5

The Six Towers of Izumo each represented one of Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water, and Rust. The upper reaches of the towers were reserved only for the most pious of monks, while the rabble lived and worked in the residential and commercial districts below. This clinic, Amrit Healing, was in the latter category.

Aside from the fact that the city’s three-dimensional layout made it almost impossible to find anything, it wasn’t so different from Imihama, with its curio shops selling questionable wares, pubs and bars, and even brothels. For a holy city, there was no shortage of earthly necessities.

This did not apply to the upper levels, however. There, the structure of the buildings was completely different from those below. In order to gain access, adherents of the six sects needed to identify themselves with branded marks containing their vows. The six upper districts were not all interconnected as below, either. Each tower stood alone, with no walkways between them, and security between the upper and the lower levels was even tighter than at the checkpoint at the bridge.

“The six of you banded together to defeat Kelshinha before, didn’t you? Couldn’t you do that again?” Milo asked Raskeni.

“If only things were so simple,” she replied. “The sects have been at each other’s throats now for as long as I can remember…and I have been in hiding for so long. They will never listen to what I say.”

“Yeah, that makes sense. You’re never gonna get a bunch of religious people to agree on anything anyway. We might as well just sneak in and nab these Scriptures, or whatever they’re called, while they’re not looking.”

“That would be faster, I agree,” said Amli, sitting across from the two boys. “But now that the Water Tower has fallen, the other towers will be on their guard. It will be impossible to sneak in. Besides, you might be strong, but right now you’re not half the man you used to be…so to speak. The point is, if we try to fight the other four sects, the Rust-Eater will tear you apart before we ever succeed.”

“You hear that, Milo? We can’t steal from ’em, and we can’t fight ’em. We’re screwed.”

“Those aren’t the only two options, you know. Let’s hear what they have to say.”

“There is one other, exceedingly simple method,” said Amli. She turned to Raskeni sitting next to her, who nodded, before continuing. “You must join the sect as a believer. No matter how high the security, they will not turn away one of their own. All the sects are obliged to accept those who come seeking salvation. You may simply walk straight through the front door, curry favor, and gain an audience with the high priest.”

The two stared back, astounded. Amli simply smiled and swung her legs. “Any priest who builds up enough virtue is brought before the high priest to be shown the inner mysteries. When that happens, the Scriptures are sure to be close by. That is when you must strike. Master?”

“Well…I guess that’ll work,” said Raskeni.

“Like hell it will!” yelled Bisco. “Us, become monks? Do we look like we’ve got a shred of virtue between us?”

“Speak for yourself,” said Milo.

“Just give it a try,” said Raskeni. “I think you’ll find the sects aren’t quite as pure as you’re imagining. You just need your wits, and a bit of luck, and I’m sure you’ll make it work.” She finished writing a spell on her tag and stowed it in a pouch at her belt. “As for me, I’ll join the others and go after Kelshinha. We don’t know what he’ll do to take the other Scriptures, but he’ll definitely beat us there if we don’t do something. We’re counting on you. Get there before he does.”

“And what if we don’t have wits or luck? What happens then?”

“Then you die, I suppose.” Raskeni smiled and met Bisco’s fierce gaze. “But you do have them. I can see it in your eyes. You wouldn’t have lasted this long if you didn’t.”

And so, one hour later, the two boys presented themselves for inspection at the Metal Tower, the domain of the Gilded Elephants, at the border where the upper and the lower levels met. They dressed themselves in felt robes, hidden among a crowd of chanting believers, awaiting their initiation. Bisco scowled as he chewed on a dried shiitake mushroom, trying to keep his endless hunger at bay.

“Never thought I’d join up with the monks. Don’t you dare tell Jabi about this, or I’ll never live it down.”

“Lighten up, Bisco. It might be good for you. Can’t you feel your soul becoming cleaner already?”

“What you tryin’ to say about my soul, huh?!”

Suddenly, their conversation was interrupted by what appeared to be a small child, wrapped up in robes like a matryoshka doll so that only one eye peeped out.

“It’s a lovely thought,” she said. “But I’m afraid this sect isn’t going to make your soul any cleaner. Quite the opposite, I expect.”

The child looked up at her puzzled entourage and beamed. Bisco grabbed the back of her robe, lifted her up off the ground, and sighed.

“…Why did she have to come along anyway?”

The matryoshka—or rather, Amli—spun as she hung from his grasp, her one eye darting around.

