Magia Resurrection (PMMM Quest)

Your soul gem radiates with a blinding light. With renewed fervor, your armor bursts forth. A familiar white sword appears in your hand. Grasping the hilt tight, you hold your free hand up to the door. A strange glyph fades into view as if transposed upon the air. It was composed of a circular chain orbiting a crumpled, partially crushed paper heart.

A witch.

Another magical girl.

A fact you had yet to fully absorb. Even after sending Chiyo off, there were others just like her. Suffering alone. Your other sister's wish had begun to make more sense. Whether she should've made it or not remains a question without an answer.

You swallow air as metal clinks against your hilt. A rythmic jitter. You look down, seeing your gauntlet shaking. Grasping the shaking gauntlet with your other hand does little to stop it.

You didn't have time to waste.

You knew that.

You were scared of entering the barrier and fighting the witch. Your only memory of a true fight might as well have not even been yours. You blacked out. It was a fluke, as far as you were concerned. You were bailed out of danger by people who no longer knew you existed.

No one was going to save you this time. So, your instincts tell you to run.

Yet, you step forward.

You think of Madoka, waiting for you to come home. Your friends, waiting for you inside the barrier. You couldn't abandon your friends and family. You have a wish that you promised to make come true.

There was no way you were going to back out now.

You struggle with the weight of the white sword as you raise it overhead. It swings down, the blade ripping into the door as if it were paper. The circular chain splits in two, revealing the otherworldly realm beyond.

You leap inside.

A long, dark corridor with chains hanging from the ceiling like vines. Large wooden frames hang on the walls, sitting slightly askew. Strange black figures look toward you from the other side of the hall. They struggle to balance the framed painting in their grasp as they pick up their pace. Their eyes glow red as they gnash what you believe to be their teeth. You recoil, shake your head, then steady the grip on your blade.

You run toward them as fast as your legs will take you. Magical energy flows through your body like a rushing river. One of the familiars drops the framed painting and puts all of its attention on you, the intruder. The other familiar is crushed flat under the weight of the painting.

Your assailant reaches outward, brandishing claws from its three-pronged hand.

You have to move past. You have to fight it. There was no turning back.

The familiar was around the size of the barrel. Just imagine you're practicing. Swing like you always have. The only real difference was this could fight back and, probably, retaliate. Okay, a large difference, but it didn't matter. You shake free of the thought. Once you close the distance, you avoid closing your eyes. Eyes on the target. Don't look away.

A white arc rips through the air.

Paint falls to the ground like rain.

The familiar's 'scalp' slides onto the floor. It falls forward, its thin body collapsing into the ground.

You couldn't celebrate. The painting that it had dropped face first now stood right side up. The corpse of the other familiar lay pressed against the ground, flattened. The 'face' inside of the painting sneers. Its eyes widen, morphing into pitch, black voids. Its cheeks perk up ever so slightly as hands extend out from the bottom of the portrait.

Then, all at once.

It was a blur.

"What the--!" You choke on your breath. You turn and run further into the corridor.

You look back.

It was still chasing you. It tore across the floor, chunks of marble flying through air as it gave chase.

You sprint past more of the 'worker' familiars stuck in the middle of moving more paintings. They watch as you pass by. As the painting screeches by them, they each drop their frames and join in.

You run. You run as fast as your legs will take you. You power through the fatigue with magical energy for what little time it buys you.

The corridor leads into a set of spiral stairs. Wooden railing coils downward adjacent to the stairs, covered in red briars. The stairs themselves are covered in what seems to be spilled paint, flowing downward as if it were a river of blood. How appropriate.

With no other option, you run. Carefully, meticulously running down the stairs. You watch each step as you make sure not to slip on the spilled 'paint'.

Your lungs burn. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears.

You keep your mind on your friends. You didn't want to waste time fighting familiars. Maybe charging at them was a mistake, but it was too late to reconsider the choice. Now they impede your objective, whether it was your fault or not. Your only real hope now was that you were making headway.

You run deeper into the labyrinth. The distorted scrapes and cries of the familiars echo from further up the stairs. They were chasing after you full speed. There was no time for them to stop, especially on a staircase. They only had one exit.

You couldn't turn and fight them on the staircase. That was tantamount to suicide. Considering how fast the portrait familiars were, you had no chance. There were about three, four of them if you had to estimate. They were barreling at the front of the pack.

