knowin’ lots of things comes with the territory when you’re old! Now I know you’ve got a lotta questions,” he continued. “Here’s somethin’ that might help. Whatever it is you’re lookin’ for, getting to the top of that pyramid would be the first step. Save the Oasis, and the path ahead will be clear.”

What I’m looking for…

Buttermilk didn’t expect yet another roadblock ahead. She thought for sure that everything would be over once they reached the Oasis. Oddly enough, the prospect of extending her journey with Omori actually made her giddy with excitement. A tap on her shoulder brought her back to reality.

“He speaks the truth. Come on. Let’s head to the pyramid.”

“Are you sure he’s telling the truth.”

“Yes.”

The old man waved with maddening enthusiasm. “Good luck, kiddos! I’m countin’ on ya!”

---

A thick crowd of about a hundred, maybe more, blocked the pyramid’s entrance. When they approached and tried to break through the first layer, they got pushed, as expected. Buttermilk gritted her teeth. Of course it wasn’t going to be that easy. Whatever that dark presence was, it wasn’t going to make entering its abode easy for anyone. It was going to do everything in its power to prevent them from getting close to it.

Omori examined his reflection in the knife that he held right up to his face then turned to her. “Any plans?”

Buttermilk tilted her head. “That’s my line.”

“I’d like to hear what’s on your mind,” he said after giving some pause.

“Well, um, obviously, going through the front door is out of the option, at least right now.” Buttermilk rubbed her forehead and put on her thinking cap, while Omori sat down on a bench and gestured for her to do the same. Omori asking for her opinion? That’s weird. He’d never done that before, often taking the lead and making all the decisions for them. Buttermilk’s grown used to their dynamic that being put on the spot by him now felt… wrong. Perhaps this was a test of some sort to hone her skills, to mold her into becoming more useful? What were their options? Luring the crowd elsewhere to clear the path seemed like the obvious course of action to her, but if they’re anything like those passengers in the train earlier, that would probably be pointless.

What if they become one of them?

“We can use a camouflage,” she said. “Everyone here, except for that old geezer, have been imbued with some sort of dark essence. It’s very faint but I can see it. We’re going to need to get some of that in us in order to blend in and gain passage. As to how we’ll do that, I don’t know yet. Gimme some time to think.”

“A way to blend in,” said Omori. His cliff-faced expression made it difficult to tell what he thought of her suggestion. “Suppose we successfully procure some of that essence and apply it to ourselves, do you think it would make us vulnerable to the presence’s control?"

A fair point. Buttermilk closed her eyes and hummed, tapping her fingers on the bench’s smooth wooden surface, considering with concern what Omori just said. “It doesn’t have to be the same stuff, y’know? We just have to fake it somehow.” Omori waited for her to continue, eyes half-closed. By the looks of it, he probably thought her idea was stupid. Gosh. Even she was starting to think the same. Imitating a power unknown to them? She spent the next several minutes in silence, deep in thought.

Purification.

That light.

At long last, the final piece of the puzzle made itself known. Buttermilk stood up and smiled. “I think I might’ve figured it out.”

“What is it?”

“Is there a secluded space nearby? I need to test out something.”

Omori led her to a small cave east of the central hub where the crowd was less concentrated, passing some hypnotized children and a discarded float in the shape of a lemon along the way. This space was used by a merchants to sell their wares, Omori had explained. With the current state of the place right now, Omori deduced that the area was likely empty. As they entered the dark cave, Buttermilk resisted the urge to light up her staff as that would just waste precious energy, instead allowing her eyes to acclimate to the dark while treading with caution. Omori walked right in front of her and kept an eye out. The narrow passageway soon gave way to an open space where air was noticeably cooler than it was outside. Intermittent water drops can be heard trickling from the ceiling as they approached a slope leading to the innermost part of the cave.

They found a good spot by an elevated platform at the end of the cave where Buttermilk can test her theory. The purification spell she cast back in the nightmare against her sister was purely by instinct; it required no specific staff motion unlike her other spells, she needed only to will it in order for it to happen. Despite that, she caught a brief glimpse of a pattern when she cast it, but it happened too fast for her to commit it to memory. The purpose of this test was to find out what the pattern for the purification spell was, and using the same principle as the defrosting spell she used to save Omori’s life, invert the pattern so that light would become darkness. Since the power belonged to Buttermilk, she figured that whatever entity was sowing its influence in the Oasis wouldn’t be able to corrupt them with it. It’s a huge shot in the dark and Buttermilk wasn’t certain if it would grant them passage to the pyramid, but it was worth trying anyway. The air hummed with vibrant energy as she willed the light to emerge from her staff, recalling the first time she used it against her sister in the dream. A warm glow had enveloped the space around her then; light that could break through the deepest darkness.

As expected, a pattern materialized in the air, embedded in the glow itself — a triangle with three slender wings sprouting at each side, converging beautifully in a spiral-like manner at the center of the triangle. The symbol of Purification. Buttermilk engraved the pattern in her memory.

“Now to invert the symbol,” said Omori. “Transforming light to darkness. Clever.” Buttermilk scratched her head, astonished that Omori already figured out what she’s trying to do. She was just about to explain that part too, but guess she could safely skip ahead. Pointing the staff to the ground, she did the required motion to create an upside-down triangle — three simple strokes, with the wings on each side, and finished the symbol with the spiral at the center. Buttermilk tried her best to steady her hand as she did it, putting as much care as possible to get it right perfectly. The symbol hung in the air — darkness evoking that of the night sky. Not a darkness straight out of the void, but more subdued and elegant; different from the aura that covered the pyramid, but not different enough to be suspicious. Buttermilk touched the center of the symbol with a finger, and with it, absorbed the darkness into herself. The sudden surge of energy made her leap backward, causing her to stumble and fall to the ground.

“Looks like it worked,” said Omori, hoisting her up with a hand.

She rubbed her back, noting the warm glow of the spell swirling inside her. “Did it really?” It felt pleasant.

Omori nodded. “Yes. Now do it again.”

---

The plan worked.

Buttermilk and Omori strode into Dino’s Dig’s entrance and bypassed the thick crowd from earlier without much difficulty, concealed by the fake darkness she created. Buttermilk sighed in relief. It worked!

That was only the first step though. Once they’re in, things were bound to get unpredictable, Omori warned. Buttermilk already knew the rules of the place. According to what she read in her book, powerful monsters prowled the floors of the pyramid beyond the lobby, thirsting for blood, attacking humans without mercy. Keys buried all over the treasure grounds were required to proceed to the next floor, along with numerous other treasures of course; some of great value and some completely useless. Most importantly, the spoons given for digging the treasures become useless after a certain number of use.

Fortunately, they weren’t here to play by the rules of the place. Digging with a spoon? Ha. No way she’d suffer that. Fighting was inevitable once they’ve entered the floors. Various displays in glass cases graced the lobby hall, containing artifacts from all over the world. All of them seemed pretty mundane to her though. Weird. At Omori’s signal, Buttermilk summoned five orbs of light and hurled them at the front door leading to the main attraction, which was heavily barricaded with boards and stacks of metal sheets bolted to the surface, along with locks that seemed comically big to her. Whatever’s ruling the place really did not want anybody inside, not even the other citizens it had mind-controlled earlier, which were nowhere to be found. The impact of the blast destroyed most of the locks and sheets, shredding metals to pieces, but it wasn’t enough, so Buttermilk summoned five more orbs.

“Wait,” said Omori, stepping forward.

“What?”

“Save those for later. I’ll take care of it.” Omori brought out his knife, got into a stance she hadn’t seen before, and launched himself into a frenzy, hacking the door with a flurry of slashes so fast that streaks of light appeared right in front of him. He followed up with a swift kick, and bits and pieces of the door flung in the air, leaving the path clear.

Buttermilk pouted. “Show-off.” Though she had to admit, that was pretty cool. She followed along, eyes checking everywhere, wary for any signs of an ambush. Square-shaped trenches have been dug, filled with rocks of all shapes and sizes. She thought she saw one of the rocks move to her left but it was probably just her imagination.

“Behind you.” A snake sporting a strawberry pattern spawned from the ground, slithering towards them. It made a disturbing hissing sound as it inched closer. Buttermilk nervously backed off and summoned a single orb, hurling it at the snake. It dodged to the side, and sand particles spread in the air and obscured their view.

“Darn.”

“You may want to hold off on using any sort of explosive attacks,” Omori suggested.

Buttermilk cringed. “Yeah. Should’ve seen that coming.”

Despite that, Buttermilk was able to spot the snake burrowing into the sand, its tail vanishing in a split second. It reappeared right behind Omori, baring its fangs, but he struck right at its head before it could bite, splitting it in half. Once the dust has cleared, another monster jumped right in front of them from an elevated platform. A pie that looked like a porcupine? A bunny with a bun on top of its head trailed closely behind. She let out a chuckle as she watched it hop around. These food-themed bunnies were just comically bizarre. Whoever bred these bunnies must’ve been a total wackjob.

“Stay focused,” Omori said.

“Yes sir,” she said in a slightly sarcastic tone. Since using the light orbs wouldn’t be wise, she’s left with the rope trap, which might as well be useless since their enemies here don’t have legs she could use it on. Not that it was impossible to use against enemies without legs, just really freaking hard. She’d just be wasting energy by doing that. The ice spell, while very effective most of the time, can’t be used here because of the dry air— water or some amount of moisture was required. Omori have already slayed two more creatures while she was standing there, thinking of what attack to use. “I suppose you can use that staff of yours to hit these monsters, can you?” he said, as though he knew exactly what she was thinking.

“Um, yeah. Of course!” Though not as extensive as her training in magic spells, Buttermilk did train on how to use the staff as a physical weapon. Buttermilk spotted two bunnies west of them. Wielding her staff with two hands, she sprinted and yelled, using her momentum to smash the two of them to the wall with a single strike, leaving one of the bunnies dead and the other severely injured, blood dripping out of its upper body. Buttermilk balked at the sight. These are dangerous monsters, said a voice in her head. They might look cute but these creatures are crafty and relentless. They’ll tear you apart if you give them the chance to do so. She sighed, raising the staff over her head, then struck the bunny with all her might, dealing the final blow.

Stay focused.

Buttermilk rejoined Omori who now dealt with three different snakes. She shrieked when one of them turned to her. She resisted the attempt to summon an orb, instead luring the snake away from Omori and hiding behind a six-foot rock near the door to the next floor. Only a few enemies left they needed to clear before they can safely proceed. The snake slithered behind the rock, then peeked right above her, its ugly head rearing downwards. Her hands gripped the staff and using a move she’d been taught by Sweetheart herself, pinned the head of the snake with the tip of the staff and rotated the weapon clockwise while pushing, using as much pressure as she could. The snake dropped dead after a few seconds. Whew.

Omori cleared his spot and together, destroyed the big marble door and headed to the next floor, which was lush green in color; vegetation in abundance, with water streaming from a makeshift waterfall. They passed sturdy wooden bridges along the way to the next floor. About halfway through, a posse of sentient vegetables sprang from the waters and blocked their way, standing taller than them. Two celery sticks, a ginger, and a green…leafy thing. Darn, she forgot what this stuff was called, but she could’ve sworn she had seen it in the castle’s storage before.

“Do you happen to know what that thing’s called?” she asked Omori.

Before he could give an answer, the ginger swooped in and swatted the staff away from her hand. The staff rolled on the grass and almost fell to the water. Meanwhile, the two celery sticks accosted Omori, who then quickly changed into the stance he used on the door earlier in response. Before he could attack however, the green leafy thing whacked him from behind with its face and he stumbled. The celery sticks seized him immediately — one on each hand — and brought him down to the ground.

“Omori!”

“Deal with your foe, I’ll deal with mine. Don’t lose focus now.”

Buttermilk gritted her teeth and launched herself to the ground and confused the enemy, scrambling in a desperate attempt to retrieve her staff. The foe tried to block her path by crouching and grabbing at her, but she rolled several times and got up on her feet to put distance between them, then snatched her weapon just before it fell to the water. No sand in sight this time, so there’s only one thing left to do. Three orbs appeared in the air and hit the enemy all at once. It didn’t kill it, so Buttermilk made another three, but the ginger tackled her and she fell right into the water with a splash. The current carried her all the way to the start of the floor before she managed to grab a branch on the path and pulled herself back up. She glared at the enemy, spitting some of the water that got into her mouth in disgust.

He’s going to pay for this.

Running back to where the action was happening, she caught sight of Omori, pinned down by the two celery sticks. He kicked the one on his left a good distance away, only for the other to ram its head right on his chest, making him drop his knife. Omori gasped for breath as the celery prepared another attack.

Oh no.

“Omori!” she yelled, creating five light orbs in an instant to assist him, but before she could attack, she witnessed something shocking. He dodged the celery’s head by twisting his body left, then before it could get up, Omori opened his mouth, sharp teeth glistening with light from above, and bit the celery’s face. Using his hands as leverage, the enemy still squirming in his grasp, he got on his legs and pulled, tearing its entire face free from its body with his teeth. The enemy ran around in a frenzy as green blood dripped from its head, then dropped to the ground shortly, dead.

What the hell…

The brutal display left Buttermilk frozen solid. The other celery stick and their leafy friend who just stood there like an idiot doing nothing ran away from Omori as fast as they could and jumped back into the water. Omori turned to the ginger next. It let out a loud screeching noise and bolted for it, running past Buttermilk down to the previous floor.

Buttermilk approached him with a nervous smile. “So… guess you’re the kid who eats all his veggies huh?”

Omori shrugged, stooped down to pick his knife, and walked away as though nothing happened.

“Oh wow. Um, I’m just going to forget that ever happened.”

Or maybe not. That was way too memorable. And not in a good way.

---

They finally reached the door to the top floor, guarded by a stocky green T-rex, who Buttermilk recognized as THE Dino, the proprietor of this attraction. Thankfully, getting to this point did not involve Omori biting off any other faces on the way.

“You!” Dino yelled. He shuffled awkwardly, his tail grazing the surface of the door behind him. “Sorry, but I can’t let you pass. Please turn back.”

Omori stepped up. “Let us through or you’ll regret it,” he said in a firm and commanding voice.

“Look, it’s out of my control now, little buddy. I can’t let you through.”

“Mr. Dino, please do as my friend says or he’ll be forced to do something awful. Trust me, you don’t want to know what he did to one of your monsters below.”

Dino chuckled. “Like heck you would. What’s the worse you can do? Do you know who I am! You don’t get to threaten me! The mighty DINO! I’m — ”

Omori got real close to him in the middle of his outburst and did… something. Buttermilk didn’t get a clear view, but judging by the dinosaur’s reaction — who stepped away slowly and ran for the exit — it wasn’t pleasant. Buttermilk shuddered.

“Let’s take care of this door,” Omori said, wiping his mouth with the back of his left hand.

---

A lone chicken stood at the center of the top floor. Not a monster chicken or some other abomination, just an ordinary chicken. It pecked on the floor and ignored their arrival, fully absorbed with whatever it’s doing. Buttermilk rubbed her eyes and blinked, gawking at the chicken. She glanced at Omori, whose expression remained as inscrutable as ever.

“This can’t be what we’re looking for, right?”

The chicken was gone.

In its place laid an egg; its shell pitch-black, as though someone just carved that space out of existence. Buttermilk’s legs wobbled and she staggered towards it with difficulty as nausea filled her senses, her vision turning dark. What’s going on?

“The egg,” prodded Omori, pointing to it. “Use the spell.” His voice sounded fuzzy and she could barely hear it. Must be the work of their enemy.

“Right.”

Each step felt heavier than the last, like walking on quicksand. Omori remained in his position and refused to help, probably for a good reason. If the entity gained control of Omori then it’s all over.

Must…purify…the egg.

She took a deep breath and set her eyes on the egg, determined.

But the ability to adapt, to turn a bad situation around and triumph against overwhelming odds, that’s what’s most important.

Buttermilk raised her staff but the evil in this room did not let her, binding her arms down. Darn it, so close…

Omori cleared his throat. Buttermilk turned to him and saw his knife pointed at something; to a puddle east of the room, and on the puddle was a clear reflection of the egg.

Everything connected in an instant. Buttermilk smiled. Wisps of white light shot from her staff towards the puddle. They bounced upward and struck the egg, cracking it.

It’s over. Buttermilk fell on the ground and laughed. “We did it!”

The room started shaking.

Chapter 7: Interlude: Buttermilk and Mr. Lemonhead's Fun Adventure

7 Years Ago

 

Buttermilk sat in her room clutching her most favorite friend, Mr. Lemonhead. She got him from her big sis as a present when she turned five, which happened about a month ago. His cute, big googly eyes reflected her own face as she stared at him, which pouted and sulked because big sis left her in the castle to go elsewhere again. She remember being promised that she’d play with her today as a reward for doing well in her classes, but this morning she had to leave because of an… emerjenshy? The little girl didn’t understand what the word meant, but big sis looked serious so it must have been real important.

“Big sis doesn’t have time for me anymore,” she said, tugging at her hair. “But that’s okay. At least I still have you! You’ll never leave me, would you, Mr. Lemonhead?”

“I’ll never leave you, Buttermilk! You’re my best friend!” the toy squeaked. Buttermilk spent a long time thinking of the perfect voice for her best friend and settled on something that sounded like one of the characters she saw in a cartoon before. Squeaky and adorable. With her right hand behind its back, she made the toy’s head bob up and down in joy. “Oh I know, let’s explore today! How about we go to your big sis’ chamber and have some fun there?”

Buttermilk beamed. Big sis had only taken her there once before and then never again for some reason. She asked her if she could come play with her in there, begged her even, but big sis said no every single time. She was not allowed inside unless big sis wanted her there. “Yeah! Now that big sis is gone and I don’t have any classes, that sounds like a good idea!”

“Then what are we waiting for?” the toy said. “Let’s go!”

Buttermilk mulled over it. “I’d love to, but Rodrick’s gonna see us on the way.” The sprout mole butler always kept an eye on the elevator. Even if he wasn’t there, as long as he was close by, he’d know if anybody tried to use the elevator to her sister’s chamber. Did he have some kind of power or something? She stood up and paced the room for a time, thinking of a plan.

“Oh, I know!” Buttermilk exclaimed. “We need what big sis calls a ‘distrakshun’.” She hopped on her bed again and bounced up with one foot. She managed to do ten bounces before plopping on the bed with a satisfied grin.