“Of course I must accompany you, Mr. Bisco, sir. The rust is once again building up in your stomach. I must extract it twice a day or you shall surely die.”

“But it’s dangerous!” pleaded Milo. “A young girl like you shouldn’t be coming along on a spy mission like this!!”

“Well, I do know magic, you know. I can protect myself just fine, thank you very much.” Amli pulled back her hood, showing Milo a devious smile beyond her years. “Or are you saying you can treat Mr. Bisco yourself with your meager arts?”

“…Ngh!!”

Amli’s teasing sent the blood to his head. It was the monk doing the initiations who brought him back to reality.

“Yoo-hoo, next, please!”

Amli broke free of Bisco’s grip and waddled over to the initiator. There, she showed him a slip of paper of some sort, whereupon the man nodded and waved her through.

“You two,” he said as Bisco and Milo tried to pass, “come over here a moment.”

“Hey, we’re with her,” said Bisco. “Aren’t you going to let us through?”

“I’m afraid not. You’re the first young men we’ve had in a while. We must search you thoroughly.”

The two were lined up in front of the elevator leading to the upper levels and strip-searched by a group of monks wearing thick eyeshadow and lipstick.

“My, what defined muscles you have. And your face…look up for me, please. Oh…take a look at this one, darlings. What a handsome young man.”

“Oh my, what a nasty glare he has. That’s so sexy. Give me more, honey…”

“That’s not fair, ladies… I want to brand him, not this weed of a boy.”

Bisco and Milo simply seethed in silence at the monks’ exchange (who were all male, by the way). They only grunted a little when the branding iron was placed to their collarbones, imprinting their skin with the image of an elephant that served as the sect’s insignia.

“Ugh… this is worse than I thought. I hope it comes off…”

“We can just cut it off with a knife, no sweat.”

“I don’t have your body, Bisco!”

As the two whispered to each other, the monks proceeded to check their luggage.

“As I’m sure you already know if you read the notices we put up, our sect is home to artisans. You’re only allowed to bring your tools and any lucky charms.” The monk performing the inspection puffed on his pipe, blowing tobacco smoke. “So perhaps you’d like to explain this bow? Rather dangerous, I must say. We don’t like anything that might be used to start a fight.”

“It’s ceremonial,” said Bisco curtly. “It’s for good luck, as you said. The arrows, too. It ain’t dangerous. It’s just like a rabbit’s foot.”

“My, how convincing. What do you think, ladies?” The monk turned to his colleagues, and they all giggled. Their job must have been an uneventful one most of the time, because they seemed to be having great fun amusing themselves with Bisco.

“All right, we’ll let you keep them, as thanks to your mother for making you so cute. Take this tag. Tithes are on the tenth and twentieth of each month, and if you can’t pay, we’ll take your organs instead. That’s about it!”

Bisco and Milo were made to stamp reams of paperwork without even getting to look them over, until at last the monk gathered them all up and dumped them onto Milo. The one in charge spoke some sort of chant into a microphone on the wall, and the elevator doors opened, revealing an ornately decorated interior.

“Remember, if the road to Hell is paved with gold, then surely so is the road to Heaven. Make sure you earn your keep, ’mmkay?”

As the two boys were shoved into the elevator along with the already-waiting Amli, the doors closed on them like a guillotine blade. At last, the pair breathed a sigh of relief as the elevator rocked and began to rise, taking them up to the higher levels of the tower with a metallic clanking of machinery.

“Was that supposed to be an example of virtue?!” asked Milo, incredulous. “I expected them to at least try to hide their corruption!”

“The Metal Tower is a special case. The Gilded Elephants worship money above all things. Your position within the sect is determined simply by how large a tithe you can afford to pay.”

“And here I thought money was s’posed to be the root of all evil… Well, at least we know what they’re about. That’s more than we can say for the other sects…”

Bisco’s words were punctuated by an enormous Clunk! as the elevator came to a stop. The doors slowly opened, bathing the occupants in a dazzling light as bright as the midday sun.

“W-wow! Look at that!” Milo gasped as he squinted into the light. The two boys gazed upon streets literally paved with gold. The room was large enough to fit a small village, and the ceiling was so high above and decorated in such splendor that it was easy to forget there was a roof at all. Even the buildings themselves were painted gold.

Down the main street of the city, a troupe of masked performers donned a red lion-like costume and danced, as others played flutes and pounded drums. Onlookers clapped and chanted and tossed glittering coins into the street.

