By the time they had made it downstairs, the building was flooded with policemen. Or, well, former policemen. Most of them were now covered head to toe in armor that wasn't so different from Richard's. Steel plate, random insignias from different cultures. None of Morgana's koi fish or skeletal heads, though.

  Momo wasn't embarrassed to say that she was relieved by that. As much as she wouldn’t want to change where she ended up post-college, Valerica was perhaps on the best-case scenario end of what happens when you give people the power and incentive to enslave rotting corpses. Especially people who already have a power kick.

  "Oh, wonderful," Richard said, already shaking his head when he saw the get-up the men in blue had on. "Is this some sort of practical joke?"

  "No, sir," the police chief replied, showing his badge. “Peter King. 13th precinct.”

  Momo assumed King was the police chief purely because he had a shiny gold helmet on—a clear differentiating status symbol in a sea of silver and steel.

  I wonder if the classes everyone got corresponds to the level of social prestige they had before the System got here? Maybe they got to start at a higher rank?

  That would explain why Richard, a successful career man in his forties, would start as high a rank as a Knight of the Sun. Not that Momo was confident the ranks here actually corresponded to the ones back in Alois. Morgana had always impressed on her that each universe required a slightly different approach when it came to System dynamics. You couldn’t just copy and paste and expect the same results.

  Then again—Momo had also assumed that all the planets that were going to receive Systems had already, well, received them. Earth had been referred to as the “Other-World” for a reason. It was supposed to be different. Different, why, she didn’t know. But clearly, that had changed.

  And she was very willing to believe it involved Kyros.

  Man, poor Roger Earth. This was probably a lot more paperwork than usual.

  The police chief strapped his armored hand over Richard's shoulder, and said with all the authority he could muster, "Before you ask, we have no idea what's going on with the sudden appearance of the costumes. But the San Francisco Police Department has declared a state of emergency, and targets of violence such as yourself will be taken to a secure location in the north. A safe compound for extreme situations like these."

  Richard scoffed, and brushed the man’s hand off his shoulder.

  "No need. I'm going home. I can’t wait to take this sweaty medieval hunk of metal off."

  Laura looked at him incredulously.

  "You can't just go home, Richard," she said. "You were just shot at. And unless Rosemary's a complete idiot, you'll have someone posted up with a sniper right outside your apartment to finish the job.”

  Richard scowled, but he seemed to get the message. "To hell with it. You're probably right.” He turned his chin to the police chief. “Come on, you useless pigs seriously have no idea what all this is about? I already know who tried to shoot me, but I'm much more curious about why everyone's suddenly caught a case of perma-Halloween."

  "Wait,” the police chief paused. “You know who tried to shoot you?"

  Richard waved his hand dismissively. "Of course I do. Patrick Rosemary, or more accurately, some ex-military sucker he probably hired off of Craigslist.”

  The police chief cleared his throat, seeming suddenly uncomfortable.

  “Alleging that one of the most powerful men in San Francisco is the one that just targeted you is a big statement, Mr. Smith. Do you really want to commit that to the official record? Or do you want to think about it a little longer?”

  "Oh, this is just… Are you seriously trying to threaten me? While looking like a washed up renaissance festival attendee?" Richard snapped back. "Just take my statement, and escort Laura to that— containment unit, or whatever. Wherever she’ll be safe.”

  "Not threaten, sir. Just gently reminding you of what you’re about to do.”

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  “I can assure you I know exactly what I’m doing.”

  The two of them stared daggers at each other.

  Momo was eager to see just how this standoff would end—she was hoping for a very elaborate, very amateur sword fight—but she never got to find out.

  Because the top of the building promptly peeled off.

  Pipes and wires and cement blocks were all dramatically extracted from the ceiling, and debris began to rain down from above. Momo looked up, alerted, and saw a human figure floating in the pale blue sky. Above him, the entire ceiling of the building was now levitating. He seemed to be keeping it there with his own hands.

  What the hell?

  It had only been a few minutes—and Earth had already developed supervillains?

  This was not the time for her to be a fly anymore.

  Momo jumped back into her real form, legs and arms sprouting from her tiny black speck of a body until she was falling to her knees in the lobby.

  The policeman clearly didn't know where to look. At the girl who had just emerged from the body of a fly, or at the man controlling a football field's worth of cement?