“And how do we get that?” asked Mr. Lemonhead.

“First, we take some eggs from the kitchen,” she said, her smile getting bigger. “Then we throw the eggs at big sis’ giant statue in the gardens. One of the sprout moles will see what we did then we can sneak in after they call Rodrick!”

“That sounds like a great plan!” said the toy, nodding in approval.

“I know, right?”

Hugging Mr. Lemonhead tight, the little girl jumped from bed to floor and dashed out of the room, excited for what they were about to do. Together, she and Mr. Lemonhead can do anything!

 

---

 

They hit their first snag when they arrived in the kitchen. The head chef just so happened to be there blocking the way to the pantry where the eggs were.

“Looks like we need to distrak him too,” said Lemonhead.

The little girl nodded thoughtfully. “Looks like it.” Hmm, would she go about this?

She spotted a bag of flour by the refrigerator near one of the counters and smirked.

“Mr. Lemonhead, watch this.”

She summoned her staff which stood almost as tall as she was and pointed the tip at her target. Summoning those balls of lights have become almost second nature to her after spending a year training under one of her tutors and big sis. For the distrakshun though, she only needed one small ball of light. Something weak so as to not destroy anything but the bag of flour. The ball appeared out of thin air with a soft glow and whizzed by, striking the bag and with it, a small explosion.

“What in tarnation?!” cried the chef, waving his arms wildly as flour particles filled the air, providing a suitable distrakshun.

Giggling, Buttermilk threw open the pantry’s door and quickly grabbed a tray of eggs containing about a dozen of them. She spotted a lone cinnamon roll that lay on the shelf and grabbed it as well. The air was still fuzzy in the kitchen as she took one last glance at the chef who’s now screaming and pounding his fist on the counter, then stuck her tongue out at him. That guy had been rude to her many times before so she didn’t feel bad at all about what she just did. Besides that, she never really liked the guy's cooking — everything had a faint taste of tofu for some reason.

She skidded past the hallways and ducked under an alcove in the eastern part of the castle to stop and catch her breath. “We did good back there, Mr. Lemonhead!”

“Well done, Buttermilk!”

“Okay, that was fun,” she said, taking a bite out of the cinnamon roll that she stole. So good. “But not as fun as what we’re gonna do next. Are you ready, Mr. Lemonhead?”

“Sure am.”

“Good.” The little girl happily finished the rest of her roll then together, they made their way to the gardens.

 

---

 

Today was a pleasant, sunny day. Her favorite kind of day. Too bad her sis wasn’t there with her. Buttermilk basked in the sun and took in some much needed fresh air as they approached her sister’s giant statue, checking for gardener sprout moles and knights roaming around. The plan was to start throwing the eggs as soon as the gardeners have gotten far away enough from the statue, which might take minutes or hours, depending on the amount of work that needs to be done. Fortunately, there wasn’t much to do today from what she saw.

Buttermilk perched on one of the pedestals in the garden’s mazes, waiting for the right time to strike. Gardeners and knights alike were still bustling about so she had to be patient, even though being patient wasn’t what she’s good at. It was starting to get hot where she sat so she jumped down and crept to the western part of the garden, hiding behind a bush as sentries with funny looking hats marched to the east.

Just had to wait a little more.

Not much later, the gardeners finished their rounds near the statue and the guards stationed over there cleared out of the way for their lunch break. Buttermilk smirked.

“Now’s our chance!” said Mr. Lemonhead. His eyes glinted under the sunlight.

Though Buttermilk loved her big sis a lot, her love didn’t extend to that creepy statue. It was less impressive and more scary, unlike her real big sis. A part of her felt bad about what she was about to do, but the thrill of doing something she’s not supposed to do and getting inside her big sis’ room was stronger.

“Yay! Let’s go!”

Buttermilk ran to the statue faster than she ever had in her five years. Lately, she’s been hearing whispers from the sprout moles that her big sis was planning to breathe life into the statue, whatever that means. Right now, this statue seemed pretty dead to her though, so whatever it was that big sis was planning with it, she hasn’t done it yet.

“Take that!” she whispered, hurling an egg at it. It hit right between the eyes!

“Haha! Did you see that Mr. Lemonhead?”

Throwing stuff and hitting them was what she’d always been good at — something big sis had noticed and praised her for many times.

The next egg struck the bowtie on the statue’s head.

“Oops, almost missed,” she said, rubbing the back of her head.

“Let’s hurry it up,” the toy advised.

“Hmm, right.”

The next ten eggs flew in rapid succession.

None of them missed.

“Sorry sis,” she muttered, feeling a tinge of guilt at seeing the statue of her giant sister all covered in slimy yolk. Yuck.

Suddenly, she heard footsteps nearby which was her signal to run away and hide.

“Gotta hide now!”

 

 

 

“What is the meaning of this?!” a voice bellowed.

Rodrick, the sprout mole butler, had arrived in the scene and was mad.

Real mad.

Buttermilk hid behind a crate near the entrance to the castle, shaking from trying to hold back her laughter.

“Oh my. Lady Sweetheart must not see this! Go fetch buckets of water and clean this mess! Now!”

The path was clear.

All that’s left was to enter her sister’s chamber as planned.

 

---

 

“What’s the matter, Buttermilk? Aren’t you excited to be in your sis’ room again?” said Lemonhead as the elevator to the chamber ascended.

“I am.” Buttermilk let out a nervous chuckle. “But big sis will be mad if she catches us here. I’m just a little worried.”

“But she said she won’t be back until later tonight,” the toy said. “We’ll be out of her room by the time she gets back.”

“I guess so.” She looked at her shoes while huddling Mr. Lemonhead with a downcast expression. “It’d be way easier if she just lets us into her room herself. Why is big sis always so busy with adult stuff anyway?”

“Maybe ask her next time?” the toy suggested.

She sighed. “I don’t know if I want to.”

The elevator stopped and the doors parted. That was quick. A red carpet with a normal-sized statue of big sis (she had a lot of those in the castle) welcomed the duo as they walked out. Buttermilk’s eyes widened with glee.

“Finally!” she exclaimed. The little girl bolted past the statue and leaped right into the bed, throwing Mr. Lemonhead high up in the air, then bounced up to catch him. The two landed with a plop.

“It’s so soft!” Buttermilk cuddled with her best friend while enjoying the immensely satisfying feeling of swimming around in a huge, comfy bed. Her bed was nice too but this one was so much bigger and better than hers. She often wondered if she’d get bigger beds as she grew older and bigger.

“Hey, how about a pillow fight?” said the toy, wiggling his oversized lemon head adorably.

“Sure!”

A pillow fight ensued between the two, though Buttermilk was of course going to emerge as the winner since Mr. Lemonhead wasn’t good at all when it came to throwing stuff around. She really should help him become better at it some point.

“Ha! I win!”

“Good work, Buttermilk! You’re the best!”

Tired, she laid on the bed and almost let herself drift off to sleep. Buttermilk forced herself to jump off the bed, reminding herself that she can’t do that. There’s a table with a spread of food on it to their right which caught her attention immediately. Some fruits, chocolates, juices and… a strawberry cake.

“I’m sure big sis won’t notice if we just have a little.”

The toy nodded.

Sweets in general were Buttermilk’s favorite, but strawberry cake held a very special place in her heart. Strawberry cake was simply the most delicious and the best, end of story. Buttermilk sat herself and her friend in front of the table then very carefully, used a knife to cut a tiny slice and grabbed it with her own hand. The pink frosting stained her gloves but that wasn’t a problem because she could just wash it off later.

“Here it is,” she said, holding the slice right in front of her friend. She took a large bite from the cake and hummed in satisfaction.

“Amazing!” So sweet, moist, and flavorful, just as it should be.

She’d like to give Mr. Lemonhead a taste too but her best friend just wasn’t capable of eating and unlike throwing stuff, that skill can’t be taught. It’s just something you do and if you can’t eat, then you don’t have to learn. She’s sure Mr. Lemonhead was okay with it though.

Now, no proper snack was complete without a drink. Without looking, Buttermilk grabbed one of the cups next to the fruits and chugged its content down. So sweet… and bitter?  Buttermilk tilted her head. That’s weird. She’d never tasted that kind of juice before.

But it tasted good all the same, if a little bit strong.

Buttermilk downed the rest of the cake and yawned. Hmm? Why was she feeling sleepy all of a sudden? The little girl stumbled back into the bed, giggling.

“Mr. Lemonhead… I… don’t… feel so good. I’m just going take a little nap. Make sure to wake me up before big sis arrives, alright?”

She kissed her friend right on his big forehead. He liked that a lot.

“Sweet dreams, Buttermilk,” Mr. Lemonhead cooed.

 

---

 

Buttermilk woke up feeling completely refreshed. What a nice nap that was.

Her hand reached to her side. “Good morning, Mr. Lemonhead.”

Wait, where’s Mr. Lemonhead?

“Buttermilk.”

That voice.

She’s not in her room.

Wait, this was big sis’ room. It took a moment, but Buttermilk eyes grew wide as she remembered everything she and Mr. Lemonhead did.

“Buttermilk!”

Reluctantly, she raised her head. Big sis was standing right in front of her, brows furrowed and frowning.

“Oh my pancakes.” the little girl muttered as she twiddled her thumbs. She then gave her sister her warmest, most adorable smile. Her last line of defense.

Sweetheart’s frown deepened. “Oh no you won’t, that’s not going to work on me, young lady!” She sat down beside her. Buttermilk tried to escape but her sister’s hand gently pushed her back and prevented it. “Hmph. Seems like you had a lot of fun while I was gone, little sister. Care to share what you’ve been up to?”

Buttermilk gulped.

 

Chapter 8: The Lost Forest

Buttermilk was thrown off her feet as the shaking of the room grew more vigorous, forcing her to thrust her staff into the ground and hold on tight to keep herself from falling.

“Omori, what’s going on?!”

“We need to get out of here.”

Omori sprang from his spot and grabbed her hand, using his other hand that held the knife to stab at the wall. “Move closer and grab the wall,” he commanded.

She latched on to Omori’s arm and withdrew her staff — making it vanish into thin air —and began inching her way closer to the wall as small rocks started falling from above.  The sands shifted and the whole room lurched to the side. Buttermilk took her chance and jumped forward, grabbing on to a sizable piece of rock jutting out of the wall. As the sands flowed downward like in an hourglass and cracks began to manifest on the stone floor, she realized that the whole top floor was on the brink of total collapse. No, not just the top floor, but the entire pyramid itself. After purifying the source of the dark aura that enveloped the pyramid, it must have caused some sort of reaction within. Buttermilk gritted her teeth. That’s not what’s supposed to happen! Did they act too late and ran out of time?

Omori stabbed and slashed at the wall before them.

A huge part of the ceiling just caved in, dust filling the air.

Buttermilk saw what he was trying to do and summoned the staff again, whacking at the wall with renewed strength. Every impact made her bones rattle in pain, but she kept going anyway, alternating with Omori as they attacked the wall in turns. Just bear with it, she told herself. Everything’s going to be okay.

A crack.

With one last strike, the wall finally collapsed outward; bricks falling and crashing down.

Dread filled Buttermilk’s eyes as she looked down. “That’s a long way down! We’re not going to make it if we jump! We’re going to die!”

“We won’t.” There’s not a hint of stress nor fear in his face as he spoke. “Look.” He pointed to the sky. Wait, a flying rock?

Squinting her eyes, she recognized the thing headed their way as Pluto — Captain Spaceboy’s favorite planet who served for a time at her sister’s castle.

And with him were three other kids.

Buttermilk gasped.

“OVER HEEEEERE OMORI!” cried the boy hanging on to Pluto’s leg.  

The girl had a big smile in her face “OMORI! WE’RE COMING!”

The older boy waved with both hands as Pluto hovered beneath them. “Omori! Buttermilk! You’re going to have to jump!”

Jump?

Buttermilk began to panic. “We c-can’t! What if we miss?! Tell them to come closer!”

Another crash. Most of the floor had just collapsed; a gaping hole in its place.

Omori simply shook his head. “We won’t.” He grabbed her by the waist; their bodies pressed against each other, taking her completely by surprise. Buttermilk fought to break free but Omori held her tighter.

“WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!”

Omori bent his legs down — like a loaded spring — and prepared to make the jump. “Getting us out of here.”

“W-WAIT, I’M NOT YET—"

Buttermilk’s feet left the ground midsentence and they fell towards Pluto and the others. A boulder crashed into the ground where they were just mere seconds ago.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!”

The fall lasted for about a second, and they landed right on top of Pluto’s head. Buttermilk’s hands were still shaking as they held on to Omori, not daring to let go.

“Good work, kids,” said Pluto, his voice deep and booming. “Now let’s get out of here,” he said, soaring into the sky with great speed. Buttermilk closed her eyes, taking deep breaths, trying her best to calm down.

Omori’s hand brushed her shoulder. “We’re safe now. Just take it easy.” It’s strange, but hearing those words had an immediate effect on her — like a huge weight had been lifted off her back. Buttermilk opened her eyes, and found that her fear was gone. She still felt woozy, but had at least regained some semblance of composure. Slowly, she let go of Omori’s arm and settled to the left side of Pluto’s head.  

“Where are we going?” she asked softly.

Pluto went silent for a time. Then with a somber tone, he spoke. “Buttermilk, do you want to see what happened back at your sister’s castle?”

Buttermilk tilted her head. “Huh? The castle?”

“Wait, we can’t go back there!” cried the purple-haired girl, who Buttermilk guessed to be Aubrey, whose name she remembered from Mari’s stories.

“Yeah, we barely just escaped last time!” said Kel, the younger boy, narrowing his eyes. He’s apparently the most rambunctious of the bunch. Buttermilk didn’t mind people like those as long as she didn’t  get involved in their antics.

“Easy, we won’t go back in there,” said Pluto. “But Buttermilk here should be aware of what happened — it concerns her sister after all. We’ll stop by at a safe distance.”

“Yeah, Buttermilk deserves to know, guys,” said Hero, the older boy.

Omori nodded in agreement.

She shifted slightly, her eyes widening with fear. “My sister? What happened to her?!” Her chest tightened with every breath and heartbeat, teeth clenched, waiting for someone to say something.

Pluto cleared his throat. “I think it would be better to see for yourself, princess. Now hold on tight,” he said, adopting a new stance, before speeding off to the horizon, flying towards Pyrefly Forest.

 

---

 

They landed at an elevated spot of land in the forest. Everyone had already jumped off Pluto except for Buttermilk, who remained in her spot, gazing at the castle in the distance with terrified eyes.

The entire castle and its surrounding areas; all of it had been consumed by the darkness. It wasn’t the same aura of darkness that permeated the exterior of the pyramid before, but rather a stronger, more pervasive cloud of thick, black mist that coiled around the castle like a massive snake throttling its prey.

Buttermilk’s whole body went stiff. She was so caught up in what she saw that she didn’t even notice herself sliding off from the top of Pluto’s head, falling down headfirst into the ground.

“Gotcha!”

Thankfully, the older boy reacted quickly and managed to save her from a very painful — and potentially very dangerous — fall. He placed her down on the grass gently, examined her face with a puzzled expression, then touched her forehead with the back of his hand.

“You must be in shock,” he said. “Your temperature seems normal though.”

The other three crowded around them but Hero shooed them away.

“T-Thanks.”

Hero’s lips produced a half-smile. Buttermilk’s cheeks blushed a little as she gazed at him; her heart beating erratically as he held her in his arms. She can see why her sister instantly fell in love with the guy.

Omori was still more handsome though.

Buttermilk squeezed her eyes shut in embarrassment. No. Darn intrusive thoughts! She didn’t like him that way. Perish the thought, foolish girl. There are far more important things to worry about right now.

Kel and Aubrey were in the middle of an argument while Omori sat on a rock, arms crossed, thinking of something. She got up on her feet. “Tell me everything.”

“Hmm, where to begin?” said the older boy, leaning on a tree. “I suppose it all started back when we got out of our cell this morning.” He glanced at Omori and gave him an apologetic look. “I know you and Sweetheart had an agreement regarding our release once the mission is done, but we couldn’t just sit there and do nothing, not when our friend Basil is still out there missing.  So we broke out of the dungeon, sneaked past most of the guards in the castle, and made it all the way to the courtyard. That’s when we saw it — that same black mist you saw just now. It wasn’t as bad as it is now but by the time we got there, the courtyard has almost been overtaken by it. If it wasn’t for Pluto swooping in and flying all of us out there, we would’ve been caught up in it too.”

“My sis, what happened to her?”

Hero paused and shifted in his spot, carefully considering what he was about to say next. “What I’m about to say might be a little… hard to believe.”

Buttermilk narrowed her eyes. “Look, me and Omori fought this weird marshmallow thing in the Deep Well just earlier today and got our butts kicked. At this point I can believe just about anything. Try me.”

“Er, you fought what?”

“Stop stalling!” she snapped, glaring at him.

“Oh, um, sorry.” Hero rubbed the back of his head and looked to Omori, who just shrugged with a deadpan expression, as if silently telling him to just get it over with. “Sweetheart came out of the castle entrance and chased after us with a small group of sprout moles. She seemed very mad.  Just when Pluto was about to take off with us in tow, Sweetheart did something with that flail of hers, and then,” Hero paused, avoiding her eyes. “She…sucked some of the mist in the air into herself, transforming into a… six foot tall shadow version of herself. Pluto was about to take off, but Sweetheart suddenly appeared right before us and struck Pluto in the leg.”

The planet pointed to his leg, showing a small chip in his left leg. Buttermilk saw traces of dark particles in it and frowned.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” said Pluto. “Just a graze, hardly an injury. While Sweetheart gained incredible speed after absorbing the mist, she was still no match against the might and speed of a planet! Before she can launch her next attack, I grabbed the kids and flew away from the castle in the blink of an eye!”

“M-My sis…six foot tall shadow version…w-what?” Buttermilk stammered, raising an eyebrow.

“We saw how the mist affected the other sprout moles in the garden,” Aubrey chimed in. “They fell into a trance as soon as it touched them, but not Sweetheart.”

“Yeah,” said Kel, hopping over to them. “Sweetheart was not only immune to that nasty stuff,  she can also control it! Though we really shouldn’t be surprised, considering how evil her soul is!”