The shops facing the street were diverse. Some sold ritual items such as cloth and rakes, others were tattoo artists, and others still offered questionable items such as venomous insects for use in poisons. Even the most untrained eye could see the brutality with which they competed for control of the marketplace.

“So, Amli, if we need money to be virtuous, I guess we’d better start makin’ some,” said Bisco. “And we ain’t got long. How can we get our hands on that kinda cash in one day?”

“How?” repeated Amli as she watched the elevator doors close behind her. “Why ever would you ask me? I know nothing of the ways of business.”

“Whaaat?! Then why the hell are we here?! I thought you had a plan!”

“My plan was to leave that part to you. Come now, you must be able to think of something. I shall assist you in any way I can, of course.”

She smiled. The two boys shared a concerned glance.

“What now, Bisco?” Milo asked. “I’m not exactly an entrepreneur myself…”

“Course you are. You had that clinic in Imihama, didn’t you? We’ll just start a new branch here. For profit, of course.”

“That may have worked there, but here the people are wealthy. They have access to clean water, sanitation, and they seem to have enough doctors already. You’ll be a Rust-Eater man long before we see a single sol of profit.”

“Ngh…”

Bisco rubbed his neck as he looked around at the stores, then peered up at the sky. His eyes went wide as though hitting upon something.

“What is it, Bisco? Did you have an idea?”

“…Well, if Jabi were here, he wouldn’t like it, but we don’t have much of a choice. Amli, go get us some furniture for a clinic. Milo, I need you to make up as many vaccines as you can. A lurkershroom and blue oyster blend should do it.”

“O-okay! …But what for?”

“I’m gonna go take a walk. You’ll get your patients soon enough.”

“Next, please!”

“Hey, can the doc really fix me up? Been itchin’ all over; I can’t work like this.”

“I see you’ve a case of fungal dermatitis. Fortunately, we still have vaccines in stock. They’re two thousand sols each, if you would like one.”

“T-two thousand sols?! You’re crazy! That’s way too expensive!”

“I’m afraid this is due to high demand. We can give it to the next customer if you’d prefer. Okay, next patient!”

“W-w-w-wait! Okay, okay! I’ll pay; just get rid of the itch!”

The Six Towers branch of Panda Clinic had recently established itself, working out of an old abandoned hospital, and currently it seemed as if every tradesperson in the Metal Tower was here. They filled the waiting room, scratching themselves all over in agony.

Amli was sitting at reception, dressed in a nurse outfit, complete with cap, her bewitching smile utterly lost on the patients, who simply wished to be rid of their accursed itching as quickly as possible.

“Amli,” called Milo from the next room, “we’re out of vaccines! We’ll have to close up shop while I prepare some more!”

Amli smiled and turned to the patients in the waiting room.

“I’m sorry, but it seems we have exhausted our stock. We will be back in business soon, so please sit tight and scratch yourselves.”

Shouts of “You kiddin’ me?” and “How long you gonna make us wait?!” filled the cramped waiting room, but Amli simply closed the shutter on the reception desk window and pulled down her surgical mask with delight.

“The clinic is a huge success! Truly, the combined might of the legendary Akaboshi and Nekoyanagi is a sight to behold! Once we finish tending to the rest of our patients, we shall easily have enough money for our audience with the high priest!”

“Yeah, looks like my plan worked. Well, Milo, impressed?”

“Of course I’m not impressed! I’m never doing this again, Bisco! I became a doctor to heal people, not make them sick!”

There was a new disease in town, a strange skin infection that turned the skin orange and caused unbearable itchiness, and word on the street was that the newly established Panda Clinic had the only cure.

That, of course, was because it was none other than Bisco himself who’d contaminated the air-conditioning system supporting the tower’s upper levels with tickleshrooms.

“Get that stick outta your ass. At Banryouji Temple, they always say that greed for money’ll make you break out in hives. An’ it’ll all be over in a couple days… Besides, remember it’s my stomach on the line here.”

“That’s the only reason I’m going along with this! I know there’s no other way; it’s just… You know I’m going against the foundation of what I believe in, right?! You could stand to look a little sorrier about it!”

Thud!

“…! Whaaa?!”

“…?!”

As Milo fiddled with the medicine mixer, a loud boom reached his ears. He spun around to see his partner with a moderately large Rust-Eater sticking out of his side.