They were fast. Just like--

"That's right."

You run, keeping your eyes focused for when you spot the floor.

The screeching was getting closer.

You don't turn back.

The darkness of the corridor begins to give way to an eerie, red light.

It was the exit. It had to be. If not, then you were about to be torn apart.

You channel magical energy into your hand. It was the same as it was with Chiyo. They only had one way to go.

"This better work." You mumble to yourself, leaping under the open doorway. You pivot on your feet and smack your hand straight into the ground. The latent magic held within it seeps into the floor.

Black silhouettes burst forth from the stairway. The painting familiars dash out, with their arms outstretched. Their mouths open as they lunge forward.

A sword-spear head rips straight through one's mouth. It flies forward, catching another on the tip before shattering its frame. It collides with the third, pinning it to the wall to the pillar. The fourth portrait avoids the spear, barreling straight at you. More worker familiars spill forth from the corridor.

"Plan B!" You toss your white sword straight at the portrait. It has little time to dodge as the blade lodges itself into its forehead. It's not enough to destroy it. But, it halts its advance long enough for you to crouch to the ground.

Your palm makes contact.

The newly conjured spear impales the painting, hoisting it into the air.

"That's four down."

You hardly catch your breath as another sword appears in hand.

Two? Four? No, six familiars race out from the passage. It was almost as if you disturbed an anthill. They run forward with their arms over their hands. Their spindly, black elbows elongate. Their featureless heads open, revealing a circular void.

What were you going to do?

It was six on one. Dealing with one was easy enough, but they were tenacious.

You had to cut through them all at once. There had to be some way to stop them. You were a magical girl. You had some space, you could run.

But they would catch up, wouldn't they?

Consider your options. Think. Think. Think.

One rushes forward. You brandish the sword, readying the blade to block. You parry the blow. Sparks fly. Another rushes forward. You leap back, stumbling to catch your balance. Two more from the side. One swings its long appendage toward your neck. You fall to the ground and swing low.

A direct hit. It falls to the side. The second closes the distance and grasps your arm. It tries to crush it, but the armor buys you time. You stab the sword straight through its stomach. Its grip loosens as it screeches in pain. You rip the sword upward, splitting the familiar's head wide open.

You breathe, trying to gather your composure.

Four more close in, with the fifth pulling itself off of the ground.

That was another down.

There were five more to go.

[_] It was best to try to run. No use fighting them like this.
[_] Rely on your past experience. Utilize the cleaver with its 'severing' magic.
[_] Try to formulate another plan revolving around the sword-spear.
[_] Try to fight them one-on-one. Find some way to split them apart.
[_] Write-in

You raise your hand to the sky. A magical light dances before gathering into your open palm. The light dims, revealing the solid form of a silver cleaver. The familiar heft of the weapon falls into your hand. You strain your arm, struggling to stop yourself from dropping it. The magical energy coursing through your body could only make up for so much weakness. You grit your teeth, looking ahead as the familiar's rush forward.

You thrust magical energy into your arms. You grasp the weapon with both hands, trying to recall how to use it. Last time, you plummeted into the depths of the soul gem for the expertise on how to utilize your mimicry magic. While there were residual memories, experiences, it was only enough to conjure the weapon. To actually use the magic of 'severance' likely meant doing another deep dive.

The rushing light that burned your bones and boiled your blood. You grimace, trying to shake yourself free of the vivid memory.

You wanted to end this fight with one slash. How did you do that as you were? Did you have to have the target right in front of you? Were you just limited to making weapons? No, that couldn't be right. It had to be inexperience.

The first familiar darts forward, its claws outstretched.

No time to think. Just swing.

"Haaah!" You yell, swinging straight down.

The blow crushes the familiar's head and cuts through the stomach and partially through the floor beneath it. The ground shakes and splinters from the force of the impact.

You lift the cleaver.

Panic hastens your breath.

It doesn't budge.

Needles prick and prod at your face and body.

You struggle and strain, but it doesn't budge.

You could lift it, so why didn't it budge?

Sharp claws clasp onto your shoulder.

"Ah!" You yelp. The blades dig deep, tearing into your exposed shoulder.

"G-get off!" You protest.

You free your hand from the hilt. You clasp another white blade in hand and slash. One cut and you were free. The familiar falls to the ground, rights itself, and strikes again. You parry the blow and slide backward. You leap backward to gain more distance.

