Mumu, Phantom of the Trenches.

  That’s the name she gained during the months that followed her arrival in Ab, one of the three provinces of the Divine Empire of Unmaya which occupied around half of the land on the sole continent of Neo-Earth.

  Her battles may have been limited to the trenches north of Cu?al, but she had since killed no less than one hundred cultists, but there was a problem.

  She needed six more Realstone shards but had yet to come across another opponent that was level five or higher.

  Dollman had taught her how to use her skills, but the problem was that using a skill would use up one of her precious Realstones, so she decided not to use either of the two skills she’d gained.

  On a positive note, she had taken Ne?kos’s armour and, while heavy, it felt comfortable, and she was able to move quite freely even though she was carrying around thirty kilograms of steel.

  Feeling defeated, Mumu let out a sigh as she sat just outside the bunker, peering at the distant trenches.

  In some strange way, the frustration she felt reminded her of GOG.

  Right now, as morbid as the thought was, it was as if she was farming mobs.

  She couldn’t help but smile as she thought back to all the hours she spent grinding for gear and materials.

  Dollman always seemed to have just what he needed, so he never sent her on tedious fetch quests, and Stician was currently training Lav at the foot of the hill, meaning all Mumu could do was wait until she got a call from Captain Kettle.

  She had developed a working relationship with the gloomy soldier, and this gave her limited access to military intel, some of which stated that the Cultists were sneakily retreating, which only served to raise suspicions.

  It also meant that things had gotten quiet.

  Really quiet.

  Where once the air was filled with the sounds of distant explosions and gunfire, now only a handful of projectiles tore across the air at any given time.

  Mumu didn’t like it.

  Her restlessness led her down the hill to the patch of grass where Stician taught Lav how to shoot a bow.

  The two hadn’t stopped practicing with the stoic archer teaching the boy everything from how to make arrows to maintaining one’s bow.

  Mumu, who was now clad in heavy metal armour and with a radio at her hip, smirked approvingly as Lav hit all of his shots, bullseyes each, but Stician didn’t seem impressed.

  “It’s not enough to hit your target. You need to pierce it. That’s how precise you need to be. Shoot through the air, across the battlefield and through your chosen target.”

  Lav nodded with lowered eyes as Mumu approached.

  She chose not to interfere, trusting that Stician would do what was right for Lav, but it pained her a little when he was reprimanded or scolded.

  “Maybe we should try a moving target next.” Stician hummed while turning her needle-sharp eyes to Mumu.

  Lav, who wore a set of light clothing that allowed him to move easily, had his head covered by a turban, hiding his white hair.

  This was because they had yet to learn the truth of his nature, and his white hair may have been a dead giveaway to any Cultists who were looking for the clone that escaped their clutches.

  “Oh? Sounds interesting. What would you like me to do, ma’am?” Mumu teased making Stician roll her eyes.

  “Just try not to get hit. And you, boy, try and hit her with one of your arrows.”

  This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

  Lav winced, but one look from Mumu was all he needed to know what he had to do, and so he raised his bow.

  He drew an arrow and pointed his weapon at his Big Sis, who gave him the warmest smile.

  He then loosed his arrow, and while it travelled fast enough to injure a normal human seriously, Mumu easily dodged it by stepping to the side.

  “Again!” Stician snapped, and the boy immediately loosed another arrow at Mumu, who dodged it again.

  “Again!”

  This went on until Lav used all thirty of the simple wooden arrows in the quiver Stician had gifted to him.

  He was then made to pick those same arrows again and told to try hitting Mumu again and again until the sun fell.

  After exhausting the boy, the two KVLs accompanied him into the bunker, where they guided him into the bathroom.

  “I can wash myself, you know—eep!” Lav let out a helpless cry as Mumu and Cian disrobed him, revealing his small, delicate frame.

  “W-what are you doing?” He yelped as the two, after removing their own armour, helped him into the geyser where they proceeded to scrub him clean, much to his flustered annoyance.

  They bathed as well before picking Lav out and drying him and themselves up.

  They then promptly dressed the now-pouting boy up before staring at him intently.