“Bisco!! Hold on, I’m coming…!”

“Oh, you mustn’t, Mr. Milo, sir. You must concentrate on preparing the vaccine.”

“But Amli! I’ve got to…!”

“Fret not. I shall attend to Mr. Bisco.”

Amli, still in her nurse outfit, tossed Milo a playful smile before turning and trotting over to where Bisco lay.

“I shall now extract the rust, Mr. Bisco, sir. Please turn over onto your back for me…”

“Whaaat?! You’re going to do that again?!” Bisco frowned.

“If I don’t, you shall die. Now, lie still…”

Pinning Bisco to the bed, Amli plucked the mushroom from his side and peered into the hole.

“…Tee-hee. I have been looking forward to this… Won-amrit-shad-snew…”

Amli began chanting her mantra, and the rust rose out of Bisco’s gut and into her socket.

“Grrreh! That feels disgusting!”

“…Mgh. Pfah.”

Amli sucked out all the rust and began to quiver, red-faced and panting. After replacing her glass eye, she snuggled up against Bisco.

“You really are a vigorous man. Whenever I suck, it feels like it’s going to burn me up inside…”

“Hey, if you’re finished, then get away from me! Are you listening? Agh! No, not my stomach! Egh!”

Amli twirled her finger around the opening in Bisco’s stomach as she sighed.

“You’re a sinful man for allowing a young lady like me to lose myself in such power… Mr. Bisco, sir? What’s your fiancée like? Is she worthy of you…?”

In a flash, Milo’s face grew stern. He bit his lip until it was about to bleed.

That filth. Has he forgotten about Pawoo?!

Suddenly Bisco roared, “Raaargh! Get off me, you weirdo!” he said, flinging Amli aside and panting heavily. He walked over to Milo’s desk. “S-she’s a strange girl, that one, but my stomach does feel much better now.”

“Bisco.”

“Hmm?”

“I’ve been quiet so far, but the next time you cheat on Pawoo, I’m going to tell her.”

“…What?! Tell her what? What do you mean, ‘cheat’…?”

Milo ignored him. “Amli!” he called. “The vaccines are done! Call in the next patient!”

“Thank you for your patience, everyone,” said Amli, addressing the waiting room. “Number twenty-five, please come forward… Eeek! Don’t all come at once! Stay in order, please…!”

As Bisco floundered, still reeling at Milo’s words, the pretty doctor-and-nurse combo dealt with the remaining patients, selling off the hiked-up mushroom vaccine. Soon enough, their exploitative business practices netted them a veritable mountain of sols.

“Why, if it isn’t the rake shop owner. How have things been, economically speaking? Haven’t heard from you in a while.”

“Yeah… Things have been rough. I thought I’d capitalize on the rash outbreak by selling little backscratchers, but while they were in production, the whole thing calmed down. I don’t know what I’m going to do with all this stock…”

The one building that stood out even amid the golden walls of the upper district was the main temple of the Gilded Elephants. Carved into the front of the building was the sect’s symbol, the one-eyed elephant god, Gananja. Between his legs was the entrance to the temple, and within were walls and pillars crafted from solid gold, decorated with beautiful gemstones of all shapes and colors. It was such a gaudy sight once more that, to be honest, it was beginning to grow old.

In a room of the temple, under cover of darkness, sat the higher-ranking merchants, or rather, priests, decked out in sumptuous finery. They spoke in hushed whispers, making merry gossip as the flickering light of the offering candles illuminated the walls. They had gathered, all those who had made enough money to be accepted into the inner circle, to receive the wisdom of Lord Gananja, handed down by the sect’s founder himself.

The dozen or so people sitting cross-legged around the table had not changed in quite some time, and when new members appeared, it was usually because one of the existing priests had been replaced.

All of a sudden, the curtain was swept aside, and a pair of piercing eyes peered inside. The high priests all turned toward the intruder, who looked over his shoulder and muttered something to a person standing behind him. Then the two of them…no, three, including the little one at their feet—barged in and entered the room.

“Shut up, all of you. Maybe if you didn’t sit on your fat asses countin’ money all day, you wouldn’t take up so much space.”

“I—I’m sorry… May I sit here?”

The rudest priest any of them had ever seen pushed bodies aside to clear a space for himself. His upper half was exposed save a bandage tied around his stomach, and all he wore in addition was a simple pair of hakama. Unlike the others sitting around the table, he didn’t look wealthy at all. In fact, he looked like he’d only just crawled in off the streets outside.

