2.6 For Yuri, I Build a Better Monster

I don’t end up telling Ferromancer about my money troubles on Monday, or on Tuesday. It isn’t until the middle of the week that I manage to raise the topic, and even then it’s not really by choice.

“Again.”

The training scenario starts and I leap into action, back in the workshop arena once again. Satisfied with my ability to summon familiars in a pinch, Ferromancer has changed the rules of my practice bouts to allow me a certain number of familiars summoned beforehand. The new focus is fighting alongside those familiars, and a lot of our experimentation has revolved around figuring out an ideal arrangement.

My new standard loadout is four of the fire-throwing imps, eight of the spear-carrying imps, and one brute demon. It eats up a good chunk of my flame but not enough that I’m in danger, and I’ve been consistently improving the sustainability of my powers, though only by inches. If I need to, I can still summon more, but the objective of this week’s training has been learning how to use the other half of my toolkit more effectively.

To that end, I’ve acquired a bow—or more accurately, Ferromancer acquired a bow for me. It started as a nice compound bow, but after a taste of my flame all of the technical elements have melted and now it resembles a more traditional war bow, or the high fantasy equivalent—strange patterns in scorched plastic, spike-tipped and menacing.

I tried archery in high school, but I was hopeless at it. I’m still hopeless at it—we tested that with the compound before I burned it—but when I’m wielding the transformed version it’s like I’m a born expert. Ferromancer insists that I’ll do better if I can pair that supernatural mastery with real practice, but that’s a long-term plan. Personally, I’m hoping to get my hands on some trick arrows.

Maybe then I’ll stand a chance against Bombshell.

When Ferromancer told me she was upping the difficulty, I assumed that meant more holograms, or some drones thrown in the mix. Instead, she brought out her enforcer, and the brawler witch has been kicking my ass ever since.

The worst part is how obviously Bombshell is holding back. She’s not fighting me in purple aura, or even red aura—she’s sending her familiars to fight on her behalf. Bombshell isn’t a dedicated familiar user, but they’re still pretty unique: she makes copies of herself, simulacra cloaked in yellow aura that lack her sheer strength and durability but retain her perfect sense of positioning and movement.

And that perfect movement extends to catching my goddamn arrows. It’s insulting! Shoot, dodge, shoot, catch, repeat until I lose the will to live and all my familiars get popped. I’m at least getting better at dismissing my conjured arrows after they get dodged or caught.

This bout isn’t going any different from the rest. I’ve already lost half my imps, and my poor brute is tied down getting absolutely brutalized by one of the Bombshell copies while the other copy makes a beeline for my face. They’re weaker than the real deal, but that doesn’t matter; their agility is beating me. I can’t outmatch them.

In the end, just as every time before, the fight is over quickly. My resources dwindle to nothing, my last line of defense breaks, and one of the copies gets in close and tags me. Ferromancer calls the fight. I dismiss the few summons that were left.

I sag. The loss isn’t surprising, but that’s half the problem. I don’t feel like I’m making any progress. Bombshell is an insurmountable foe—no, her copies are an insurmountable foe—and I know for a fact that Bombshell doesn’t hold a candle to Striga. The gap between me and my goal seems to stretch wider the more I learn about the world of witches.

Ferromancer walks over to me, followed by four of her floating drones. “Archon. What’s your analysis? Why are you losing?”

I struggle to answer. I have an answer, but it feels wrong. It feels like giving up, and I don’t want Ferromancer to think less of me. But I can’t think of anything else, so I say it: “I feel like I can’t win with the tools I have. I’m trying to shoot faster, coordinate my familiars better, but I don’t see how I can win even if I play perfectly. Sorry, I know that sounds so defeatist.”

“Actually, I agree.” Ferromancer chuckles at the surprised look on my face. “You don’t have the powerset of a warrior, to improve your motion and your strength until you can overcome a challenge with the same blade in hand as you started with. You’re a blacksmith, Archon; an inventor, like me. When your toolkit can’t answer a problem, you build a new tool to solve it.”

I chew on that. “Huh. That’s… a pretty good perspective. Thanks.”

“Give it a think while we take a break. See what you can come up with.” Ferromancer waves me off and vanishes into the kitchen, leaving me alone with Bombshell.

The other witch bounces over to me, brimming with overwhelming cheer. “Hey hey! It’s super duper cool to see you improving. I can’t wait to see how strong you get! How’s the witch life? What have you been up to outside of training?”

Her excitement is almost infectious, but I don’t have great answers for her questions. I scratch my head sheepishly and say, “Honestly, I haven’t been up to much. At least, not much different from my normal schedule.”

Bombshell grins, somehow sparkling even more than usual. “I have the perfect solution: let’s go shopping together! You seem like you’ll be sticking around, and shopping with someone is the perfect way to get to know them. C’mon, it’ll be fun!”

I wince. “Actually… I can’t really afford any spending right now. In fact, money is kind of a problem for me, with rent coming up. I was going to try and fence some of the jewelry I can copy, but the fact that it disappears makes me worry about stressing the veil.” Weirdly, it feels easier to tell this to Bombshell than to Ferromancer. Bombshell doesn’t seem like the kind of person that judges for anything.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“You should do a heist!” she says with an excited clap of her hands. “Every supervillain should rob a bank at least once in their career. It’s tradition!” She seems completely unfazed by my response, still bouncing in place with all that boundless energy.

“What’s this about a heist?” Ferromancer asks, returning from the kitchen with bottles of water to distribute.