Aubrey swiftly smacked him in the head, causing the boy to let out a yelp. “Ow! What the heck?!”

“Kel! Buttermilk’s right here! Don’t be insensitive!” she reprimanded.

“Hey, I’m just telling it like it is! No offense, Buttermilk, but your sister put us through so much these last two days. The cell she locked us up in, it smelled like rotten tofu! And now she’s going to use that nasty black mist to destroy everything! What a monster!”

“Kel, we don’t even know what she’s planning,” said Hero.

“No, the boy has a point,” said Pluto. He sat down and brought himself on level with the others. “It’s clear that the mist originated from the castle, and now it’s spreading to other locations as we speak. We saw how it negatively affected the sprout moles and the inhabitants of Orange Oasis. Stopping Sweetheart might be just what we need to do to stop the spread of this plague and save everyone.”

Buttermilk fumed. “Are you saying that my sister caused all of this? We don’t even know that for sure! I’m sure she’s a victim in this too!”

“Yeah, right.” said Kel. “All she ever did was make life difficult for others. I bet it’s part of a plan to make everyone her mindless slave.”

His brother shot him a glare. “Kel, that’s enough.”

Buttermilk was going to say something in protest but the words vanished from her as soon as she opened her mouth. She looked away, filled with shame. This was bad. After everything her sister did to Omori’s friends, would they be willing to help her save her?

A myriad different questions and doubts assaulted Buttermilk’s mind. Was Sweetheart really behind this? But that power — that wasn’t from her sister at all. In all the years they’ve been together, Sweetheart had never used any dark magic before, assuming the mist was a product of that and not some mysterious, alien power that suddenly appeared out of nowhere one day.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned, expecting to find Omori, only to see Hero behind her, smiling. “I know you’re worried about your sister. Whatever happens, we’ll be right here with you, understand? You and your sister must be close to each other, right? We don’t know how and why she’s doing all of this, but if there’s anyone who can reason with her, someone who can make her see the error of her ways and get her to stop whatever she’s doing, I think it’s you, Buttermilk.”

Kel frowned. “Hey guys, what about Basil? Are we just going to forget about him?!”

“Of course not!” said Aubrey. She sounded unsure. “But this…this is serious. We can’t just ignore what’s happening right before our eyes.”

Hero put a thumb on his chin, thoughtful. “I’m sure we’ll cross paths with Basil along the way. We’re not abandoning him, guys. Look at it this way. By fixing this mess, we’re making sure that nothing bad happens to everyone, and that includes Basil.”

Omori nodded. “It’s decided then.” He turned to Buttermilk and made eye contact with her for the longest time. Buttermilk shuffled around, feeling uncomfortable under his gaze. She’d been with Omori for a while now, but she still can’t get a good read on him most of the time. “We’ll help you save your sister and stop this mess.”

Buttermilk sighed in relief. Without thinking, she went up to the boy and gave him a hug. “T-Thanks.” Omori’s body was stiff and cold. He didn’t hug back.

“Ooooh, what’s this?” said Kel, chuckling. “Aubrey, looks like you got some competition with Buttermilk!”

She smacked the boy in the head again, glaring daggers at him.

“Ow!”

“Shut up, Kel! It’s just a friendly hug. Don’t make it awkward, you idiot!”

“Now’s really not the time for this, guys,” said Hero in a stern voice.

Buttermilk ignored them. She let go of Omori, made her way to a tree away from the others, and sat beneath it, watching the thick, billowing mist surrounding the castle in concentrated amounts. No, that couldn’t have come from Sweetheart. She’s still not convinced that this was her sister’s doing, but she can’t deny what Hero and the others saw. In that moment, she felt anger, confusion, exhaustion, and a plethora of many other unpleasant feelings, swirling within her like a raging tempest, threatening to devour her. She wanted so badly to cry right then and there and scream her lungs out, but held herself from doing so. No, she can’t afford to make a scene in front of the others.

“We’ll scout the area surrounding the castle to find points of weaknesses,” said Pluto, flexing beneath a huge tree.”But before that, we need to get some rest. There’s a mighty tough battle ahead of us, kids. We need to be thoroughly prepared for what’s coming! Understand?!”

Everybody nodded.

I’m so…tired.

Buttermilk felt her eyelids growing heavier, so she closed her eyes, and with a yawn, surrendered herself to sleep.

 

---

 

An oppressive darkness shrouded Buttermilk like a wet cloth covering her face. The horrid experience lasted for a few seconds, robbing her not only of her sight, but of her other senses as well. Her first instinct was to flail around like a fish out of water, desperate to touch, to feel something.

“Omori?!”

Nobody answered.

“Anybody?!”

Her cries were consumed by the darkness.

She began to panic and scream.

Then a blinding flash of light erupted all around her.

When she next opened her eyes, she stood in an area filled with thick fog and withered, gnarly trees that towered over her. Buttermilk collapsed on her knees — hands around her neck — gasping for breath and sputtering. Darn. For a moment back there, she thought she was dead; lost in an unending vacuum of darkness.

The air was cold and uninviting. Buttermilk wrapped her arms around her to keep herself warm and wandered around, on the lookout for any signs of life. She’s certain that she’s still in the same forest but at the same time, she got the impression that this area was different from the rest. Like a special place created to harbor some sort of dark secret. Something dangerous. With that in mind, Buttermilk summoned her staff.

Nothing.

“What?”

She tried again.

Nothing.

“Crap.”

Buttermilk scowled and stomped her foot in frustration. Why can’t she summon the darn thing?

Her ears perked up as she detected footsteps nearby.

“Omori?! Is that you?” she called.

Buttermilk cautiously tracked the sound to its source only to meet a translucent bunny, staring at her with its milky white eyes that gleamed faintly. It hopped and phased right through her, then suddenly vanished without a trace, like a ghost — a phantom bunny. What was it with bunnies of all kinds running unrestrained everywhere?

Something occurred to her. If this was a dream, then hurting herself would surely bring her back to the waking world, wouldn’t it? It’s worth a try. Buttermilk raised her right hand and with it, swiftly struck herself in the face.

SLAP

“Hnrgh.” Ouch. Too strong. Guess this wasn’t a dream. Or maybe it was? Her mind was an utter mess. Maybe it’s even the same kind of illusion as what that beast in the train put her under before. Another nightmare. Buttermilk clutched her left cheek and cursed.

She needed to get out of this place fast. Buttermilk picked random paths as she walked, nervously craning her neck left and right to check for anything suspicious, praying that nothing nasty was waiting for her right around the next corner. Without her weapon, she was completely defenseless. Running was her only option should something dangerous present itself. If there was one thing Buttermilk hated more than anything, it’s feeling weak and helpless before a threat that was about to tear you apart. She scowled, ejecting the grisly thought out of her mind.

Buttermilk shivered, her teeth clenched in an attempt to stop them from clattering. So cold. The farther she got, the more hopeless it all seemed to her. After a while, she decided to sit under a tree — taller and probably older than most — to rest her legs. It’s one creepy-looking tree too, with slender vines that trailed and twisted from its roots like snakes, spreading upwards to the trunk, and reaching all the way to the top.

A fuzzy silhouette appeared in the periphery of her vision. Squinting hard, she saw the shadow of a tall man wearing a top hat, with legs as tall as her entire height. He seemed to be watching her.

Ah, screw it. With legs like those, he could easily catch up to her even if she ran away. No point in running now. Maybe he’s dangerous, maybe he’s not; it’s a risk she’s going to have to take if she wanted to find a way out of this place.

“H-Hello,” she said. Buttermilk tried her best to not to show any signs of fear, adopting a straight and confident posture as she approached the man, who tacitly acknowledged her presence with a slight bow of his head.

“Welcome to the Lost Forest,” said the tall man in a deep, yet gentle voice.

Buttermilk tilted her head. “The Lost Forest?”

The tall man swayed ever so slightly. “Here in The Lost Forest, you’ll find things that you never knew were lost in the first place.”

“Tell me, am I in a dream?”

“A dream? In a sense,” the man said. “Regardless, you’ve come here searching for the truth, yes?”

“I have no idea what you’re saying. I’m not here for the truth or whatever, I just want a way out of this creepy forest!”

“You wish to leave? I can do that.” The man paused, examining her with his two black eyes that glowed dully. Those strange, otherworldly eyes made Buttermilk feel like she had caught a glimpse of the deepest abyss. “But due to the unique nature of your circumstances, I suggest that you remain here for now, at least, until you’ve heard the story I’m about to tell you.”

“A story?”

The mist coiled around the man like sentient tendrils, rising and settling on his face, giving him a sort of an eerie look. Buttermilk instinctively stepped back. “I should clarify, however, that what you’re about to hear does not contain the full truth of the situation. That is something you must find on your own. Perhaps you might chance upon it at the end of your journey. Nevertheless, I can give you a fragment of the whole picture, should you wish to hear it. Will you accept my gift?”

Buttermilk blinked and thought about it for some time. Guess there’s no harm in hearing him out. “Go ahead.”

“Very well.”

 

---

 

A long time ago, a young girl from the desert grew tired of her lot in life. To be tied down and have no control over one’s future is a terrible thing indeed, and the girl was keenly aware of it. She yearned for greatness. For something better.

 

Driven by her unrelenting ambition, she embarked on a journey with her lover to seek a greater power. One that could help make her dreams come true.

 

The journey was long and unforgiving, filled with uncertainties and hardships. A weaker mind would have given up easily, but the girl did not waver. She was determined see it through no matter the cost.

 

After a year of travel, the girl and her lover finally found what they were looking for — a guardian, both ancient and powerful, who lived deep in the forest. She begged on her knees before him, desperate to claim her prize.

 

Impressed by the girl’s determination and sheer strength of will, the guardian decided to grant her wishes.

 

Power

 

Wealth

 

Fame

 

Authority

 

A Place to call Home

 

At long last, the girl finally got the things she desired.

 

Or so it seemed.

 

She lacked one thing. It gnawed at her very being like rust to a metal. Kept her sleepless at night. And so years after their first encounter, she sought audience with the guardian once more, who now dwelled in a dungeon deep within her castle.

 

The guardian already knew what she would ask for. Such an important request demanded a heavy sacrifice. A contract she must sign in exchange for her wish.

 

The girl accepted the guardian’s terms and signed the contract with her blood. She got what she asked for, though not in the form she expected. All was well.

 

Now, contracts are sacred.

 

Their importance cannot be understated. They cannot be broken.

 

Doing so would bring catastrophe the likes which this world hasn’t seen since its creation.

 

My child, a heavy burden has been placed upon you.

 

An important task that only you can perform.

 

Your journey so far has led you here — not by coincidence, but by design.

 

A disaster has been unleashed, threatening to consume everything and plunge the world into ruin.

 

As punishment for breaching that contract.

 

To cleanse this world and face the truth that awaits you at the end of your journey — that is your burden.

 

Four areas have already been afflicted by the blight. With the help of the boy, his friends, and your newfound power of purification, you must extinguish the source of the blight in each area and stop it from spreading further. I must warn you however. Do not, under any circumstances, attempt to brave the dangers of the castle before dealing with the other areas first.

 

Doing so would lead to certain death. For you, and your companions.

 

Time is running out, child.

 

You must hurry if you want to save your sister.

 

Good luck.

Chapter 9: Omori

Tall flames shot up from the ground like geysers as the man finished his story, bathing the dark forest in an ethereal glow of blue and orange. Calming, but also threatening. Buttermilk stepped back, speechless. The total absence of heat in the air as sparks flew by made the phenomenon much more unnerving than it had any right to be.

Buttermilk reached out. “Wait!” she called. “I still have questions!”

The man slowly shook his head and leaned forward. “Ah… but I have already told you much. One can only pour so much before the cup starts to overflow. Once there was a vast library in this forest, boasting the largest collection of stories in the land. An archive of knowledge unlike any other. Such a shame that the structure fell victim to the ravages of time and sank deep below the earth where it remains lost to this day, but I digress. All stories follow a natural structure. A beginning , middle, and an end. While there is thrill in skipping ahead and taking a peek at the last page, poring over every line to seek hidden truths might make for a more rewarding experience, I think.”

Buttermilk gasped, sensing the implication of his words. “Are you saying that I missed something?”

The man started to fade as the flames consumed him, sending soot swirling through the air, though his imminent demise didn’t seem to bother him at all. “Proper inquiry is as much about asking the right questions to the right person as it is simply asking the right questions. Remember this, and you will never be lost. ”

“HEY! WAIT!”

And just like that, he was gone. Vanished without trace.

She slumped on the ground and dug her fingers in the damp forest soil, seething. What’s the point of being so darn cryptic? Buttermilk took a few deep breaths to calm herself down, staring vacuously at her still-shaking hands, caked with filthy mud. What did it all mean? There was still much that she didn’t understand.

Stuck in a state between mindfulness and sleep, thoughts drifting in a chaotic pattern, the girl reluctantly stood up and finally made her way towards the previously-obstructed path that conveniently opened up after the tall man disappeared. She had no idea how long it’s been since she wandered off, having no recollection how she even got into that part of the forest in the first place. One thing was clear, however: It wasn’t a dream.

Dead leaves fell on her head — brought forth by a strong breeze from the west — as she passed through the entrance of an enormous clearing, which she recognized as the very same area where she and Omori fended off an assault against those horde of bunny spiders and plants nearly two days ago.  Buttermilk slumped on the ground and let out a dry chuckle, realizing the sheer absurdity of her situation. It wasn’t that long ago when she wished for more time to spend with Omori and see what the world had to offer.

It looked like she’s getting that wish after all, for better or worse.

Sis, what have you done?

The thick blanket of mist had disappeared from the air by now, giving a clear view of what’s beyond. Buttermilk’s eyes widened when she saw the figure standing right in front of her.

Omori. Arms crossed and posture stiff, as though expecting her to come out in that exact moment. How long had he been there? Buttermilk cringed as shame surged within her. It was the same kind of guilt she felt whenever her sister caught her doing something she wasn’t supposed to do. Stoic though he was, Buttermilk saw a faint gleam of disappointment in his eyes as she approached him slowly.

“About time,” he said.

“I… a lot has happened—” Buttermilk trailed off, noticing that the sky had already brightened. Shoot. “I don’t know how I wound up in there,” she said, frantically gesturing to the trees behind. “…Sorry.”

He gave her a curt nod. “The others are waiting for us. Let’s go,” he said, turning his back on her and walking off without a hint of concern, leaving her behind. Again.

Typical Omori.

Buttermilk huffed a breath in annoyance as they walked, reaching the center of the clearing. A flock of white birds fluttered in the air above them, giving a misplaced, unsettling serenity to the place — like a beautiful and intricate flower carved on a charred piece of wood.

“I said I was sorry! Not even going to ask if I’m okay?”

“You seem okay to me,” he said in a deadpan voice — but putting slight emphasis on the “okay” to make his displeasure clearly known to her. Jerk.

Buttermilk narrowed her eyes and frowned, but decided to let it go since there were more pressing matters at hand. “I met a tall man earlier,” she said. Can she really do this right now? By sharing what she heard, she would be acknowledging that it was indeed Sweetheart who started this whole mess, condemning the world to ruin. Though still lacking many vital pieces of the puzzle, she knew that her sister committed an unknown act that broke the terms of a contract she made with a powerful being, the Keeper of the Castle, which unleashed a great evil that ended up choosing her as its primary vessel, giving her some degree of control over the thing that’s terrorizing the lands.

She had to do this. After this, maybe he can help me tell the others too.

Omori stopped, turning to her with a look that urged her to go on. He must’ve sensed her hesitation, for he sat on a rock right under the shade of a tree and gestured for her to do likewise, so that they faced each other. “All right then, what happened?” he asked calmly.

“He told me  a story about my sister… back when she was younger,” she continued. “I’m still not sure what to make of it all, but pretty sure it’s relevant to whatever the heck’s going on right now. I’d like to hear your thoughts about it.” And so, Buttermilk recounted the tall man’s story to him word for word with perfect accuracy, not missing a thing. If there’s anything she was proud of other than her charming personality and unparalleled beauty, it was her supreme and totally flawless memory  — an asset that had helped her more times than she can count. Buttermilk figured out early on that whenever she closed her eyes and focused, in a place free from any distractions, she can recall almost everything as though she was physically present in the past, vividly experiencing the moment with the full aid of her five senses. The skill proved especially invaluable in her studies where large volumes of information needed to be retained, giving her ample time for play and doing whatever she fancied because with a memory like hers, she never needed to study much.

Omori listened intently without interrupting, letting her speak for as long as she felt she needed. When she was done, the boy stood up with an inscrutable expression and walked away, arms crossed and head tilted up as if pondering the meaning of life itself, eyes focused on something far up in the purple sky. Buttermilk squinted and spotted a black dot right next to the Otherworld; faintly visible yet noticeable enough to raise confusion over what it was.

“What is it?” she asked, pointing her finger at it.

Omori shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.”

She’d known Omori long enough to tell that whatever it was, it did bother him, even if he won’t admit it. Just like back in the train, she thought. She decided not to press further. Buttermilk cleared her throat. “The story? What do you think?”

An aggressive spider bunny jumped out from behind a bush and hissed, causing Buttermilk to jump back — not in fear, but as a reflex. Omori, more experienced with facing surprises than she was, stood his ground and whipped out his knife, then slashed at the monster, ending it with barely an effort. The hint of fear she saw in him back when they first traversed this forest and happened upon those creatures was completely absent this time.

He turned to her, emotionless. “We cannot trust the words of a stranger.”

Though Omori didn’t talk much, his words often carried weight in a way that when he says something, there’s a definitive point to it — like he’s proclaiming truth itself, free from doubts and uncertainties. Buttermilk sensed something else this time. A hidden meaning.

“You were a stranger too not even two days ago,” she said.

Omori did not react.

Buttermilk clasped her hands behind her back and squeezed.

Proper inquiry is as much about asking the right questions to the right person as it is simply asking the right questions.

Was it right in front of her all along?

Buttermilk shifted uncomfortably. It’s time to address the fat sprout mole in the room. “Did you know that this was going to happen?” she asked.

Omori gave her an incredulous look like she just asked something profoundly stupid.  “Elaborate.”

“The mission…just what exactly did my sister ask you to do?”