What were you going to do? What could you do? Even as you try to numb the pain with magical energy, it doesn't work. You couldn't ignore the pain. Even then, you had to keep your eyes on your opponents. Your breathing slows. Your vision blurs as your head begins to ache.

Don't give up, and don't run away. You think to yourself, grasping the hilt of the sword.

They catch up.

You raise your sword in protest to the dashing familiars. The one-armed creature leaps forward, aiming for your fresh wound. You catch the jump, the white blade dyeing itself black with its viscera.

The creature grasps your arm and tears at your forearm. It rips through the fabric, latching onto your skin. You wince, trying to throw the familiar off your sword. It hangs on with as much strength as its small frame can muster. One swing, two. Over and over again in an effort to free yourself from its vice grip.

Its form breaks and bleeds, it screeches in pain, matching your tenacity with its own.

It digs deeper as your blood spills onto the ground.

"Aaah!" You cry as your executioners approach, their pincers clasping in delight.

Was this it? This wasn't the end, was it?

You stare as the last two charge forward.

In the midst of the chaos, a realization dawns upon you. Familiars weren't like witches. Even in the distorted form of a witch, there may have been some semblance of humanity. Screaming, wailing, and maybe even deep down, regrets? These creatures were spawned from their despair. They were manifestations of their sorrow, and perhaps even their cruelty.

Even if a familiar spawns from a witch, it isn't a witch. It's a facet of a magical girl. You had been relentless until now. The fear of pain, the fear of death. You're scared, you're hesitating.

But if you were going to die, here and now.

You didn't have to think about leaving Madoka alone.

You didn't have to think about Sayaka or Lexi.

Because if you died here, there would be nothing left for you to worry about.

So, you wouldn't die.

It was just that simple.

The last two charge forward.

You still had your sword.

You don't run, nor wait, you charge forward.

You stab the open air as the familiar approaches. It can't dodge. Its fate had been decided. One of its arms goes free, but the other clips your leg.

You bear the pain, the sword catching the familiar in the air as you plunge it into the ground. The blade pierces stone, pinning the two familiars in place. You look up to see the cleaver behind the last familiar.

It leaps at your neck, both arms out. It was going for the kill.

You hold both your arms out, grabbing what you could only call its 'wrists'. It snips at the open air, cutting into your armor and scratching your forehead. You walk forward, fighting to keep it in your grip. You walk closer and closer to the cleaver jutting out of the ground.

The familiar turns to see the sheen of the cleaver.

Almost attaining sapience, it prioritizes freeing itself rather than letting itself be killed.

With labored breaths and a limp, you raise your arms up high at the cleaver's side. The familiar screeches as you swing downward.

The black blob contacts the sharpened blade. Its body rips cleanly in two. 'Blood' explodes from the impact, covering your hands and face in black paint.

You collapse onto the ground, unable to stand on your leg.

Your eyes drift toward the bloodstained reflection in cleaver's metallic shine.

Disheveled hair matted with blood. Cuts and gashes covering your skin and armor. A hollow, distant look in your eyes as if this were a hazy dream. You look at the soul gem at the nape of your neck. It had hardly darkened since the fight began.

You survived. It was your first major fight, and you survived. You should be happy. You didn't have help. You did it.

But, you felt empty. There was no victory. You wasted time, nearly got yourself killed, and weren't any closer to saving Sayaka or Lexi. Even if it wasn't true, you felt like a failure.

It was a group of familiars -- not even a witch. How were you supposed to help Mami or Kyouko if you were this weak?

You laugh, trying your best to stifle your tears.

There wasn't any time for self-pity. You stand up, climbing the cleaver to get to your feet. Once you stand on one leg, the cleaver vanishes.

The blood doesn't stop flowing. The pain doesn't cease.

You grasp your bleeding arm and begin your trek further down the corridor.

One step at a time.

Each step hurts less than the last.

Your body slowly numbs.

You had to get to them.

If that was the last thing you did, then it would be worth it.

You walk through a long, winding corridor. It dips down before curving into a slight spiral. It descends further into what seems to be an endless chasm. Chains clank overhead as what you expect to be familiars running with more paintings. The only solace you had is that they weren't heading toward you.

Your heart beats in your ears.

Walk through it.

Don't give up.

Another few steps.

You stumble.

Keep walking

Keep walking and don't turn back.