“I need money,” I admit. “My main income stream just vanished and rent is soon. I’d been thinking of how to bring it up. I want to do something to introduce myself to the world as Archon, and if I can solve my money problem at the same time that’d be great. But I don’t really know how to fence a bunch of stolen cash, or fence stolen anything, so I’m not sure what I’d do if I did rob a bank. Is that even something that works these days? I figured modern banks would keep all their cash off-site, with how much everything can be done by card.”

“Nope!” Bombshell chirps. “They still keep a bunch of cash on hand for transactions.”

Ferromancer leans against a crate and takes a gulp of water. “Mm. I could handle the laundering for you in exchange for a cut. And if time is an issue… well, you’ve been learning fast. If you want to take your final exam early, I won’t say no. And I have something that can help, something I’ve wanted to test since I first heard about your power.”

“Oh?” My curiosity heightens. “What kind of test?”

The redheaded witch strides over to an unmarked box stacked on top of a larger crate, opens it up, and pulls out a single arrow with an unusual arrowhead: it looks like a capsule more than anything, made of some kind of white plastic. The rest of the arrow is normal, plain black like the one Ferromancer first gave me to copy.

“It’s a foam arrow,” she explains. “You saw some of it in use during the demonstration, the expanding sticky foam that hardens to trap the target. The foam is concentrated in the arrowhead and is triggered by kinetic energy, so a strong impact causes it to rapidly expand, breaking through the plastic seal and affixing to whatever the arrow struck. You can imagine the use that would have in a fight.”

I sure can. Bombshell had to power up to break free of the foam when it was used in the demo; her copies wouldn’t be able to at all. With a gadget like this, our practice bouts would completely change. In a real fight, in a fight against a magical girl, it would be invaluable to securing a nonlethal victory. Bombshell whistles, equally appreciative.

“I want you to feed it to your furnace.”

I blink. I should have seen that coming, but it’s still a little surprising. “You know that destroys the original, right? And my copies are temporary. Is it really okay to destroy one of your inventions like that?” I’m looking a gift horse in the mouth, I know, but I’m nervous around Ferromancer, sue me.

She waves off my concern. “This is just a prototype. It was easy enough to make, and there’s no one in town I could really sell it to. Besides, the data we’d gather is worth the expenditure. This is a test of your power, Archon.”

“A test?” I frown. “Of what? What’s so special about the arrow?”

“Magic.” She laughs at my skeptical look. “I’m serious. The materials science at play with this foam doesn’t work. I’m cheating in a bunch of different ways to get something that nullifies a lot of the usual disadvantages of less-lethal foam. You can’t suffocate in the stuff, it dissolves in salt water for easier cleanup, and it packs extremely well, all while being stronger than what the Marines were experimenting with in Somalia. This foam may look like ordinary technology, but it’s running on magic at its core. And that’s what I’m curious about: can your furnace copy another witch’s magic?”

I work through the implications of that. “I copied Thunderclap’s axe, but it’s only created by magic, it doesn’t really have special properties. If I could copy a magic item from another witch’s kit… the possibilities are limitless. If I could copy your kit, it would completely nullify the limitation downside of your power—though not in a way that could be sold like normal.”

“It would make you one of the most versatile witches in the world,” Ferromancer says. “Greater than myself or Lilith, even. I’d like to see if that’s possible.”

“That’s incredible,” I breathe, practically salivating. Then I hesitate. “This is more than what Pandora asked of you, isn’t it? Why are you giving me so much help?”

Bombshell rolls her eyes. “Girl, you have to learn when to take a gift!”

Ferromancer holds up a hand at her enforcer, looking amused. “It’s fine. It’s a fair question. Witches are hardly an altruistic bunch, and I’m no exception. Pandora likes to call her witches ‘investments,’ and I think that’s a reasonable view to take. I also like to make investments. Bombshell is one. You might be another. I have a few projects on the drawing board that would greatly benefit from a power like yours, if it can copy my work. So let’s find out, shall we?”

She takes the arrow and holds it out, gesturing for me to take it. I’m nervous—incredibly nervous—but I’m also extremely excited. If this works, it’ll be a game changer. It’ll make me a witch worth paying attention to. The kind of witch that maybe, just maybe, could beat Strix Striga. Sophie’s power is incredible, but even she can’t predict everything. With enough tricks up my sleeve, I might just win.

I take the arrow and feed it to Prometheus. The furnace takes it with a hungry eagerness, consuming the device whole and making it mine. The arrow joins my armory.

I burn a new arrow into being, conjuring it with violet flame. Moment of truth. I resummon my bow, nock the arrow, and aim for a random crate. I loose the arrow. I watch it fly. And when it strikes the target, the foam expands.

“It worked!” I shout, suddenly gleeful. “I can do it! I can copy other people’s magic!”

The implications overwhelm me. The gratitude overwhelms me. I’m going to be capable of so much—I’m going to stand a chance against my beloved Striga—and I never would have gotten here without Ferromancer’s help. I look over at the woman who’s already done so much for me, the witch who’s teaching me how to be more than another number, and I can feel my heart bursting.

Those smoldering eyes watch me with such cool, delighted amusement, always the perfect picture of control. Her lips quirking, her posture relaxed, her presence immense. If Ferromancer really thinks I can help her with something, I want that. I need to be useful to her, to repay her for what she’s given me. I don’t want my time with her to end.

I wonder what she sees in my eyes. I wonder if it’s exactly what she wants to see.

We finish our break and get back to combat training. I learn the ins and outs of my new kind of arrow, and I practice switching up which kind I use to keep my opponent guessing. I score my first real hits on Bombshell’s copies, and I glow with pride as Ferromancer watches.

That evening, for the first time, I win a round against Bombshell. And as we wrap it up for the night and get ready to head home, Ferromancer tells me two words that make my body sing:

“You’re ready.”