“Escort you to the Oasis and make sure you’re safe along the way. What else was there—"

“No. What did she really ask you to do?” she interrupted. “The truth. Tell me.”

“That is the truth.”

She snorted. “I doubt that.”

Without thinking, Buttermilk grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to look at her right in the eyes. Omori did not flinch.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” she said. “Why did my sister wait for you before sending me out of the castle? Pluto could have done the job much faster.” She remembered asking the same question to Sweetheart shortly before they left, but her sister just shrugged and turned her back on her. She hadn’t given it thought since then.

She remembered Mari’s words.

The fact that he assigned my little brother to protect you and not just anyone means that she wanted to get you to Orange Oasis as safely as possible.

Buttermilk didn’t question it at the time because she didn’t want to doubt Mari’s words right in front of her face, but between Pluto and Omori, surely the former would’ve been more suitable, right? The sky was his domain after all. Sweetheart must have a more important reason why she specifically wanted Omori to escort her.

Omori walked up to her, not breaking eye contact. Silence filled the air as the two stared at each other. “You think I haven’t been honest with you.”

Buttermilk stood her ground. “Think? No. I know. You’re hiding something.”

Sweat rolled down Buttermilk’s forehead as the tension intensified between them.

“Can’t say anything? Fine. Let me approach this from a different angle. I noticed that when we were about to reach the Oasis that you’ve been acting kinda weird. More talkative and nicer than usual, in fact. Remember what you told me about being a proper adventurer and how I shouldn't beat myself up for past mistakes? I suppose you had a good reason for telling me that huh? Why bring that up just when our journey’s about to reach its end? Unless… you knew something was coming and wanted to prepare me for it.”

The logic wasn’t completely flawless but her instincts told her she was on the right path.

Omori remained silent, his dark eyes unreadable.

“Say something!” she snapped. “If we’re going to be working together until the end, I need to know whatever it is you’re not telling, so speak up …please. I’ve been open to you about pretty much everything, so why can’t you do the same, huh?!” Anger and desperation mixed and swelled within her, threatening to overtake her.

He looked up in the sky — not at the mysterious black spot, but towards the direction where the castle stood. “There’s still time before Pluto gets back from scouting.”

“What?”

“There’s still time.”

“For what?!”

Omori crossed his arms and on his face was a faintly perceptible smile. Buttermilk blinked, and then it was gone.  “A fight. You and me. If you win, I’ll tell you everything. How’s that?”

So he admits that he’s hiding the truth.

Her eyes went wide with disbelief. “Don’t be an idiot, Omori. Just tell me. Don’t make things any more difficult than it has to be.”

Omori shook his head, adorning a smug expression that made her want to punch his face. “What’s wrong? Afraid that you’ll realize just how inexperienced and weak you are?”

The words stung like nasty ant bites. Buttermilk hesitated, then slowly, pointed the staff right at him, frowning. “You’re way too cocky for your own good, knife boy. Fine. I accept. What are the rules?”

Omori took the knife out of his pocket, holding it up to his face. “Three hits. First one to get hit thrice loses.” Then swiftly, Omori threw the knife on the ground with enough force that only the handle can be seen afterwards; the rest of it had embedded itself deep in the forest soil. “I won’t need it,” he said calmly.

This caught her off guard. “You messing with me?! What’s your game here?”

“Don’t misunderstand,” he said, stretching his arms. “This fight isn’t going to be a serious one, so there’s no need to use it.” He stated it as a matter of fact, without any hint of arrogance.

She tilted her head. “Should I not use the staff then?”

“I suggest that you do if you want to stand a fair chance at winning.”

Buttermilk glared at him.

There’s a faint smirk plastered on Omori’s face that only succeeded in making her more mad than she already was. “Don’t hold back, Buttermilk,” he said in what was probably his most condescending voice yet. Any other time, she would have been happy to hear him say her name while smiling, but right now…

Buttermilk clenched her fist and shook it at him in a display of defiance. Omori’s easily the better fighter between the two of them — she knew that, and was in under no delusion otherwise. Still, she won’t back down. Knife boy needed to learn a very important lesson. You don’t mock Buttermilk and get away with it. She’s going to give him a darn good fight at the very least.

This came out of nowhere, she thought. Omori had intentionally provoked her to get her to accept the fight — and he succeeded — but why? Was this some sort of secret test?

She prepared herself by doing some quick stretches. “So, when do we start?”

Omori pointed to a brown leaf being carried by the wind. “As soon as that leaf touches the ground.”

Time slowed to a crawl as Buttermilk eyed the leaf with nervous anticipation. She needed to be ready as soon as the leaf touches the ground but knowing Omori, he’ll be the first to strike with his speed advantage. Emptying her thoughts and focusing on the leaf as it danced in the air, she took a deep breath.

Don’t let your thoughts overwhelm you, her sprout mole trainer always said.  She was taught that any thinking or planning was best done before the fight itself. Once you’re in one, instinct and reflexes became more important.

Just as she predicted, the moment the leaf made contact with the ground, Omori dashed across the field and closed in on her. Buttermilk threw herself forward and did a circular sweep with the staff, sending dead leaves, twigs, and hardened bits of mud in his direction. The boy sidestepped all of them with ease, but Buttermilk was onto him, determined not to give him an opening to dodge or strike back. With the staff in her right hand, Buttermilk leaned forward and thrusted, but Omori caught it around the tip without much effort. She followed it up with a jab using her free hand. In response, Omori twisted the staff, throwing her off balance and making her miss, then he leaped backwards to create some distance between them.

Immense pain shot up in her arm that had gotten twisted along with the staff, paralyzing her body momentarily. She hissed.

The orbs.

No, she won’t use them. She can’t. He did tell her not to hold back, but there’s a very real chance that she could fatally injure, or even end up killing him if she did use them against him.

Remember, he made the decision not to use the knife. It’s just a game, so don’t get carried away.

A crafty smile formed on her lips. Doesn’t mean I can’t use my other spells, however.

She had to make her next move fast as Omori made his approach.  Twirling her staff and drawing the corresponding symbol for the ice spell, she positioned herself between a puddle and Omori, ready to freeze his socks off. It’s safe to use so long as she just aimed for his feet.

Omori saw it coming and jumped.

Buttermilk’s expression was one of pure disbelief. In a single bound, Omori had managed to perch on top of the tree behind her, snapping a thick branch by stomping it on it, then hurled it down at her — all within the span of seconds. Heart racing, Buttermilk deflected the branch with her staff, shattering it to pieces.

Omori nimbly landed behind her and delivered the first strike — though it was hardly a strike, and more of a playful slap on the back.

“That’s one,” he said, his voice dripping with mockery. “Try to keep up.”

Buttermilk cursed as he backed off to give her some space to recover. He thinks I’m going to lose so badly that he’s in no hurry to win, she thought bitterly.

“What’s with that strike?! Are you insulting me?” In her anger, she struck the tree behind her with the staff — held in both hands — raining about a dozen dead leaves on them. Omori caught one and crushed it in his hand.

“I told you not to hold back,” he said, sprinkling the remnants of the crushed leaf on the ground. “Why have you not used the light orbs yet?”

“Idiot!” she snapped, clenching her fist. “’It’s not a fight to the death,’” she said, mimicking his monotone voice, then she picked up a stick and threw it the same way he threw his knife earlier, just for good measure. “So tell me, why would I use my most destructive and powerful spell against you?” That was a lie of course. The light orb spell wasn’t the most destructive nor powerful spell in her arsenal, not by a long shot, but Omori didn’t need to know that. Buttermilk was losing her patience, fast. By now, she’s starting suspect that this little match was a ploy by Omori to annoy her until she got fed up and ran away from the group.

Forget hearing the truth from Omori. Right now, Buttermilk just wanted to kick his butt. She shifted into her battle stance — arms stretched out with the staff held at an angle. “Do your worst, knife boy.”

“Gladly.”

Omori ran towards her at full speed, pausing for a moment once he got close enough, before delivering a swift roundhouse kick which Buttermilk blocked with her weapon. The impact was strong enough to send her clumsily backing away in rapid steps, in the direction of the same tree from earlier.

Omori threw a punch.

She blocked it.

He threw several more punches her way.

She blocked them all the same without fail.

The sounds of their clash echoed throughout the forest like the irregular beating of a dying heart. Metal and bone collided against each other, punctuated by gasps and heavy breaths, though those were purely from her. Omori showed no signs of exhaustion. Not a single drop of sweat, even.

Omori was relentless. He pressed on, leaving her with no opening. Unlike that deliberately pathetic tap he gave earlier, every punch had a weight to it, threatening to throw her off balance the moment she messes up her footwork. His face bore a slight expression of pity.

“Is this what you asked for?”

“Shut up and fight.”

“You’ve improved much these past two days. You should be proud.”

“Don’t patronize me!”

In a desperate attempt to gain the upper hand, Buttermilk released the staff right after blocking another strong kick with it and then hurled herself forward, clumsily grabbing on to Omori’s shirt with trembling hands. The instability caused by their combined weight was enough to send them careering downward. Buttermilk used the momentum to her advantage, swinging her head back in the middle of the fall while keeping her hold on Omori, before smashing it with great force against his nose in time with their bodies hitting the ground. Blood spurted from Omori’s nose and some of it got in her hair, much to her disgust.

Buttermilk quickly sat on his chest to keep him pinned on the ground. Despite the copious amount of blood dripping from his nose, Omori didn’t seem fazed at all, as though he’s experienced this sort of thing many times before. “That’s one,” she muttered through labored breaths. Though Omori ended up cushioning much of the impact, her bones and muscles were still screaming in agony. Grimacing, she raised her fist with the intention of bringing it down on Omori’s side to score another point. “Here’s another.”

But of course, that would’ve been too easy.

Omori pushed her off of him and to her utter surprise, kicked her right in the stomach.

Buttermilk screamed, hugging her stomach while curled on the ground, on the verge of tears. The pain was unlike any she’d felt before.

Omori’s shadow loomed over her. “Get up.”

Her fingers dug at the soil as she did her best to catch her breath. Looking up and seeing Omori like that, standing before her with an inscrutable expression, blood dripping from his face — it struck fear in her heart. For the first time since they were together, Buttermilk was afraid of Omori. She knew he was stronger and more skilled than her, but the difference in their abilities and experience had never been more apparent until now. Buttermilk shuddered to think what could’ve happened if Omori used the knife for this match.

“Get up,” he repeated with a harsher edge in his voice, wiping the blood off his face with the back of his hand.

Buttermilk gritted her teeth, frustrated that she didn’t see the attack coming. She spat on the ground, whispering something inaudible to him.

“Giving up already?”

There’s no hint of malice or provocation in the question; it sounded like he’s genuinely confused as to why she’s lying there like she’s already been beaten.

Buttermilk got up on her feet, still weak. She staggered forward and summoned her staff to help her keep her balance as she approached Omori.

“Hit me,” he said firmly.

“What?”

Omori held out a hand, palm facing forward. “Hit me,” he repeated.

“What kind of idiot do you take me for?” she snapped. How dare he lay such an obvious trap in front of her?

“Don’t hesitate,” he said. “Just do it. To make things more…interesting.”

“Interesting? Since when did you care about making things more interesting?!” she scoffed. “You look like a bored cat most of the time. Don’t think you can—”

In her carelessness, her finger accidentally jabbed Omori’s arm. To her surprise, Omori had closed the distance between them in an instant.

He traced his finger to where she had just touched it and smirked. Seeing her getting all flustered like this must be a great source of enjoyment for him, the colossal jerk. “There. Another point for you. Whoever wins the next round shall be the victor.”

As though sensing the rage within her, the winds blew more violently. “Y-You!” she yelled. “That doesn’t count! You tricked me! How dare you trick me!”

Buttermilk was well aware that she was starting to lose her cool, acting on her emotions rather than logic. What’s the point if he’s just going to let her get easy points?

Omori shook his head. “I just gave you a much needed advantage. Let us continue.”

Buttermilk huffed in frustration. She was growing more and more tired of the boy’s condescension, but if that’s how he wanted to play…

She let the staff drop out of her hands and clenched her fists, then jumped forward and tried to seize Omori by his shirt. The boy sidestepped her advance and caught a fist meant for his face, but Buttermilk followed it up with a spinning kick which ended up missing Omori’s side by mere inches. Buttermilk abandoned all thoughts; her actions fueled purely by instinct, boring down on Omori like a bloodthirsty predator, swiping, striking, and kicking at him with unbridled fury. In that moment, everything else vanished —only she and Omori remained. The thrill she felt back when she and Omori were fighting their way through those caves back in Deep Well had returned, now stronger and fiercer than ever.

Despite the sudden surge in her performance, it was clear that Omori’s still holding back, parrying and blocking all of her attacks with perfect precision. No wasted movements at all. He can fight like a wild animal if he wanted to but right now, Omori fought with the grace of a disciplined knight.

Buttermilk groaned, feeling her muscles cry out in pain. She knew that she was about to reach her limit. Exhausting her was probably Omori’s plan anyway, she just had to surprise him and prove that she can dish out more than what he thought she could do. Just one more hit—

He’s gone again.

Buttermilk was a mess.. well, her clothes more so than she was. Her pink dress was now nearly the same color as the mud on the ground. What would Sweetheart say if she saw her right now? “Aaaaargh! You stupid jerk! I’ve had enough of your games!” she yelled. “Just show yourself and be done with it!”

Omori complied, leaping at her from somewhere behind, his fist on its way to connect with her face. Buttermilk found herself paralyzed with fear, so she did the only thing she could in that moment and squeezed her eyes shut.

Instead, she felt a finger poke at her right cheek.

“That’s it then,” said Omori. “I win.”

She opened her eyes, still shocked. Why did she freeze? Omori must’ve done something to her, she thought, recalling a similar move that he pulled when they were fighting the monsters right in this very spot the day before.

So much for giving Omori a good fight.

Buttermilk picked up her staff and sat down beneath the tree, catching her breath. She should be mad and disappointed at herself but strangely enough, she found herself calm, as if all negative emotions have been purged from within her after the fight. All that’s left was a comforting relief and the warm satisfaction of having fought, even if she failed.

Was this Omori’s way of making her feel better, knowing how recent events must have taken a toll on her?

If so, then it probably worked.

They remained silent for some time.

“…I need to know something,” she finally said.

Omori shook his head, sitting beside her. “You lost.”

Buttermilk ignored him anyway, looking him right in the eyes. “Are you my friend?”

Omori didn’t answer, but didn’t avert his eyes from hers either.

“Okay, let me ask that again,” she said, cringing inside. On the surface, Omori’s eyes showed indifference, but she can tell that there’s something in there. She just had to get it out of him. “Do you see me as a friend?”

Buttermilk hesitated for a moment, clearing her throat. “I grew up in the castle without any friends… real, living ones, anyway.” She winced,  half-expecting Omori to stop her story before she could begin but was relieved that he didn’t, so she continued. “To keep myself from going insane, I often talked to the sprout moles servants during their break time, asking them to tell me all sorts of stories about the outside world. They’re very loyal to big sis, y’know? They’ll do anything to please her and get her praise. But as for me… well, let’s just say that I’m not my sister.”

She smiled wistfully, pausing to give herself some time to think. “I mean, yeah, they treated me with respect — well, most of them anyway,” she added, remembering one particularly obnoxious sprout mole who’s unhealthily obsessed with her sis, even by sprout mole standards. She always hated that one. “But that’s just how things were supposed to be. I never earned any of it. To them, I was nothing more than Sweetheart’s younger sister. A bratty little princess that they needed to babysit as part of the job because if they refused, the object of their affection would either kick them out of the castle or worse, send them straight to the dungeons.” Sweetheart often did the latter to any poor sprout moles who earned her ire, and she’s only gotten more ruthless at it as the years went by, imprisoning anyone for even the slightest offenses. “I only realized it when I got older,” she continued. The pain from the kick Omori has delivered to her earlier was mostly gone by now. “Because of sis’ fiery temper, the sprout moles always walked on eggshells whenever they’re in her presence. And that treatment extended to me too, and I never made any friends or meaningful relationships with any of them ‘cause of that."

Omori tilted his head. She couldn’t tell from his expression if he was annoyed or bored with her or both. “Why are you telling me this?”

Buttermilk rolled her eyes and scowled. Stupid knife boy. “I’ll ask again: Do you see me as a friend? Just a yes or a no…please.”

“You lost our fight,” he reminded her again.

“You told me you’d tell the truth about your true mission if I beat you. This is different!”

Omori considered her words and nodded.

“Yes.”

Buttermilk’s eyes widened. “Yes, what?”

“You are a friend.”

Omori said it like it was a common fact, much like how water is wet or how Mari’s cookies are the best ever. Still, Buttermilk found herself grinning from ear to ear despite the lingering pain from their battle.

“…That’s good to hear.”

It’s official: She had two friends now. She felt giddy at the thought.

Omori stood up and pulled his knife out of the mud, using a handful of fallen leaves to clean it. He pocketed the knife and turned to her.

“Your sister asked me to kill you that day.”

Two new friends within two days. Who knew making friends was that—

She blinked. “What?”

Did she mishear him?

“That was the mission.”

Buttermilk stood up with unsteady legs. She rested her right arm on the tree for support. “What kind of joke is that? Jokes are supposed to be funny, stupid.”

Omori was silent.

“…You’re kidding, right?”

 

“…”

 

“Omori?”

 

“…”

 

“…”

 

“No.”

 

Nausea took her and she felt lightheaded. “Explain,” she said firmly, looking into his eyes.

 

“She asked me to take you to a secluded part of the forest and get rid of you.”

 

Buttermilk forced a laugh. “Are you out of your mind? Sis asked you to…kill me? You really need to work on your humor, Omori. Seriously.”

 

“…”

 

She grabbed him by the front of his shirt, furious.

 

“What the heck’s wrong with you, knife boy?! Say something!”

 

“…”

 

“Sis would never do what you said, so you’re full of crap!”

 

“Calm down.”

 

Calm down? Hard to do that after hearing what she just did. Reluctantly, she took a deep breath and let go, her hands still shaking. Buttermilk was tired. So very tired.

 

“…Tell me.”

 

Omori looked up in the sky again, to where the ominous black spot was. It seemed to have gotten a shade darker.

 

“It wasn’t Sweetheart who asked me to kill you, but an impostor masquerading as her,” he said. “The true culprit.”