“Who let these ruffians in? I’ll go call the guards,” said one of the priests.

“No, wait,” said another. “Those two are the doctor and nurse from Panda Clinic. I heard they made over one million sols from that rash outbreak yesterday…”

In the middle of their conversation, the curtain at the back of the room opened, and a short woman in an ornate robe stepped out onto the lecture platform. Her facial expression was inscrutable beneath her purple veil with gold embroidering, but her long lashes fluttered over her brilliant golden eyes.

“S-Speaker!”

The whispers all stopped as she entered, and all pressed their faces into the carpet in prostration. The so-called Speaker gave a satisfied look over the crowd, stroking the black-and-white island fox curled around her neck, when her eyes fell upon something and went wide, her body frozen in shock.

“Bisco! Get down!” urged Milo as Bisco stood glaring at her with suspicion.

Amli spoke up, too. “Mr. Bisco, sir. She’s not just a pretty lady. This woman is the holy priestess of the Gilded Elephants. We can’t let her find out what we’re up to.”

Bisco sounded unconvinced. “…Hmmm?”

The woman cleared her throat, unperturbed, and sat cross-legged atop the platform, stroking her pet, sounding almost bored as she spoke.

“The founder is communing with Lord Gananja at present. I shall be performing the ceremonies today in his stead.”

“The Speaker will perform the chrysogenic arts…?”

“Lord Gananja’s blood runs in my veins as well. As much as it is beneath me to perform such lowly arts as chrysogenesis, I will do so if it will deepen your faith.”

The woman placed the fox at her feet and began muttering an incantation before the enraptured priests.

“Won-gewn-libtoreo. Won-gewn-toreolib-snew…”

“They can’t take their eyes off her. All right, Milo, now’s our chance…”

“Wait, Bisco…! Look!”

Bisco followed Milo’s wide-eyed gaze, but when he saw what he was looking at, he, too, froze at the miracle unfolding before his eyes.

From the woman’s outstretched palms flowed tiny nuggets of gold, falling to the ground in a golden hailstorm, much to the annoyance of the fox at her feet.

“Chrysogenesis!” “Gold! It’s raining gold!” shouted the priests as the nuggets continued to pour like a waterfall. They pushed one another aside, scrambling for the coveted metal as it pooled on the ground. After watching them for some time, the priestess sneered.

“Nigie-snew!”

With a booming voice, she swept her arms, and a breeze flowed through the room. The gold nuggets crumbled like sand and were scattered into the wind. Then she clapped her hands with a satisfied “Now, then,” and she took the fox once again in her arms. The priests all stared in shock as she spoke.

“When you are as faithful as I am, you can bestow and bereave gold as you please. No longer will you be held hostage by the whims of the business world. However, you are not at that stage yet. Lord Gananja wishes for you to focus, work hard at your businesses, and prove your effort with tithes.”

As the monks kneeled in awe, Milo bit his thumb, unconvinced by what he had just seen.

“What was that, Amli? Some kind of magic trick?”

“No. Perhaps the gold was fake, but the mantra itself was real. That means one of the Scriptures is nearby.”

“Right. So why don’t we ask her?” said Bisco.

“Ask her…?”

Then Bisco produced a tiny needle from out of his spiky red hair and gave Milo a grin.

“Now I will move on to bestowing Lord Gananja’s wisdom. Highest in the rankings is you, Mirror Seller…”

The woman reseated herself arrogantly on her chair and began summoning the priests. Meanwhile, Bisco placed the needle in his mouth and blew, sending it flying directly into the backside of the fox innocently dozing on her lap. The fox yelped and clamped its jaws down on her hand.

“Gnyaaaaagh!”

The lady jumped out of her seat and screamed, causing the other priests to gasp. She blew repeatedly on her bitten hand, but when she spotted the tiny mushrooms growing all over her pet’s rear, her hair stood on end, and she had to struggle not to scream.

“Is something the matter, Speaker?”

“N-no, it’s nothing. The revelation just…surprised me, that’s all.”

“B-but you seem hurt…”

The woman’s mind reeled as sweat dripped down her brow. If word got out that she had brought mushrooms into this holy place, it would be her head on the line. She hid the fox behind her back and, in as calm a voice as she could muster, said, “I-it appears Lord Gananja is presently bathing. It would be incredibly rude of me to consult him at this time, so that will be all for today’s oracle.”