---

Alexus runs. Alexus runs as fast as her legs take her. With an unconscious girl on her back, it was difficult. With familiars running after her, clipping at her ass, it was nearly impossible. If it was just her, by herself, it wouldn't matter. She's experienced death before. Death by dismemberment wasn't her favorite way to go out, but it was still something she could come back from.

Of course, she didn't have the luxury of stopping. Alexus had a passenger; a normal teenage girl. Not just a normal teenage girl, a friend of an acquaintance. She normally wasn't in the business of helping people, but this was a special occasion. Strangely, she didn't want to disappoint Momoka. She only met her recently, but her demeanor made her feel almost nostalgic. Back to the halcyon days with her younger sister.

She had been running for a while without getting tired. It was one of the perks of her 'curse', if she had to put it into words. If she did get exhausted, she felt like running again a second later. It's not like she reaped the benefits of the 'exercise', either. It was honestly a double-edged sword. The well of stamina was exactly what she needed to keep herself and Sayaka alive.

Alexus sprints up the spiraling walkway. She ascends higher and higher, making sure not to look back. If she pauses for even a second, Sayaka's life was forfeit.

Chains rattle behind her, echoing dark the darkened chasm.

Her instincts were telling her to move or dodge. There was an attack coming. Her past experiences scream at her to use what little sense of self-preservation she had left to protect herself.

Of course, she couldn't do that. She couldn't put Sayaka in danger.

Alexus, however, was completely expendable.

The air breaks.

Alexus pivots, holding Sayaka tightly with both her arms behind her back.

She couldn't use her arms to cushion the blow from whatever was about to happen. There was no protecting herself. Whatever was coming at her would have to--

The chain whirls around her, almost as if it was a lasso.

In that moment, she realizes that it wasn't attacking her-- it was grabbing her.

Alexus drops Sayaka to the ground with a thud.

The chain constricts her. Her arms slam into her sides. It strengthens its grip against her body. She doesn't even bother to struggle.

No protest, either.

Alexus just closes her eyes to await the inevitable.

"Hey!" A voice yells out from the darkness above. "Your fight's up here, bastard!"

Alexus opens her eyes as her bindings shatter. The witch, the master of the domain, floats above the magical girl. Its 'head' consisted of a palette of only red and black paint. Its body was a flowing river of red with chains dangling off of it as if it were a tree. Steam slowly rises from the chains as the paint flowing through them sizzles on contact.

It was ugly, like every other witch she's ever had the displeasure of meeting. It made sense, considering they're the ugliest parts of a magical girl made manifest. It was still sad, but she was beyond caring at this point.

"Thanks." Alexus says as she runs over toward Sayaka. She picks her up into her arms and runs.

"Screee!" Cries from up above. More familiars? Really? Alexus curses her luck, picking up what pace she could.

Alexus doesn't look back at how many there are. When she veers around the loop, her eyes catch a glimpse of the magical girl fighting the witch.

She dances about in the darkness, using her spear to stay afloat in the air. The witch dives and weaves through her blows. From her point of view, the fight seems like it was at a stalemate. Some part of her wishes she could help, the other just wanted to get the hell out of the barrier.

With no other recourse, she chooses the latter. Alexus faces forward and picks up the pace. As she rounds another loop, she finally spots her.

Momoka.

---

You couldn't contain yourself. Despite your injuries, you manage a smile. Lexi and Sayaka were alright. They were alive. Your eyes blur as you wipe away the tears.

"Momoka! Run!" Lexi says from the other side of the walkway. Almost as if on cue, familiar faces exit from the shadows behind your friends. Four? Five? No, probably more than that. None of them were paintings, thankfully, but they were still dangerous.

"Not going to repeat myself!" Lexi yells again.

"I can't." You shake your head as she approaches. "I'm not going to get very far."

"What do you mean you--" Lexi runs past you, pivoting to look down. "Oh, yeah, that'd do it."

You sigh.

How were you able to still stand? Was it adrenaline? Magic? At this point, it was a miracle you were still awake.

"... Take your friend and go."

"What?"

Lexi walks past you.

"I'll keep them busy."

"No, you'll--"

"Don't worry about me."

The same thing she said back in the other world.

"I'll be fine."

They were almost here.

[_] Leave Lexi to fend off the familiars.
[_] Fight alongside her to the best of your ability.
[_] Grab Lexi and try to get away with Sayaka.
[_] Write-in