 

“…True culprit?” she asked softly.

 

“Her other half.”

Chapter 10: Rival

Seven Years Ago

 

A sunny morning. Buttermilk’s favorite.

Too bad she’s in a place where the sun doesn’t shine.

Buttermilk buried her face in her hands and let out a frustrated yelp, smashing the eraser tip of her pencil on the wall. Why does math have to be so hard?

Her mission last night ended in spectacular failure, all thanks to Mr. Lemonhead. She told him to wake her up before big sis arrived but he didn’t. Jeez, what an unreliable guy.

Now, she’d been separated from her best friend, locked in her room, and had to solve boring math problems provided to her by one of her sprout mole instructors all day as punishment.

*Knock Knock*

Buttermilk turned to the door. Who’s that?

Oh right. Her instructor mentioned something about a tutor being sent to help her out with some of the more difficult problems after Buttermilk whined at her enough times. Even when being punished, she knew big sis had a soft spot for her.

Opening the door, she saw a young sprout mole standing before her. Based on her looks, she guessed her to be around her age.

“Um hi! Are you my tutor?” she asked.

The sprout mole shifted around awkwardly. “Uh.. yes. M-May I come in?”

A bit shy, but she seemed nice.

Buttermilk beamed. “Yeah! Come, come! I have lots of toys we can play with once we’re done with those stupid math problems!”

The young sprout mole smiled. “T-That would be nice.”

 

---

 

Present Day

 

“Her other half?” Buttermilk asked with visible confusion. What Omori just said gave her goosebumps, and the ominous flock of ravens flying overhead wasn’t helping lighten the mood either.

“The part of her that she didn’t want to others to see,” said Omori. “Her old self. It was given form and imprisoned long ago. The tall man’s story mentioned something about a contract, did it not?”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

“The breach of contract was the trigger that allowed the other Sweetheart to break free from her prison,” he said.  “The same Sweetheart who secretly took over and asked me to dispose of you.”

This explanation only left her pulling at her hair. None of this made any sense. “I still don’t get why another Sweetheart is running around causing this mess!” she said. “What exactly did my sister do? Where is she now?!”

Omori paused for a moment.

“Omori!”

“Nobody knows what she did to break the contract, and the Sweetheart impostor was created as part of the deal she made with the Keeper of the Castle.” Omori paused again. “Or rather, it was an unintended consequence of what she asked for years ago.”

The thing she desired the most. What was it?

“Well? Do you know what it is?” she asked.

Omori gave her another one of his “did you just ask something stupid” look. “You’re her sister. If anyone would know, shouldn’t it be you?”

Buttermilk shrugged and forced herself to smile. “Guess you have a point. But nope, I have no idea. Sis wasn’t that open to me.”

If what the strange man told her was true, the answers to her biggest questions would only be known after everything has been dealt with. Knowing this, she must pursue the truth at all costs.

“And now, the other Sweetheart was free,” she said solemnly. “All because of her. But my sister—”

“She’s currently imprisoned somewhere in the castle,” he said. “By the way, your sprout mole butler told me everything he knew, including just about everything I told you now. He’s the one who asked me to take you to the Oasis after sensing that an impostor has taken your sister’s place.”

That certainly explained a lot of things. For instance, Omori not telling her about the truth of the situation was probably done at Rod’s request for her own sake. If Omori told him about Sweetheart right at the beginning of their journey, she likely would’ve come back running for her sister right away without any consideration for her safety. And of course, Rodrick was already aware about her sister’s plan to send her to the Oasis. It made sense that he’d ask Omori — someone he must’ve judged as reliable and competent — to do it in her place after the impostor took over.

“Rodrick…”

“He’s hiding somewhere in the castle, safe. You don’t need to worry about him.”

Buttermilk nodded appreciatively. Rodrick knew every inch of the castle, so if anyone could evade the Sweetheart impostor in the same environment, it’s him.

“Wait, your friends already know about this?” she asked. “Don’t tell me I’m the only one who’s still clueless about everything!”

“Not yet,” he said. “The other Sweetheart did capture them and made an agreement that I had to take care of you within three days, but none of them were aware of it.”

This brought her little relief. “Can you tell them everything once we get back?”

Omori nodded. Unlike her, he seemed calm and fully in control of his emotions. It was highly annoying at first but now, she was starting to like it. Despite giving an air of detachment, Buttermilk knew that he did care, even if his face won’t show it.

“We should get—”

The ground shook and Buttermilk fell on her back.

Wincing, she took Omori’s hand and stood back up. “Ah, pancakes! What was that?!”

Something huge just crashed on the western part of the forest.

The spot where they landed earlier was.

 

---

Buttermilk and Omori arrived just in time to witness something horrifying.

Pluto was lying on the ground. Not dead, but heavily injured. Hero and Aubrey faced a horde of angry sprout moles in the dozens, closing in on them slowly. Kel, their other companion, was nowhere to be found.

“Please calm down, we don’t want any trouble,” said Hero, putting on a rather charming smile. A smile tinged with nervousness, but charming nonetheless.

Buttermilk swallowed. Things just went from bad to worse. “Get away from them!” she said, raising her voice. “You know who I am! I command all of you to stop right now or else!”

She knew full well that her sister — or rather the impostor — had taken control of the sprout moles using the power of the black mist, but she still had to try. There might be a few sprout moles who weren’t fully under her mind control yet. Any help, no matter how small, would go a long way.

No such help came.

The sprout moles advanced, ignoring Buttermilk’s command and backing the two into a corner. With an unwieldy mailbox at hand, Aubrey started whacking the sprout moles in the frontline, and Hero reluctantly did the same with his frying pan. Omori ran up and took three sprout moles with a single slash. Buttermilk just stood there, horrified.

“Keep your guard up,” said Omori.

She had to try once more. Buttermilk got up to higher ground where every sprout mole can see her.

“Listen to me, you worms!” she screamed at the top of her lungs. “ As your princess, I command everyone to stand down! Stop fighting or you will face my wrath! I promise that you will all meet a painful end if you continue to defy me!”

Her heart sank. She thought that imitating her sister’s voice would at least sway some of them, but it didn’t. Nobody — not a single sprout mole — listened to her.

“Ohohohoho! Still as naïve as ever, I see!”

That voice…

A short-haired brunette about her age dived from up a tree branch and landed nimbly on the ground. The girl wore a bright-pink tailcoat adorned with scarlet buttons, black pants, a black top hat with a pink bow pinned to the upper right side, and shiny shoes that matched the color of her coat. Grinning at her smugly, the brat looked like a ringmaster straight out of a circus. She’d never been to one before but she read about it in her books. Buttermilk had never seen this girl before but she knew that voice well.

“Long time no see, Rosa,” she said bitterly. “You look taller.”

One look at her and she instantly knew that Rosa wasn’t on her side.

“Ohohoho! Don’t I look cute?” she said, sticking her tongue out and winking. “Of course, I’ve always been cute. Your sister had high standards for beauty after all.”

“Hey, just so you know, the Sweetheart in the castle right now is an impostor,” said Buttermilk. “Don’t tell me that the biggest Sweetheart fan in the world let herself get duped and started working for a fake. Just what would my sister think, huh?”

To that, Rosa just sneered. “Buttermilk, Buttermilk, Buttermilk, you poor child,” she said in an irritatingly condescending voice. Gosh, what she wouldn’t do to punch the smugness off her face. “Unlike Sweetheart, you’re not nearly as smart as you would like to believe. Truly, you are but a pale imitation of perfection that is your sister!”

Rosa approached her and Buttermilk jumped down, wary of what she might do next.

“It’s your new human form, isn’t it?” she said. “You knew that Sweetheart was an impostor, but you were offered something irresistible. A chance to be like your idol.” Buttermilk clenched her fists. “So you accepted the offer and betrayed my sister, you filthy rat!”

Rosa shook her head. “You keep insinuating that that Sweetheart is a fake, but that’s where you’re wrong dear,” she said. “That Sweetheart is the same Sweetheart that you and I have always known, the only difference now is that she has attained power beyond what any of us could’ve imagined! Can’t you see? She’s now one step closer to fulfilling her destiny!”

Buttermilk glared hard at her. Rosa, just like the others, had been brainwashed. But her case felt different from the others somehow. Unlike the other sprout moles, it didn’t seem like she was following orders mindlessly. It’s almost as if she’s serving the impostor out of her own free will…

“What destiny?” she said. “Filling the world with black goop so that she can mind control everyone?”

Rosa flashed a smile. “Bingo! You’re catching up fast, kid!”

“Kid?! We’re the same age, Tofu-head!”

“I’m one year older than you.”

“So what? One year? That’s nothing!”

“To us sprout moles, one year is a long time, dear.”

“I’m not a sprout mole, you vile sycophant!”

“Ohohoho! Look at this oh-so-adorable kid, using big words she doesn’t even know the meaning of.”

“You took great pains to present yourself as my sister’s biggest fan, but I know you’re just doing it so that you’ll always be on her good side to reap the benefits! No wonder you were so quick to turn your back on her once someone more powerful took over!” Buttermilk was about to run out of breath yelling. Gosh, she truly hated this girl. “You don’t love my sister at all. You just want to appear like you do, you slimy snake!”

Rosa was unperturbed. “Such baseless accusations… but whatever.” She unhooked a whip attached to the utility belt on her waist. There’s a strange red orb right next to the whip. Buttermilk backed off and making the requisite motion, summoned her staff, preparing for combat.

“So what are you here for?” she said. “Here to kill me?”

“The monochrome boy was supposed to do that,” Rosa said, striking the ground with the whip as a show of power. “Looks like he failed or rather, he never had any intention of doing it. Oh well, It doesn’t matter. Just so you know, once we find that sneaky butler of yours, I’m going to squeeze every information I can out of him and I’m going to have lots of fun doing it!”

Buttermilk gritted her teeth. “You’re sick.”

Rosa laughed. “Oh, and yes. I’m here to kill you under Sweetheart’s orders obviously,” she said. “Wow, your sister must’ve secretly hated you all along, huh? Poor thing. Can’t say I blame her though. I still haven’t forgotten that one afternoon with you, you know?”

“What are you talking about?!” she snapped.

She narrowed her eyes. There’s the smallest hint of frustration in them. “Wait, you seriously don’t remember? And I thought you have excellent memory. Well, whatever. Not like it matters anyway since you’ll be dead soon enough. Ohohoho!”

That is one forced laugh, she thought.

Buttermilk extended her staff and summoned a dozen light orbs. “Not if I end you first!”

Rosa whipped the ground again — this time, pulverizing a few scattered rocks around her after a brief flash, accompanied by a loud zapping sound.

Electricity.

To her right, Omori and the others were busy fighting off the massive horde of sprout moles which had already rapidly multiplied in size in just a few minutes. Their tiny footsteps echoed through the forest like marching ants angrily stomping on a drum. The fact that not a single sprout mole had attacked her yet was suspicious. Rosa must’ve ordered them to leave the two of them alone—

Pancakes!

Rosa’s whip almost struck her foot, but Buttermilk managed to jump at the last second and avoid what could’ve been a devastating attack.

Rosa grinned. “I’m not going to stand here waiting forever, you know?”

The whip can extend beyond its original length. At least she won’t be surprised when it happens again. Buttermilk hurled four orbs at Rosa, spinning them at just the right speed to make their approach unpredictable.

Rosa struck the first orb, causing a mini explosion, then performed a series of cartwheels to the side to dodge the subsequent orbs.

Buttermilk’s mouth opened. So graceful and elegant. Has Rosa always been this good or was this an ability given to her by the impostor?

“Let’s see you dodge this then!” she said, throwing the rest of the orbs her way.

Rosa did not budge from her position and instead pushed something on her belt, filling her body with light. All the orbs fizzled out as they were about to hit her. Buttermilk blinked.

What was that?

“Anti-light spell barrier,” said Rosa, winking at her. The light around her had already vanished. “Your orbs won’t hurt me, princess. Ohohohoho!”

What an annoying, stuck-up brat. “Cheater,” she spat.

She activated the shield by pressing some button on her belt, she noted. Then it was gone just three seconds later — a mere second after all her orbs have disintegrated. So she can only put up the shield for a short amount of time, huh?

Buttermilk smiled. That’s going to be useful later. 

She reviewed her options. She could try attacking her with the ice spell, but the air was quite dry and there’s no body of water anywhere near them, so that wouldn’t be very effective. Just like the orbs, the rope trap won’t work as long as Rosa can activate her shield as it is also made out of light. As for the Donut form…

No way. Not happening.

To heck with it. Weapon pointed at her adversary, Buttermilk charged in a straight line. Rosa responded with a flick of her whip but just when it was about to hit, Buttermilk summoned six large orbs that immediately surrounded her and negated the impact. The strike vaporized all of the orbs in an instant in a chain reaction, sending sparks flying in the air.

Buttermilk grinned. “You’re not the only one who has access to a shield, you know?”

“You sneaky—”

Buttermilk got close and was about to thrust the tip of the staff right in her chest, but Rosa used the whip to snag a branch of a tree from afar, pulling herself out of Buttermilk’s reach at the last second.

This is going to be a pain.

“Not bad, princess,” she said. “But you’re going to have to do a lot better than that!”

Electricity enveloped Rosa’s body as she prepared to jump.

“Become donut dust!”

A massive shockwave spread out in multiple directions the moment she hit the ground, tearing the surrounding trees apart, crushing rocks to pieces, and creating numerous deep cracks on the ground. The attack happened so quickly that Buttermilk only had a split second to get out of the way. She stabbed the ground with the foot of her staff, closed her eyes, and weathered the impact — an impact so strong and explosive that every bone in her body felt it, leaving her momentarily paralyzed.

“Argh, darn…”

Rosa laughed. “Impressed yet? Sweetheart made me captain of her army for a reason, you know?”

Buttermilk awkwardly wobbled away, trying to get some distance between them. She had to be prepared for the next attack. “Because you’re a professional butt kisser?”

“You really have quite the mouth on you, huh?” said Rosa, frowning. “What does someone who never had to work hard her entire life know about our struggles? My beauty, status, and power — I got them through years of meticulous planning and perseverance, unlike you, who got everything handed to her on a silver platter!”

Rosa attacked, going straight for her head this time. Buttermilk instinctively raised both hands and blocked with her weapon, but she soon realized that that was a big mistake.

“Aaaaah!”

Her carelessness got her zapped, leaving her curled on the ground in pain, gasping for breath.

“Oh dear, what was that?” said Rosa, chuckling. “How senseless. Did you lose some brain cells breathing outdoor air for the first in your life?”

Buttermilk glared at her, gritting her teeth. “You’re dead, Tofu-head.”

Time to end this.

She generated twenty two orbs — the most she could gather before she’s forced to wait for a time to replenish her energy reserves. Half of the orbs were used to fashion a massive object resembling a spear floating in the air. It was rather crudely made, but she’s not in a position to grumble about that now. The rest of the orbs, she used to form a circular shield like in those suits of armor Sweetheart had lying around in her castle. It was big enough to cover her entirely and consisted of three layers of interconnected orbs, giving it thrice the durability of the makeshift orb barrier that she used earlier.

“And what exactly are you hoping to accomplish with that?” Rosa scoffed.

Buttermilk charged — spear on the right and shield to the left — both flying alongside her. She smiled, feeling like a knight from the legends.

Rosa performed a series of jumps until she’s perched atop the highest tree, preparing to execute the same lethal diving move from earlier, but Buttermilk was ready for it this time.

“Do you really think you can take me on with your crappy light orbs?” she said. “You’re finished!”

Brimming with deadly electricity, Rosa dived.

Hope this works.

Buttermilk raised the shield so it was facing the sky, covering her from above. Rosa collided with it, and the impact was fierce enough to make Buttermilk’s legs buckle as she used every bit of strength she had in her to keep the light orbs from disintegrating, keeping the gigantic shield afloat.

She hasn’t activated the anti-light shield before making the jump. Good.

Things were going according to plan.

“Let’s see you counter this!” said Rosa, pushing the button on her belt and glowing up.

The anti-light spell shield was up.

Three seconds.

The outermost layer of the shield was vaporized.

One.

The middle layer of the shield went next.

Two.

The innermost layer of the shield was promptly obliterated.

Three.

The shield was now fully destroyed. Gone.

Rosa laughed maniacally. “I got you now, Buttermilk!”

Buttermilk smirked.

“No. I got you now.”

The giant spear struck Rosa from the front, throwing her across the battlefield like a ragdoll, and the ensuing explosion was large enough that it caught everyone’s attention, stopping everyone from fighting each other momentarily as they turned to its source. Thankfully, no one was in the way.

“Y-You…”

The smoke cleared and Rosa limped toward her with a furious expression. It looked like she was on her last dregs and was about pass out soon.

Still alive, huh?

Buttermilk tightened her grip on the staff. She can’t make any more orbs for the time being, but at Rosa’s current state, taking her out would be…

No.

Buttermilk approached her cautiously. “Surrender now and… I’ll spare your life,” she said. “Order the sprout moles to stop fighting and help me save my sister. Please.”

“Are… you… mocking…me?” she said. “The fight isn’t…over…yet…”

Rosa stumbled and fell, the whip falling out of her grasp.

“I’ve already beaten you! Stop resisting already.”

She let out a weak laugh. “No, you haven’t. I’m better than you, Buttermilk. Always has been. You don’t deserve Sweetheart.”

“Rosa…”

Buttermilk sensed profound bitterness in her words. Years’ worth of it. “Do you really hate me that much?”

Rosa glared at her, confused. “My goodness. You really don’t remember, don’t you?”

Buttermilk closed her eyes and thought hard. The background noise of everyone fighting made it hard to fully visualize the past, but she soon got something faint.

A scene from seven years ago.

 

Her room.

 

She opened her eyes, astonished by what she just saw. “Wait, that was you?!”

“So you do remember.”

Rosa threw something at her. A red orb.

It hit her right on the chest and attached itself to her; red light blinking rapidly.

“Wha—”

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!”

Buttermilk collapsed on her knees. The orb was sucking something out of her. Beeping sounds can be heard as the orb began to heat up and shake uncontrollably.

The pain was immense. She felt like she was about to explode into tiny little pieces.

The orb detached itself from her chest and rolled down to the ground, now pink in color.

She clutched her head. “What…was that?”