“What?! But I haven’t received my fortune!”

“Th-this is outrageous! We broke our backs to deliver those tithes…!”

“Shut up! You want me to stand and watch while our Lord performs his ablutions? Get out! All of you, get out!”

The woman’s menacing attitude sent the priests scurrying out of the room, and soon the only ones remaining were her, the fox, Bisco, Milo, and Amli.

“Oh, Mr. Bisco, sir. What have you done…?”

“Bisco! Come on, we have to get out of here…”

“Heh. Heh-heh-heh-heh. Milo, haven’t you noticed yet?”

Bisco crept up beside the woman as she folded her arms in a sulk and pulled back her hood and veil.

“Ah…Aaaahhh!”

She looked a little different owing to the exotic makeup and jewelry she was wearing, but those pink braids of hers were unmistakable. It was the jellyfish girl.

“T-Tirol!”

“Just when I was finally startin’ to make some money off my own honest work…” she growled as she ground her teeth. The vein on her head looked ready to pop. “Why do I have to run into you two idiots here, of all places?! And why’d ya have to hurt this foxie here? He’s the founder’s favorite, y’know! If something happens to him…”

As the island fox looked up at her in fear, Tirol snatched it up off the ground and cuddled it like a baby.

“H-how are you two acquainted with the Gilded Elephants’ Speaker?!” cried Amli.

“Ha. I can’t escape them,” spat Tirol. “Ohhh, don’t cry, Berry, everything’s okay now… Oi, meathead, do something about these mushrooms! If somebody sees them, heads’ll roll!”

“All right, all right, don’t get your undies in a twist. Anyway, we’re the ones surprised to see you here.” While Milo injected the counteragent into Berry, Bisco went on. “I got all sorts of questions, like how you made that gold appear…”

“Tirol, we’re looking for something called the Scripture,” said Milo, “owned by the Gilded Elephants. If we don’t get it, Bisco will turn into a mushroom!!”

“…He’ll what?!”

“This random old dude stuck his hand into my belly and pulled out my stomach. I’m freakin’ starving all the time now. We need anything that can lead us to him as soon as possible.”

Tirol was a little taken aback by the enthusiasm with which the boys made their disjointed and seemingly irrelevant remarks, but she scratched her chin and sighed.

“Well, I always knew y’all were suckers from the moment I met ya. What kinda BS are they feeding you guys this time? This is why I can’t stand meatheads…!”

“You little shit! Listen here, we’ve been—”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Let me have a li’l look-see at yer missin’ stomach or whatever. God, you boys are pathetic. Bet ya think yer mommy’s gone when she plays peek-a-boo, too. You guys never seen an illusion before…?”

Tirol tore off Bisco’s bandages to see through the sheet of fungus covering the hole in his abdomen, a pulsating mass of rust in place of his stomach.

“…”

“T-Tirol, do you know something?”

“If it was just a trick, we’d have figured that out already…”

“Nwaaaagh?!” After a short delay as the gears turned, Tirol screamed as though she had just seen a monster and leaped back from Bisco in fright. “What the hell happened to you?! There’s rust everywhere! How are you even still alive?!”

“’Cause the Rust-Eater keeps eatin’ up all the rust, apparently. But that means…”

Thud!

With timing that couldn’t possibly have been more perfect, a medium-sized Rust-Eater popped out of the side of Bisco’s head. As Bisco pulled it out, blood dripped down the side of his face.

“Damn, that was nearly in my eye. It’s speedin’ up, too!”

“We don’t know when and where the reaction is going to take place,” said Milo. “If it gets to his brain or heart, that’ll be it! Please, Tirol, you have to help us save Bisco!”

Looking at his tearstained face, Tirol bit her lip…

“Nnniiiiiiii!!” With a screech that wasn’t a word, she scratched at her hair. Then, putting her fingers in her mouth, she whistled. Pweee! The curtain behind her opened, and out stepped two guards.

“Heathens!” said one. “Please step back, Agent, we’ll deal with this.”

“Don’t touch her, lowlifes,” said the other. “Scum like you should know your place.”

Decked out in their magnificent robes, the two guards stepped in front of Tirol and brandished their sabers. Bisco sized up the two tough-looking men before him and cracked his neck, glaring right through them with his piercing eyes.

“…Suits me just fine. You wanna go? Then let’s—!”