  Cian stroked her chin and nodded.

  “He is deviously adorable.”

  “Agreed.”

  Tears began welling in Lav’s eyes, and after sticking out his tongue at the both of them, he ran out of the shower, leaving the two to stare at each other.

  Their cheeks both reddened a little, and it was Mumu who spoke first.

  “We must do this as often as possible before he grows up and finds it embarrassing to bathe with his sisters.”

  “Agreed.”

  The two eventually got dressed and joined Dollman, who meditated by his floor-side workbench with his eyes closed. But even though he was in such a state, Mumu felt as though he could still perceive her every move.

  “Everything… has a place. Belonging isn’t a matter of allocation but of natural inclination and comfort.” He breathed, uttering one of his many thoughts. Thoughts he would share to whoever listened.

  “Huh… Mr. Dollman, since you have so much insight into so many things and whatnot, why aren’t you working more closely with the Saintly Forces?” Mumu asked, making the elder open a single eye.

  “Because the Saints themselves have their own agendas, not all of which are aligned with the best interests of the living. If I possessed enough knowledge to turn the tide of the war and gave it to them, they would defeat the Cultists, yes but… what would follow is a future that would potentially suffer from just as much conflict as that we face today.

  “

  “You speak so confidently; did you know any of the Saints well enough to say for certain?” Mumu raised a brow, something Dollman found delightful, opening his other eye and giving her his full attention as she picked at his mind and character.

  Mumu figured that there was a reason he was so vague and cryptic when it came to his identity, but it also looked like he enjoyed being studied and questioned.

  As if he fancied himself a puzzle that needed to be solved.

  While Mumu found it somewhat tedious, it did make talking to him quite an experience.

  With dialogue being akin to an ignorant primate knocking on the foot of something far beyond its grasp.

  But it wasn’t as though Mumu thought that he was toying with her.

  It always seemed as though he was building up to something greater,

  And, perhaps most importantly, it seemed as though Mumu had a key part to play in whatever scheme was up his life.

  “One need only look at the war. Still raging even after an eternity, ever churning with the burnt souls of the innocent, the result of a complacence that almost mirrors the destruction of the very fires of Malignance that were cast unto the skyward river by the death of the primeval god, ēkkam.”

  The name alone was enough to make Mumu’s pupils constrict as a wave of fear washed over her.

  “Surely you had something similar in your world. A banner that sang hope and freedom but made the meek tremble at its mere sight, knowing full well that saviour and oppressor were often one and the same.”

  Mumu bit her teeth.

  She knew he was right, but if that was the case, then what was the point of fighting then?

  Not content with waiting and seeing, Mumu asked.

  “Then what are we supposed to do, and what are you planning?”

  “I have tried countless things, but what I have learnt in my plentiful years of life is that it doesn’t take a supposedly special person to change the world or even the universe. Good or bad. Whether it was the primeval gods who fell to corruption or those who stood in defiance. Whether it was the braves who have given their lives time and time again in the gears of machinations that supersede them by several folds or you KVL, one need only try because as long as you can try something, anything, you are an agent of Actuation.”

  Mumu nodded, and it was here that Stician let out a loud groan.

  “Are you guys done? I swear, it’s like you two never run out of things to ramble about.”

  Mumu leaned on Cian a little.

  “It might help you a little if you contributed.” Mumu cooed.

  “Tsk! The only thing she’d contribute is groans and grunts.”

  Cian gave Dollman a chop on his knee, with no real intent to hurt.

  “Anyway, I’ve been active for quite a bit now, but I haven’t made much progress. Any idea where else I could go for high-level targets?” Mumu asked.

  “Mmm… my advice would be that you remain patient for just a little longer. The frontlines may have calmed, but it's clear that the Cultists are up to something, hiding their devious and yet unseen ploy behind their supposed retreat.”

  Mumu let out a low understanding hum before collapsing onto Cian’s lap.

  “Alright. I’ll wait. Also—”

  Mumu summoned her Profaned Axe, which she held up, looking into its red hot blade as it sizzled.

  “What would happen if I absorbed Mal energy?”