 

A pulse within her just vanished.

 

No, it can’t be.

 

Buttermilk summoned her staff in fury.

 

But nothing came.

 

She made the heart-shaped gesture required to summon it, doing it slowly to make sure that she did it right this time.

 

Nothing.

 

Rosa stood up and laughed. Behind her stood Pluto. Something seemed different about his eyes. They were tinted dark, and the mighty planet was breathing heavily, making some animalistic grunts. He wasn’t himself.

Buttermilk looked at her hands, horrified. “My powers… they’re gone.”

“Ohohoho! I never intended to use it,” said Rosa, picking up the orb and putting it back on her belt. “You were supposed to die, and you still will, but I’m impressed that you managed to push me into using the orb. That one was given to me by Sweetheart herself. Told me that I should use it only as a last resort against you.”

“…Why?”

“Why not? Okay, time to end your misery,” said Rosa. “Pluto, would you kindly finish her off?”

Pluto lumbered forward. Slowly, he raised his fist, but Buttermilk was too stunned to move away.

Pluto’s fist came down on her.

 

 

CRASH

 

 

Huh?

She wasn’t hurt.

“Pluto! What are you doing?!”

A boy stood in front of her, holding a ball that he just hit Pluto with, then bounced back to his hands. It did nothing but momentarily confuse the living planet who now caught his attention.

The boy named Kel.

“Oh no, did they get to you?!” he said. “Pluto? Buddy? Talk to me! Did they brainwash you?!”

Pluto roared. He stared them down with a menacing expression, completely unbefitting of his usual, good-natured self.

“Oh, crap! They did!” he yelped. “I’m gonna get Sweetheart for this,” he said, raising his fist in the sky.

Kel yanked Buttermilk’s arm and pulled her out of the way just in the nick of time as Pluto’s fist crushed the ground where she stood.

“Run!”

“After them, Pluto!”

 

---

 

He’s fast…

“Just bear with it, Buttermilk! I know a good hiding spot!”

Kel led the way and they eventually lost Pluto’s sight after a good ten minutes or so of frantically running nonstop. It’s a good thing that Pluto was in no condition to fly because of his injuries, allowing them to outrun him.

“I can’t…run…anymore…”

Buttermilk’s legs promptly gave up.

“Woah, just a little bit more. I can’t carry you—”

“Woooooooooooooooooooooooah!”

In their haste, the two neglected to notice their surroundings, so they stumbled and rolled down a steep hill.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!”

Kel didn’t let go of her.

They landed inside a tiny hole filled with water and sank,  and the last thing Buttermilk saw was a colossal tentacle wrapping itself around them.

This tentacle…

She’d seen it before…

But where?

 

 

WORRY NOT, CHILDREN. YOU ARE SAFE,  said a voice. The voice of a woman.

 

 

SENDING YOU NOW TO THE OTHERWORLD.

Notes:

End of Part 1

Chapter 11: Otherworld (Part One)

Notes:

Part 2

Darkness everywhere.

Not the hostile, frightening darkness she’d encountered on this journey repeatedly, potentially harboring something that could hurt her. It was a calm and peaceful sort of darkness. Something that resembled a starlit night sky — only without the stars — yet majestic in its beauty all the same. Primordial.

Wise.

YOU’VE COME A LONG WAY, CHILD

That voice again.

BUT YOUR GREATEST CHALLENGE STILL LIES AHEAD OF YOU

Buttermilk tried to speak, but nothing came out. At this moment, she was one with the darkness.

UNDO THE CURSE AND SAVE US ALL

Her task.

Four distinct images flashed in her mind.

 

A planet.

An underwater casino.

An underground chamber.

And a castle.

 

SAVE US ALL

 

---

 

“Hey, wake up!” cried a voice. “Waaaaaaaake uuuuuuup!”

Someone was frantically shaking her on the shoulders. Cut it out.

“Come on already!”

Still teetering between wakefulness and sleep, Buttermilk tried to open her eyes, but they stung pretty badly and she was forced to close them again. Slowly, she rose and coughed out some salty water that she accidentally drank during their turbulent short trip. She heard a sigh of relief. “You’re okay!” said Kel. “Whew! For a moment, I thought I was gonna have to breathe in your mouth to save you!”

Buttermilk scrunched her face in disgust. “W-Where are we?”

“Uh? This is weird. Pretty sure we climbed a ladder the last time we got here. Hold on, I’ll be right back!”

Kel ran off.

“Hey, wait!” she called out, still unable to see anything. Stupid seawater making her eyes hurt! Why do all boys have to be like this, just running off whenever they want and leaving her behind?

Kel returned just half a minute later. “Oh wow, I can’t believe Aubrey’s Butt Certificate is still there!” he said.

Some of Buttermilk’s vision had returned by now, but the burning sensation still lingered. There’s a shade of purple everywhere.

“…Butt Certificate?

“Oh, that,” he said, grinning. “It’s a long story, hehe. Ask Aubrey when you meet again.”

A vast field of intertwined Cattail plants, structured like a dense maze. This seemed familiar.

Buttermilk gasped, remembering what the voice said. Wait, where did that tentacle go? “Otherworld,” she said. “That thing really took us here, huh?” She scratched her head. How was that even possible? A strange tentacle sticking from the ground, taking them all the way up to a relatively distant planet? Despite years of study, there was a lot she still didn’t understand about this world and its strange laws.

They were brought here for a purpose. To extinguish the sources of the blight, as the tall man eloquently put it. There’s definitely one here. Both she and Omori noticed it earlier right before their fight in the forest. A black spot that can be seen neighboring the planet. Nothing that her purification magic can’t fix — if only she still had it… Buttermilk sat on the ground and hugged her knees as reality sank in.

“It’s gone.”

Kel approached curiously, spinning a ball on his fingertip. “What is?”

She bit her dry lips and with her whole body shaking, took a deep breath, and held back the urge to cry. Not that it would do any good now. “My powers. That traitor… she did something to me!” she said, trying to summon her magical staff again. Still nothing. “Stupid, stupid, stupid! I should’ve ended her right there!” Rocks flew as she kicked and stomped at the ground with all her might, cursing Rosa, as well as herself, for ending up in this predicament. A huge part of herself gone, just like that.

Kel was about to say something, but stepped back and clamped his mouth shut before uttering a word. Later, he put the ball down and sat on it, facing her. “So, um, any way to get it back?” he asked.

“…No chance,” she said. “That rat could be anywhere right now!” That red orb. She had to get it back from her somehow.

“Oh, you mean Rosa, right?!” he said. “Man, she’s a nasty piece of work. By the way, did you know that she’s the one who got us into trouble with your sister back in the castle? She cooked up this nasty scheme so that my brother would get chosen as one of Sweetheart’s suitors!”

Buttermilk sighed. Right. They haven’t been told the truth by Omori yet. Right now, Kel’s just as clueless as she was not long ago. She’s definitely not in the right state of mind to explain everything to him right now and even if she did, she wasn’t sure if this boy would understand anything anyway. Whatever. She’d cross that bridge when she got to it. Right now, they needed to get off this planet. But how? The tentacle that took them here was nowhere to be found. Pluto’s been corrupted by the enemy. Captain Spaceboy, Sweetheart’s… ex-boyfriend, had a spaceship, but…nah. That left them with one option.

“There’s a ladder connecting this planet to the surface down below, right?” she asked.

Kel nodded. “Yup. Checked it out earlier and it’s still there, good as ever! Wanna go back now?”

She read about it. The Otherworld ladder. It’s going to be a long way down. Best get started now.  Buttermilk took a deep breath. “Let’s go.”

She noticed after taking a few steps that Kel remained in his place, watching her with an inscrutable expression. “What?” she asked flatly.

Kel smiled sheepishly. “Nothing, nothing. Wow, I still can’t believe that Sweetheart has a little sister that looks just like her. You know, she’s a big meanie and all, but you don’t seem nearly as bad as her. No offense!”

Buttermilk narrowed her eyes. What a weird guy. “Come on.”

 

---

 

Kel was remarkably different from Omori in many ways. For one, he’s far louder and more talkative. On their way to the ladder, Kel told her seven different stories, and he’s already halfway through the next one. Though Buttermilk was too concerned to pay attention to any of them, she let the boy keep talking anyway to have some comforting noise in the background. Something about the Otherworld’s current atmosphere made her skin crawl, no doubt caused by the blight that had affected the planet. It felt wrong. She’d never been here before, but she could tell that darkness had thoroughly encroached upon the land.

“—and then Hero whacked the giant bunny with his frying pan!” said Kel, smacking his ball on the ground while laughing. “You should’ve seen the look on his face!”

Buttermilk nodded absentmindedly, kicking a small pebble out of the way. It bounced five times before falling through a tiny hole on the ground.  “Uh huh.”

Kel paused and stared at her. “Hmm. You’re not really listening, are you?”

She shook her head. “No.”

The boy put a hand on his heart and sniffed. “Oooooooh, so blunt! You’re breaking my heart, Buttermilk!”

The boy’s reaction was so unexpected and ridiculous that Buttermilk couldn’t help but chuckle. “Are you always like this?” she asked. “I didn’t expect Omori’s friends to be so… different.”

Kel giggled. “Of course! What, you didn’t expect us all to be like Omori, did you?”

“Of course not,” she said. This was the first time since the beginning of her journey that she’d been truly separated from Omori, and it frightened her. Where could he be now? He might still be in the forest, fighting hordes of brainwashed sprout moles along with the others. Or maybe he’d gone elsewhere, searching for her and Kel.  Omori was a strong and dependable ally, capable of getting them through any tough spot. With Omori and her powers gone, Buttermilk felt vulnerable and weak more than ever.

“I bet you and Omori had a lot of fun together, huh?” he said. “Tell me about all the stuff you’ve been up to! I’ll make sure to tell Aubrey later just to see the look on her face, hehehe!”

Buttermilk scoffed. “If getting attacked by nasty bears, spider plants, a strange marshmallow, and all sorts of weird monsters can be considered fun, sure.” She slowed down and her expression softened. “I guess… yeah, it was fun.”

Kel gave her a knowing smile.

That feeling of dread in the background, that something bad might happen at any moment, remained, but Kel’s presence made it somewhat bearable. In times like these, it was nice to have someone to talk to.

“Oh, we’re here!” he said. The ladder was located exactly where Kel said it would be. The edge extended from a small crater and nearby was a lone yellow flag, flapping in the wind.

“Ah, that brings back good memories,” said Kel.

Buttermilk read the text on the flag. “Butt Certificate awarded to… Aubrey.” The thing Kel mentioned earlier. There’s a crudely drawn stick figure with a butt for a head.

Kel snickered. “Like I said, ask Aubrey later, hehehe.”

Buttermilk shook her head. What a weird bunch of friends. “I’d…rather not.”

 

“DON’T MOVE!!!”

 

They jumped at the sound of the voice, stepping back as the cattail plants around them started rustling.

“STAY RIGHT WHERE YOU ARE, FILTHY INTRUDERS!”

Dozens of sprout moles swarmed them, holding what appeared to be makeshift spears made out of sticks with sharp, pointy rocks attached on the tip.

“Any chance that you know any of these folks?” Kel whispered.

“Don’t know,” she said, frowning. Growing up, she heard lots of stories about the Sprout Mole Colony, the original homeland of the Sprout Mole race. Though some have opted to remain behind, the majority of the sprout moles migrated to Pyrefly Forest years ago, right next to the Castle.

 

“I SAID DON’T MOVE!”

 

“Sorry!” said Kel, putting his ball down. He looked at her with a barely restrained panic. “You sure you don’t know any of ‘em?! Don’t they all work for your sister?”

Buttermilk slapped her forehead. Was the boy really this stupid?

“TIE THEM UP, FRANZ!” ordered the mole speaking from the shadows.

“What the heck?! We’re not your enemies. No need to tie us up,” pleaded Kel.

Buttermilk bit her tongue. No one recognized her as Sweetheart’s sister. If any of these moles served in the Castle before, surely they would’ve seen her at some point, but not a single mole reacted to her presence. Would it be wise to tell them who she is?

But that Sweetheart Impostor was responsible for all of this. If word had already gotten out and they knew…

She shook her head. Nope. Bad idea.

“I’m warning you,” said Kel.  “Hurt us and Sweetheart will have your heads!” He pointed at her. “THIS GIRL RIGHT HERE IS HER LITTLE SISTER!”

Buttermilk groaned. Idiot. What in the Unbread Twins’ holy bread was wrong with him?!

“SWEETHEART?!” cried a sprout mole.

“A sister?!” said another.

“Yeah? You didn’t know?”

“What was her name again? I know it starts with Butter… Buttercup?”

“Butterball?” another suggested.

“Butterjuice?”

 

“IT’S BUTTERMILK, YOU IDIOTS!” she snapped. “MY. NAME. IS. BUTTERMILK!”

 

Everyone looked at her. Realization suddenly dawned on them, with many of the faces bearing expressions of horror and fear. Some of them even fainted on the spot.

She covered her mouth. Oops.

“TIE THEM UP, YOU FOOL” said the voice from the shadows, now in full panic mode. “SWEETHEART SENT HER SISTER AND THIS BOY TO ATTACK US! DON’T LET THEM ESCAPE!”

“It’s all a misunderstanding!” she cried. “I’m a different Buttermilk, not related to Sweetheart at all! I don’t even know her!”

“Liar! You look exactly like her, but younger!” said one.

“Wait, she does?” asked another.

“Jeez, how clueless can you be? Do you even know what Sweetheart looks like? We have photographs, for goodness sake!”

“Dunno. Never seen them.”

“I SAID RESTRAIN THEM! RIGHT! NOW!” said the voice, running out of patience.

As the sprout mole to her right reached out for her, Buttermilk sidestepped his stubby hand and pulled it toward her, maneuvering his body so that her arms wrapped around him, trapping him in a headlock. The poor sprout mole tried to wiggle out of the hold but Buttermilk held firmly, making any chances of escape by himself impossible. Sprout moles were strong in numbers but individually, they’re pretty weak and pathetic, so much that even a little girl like her could take them on unarmed and easily win.

“Let us go or I’ll crush his head!” she yelled.

The crowd gasped.

It was a bluff, of course. She’s not strong enough to crush a sprout mole’s head with her bare hands, and even if she was, such cruelty was beneath her.

“Back off or this sprout mole gets it!” Kel said, holding his ball in a threatening manner. Kel leaned in. “Nice one, Buttermilk,” he whispered, giving her a thumbs up. “Remind me not to get on your bad side, hehe.”

Buttermilk glared at him. “With that stunt you just pulled, you’re already halfway there,” she said.

Kel scratched his head. “Eh? What did I do?”

“Just go!”

With the sprout mole in tow, Buttermilk and Kel carefully maneuvered their way through the gaggle of anxious sprout moles. She made sure to give the poor guy with her a few rough shakes and glared nastily at the crowd to convey just how serious she was. None of the sprout moles touched them and Buttermilk breathed a sigh of relief. It soon turned out that it was too early for that. When Buttermilk and Kel reached the ladder, a small object flew their way, thrown by one of the moles hiding behind a plant. A pouch the size of a golf ball. Buttermilk froze, and the distraction afforded the sprout mole just enough time to break free from her grasp, running back to his comrades while showing them a very rude gesture. The pouch hit the ground between her and Kel, dispersing strange yellow dust.

“What the—”

In their panic, the two inhaled some of the dust, which of course was a bad idea. Buttermilk felt her muscles stiffen, and Kel collapsed right in front of her. Though she tried with everything she got, Buttermilk failed to move an inch. She couldn’t even speak.

“NOW LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME DO!” said the voice. “DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW PRECIOUS AND EXPENSIVE THAT BAG OF DUST IS? DARN KIDS! THIS WOULDN’T HAVE HAPPENED IF YOU JUST SURRENDERED PEACEFULLY!”

Following his tirade, the source of the voice emerged from the shadows. He was a sprout mole of medium build, with a brown leather coat and a red bandana wrapped around his little head. He had a neatly trimmed moustache that felt rather out of place with everything else.

A familiar face.

Buttermilk gasped.

He was the spitting image of her butler, Rodrick.

---

Buttermilk experienced the most uncomfortable and humiliating hour of her life following their capture. Sprout moles marched along with her paralyzed body through rocky terrain without a care in the world. Given a choice, she’d rather brush a bear’s teeth with her thumb rather than suffer this indignity any longer. An hour later and after being nearly dropped no less than ten times (sprout moles are generally clumsy creatures), the group finally reached the entrance to the colony — an inconspicuous hole on the ground. As they were lowered into the hole using sturdy ropes tied to their waist, Buttermilk felt a comforting warmth jolting her muscles back to life. Kel apparently felt it too, for he glanced at her from the side and winked. She shook her head, tacitly telling him to stay put for now. She could only hope that the message was clear.

Otherworld’s sprout mole colony was a different entity from the sprout mole village underneath the Castle. Though the overall layout was similar, with its dusty but perfectly cylindrical tunnels that were diligently carved out by sprout mole hands, branching out toward many paths and littered with ladders of all sizes, creating a complex underground maze system, the spirit of the place couldn’t be any more different. It lacked the liveliness of the village and in its place were terrified creatures, speaking in hushed voices and giving them looks of suspicion as they passed by. Dim, flickering lights and generous cracks on the tunnel walls gave the environment an uneasy, foreboding atmosphere; no doubt a big contributor to the general mood of the sprout moles trapped in here. This place was less of an underground village and more of a shelter from some kind of disaster. The boss — Rodrick’s twin, she presumed — led them through a narrow passage branching off from the main village hub. A couple more twists and turns and an agonizing ladder climb (they had to be pulled up via rope) later, the sprout moles finally laid them down on the cold stone floor inside an empty circular room which faintly smelled of aged tofu.

“You can drop the act,” he said. “I know full well that the dust’s effect has worn off by now. Come on, get moving.”

Kel took this chance to lunge at him, but the sprout mole dodged nimbly and out of nowhere, pulled out a stick and whacked him on the head, knocking the boy out cold. “What an idiot,” he whispered. “Did Rod really put that boy to the task of guarding y—”. He paused, digging something out of his pocket. A photograph. “Hey hey, hold on, that’s not the monochrome boy you were with at the train station, right? Look.” The sprout mole extended his hand, holding the photograph for her to get a clear look at.