Before Bisco could finish his line, there were two loud clangs, and the guards’ eyes rolled back in their skulls before both of them crumpled powerlessly into the carpet below.

“Wear these fellas’ robes and earrings and y’all will have a much easier time walkin’ around.”

Tirol stood above the two warrior monks, tapping a hefty iron crowbar on her shoulder. Then, as one of the guards let out a feeble cry, she gave him another whack just to be sure and put it away.

“M-my goodness…!” cried Amli, her hand to her mouth in shock. The frighteningly powerful girl wasn’t that much taller than herself. “Mr. Bisco, sir, you sure are acquainted with some rather…extreme characters.”

“You should stay here,” said Tirol to Amli. “The founder can smell little girls a mile off. You two, get changed and come through to my room.”

“Wait!”

“I’m never doin’ this again, ya know! You guys saved my life twice, an’ the first time I paid ya back already for Tetsujin. This is for the second time, so now we’re even, got it?”

“Tiroool? Where are you? Come back to me… Where are yooou? Tirol?”

“I’m right here, Lord Corpulo… Ahh, you mustn’t eat so much. Be sure to take your medicine afterward.”

“No! I don’t like the taste.” The legs of the golden-canopied bed seemed ready to snap in two as the ridiculously obese man thrashed atop it like a spoiled child. “Serve it to me, Tirol, like you usually do. Come, come…”

“Well, I never could resist those puppy-dog eyes…”

Tirol looked away as her smile began to crack, and with a face that looked as though she hated the world and everyone in it, she took a bottle of water in her hand and placed the pills in her mouth. Then she glared with her golden eyes at the two guards.

The blue-haired one quickly spun around while the red-haired one cracked a smile. Then his partner elbowed him in the ribs and he, too, turned to look away.

“…Mmk. Okay, there we go. You can do the next one yourself, right?”

“Ohhh, Tirol. Even the most bitter medicine tastes of honey when delivered by your lips.”

“Oh-ho-ho-ho…”

Tirol chuckled and stroked the founder’s chin (though it was impossible to say where his chin was, exactly), before turning and retreating into a back room with the two guards.

“…Guh. So gross. I’d rather kiss a snail.”

“Th-thank you, Tirol…! Now that he’s taken the sleepshroom medicine, he should be out for a while. Ingesting it is so much more effective than using a mushroom arrow.”

“Was two enough?” asked Bisco, unconvinced. “Looks like he’s not dozin’ off yet.”

“It’ll take some time to spread through his body, that’s all. I agree there’s a lot of it, but three pills and he’d never wake up again.”

Bisco seemed to trust Milo’s words and went and threw himself on Tirol’s bed as she was washing her mouth out in the mirror.

“When did you get so interested in spells anyway?” he asked. “Even Amli was shocked that you could make gold outta nothin’.”

“There’s a trick to that one. I can teach ya right now if ya want… You guys don’t have any money left anyway after yer tithes,” said Tirol. Then she got a mischievous twinkle in her eye and closed in on Milo, stroking his chest with her finger. “Gimme twenty-four hours alone with Panda Boy, and I’ll show you whatever you want.”

“Tirol,” cried Milo, “be serious! Cut the jokes, we’re trying to—”

“Sounds good to me,” said Bisco. “It’s just one night; you’re used to it by now, aren’t you?”

“Shut up, you…mushroom man!”

Tirol laughed. “Ah-ha-ha-ha! Whatever, I’ll tell ya. Y’all really seem to be in a pinch anyhow.” She slipped away from Milo and sat herself cross-legged on the carpet. “Watch closely.”

She closed her eyes and began to recite the mantra that had gotten the priests from earlier so excited.

“Ongewn-libtoreo. Ongewn-toreolib-snew.”

As she did, she raised her right hand, and tiny nuggets of gold appeared once more in her palm, spilling to the floor like a waterfall. Bisco and Milo watched, unable to take their eyes off the miracle.

“This is real, genuine gold…! The hell? No wonder you got cultists flockin’ to you!”

“Try crushing it.”

“Huh?”

“You’re strong enough. It should be easy. Just crush it between your fingers, like this.”

Bisco looked puzzled but picked up one of the fallen nuggets of gold and squeezed it as Tirol instructed. And immediately, the gleaming nugget lost its sheen and became a tarnished brown metal that fell apart onto the carpet.

“Wh-what the hell…?”