  They settled on the man.

  "Everyone out! Go, go, go!"

  The police chief flapped his hand, gesturing towards the door as the policemen began flooding outside. An alarmed Laura quickly followed. They piled onto the sidewalk as Momo was left in the building. Alone, except for...

  "You’re that girl from before," Richard said, pointing an accusatory finger.

  Momo's eyes widened, feeling embarrassed. Shit. He recognized her.

  "The one who was stalking me at the university club. Are you working for Rosemary?”

  “Oh, no, no, no, no. You’ve got me confused—”

  Luckily, she was saved by the bell. The bell being... the risk of imminent death for over twenty civilians. The figure far above them raised his arms and, with a shrug, tossed the floating plane of rock onto the street.

  Momo cast [Focus] and…

  …Everything slowed down. She could see the muscles tensing in the policemen’s bodies, the panicked way their arms were rising to protect themselves from the sudden death showering from above. It was such a human reflex to cover one's head, one that Momo used to employ all the time, back when she had felt helpless.

  But now.

  She was the only one here fit to protect anyone.

  She surged above them, urgently flapping her wings so she was floating like an angel over their heads. Then, with a whisk of her hands, she ripped through the air, disassembling the oxygen’s particles back down to the rudimentary Nether from which they emerged.

  Forming a wall of thick blackness above them, she created a barrier big enough to shield the entire sidewalk. It sounded like impossibly strong hail pelting down on metal when the debris hit the barrier. The cement blocks shrugged over the dome’s surface, landing on the ground just outside where the policemen had been hiding.

  That actually worked, she thought.

  She had only been hoping that Earth, too, was made up of Nether. But just like in Alois, all particles seemed to come from the same source, and thanks to her elevated Nether Demon powers, that was a source she could manipulate with near-perfect accuracy.

  The policemen were stunned. However, it was Richard who was first to speak.

  (Something that probably shouldn’t have surprised Momo, at this point.)

  "How did you do that?" he asked, matter-of-factly, as if she was a witness he was cross-examining on the stand. "What’s this dome? What kind of being are you?"

  "Oh." Momo scratched the back of her neck, flushing. "I'm Momo."

  He grunted. "Like the convention? The TV show?"

  "Uh, yes. Pretty much."

  He clenched his jaw, then nodded. She had not expected such a straightforward reception. But then again, Richard continued to surprise her.

  "Interesting. Good. So unlike these idiots, you probably know what's going on here."

  The policemen, despite being called idiots, seemed to agree with Richard’s sentiment, and looked at her expectantly. Even the police chief, with his shiny golden helmet, couldn't argue with the obvious power differential that had appeared.

  There was armor, and then there was a girl who could create an impenetrable dome out of thin air.

  Another round of shrapnel came thundering at the dome. It was becoming clear that this attacker was not an opportunistic murderer, but a premeditated one. He was going to keep it coming until the dome broke.

  Fortunately, Momo was a goddess now, so that dome definitely wasn't going to break under the attack of someone who had just acquired powers for the first time a few minutes ago. As long as she could keep all the vulnerable people organized in one place, she could deal with this.

  "Look, you guys stay here. I'm going to seal you in, so nothing can get out, but I promise I'll be back in one second. I'm just going to deal with… him."

  She was about to turn, but Richard grabbed her wrist.

  "No one seals me in anywhere. I'm coming with you."

  Momo grimaced.

  "That's a really bad idea," she said. "You can't fly. Also, your body is, no offense, very susceptible to giant pieces of cement. Mine is less so."

  He stared at her, considering this statement. Then, after a moment, he released her hand. "Fine, but you better come back and free us, or I will find your parents' address, and send them very traumatizing images."

  Momo's eyes widened. Maybe this guy wasn't the worst person alive, but he was close.

  Another barrage hit the dome. Momo took that as her cue to leave.

  She skidded out from underneath the dome, then moved her hands downward, using her Nether magic to seal the bubble completely.

  Then, she took off from the pavement. She surprised even herself at the speed she could achieve in her new form. If running as a Nether Dokkaebi had been freeing, moving as a goddess was on an entirely different level.

  She was ripping the air apart, destabilizing electrons just by moving.

  A broad smile began to grow on her face the closer she got to the man in the sky.

  He had no idea what he was dealing with.

  God—this was going to be fun.

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