Buttermilk froze. “Wait, that’s —”

That’s the photo the sprout mole took with her and Omori back at the Last Station! “That shady guy… he was one of yours?!”

“That shady guy has a name,” said the sprout mole. “It’s Terson, in case you wanted to know. I know who you are, princess.”

Buttermilk paled. “If you’ve been sending your moles to spy on us all this time then you should know that we’re innocent!” she cried. “Why’d you tell your boys earlier that my sister sent us to attack this place, huh?!”

“Apologies for the stress that might’ve caused you, princess,” said the sprout mole. “But considering that you were about to do something real regrettable back there, I had to put the pressure on my boys fast. You should be thanking me.”

Buttermilk tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

“Look princess, I don’t know how you and the boy got here, but it sure as heck wasn’t by climbing up that ladder. Access between the surface world and the Otherworld ladder is currently barred by some thick fog of miasma. I’m sure you’ve seen plenty of it by now — nasty stuff turning people into mindless drones! Like beasts who can’t tell their head from their foot. Hollow shells of their former selves. Outrageous.”

But Rosa didn’t act like a mindless beast at all, she thought. Back then, she detected heavy traces of the darkness within her but apart from that awful, tacky, human form, it was still her usual, obnoxious self beneath it. Sweetheart, no, that impostor must’ve seen something useful in Rosa that it allowed her to retain her sense of self despite infusing her with its powers and giving her authority to lead its forces.

Time to finally address the big fat sprout mole in the room. “You look just like an old friend,” she said. “Are you related to Rodrick? You mentioned someone named Rod just now.”

The sprout mole chuckled. “Hah, That lousy leaf blower never once told you about me?! Outrageous. I suppose I’ll just have to introduce myself. The name’s Rodney.” He turned away from her, sounding pained. “His younger brother.”

Younger brother. Makes sense. “Buttermilk,” she said, trying her best to smile. Who would’ve thought that Rod had a brother that looked just like him? Now she understood why Kel seemed so amused when he was gawking at her earlier.

Rodney huffed. “I know what you’re going to say, princess. How is it that Rodrick, a refined and distinguished sprout mole, related to this pathetic lout? How outrageously laughable, right? Well keep it to yourself, because I’m having none of it!”

She cringed at the unexpected outburst. Jeez, how insecure can this guy be? “N-No, that’s totally not what I was thinking! Calm down!” A half-truth.

He took a few deep breaths and tried his best to smile, though it was clearly a shoddy attempt and his face looked all scrunched up and twisted like a pancake bunny just gave him the headbutt of a lifetime.

“He told me plenty of things ‘bout you, you know?” he said.

“Um, what kind of things?”

The sprout mole smirked. “That you were a handful. A major pain in the butt.”

Buttermilk stared at him flatly.

He laughed. “Now, don’t get me wrong, princess, s’not like I care about any of that. In fact, I actually applaud you for giving my dear older brother some challenge to work with. Goodness knows he needs it or he’ll probably wither away doing the same darn things every day like clockwork.”

Buttermilk crossed her arms. “Um, what else did Rodrick tell about me?”

“We’d be here in this musty hole all day if I told you everything, princess. Let’s save that for another time. There’s something else I wanted to talk about, which is why you’re here in the first place.  What, didn’t think I saved you and your friend just out of the kindness of my heart, didja?”

Of course not. Something in the sprout mole’s demeanor just changed, though just barely. “I don’t how Rodrick’s doing right now,” she said, guessing what he was about to ask her. “Haven’t seen him since I left the castle.”

Rodney grunted. “Nah, that’s not it. I knew you haven’t been in touch with Rod since that monochrome boy got you out of the castle. It’s about your sister.”

Buttermilk tensed up.

“OW! My head! It huuuuuurts…”

Kel stood up and slumbered towards Rodney with a look of disbelief on his face, raising his fist.

“Woah, easy there, boy. Good, good! I was afraid it’d take some time before you woke up” said Rodney. There’s an expectant look on his face. “I’m guessin’ that he’ll probably need to hear this next bit as well.”

“What?” she said, biting her lower lip and avoiding his beady eyes. There’s something about them, with the way they seemingly judge her, that made her uncomfortable.

“I’m not one to beat around the bush, princess, so I’ll get right to it. I know that you know what’s going on with that sister of yours. Tell us. Why did the space pirates lose their minds and attacked us in her name, claiming to do her bidding?”

“Er, isn’t that what space pirates normally do?” said Kel, rubbing his head.

“Not Captain Spaceboy’s men, boy,” he said. “They never attack without provocation. They’re a peaceful bunch, y’know.”

Captain Spaceboy. That caught Buttermilk’s attention. “He attacked you? Why?”

Rodney leaned on a wall. “Hours before you arrived, yeah. That’s how I knew it couldn’t have involved you, because you were in the Oasis with your boyfriend back when it happened.” Buttermilk was about to say something in protest but Rodney immediately cut her off. “Noticed how everyone looked miserable and stressed out on the way here? We drove out the last of their forces in Cattail Field but there’s no telling when the pirates will strike back. No one got killed, but a lot of us did get hurt. Pretty badly.”

“That dark spot in the sky, it had something to do with it!” she said.

“Well, duh,” he said. “That thing showed up and every single one of them pirate boys went nuts. What an outrageous turn of events! Question is, how did your sister manage to control the pirates? There’s no doubt that it was her doing; we heard her voice through Captain Spaceboy himself.”

“That…thing… is not my sister!” she said. How should she explain this next part? “Someone else took her place and now that impostor’s pretending to be her.” Oh, that didn’t sound convincing at all, she thought. To his credit though, Rodney didn’t laugh. Instead, he had a sympathetic expression tacitly telling her that he doesn’t blame her for thinking that way.

“Wait, hold up. What do you mean it’s not Sweetheart?” asked Kel.

Oh, right. Buttermilk hasn’t explained the situation to him yet. Why did Omori keep his friends in the dark anyway? Shouldn’t close friends not keep secrets from each other? There’s still a lot she didn’t understand about Omori. After taking a few deep breaths to calm herself down, Buttermilk told them everything that she knew, down to the last detail. She wasn’t sure if Kel absorbed most of it, seeing him dangerously falling close asleep several times throughout her explanation, but that’s not really her problem now, was it? Rodney remained silent, nodding as she pore through every detail, occasionally asking a few questions to lead her back to the right track of thought. At first glance, he might seem different in attitude to his older brother — a lot more brash and unpleasantly blunt to say the least — but underneath the surface, there’s that distinctive thoughtfulness that he shared with his brother.

“Quite the story,” said Rodney. He stood up and brushed the dirt off his stubby sprout mole legs. “ Assuming what the tall man said was true, you’re the only one who can possibly save all of us from this crappy ordeal. That right?”

“I guess so,” she said with a wistful smile. “Thing is,  I’m useless right now without my powers. Can’t do any purification to drive away the curse without it. I’m…sorry.”

Though losing her powers was indeed a major setback, Buttermilk couldn’t give up yet, as that would mean giving up on her sister. She couldn’t care less about the world but Sweetheart? She had to save her no matter what.

No… that’s not right. She had friends now. Her world had gotten far larger than just the castle and this…monster taking her sister’s form is about to ruin everything. She can’t let that happen.

“Cheer up, Buttermilk!” said Kel. “All we gotta do is find Rosa and make her return the powers she’s stolen from you! We can totally do that!”

Buttermilk smiled back at him, though her eyes probably betrayed her true feelings. Time was running out and they still have to deal with the Space Pirates just to get off this darn planet. She wished she could find it within her to be as optimistic as Kel because as things stood, they were about to fall down the metaphorical abyss with no way of bouncing back.

“Captain Spaceboy, what was he like when, um, it took over?” she asked.

“I already mentioned it, Sweet— uh, It used the Captain as a mouthpiece, literally,” he said.  “Her voice came out of his own darn mouth like in one of those creepy horror shows. Told us that if we don’t submit to her rule, she’s going to end us. Lovely stuff.”

Something’s not right. “Wait, I don’t get it,” she said, sitting next to Kel on a stool just big enough to accommodate her even though it was made for sprout moles. “It was able to control the pirates with its power, but not you guys? What’s going on?”

“Well, that’s not exactly true. Some of us who were up and above at the time did get affected by that blasted dark spot and joined forces the pirates,” he said glumly.

“But how come nobody got brainwashed when everyone was out earlier?!” said Kel. He raised a good point. “Heck, pretty sure we’re still ourselves and not Sweetheart worshippers right now, um, I think.”

“Probably because it only affected those who were on the surface back when the dark spot first showed up,” she said. The Sweetheart impostor wouldn’t have demanded that the sprout moles submit to her if she could just repeat the phenomenon on a whim again, which meant that it was a one-time thing. They’re probably safe for now. “It wasn’t just the Space Pirates and a few sprout moles who fell victim to that thing, was it?”

Rodney met her eyes. “Nope. Plenty of hapless tourists in the campsite fell victim to it as well. The dark fog on the surface can seize control through contact, but that spot did it in a flash, and another one might show up later and do it again. To think that we all could’ve fallen victim to it back when we found you two earlier. Crap… we were too reckless.”

“At least now you have a better idea of what you’re dealing with, right?” she said.

He gave her a halfhearted nod. “I suppose saving your butts was worth after all. You wanted a way out, right? There’s one thing we can do, but it ain’t gonna be easy.”

“Which is?”

He pulled the big stick out again and pointed it on the ground. “It’s simple. We steal Spaceboy’s ship.”

Buttermilk narrowed her eyes. “Are you insane?”

Kel whistled. “Dunno how we’re going to pull that off, buddy. The captain’s very, very protective of his ship and he has quite the temper. I would know!”

“Well if you kiddos have better ideas then I’m all ears,” he said. “I know it’s insane, but do we have any other option? I suppose you could try to sweet talk the captain and have him lend you his most prized possession, but we know that ain’t gonna work. The boy’s not even himself right now.”

She’s seen the fabled Mercury Retrogade once — the Captain’s famous spaceship. Spaceboy, or rather Space Boyfriend at the time, brought it with him once to impress her sister, offering to give her a ride. Sweetheart declined for reasons unknown. It was said that he sailed through many galaxies in it alongside his father, the notorious Captain Pinkbeard and the  original owner of the ship. It was a magnificent thing , built with the shiniest and rarest metals in the galaxy, at least according to its Captain. She’s not much into space stuff but even she could appreciate its beauty when she first saw it back then.

Buttermilk picked up the stick that Rodney left by the wall and hefted it. It’s lighter than she thought. “If we do this, every sprout mole in the colony will be at risk,” she said. “Spaceboy and his crew might retaliate once he realizes that a sprout mole nabbed his ship.”

“Didn’t know you were a sprout mole, princess” said Rodney. “Perhaps I should apologize for not having treated you with more respect.”

Jerk. “I’m not— wait what? You are going to help us steal the ship, right?”

“I’ll help, but I ain’t coming with ya,” he said, crossing his arms.

“Huh? What do you mean?!” said Kel. “We can’t do this on our own!”

“Sure you can, kiddo. You’re no ordinary kids,” he said.  “Don’t worry though, I’ll be guiding the two of you every step of the way. Who knows? If everything goes well there might not even be a confrontation with any of ‘em dastardly pirates.

“That’s a lot of faith on two kids you haven’t met before,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Are you sure you’re not just scared to come along?”

“Don’t be an idiot,” he said. “You said it yourself — once Spaceboy learns that one of us stole his ship, brainwashed or not he’ll make all of us pay. Dunno if you realized it, but this dark presence oozing all over, it doesn’t erase someone’s sense of self completely. Right now, Spaceboy might technically be under someone else’s control, but I’m positive that he still has some of his rogue pirate personality somewhere in there.”

That made sense. It’s why Rosa still acted like herself despite being under that thing’s control. Wait… “Is there a chance that we might be able to get through and talk to the real Spaceboy?” she asked. “Convince him to stop all of this somehow?”

“You tell me, princess,” he said. “You said you’ve tried doing the same to some of the sprout moles back in the forest and they just happily ignored you. Can you honestly say that things would go differently this time?”

“No,” she answered truthfully. “I was just thinking—.”

“It’s not completely without merit, but we need to be pragmatic,” said Rodney. “You two better get some rest.” He opened the door. “Sorry about hitting you earlier, boy. Come, I’ll show you two your room. It might be a little small for your liking though, princess, so apologies in advance. We weren’t anticipating human guests.”

You really are his brother, she thought.

“Wow, I didn’t know that there was so much more to the story than we’ve been told,” said Kel, hands behind the back of his head. “It’s weird that Omori kept a lotta stuff hidden from us, but he gotta have his reasons, y’know? Right now, we just have to keep moving forward! Don’t you worry, Trusty Kel will stand by your side in this fight, princess!”

Buttermilk groaned. “Don’t call me that,” she said, leaving the boy behind in a hurry to follow Rodney.

 

---

 

The room was indeed small, barely fitting the three of them inside. It wasn’t that bad and it had a homely feel to it — not too different from the rooms she had seen back in the Village. There’s a simplicity to the sprout moles that Buttermilk had always found endearing. Two kid-sized (by human standards) sleeping bags have been placed side by side, ready for use.

“Here you go, kids” said Rodney. “I’ll wake you up in a few hours. Sweet dreams.”

Kel yawned, still clutching the side of his head that Rodney whacked. “I’m beat.”

Buttermilk nodded in agreement. The last time she had a proper sleep was back in the castle and that was what? Three days ago? She lost track of time somewhere along the way. Her mind didn’t want to sleep just yet, but her body sure did.

And so she did.

---

 

Sis, why do stars sparkle in the sky?

 

Because that’s what stars do, silly! They wouldn’t be stars if they didn’t sparkle now, would they?

 

They’re all so pretty, just like you!

 

Awww, you sure have a way with words, my adorable little sister! Don’t think you can sweet talk your way out of an early bedtime though.

 

I know… But before that, can you tell me that story again, sis? The one about the princess who lived in a garden?

 

Again?! Surely you’ve grown tired of that story by now?

 

Nuh-uh! Never!

 

Very well, but this is the last time, you hear?

 

 

There once was a princess named ___ who lived in a magical garden.

 

She was a fair and strong leader, and every creature in the garden, both big and small, looked up to her and adored her.

 

Though the princess had a reputation for kindness, she was not weak in the slightest. Together with her friend, ___________, they have protected the garden and its inhabitants from all sorts of threats.

 

One such threat that they faced was an evil bear. A fearsome beast with claws that extended like —

 

…

 

Oh, she’s already asleep. We’ll continue this story some other time then.

 

---

 

Buttermilk woke up in cold sweat in a place she’s never been before.

That’s been happening a lot to me lately.

She was in a child’s room, with a tiny bed and unfamiliar toys littered all over the floor.

“We finally get to talk,” said her sister’s voice from behind.

“Sis?”

Buttermilk turned, then promptly backed away in horror.

A shadow bearing the outline of her sister.

The impostor.

The one behind everything.

“I’ve been looking forward to this, sis,” it said with glee.

Chapter 12: Otherworld (Part Two)

The entity finally showed itself at last. It was said that objects tend to have various shades of black on them — ranging from just having the slightest tinge of black, subtle enough that most wouldn’t even consider it to be there, to something so black that it practically resembles a night sky devoid of any stars, if one could even imagine it.

This abomination occupies a spot beyond even the latter.

 “W-Who are you?!” she screamed, trying to put as much space between them as possible. She flicked her hand in a practiced motion expecting her staff to show up, before remembering that she had just lost the ability to do so. “No, what are you?!”

It didn’t move. “Calm down, sis,” it said in Sweetheart’s voice. “C’mon, don’t be scared. You love sweets, don’t you?” In a snap of a finger, a cupcake with pink frosting materialized in the air, spinning slowly like it’s suspended by invisible wires from above. Just like the beast back in the train, there’s something very wrong with this entity that goes beyond just its appearance. Its mere presence was enough to make her sick to her stomach.

“What do you wa—”

The cupcake was shoved right into her mouth midsentence, causing her to choke and sputter. Why is it so terribly sweet? This was a cupcake that if consumed, would cause one to lose all of their teeth. Blegh.

“Ohohohoho! Look at you! So cuuuuute!” it said in Sweetheart’s most obnoxious voice.

Buttermilk spat out the cursed cupcake and glared at her. “Enough of this! Tell me what you want or send me back! Right! Now! You didn’t summon me into this dream just to torment me, did you?”

For all she knew, it probably did. The abject fear she felt earlier had fizzled out, replaced with burning, violent, explosive anger. Though this creature bore her sister’s face, she was strongly tempted to choke the life out of it right now for attempting to murder her with a cupcake of all things. One had to be a special kind of messed up to even think of doing that.

“Freedom tastes sweet, doesn’t it, Buttermilk?” it said. “Certainly much sweeter than that cupcake, at least. I should know.”

Buttermilk kept backing away until she hit the wall. There’s the door right behind where it stood, but something told her that bolting straight for the door wouldn’t do her any good. She’s in a dream, after all. “Why do you want me gone?” she asked.

The creature laughed? “What do you mean, sis?”

“This whole thing started when you asked Omori to get rid of me, but he didn’t. Since then, you’ve been sending your minions after us in hopes of finishing the job. Isn’t that right?”

It stopped laughing, but now there’s a big disturbing smile plastered on its face. Buttermilk shuddered. “Nope!” it said in a high pitched voice. “A profound misunderstanding. I didn’t want you dead, sis. You heard it from the boy himself, didn’t you? I gave him three days to do the job. Three. Why do you suppose that is? I’ll give you a cookie if you answer correctly!” 

Buttermilk slumped. No way. “You never expected him to kill me. You knew that Omori wouldn’t go through with it.”

“And? Go on.”

What did it want to happen? Buttermilk closed her eyes and thought very carefully. What did it stand to gain from her going on this journey? All those enemies that it sent to stand in their way…

“You wanted me to become stronger,” she finally said. Yes, that makes sense. “But why?”

The impostor smiled. “It will all make sense soon enough, I promise, and I can’t wait for it! Congratulations for getting it right on the first try, sis! Here’s a cookie! I made it extra big and sweet just for you!”

Oh no…

Before she could refuse, Buttermilk got hit by a massive cookie the size of the plate right on the face. It splattered into chunky, gooey pieces, coating her face with thick, tar-like chocolate. She wiped it off her face while listening to the creature howl with laughter.

I hate this witch.

Sweetheart, for all her flaws, would never stoop this low. Even if it wasn’t a literal shadow creature made in her image, this thing could never pass off as her sister. After wiping off the last of the chocolate with her dress, Buttermilk turned to her, putting on her best “let’s get serious” face. “You’ve had your fun, now it’s time for you to answer my question,” she said. “What are you and why are you doing all of this? What have you done to my sister?!”

The shadow regarded her with what could only be described as a look of befuddlement. “I’m Sweetheart, dear. Who else would I be?” she said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“You!” she snapped. “You will never be her, so stop this pathetic excuse of an imitation because I’ll never believe you!”

“Oh, but it’s true! The one you’ve known all this time is the fake, not me. Ever considered that?” Its voice seemed to grow stronger and more vicious. “I am the real deal! The one and only Sweetheart! And since you’re curious, that fake is currently locked up deep in the dungeon, slumbering peacefully. Perhaps… forever.”

Buttermilk curled her fist into a ball. Don’t let her get to you. “If you did anything to her, I swear—"

“Oh quit it with the tough act,” it said, opening her mouth to show off its ghastly, sharp set of teeth. “So predictable. You can furrow your brows and grimace all you want, but that won’t be enough to save her, or your precious new friends for that matter.” It grew about a feet taller in height and slowly walked up to her, regarding her like a helpless prey. Despite her sheer terror, Buttermilk forced herself to look it right in the eyes — at those pure white eyes that were somehow even more alien than the rest of its form. “My triumph is inevitable, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. Face it. At your current condition, you’re about as powerless as a dust bunny. One strong gust and poof! Ohohohohoho!”

Sweat began to fill her palm and Buttermilk found herself shaking yet again.

“Yes, my naïve, clueless, little sister, I sent you on that journey with the boy to make you stronger.” It shrank down to its normal size and its voice suddenly grew softer, but no less intimidating. “I’m waiting, Buttermilk. Get back what you lost, do whatever it is you have to do with your new friends, and then face me. That’s where the real fun begins. I’ll even set up a very special tea party just for you and me.”

“…I don’t understand.”

The creature sat down on the floor with its eyes closed. “Like I said, it will all make sense soon. If you survive long enough that is. The clock is ticking, girl. Don’t keep me waiting.”

Darkness enveloped Buttermilk’s entire vision, and the last thing she heard was that creature’s horrible laughter.

 

---

 

Rodney led Buttermilk and Kel into the secret passage connecting the colony to Captain Spaceboy’s hideout, located somewhere in the deepest level of the colony. The path to it was barred by several massive metal doors that required distinct keys handled by the various sprout moles in charge of protecting the place. A bit of an overkill, in Buttermilk’s opinion, but you can never be too safe.

“If there’s anything else you need to ask me, now would be the time,” said Rodney, opening the fifteenth door on the way to their destination.

“What happens if the pirates catch us?” asked Kel.

“Then that would be it for you,” the sprout mole answered bluntly. “So don’t get caught, alright?”

“No last minute heroic rescues if we get caught? Aww man, that sucks!”

“I told ya, we can’t take any more unnecessary risks after what happened to some of our comrades,” he said. “You remember the plan we talked about right?” he asked Buttermilk.

Buttermilk kept her head down, staring into a strange piece of rock lying about. She hadn’t told either of them about her encounter with the entity in the nightmare, and she wasn’t sure yet if she should. She needed more time to think.

“Hey, princess, you there? Hello?”

“…Uh, yeah,” she said, giving Kel who spent the time during their meeting half-asleep a disapproving glance. Turned out that he wasn’t able to sleep after all and spent most of the time going around and chatting up some sprout moles. A real chatterbox, if she had ever met one. “I do anyway.”

“I sure hope so, kiddo,” said Rodney. “Your life depends on it. Here.” He gave each of them an earpiece. Buttermilk looked at him, confused. “What? I did say I’ll be guiding you afar, didn’t I?”

“Wait, you have these all along?” said Kel, regarding the earpiece with fascination. “So what’s the point of telling us the plan if you can just tell us what to do as we go along?!”

“Look boy,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “I’d rather not chew your ear off and end what’s possibly our last time together on a sour note, but you’re making it real hard for me to do so.” He sighed. “If you solely depend on me for instructions as you go along, I can guarantee that you’re not even going to make it halfway through the Captain’s stronghold without getting seen. S’like following a script you haven’t seen before, as opposed to doing something with a full of understanding of what you’re doing. The plan is much more likely to succeed after you’ve had time to let all the details sink in and act accordingly. You get me?”

That did make sense. Buttermilk nodded.

Kel scratched his ear. “…Not really, but I’ll trust you on that, Rodney! You seem to know what you're talking about!”

“I’ll observe and let you know if there’s something unexpected that you need to be aware of, but I can’t spoonfeed everything to you.”

“And how exactly are you going to observe from afar?” Buttermilk asked.

Rodney smiled. “I was hoping you’d ask,” he said. “It’s a sprout mole secret, but I guess I can let you two in on it. No point hiding it now. You see, long ago, back when we first settled here, we took the liberty of installing surveillance cameras all over the place to anticipate dangers that might befall us.”

That must have been long ago, long before the space pirates arrived. “And the pirates never discovered any of it?” she asked.

“Nope. We hid them pretty well using advanced proprietary sprout mole tech. No one would ever find them, hehe.”

Despite outward appearances, sprout moles can be pretty crafty creatures huh? Buttermilk froze up, realizing the implication of what she just heard. “Um, you guys haven’t done the same to the Castle, did you?”

Rodney laughed even louder. “Relax, princess. Sweetheart had complete authority over everything in her castle, and I heard that she’s a woman who valued her privacy, perhaps excessively so.” He’s not wrong there. “So, the Castle Moles couldn’t have done it even if they wanted to.”

Buttermilk breathed a sigh of relief. Pancakes! That some sprout moles have been spying on her for years without her knowledge was a thought far too terrifying, even more terrifying than facing ten angry bears in a small dungeon. Rodney led them to a spiral staircase carved into the walls, then began opening a black door with multiple keyholes at the top. This one’s larger than the rest, though not by much. This had to be the final door.

“Thank you for everything, Rodney,” she said. “We’ll do our best to save everyone, I promise.” He might’ve been somewhat of a jerk to them at first, but deep down, she could tell that the sprout mole truly did care for their well-being, even if he won’t admit it to himself.

He turned the last key and the door budged. “Best not to make any promises that you can’t keep, princess,” he said. “But I appreciate the thought. You’re alright. If Sweetheart was as nice and considerate as you, perhaps things would’ve been different.”

Buttermilk smiled. “You really hate her, don’t you?”

“Hate is a strong word,” he said, turning to her. “No. I don’t hate your sister. It’s just that… she never truly cared about us beyond what service we could provide for her. Look me in the eye and tell me that I’m wrong, Buttermilk.”

He wasn’t. She realized long ago sprout moles were nothing more than servants and fans to her sister. They exist — the ones living in the village underneath the Castle grounds at least — to serve and adore her. If they do anything to displease her, they would’ve been sent straight to the dungeon or exiled from the Castle, which to sprout moles who have an unhealthy obsession with Sweetheart, was a punishment worse than death.

“After all of this is over, I’ll have a talk with my sister,” she said. “Tell her to reconsider how she’s been treating all of you. You all deserve better.”

Rodney smiled what’s probably his most genuine smile yet. “Hey now, what did I just say about making promises?”

“I didn’t say it was,” she said, smirking. “I could still change my mind, you know?”

“Heh. I can see why my brother thought you were a pain in the butt.”

 

---

 

The metal door snapped shut with an ominous thud, leaving Buttermilk and Kel inside a vast cave. The other side of the door had been disguised to look just like the rocks around it. According to Rodney,  the sprout moles who carved and built the secret passage long ago intended to use it as an emergency escape, but the Space Pirates arrived and built an underground base right next to it, forcing them to halt the construction and hide the door before it could be discovered. In the end, they abandoned the project, deeming it too risky.

“Wow, this place is huuuuuge!” said Kel, his voice reverberating through the cave walls.

Buttermilk cringed. Talk about having no indoor voice. “Hey, keep it down,” she whispered.

Kel rubbed his head. “Oops. Sorry.”

The first part was relatively simple — enter the underground base through a hatch where the pirates dump their garbage. Since there were no pirates on patrol in the cave, they didn’t need to worry about getting seen — at least not until they got in. When she first heard of the plan, Buttermilk almost puked. Pancakes! The very thought of falling down a garbage pit was unimaginably terrible, but it’s not like they had any other option. That wasn’t all, though. To reach the hatch, they needed to scale a massive wall with the help of an unlikely creature — a slime bunny.

“Get some slime from one of them bunnies hopping about and coat your hands and arms with it real good,” said Rodney. “What’s that look on your face, princess? Scared of getting a little dirty? Let me tell ya, falling straight into that garbage pit is ten, no, a hundred times worse than getting a little slime stuck beneath your fingernails.”

He was right, of course, much to Buttermilk’s dismay. Climbing the cave walls without any adhesive was an impossible task. Perhaps Kel could do it, but she doubted it.

After a minute of aimlessly wandering around, looking for signs of those slimy balls of green goop, Kel poked Buttermilk on the shoulder. “Hey, I think I just saw one of those bunnies,” he said.

“Huh? Where?”

He pointed above her and just as he did, a droplet of water missed her nose by a hair. “Right there.”

Sure enough, there they were — three slime bunnies huddled together on a lone piece of stalactite hanging above. Unfortunately, slime from those bunnies didn’t come off easily, clinging to their furs like particularly sticky jelly.

“We need at least one of them down,” she said. She spotted a tiny piece of rock by her foot and picked it up, weighing it. Good, this should do it.

“Oooooh, you know how to aim and throw rocks?” Kel said. There’s a palpable intrigue in his voice.

“Kinda?” she said.  “Haven’t done it for a long time, though.” Images of pies flashed in her mind and she cringed. Rock enclosed firmly inside her fist, Buttermilk got into a throwing position. She just needed to bring one of them down, and the one at the very tip of the stalactite seemed like the best target. Don’t throw too hard nor high, just enough. You can do this. 

After counting to three, Buttermilk exhaled and hurled the rock.

Kel watched with glee as the rock soared in the air in an arc and… missed.

“Pancakes! That was close!” she said. “Let me try again.”

Steady your hand and take a deep breath, she told herself. Eyes on the target. Apply just the right amount of force. The rock flew and most unfortunately, hit the space between the two bunnies.

“Darn!” she spat. Crap, that was too loud.

She bowed her head down in shame and leaned on a wall as Kel picked up the rock and weighed it between the tip of his two fingers. “Lemme try it this time.” he said, getting into position — knees slightly bent and arm slung backward. There’s a slight change that Buttermilk sensed in him just now — a calmness in both posture and expression.  He counted to three, then his arm swung forward and the rock shot out of his hand with blinding speed, hitting the stalactite right at the center with just enough force that it shook, dropping all three bunnies at once.

Buttermilk blinked. “How?!”

“You missed it,” Kel said, looking proud of himself. “But I flexed just before throwing that rock.” With that, he lifted his arm and flexed in front of her, showing off his biceps, or whatever in that scrawny arm was supposed to be. “When I flex, I feel my best!”

Very impressive throw. Perhaps she underestimated the boy. He might not be as sharp as Omori, but he’s pretty good in other ways. “Nice work, Kel,” she said, giving him a thumbs up.   

“Heeehee, thanks!” he said, blushing a bit. “Now, let’s go get those bunnies!”

Buttermilk took off her pink gloves, mentally preparing herself for what she was about to do as Kel grabbed one of the bunnies and started squeezing it. Blobs of viscous green slime spilled on the cave floor and for a moment, Buttermilk was worried that Kel, with how tight his grip was, was going to accidentally squeeze the poor bunny to death, but thankfully, he knew what he was doing and stopped just as the bunny woke up again and started struggling in his grasp. Kel sighed and put it down, but the bunny, clearly in a bad mood, furiously hopped into the puddle of slime Kel had just collected and splashed no small amount of it on his shorts. The two other bunnies scampered off to follow their friend.

Kel pouted and crossed his arms. “Not cool, Mr. Slimy Bunny! Not cool.”

Buttermilk couldn’t help but giggle. “It just wanted to help. Now you just need to cover your arms and you’re good to go.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Stupid bunny getting all jumpy on me. Ewww! I think I got some in my eyes! Wanna go first?”

The thought of slathering that slimy goop all over her skin was enough to make Buttermilk nauseous, and they haven’t even reached the garbage pit yet. “Um, no thanks,” she said. “You go ahead.”

The puddle of slime made weird, squelching noises as Kel sank both hands into it. Gross. “And done! Your turn now!”

With an exasperated sigh, Buttermilk slowly made her way to what’s left of the puddle, taking each step with a heavy heart like she’s being led to her execution. She’s never going to feel clean again after this, that’s for sure.

“Woah! Check this out Buttermilk!” said Kel, putting the slime to good use by climbing a tall rock nearby; the slime coating his hands allowing him to climb with relative ease. “It really works! I’ll wait for you here, alright?!”

“Hey, keep your voice down,” she reminded him, then went to work, starting by dipping a portion of her fingers into the puddle. After the initial wave of disgust had passed, Buttermilk found that the slime didn’t feel nasty on her skin at all. It was still gross, but the surprisingly warm touch of the green slime rather than the uncomfortable cold that she imagined beforehand made her feel more at ease.

A few agonizing minutes later, Buttermilk joined Kel at the top of the rock. The climb went rather smoothly, with only some slight hiccups here and there. Finding a solid foothold on the walls as she climbed was by far the most difficult part. Sure, she could probably climb all the way to the top with just her sticky green hands if she wanted to, hoisting herself up little by little , but that would’ve put enormous pressure on her upper body. She’d be dead tired in no time if she did that, and she can’t afford to waste too much energy before the real battle began.

“See? I told you it was gonna be easy!” said Kel. “You’re a natural climber, y’know?”

Buttermilk gave him a questioning glance. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Sure is!” he said. “Knowing how to climb can get you to faraway places. It can also, uh, save you from nasty bears chasing you in the woods. Just climb a tall enough tree and they’ll never get you!”

Bears huh? “Speaking from experience?”

“Nope!” he said. “Just heard it from one of the sprout moles I talked to, hehe!”

“Pancakes, you’re so weird.”

Kel smiled. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

This guy…

Still, Buttermilk couldn’t help but laugh, and Kel joined her. They spent the next few minutes in silence, just enjoying each other’s company. It’s sure good to have someone like Kel right now. It made things feel a little less hopeless.

“So, ready to head for the base and kick some pirate butt?” he asked with a big grin on his face. How can he be so optimistic even at a time like this? They’re about to rob one of the most fearsome pirates in the galaxy, and here’s Kel, acting like they’re just going for ice cream.

“We’re not here to kick pirate butt,” she said, frowning. “We just want the ship.”

“Aww, where’s the fun in that?” he said. “I’m telling you, I’m going to be real disappointed if there’s no boss fight with the Captain at the end!”

Boss fight? What’s he talking about? “Just follow my lead, alright?” she said.

“Yes princ— uh, Buttermilk. You can count on me!”

 

---

 

“…I…am…never…doing…that…again,” said Buttermilk in between ragged breaths after collapsing on the cold metal floor. The room they were in was too dark to see anything clearly, but there was a faint odor of spray paint in the air. The climb took more out of her than she’d anticipated, and there she was, like a deflated balloon with barely energy left. She did manage to find solid footholds while climbing, but the sheer height of the wall was just too much for someone like her. And the stench from the pit… Oh pancakes, that was sooooo awful. Luckily, no garbage was dumped while they were climbing.

“Take your time,” said Kel, wiping the sweat off his brows. He barely seemed tired at all. “Want a cookie?” he said taking it out of his pocket. “I got it from some shady guy in a mailbox back in the forest!”

Just three days ago,  she would’ve refused. But she’d become much less picky since then, so she grabbed the cookie with the swiftness of a pancake bunny high on sugar and shoved it down the hatch. Pretty good. Not quite Mari’s cookies good, but miles above that sugary abomination that that impostor threw at her face.

Buttermilk was about to get up on her feet when the earpiece attached to her left ear buzzed.

“Hey! What are you two dawdling around for?” said Rodney. “Someone’s coming! Hide!”

Crap. Buttermilk scrambled out of the floor and grabbed Kel’s arm, pulling him behind what appeared to be a crate as footsteps grew louder. That was close. She let her eyes adjust to the dark and found that they were in some sort of industrial recycling facility, with various bits of metals and plastics — junk really — stored in large plastic containers, presumably after segregation. That would explain the existence of the garbage pit below.

Two blue-skinned guards sporting red bandanas that clashed with the rest of their attire approached the spot where they were seconds ago, wielding what seemed to be averaged-sized batons.

“Huh? Nothin’ here. Hey Ned?”

“Yeah?”

“You sure you got rid of them rats runnin’ around?”

“It’s done. Don’t worry about it.”

“Then what on Otherworld was that noise I just heard just now, huh?”

“Quit being so jumpy, I’m sure it’s just your imagination. Eat a donut or something. You’re starting to hallucinate, hearin’ sounds that don’t exist.”

With their back against stacks of crates lined up, Buttermilk and Kel sneaked past the guards and made a beeline for the exit. Since the door was already left open, they didn’t have to worry about attracting the guards’ attention on their way out. Whew.

Now the tough part began. Reaching the ship required them to move several floors up, bypassing heavy security along the way. Surveillance cameras, laser barricades, and doors that required certain keycards to open awaited them. Buttermilk read in a book that this facility predated Captain Spaceboy’s birth by a few years and that it was his father, the legendary Captain Pinkbeard, who had the place built from the riches he plundered in space back in his youth. Space pirates were nomadic in nature — you’d hardly see them on the same planet for long. But that didn’t mean that they lacked a place to call home.  A place they would always go back to whenever the rigors of spacefaring became too much to handle. As a result, space pirates have been known to be particularly protective of their territory.

This highly advanced, elaborate underground base was the fruit of their cosmic labor, and infiltrating it won’t be a cakewalk.

But Buttermilk won’t let that stop her. She’d tear this whole place apart with her bare hands if she had to.