“It’s rust!” cried Milo, trying not to be too loud. “Just particles of rust! Then…all of this gold…”

“Just polished rust. All of it,” said Tirol. She muttered another few magic words, and a soft breeze cleared away the rust dust until there was nothing left. “The Gilded Elephants have been usin’ this technique to swindle people for years. They tell ya, if yer holy enough, you can make gold from nothin’, but it’s all bullshit. As long as ya know the magic words, anyone can do it, even a scumbag like me.”

“You don’t have to be holy to recite the mantra?”

“Nah, but there are other conditions. You gotta know the words, like I said. I learned ’em from that lardass in the other room. The second thing is, you gotta be near that Scripture thing you guys’re lookin’ for. I dunno why, but the magic won’t work without it.”

“I see… That means the Scripture must be nearby, as we thought!”

“The founder’s a paranoid guy, so I’m the only one who knows this, but there’s s’posed to be a secret room underneath his bed…”

“He’s asleep,” said Bisco, heading toward the door all of a sudden. As Tirol blinked in surprise, Milo crept over to the doorway and peeped through. Then he looked at the others and nodded. As Bisco slipped out into the founder’s chamber like a snake, Tirol turned to Milo, a dumbfounded look on her face.

“…How the hell did he know that? He’s like a dog.”

“Ah-ha-ha! His hearing’s pretty good, you know. I bet he was listening to the founder’s breaths.”

“Geh. He’s the miracle worker, then, not me!”

With no small amount of effort, the three of them heaved aside the solid gold bed atop which lay the founder’s corpulent body. Dirty fingerprints were visible on the golden floor.

“There’s a cave below,” said Bisco, pressing his ear to the ground.

“Just like Tirol said. This is the only place it could be.”

“It’s probably locked. We’ll have to find the key…,” Tirol began, but before she could finish, Bisco leaped into a somersault, twirling his sword like a whirlwind, and struck the ground. The solid gold trapdoor crumpled with the force of the blow, letting out a metallic clang as the hinges and nails popped right off. Bisco tore it off the floor and peered down into the hole beneath.

“…It’s sloped,” said Milo. “You see anything with your thermal goggles?”

“Nope,” said Bisco. “Doesn’t seem to be trapped. Who’s first? Oh, let’s do rock-paper-scissors for it. One, two…”

Milo ignored him and plunged into the hole. Bisco frowned, displeased, and beckoned Tirol over. She shuddered and, after carefully replacing the founder’s blanket, hurried over to Bisco and followed behind him.

“…I was expecting to find treasure down here, since this is the founder’s vault,” muttered Milo, using his light-up wristwatch to illuminate the room at the foot of the slope. The room was simple, carved from stone, like a tomb. Dark and dingy, it was nothing like the other parts of the Metal Tower.

“What’s this, a scroll? They’re all over the place. Perhaps he’s more devout than we thought…”

“You only need to spend twenty seconds with him to know that’s not true,” replied Tirol as Bisco peered around the eerie room. “Look, let’s just find the Scripture and get outta here!”

Bisco and Tirol started turning the room upside down, but Milo couldn’t stop thinking about the scrolls. He picked one out that looked promising and examined it. It appeared to be a mantra of some sort, but Milo struggled to read the minuscule, dense lettering, and it was hard to tell at a glance what exactly it did.

Tirol said anyone can use these as long as they can read them. Could that be true…?

Milo unrolled the scroll, squinted at it, and took a couple steps back…only to bump into someone standing behind him.

“Oh, sorry, Bisco. I’ll go look over…”

Milo turned around to see a pair of murky, bloodshot eyes. Atop the many-layered chin was a thin smile, dripping thick drool that was reminiscent of sludge.

…Gch!

A thick arm swiped for him, but Milo leaped back, putting some distance between himself and the peculiar man. There could be no mistake: The man now bearing down on him was none other than the founder, who had been so soundly sleeping only a few moments ago. However, something was wrong. Besides the fact there was no way this blob of fat could ever creep up on a pair of Mushroom Keepers unnoticed, something else about the man seemed off.

I have to strike first. But my bow…

It was the Mushroom Keepers’ creed to strike before your opponent made a move. According to Bisco, you couldn’t even allow them to speak. However, for that, the Mushroom Keepers required their signature mushroom bow, and both of theirs had been handed to the guards for safekeeping back at the entrance to the temple.

“Won-shad-sliv. Won-shad…”

The founder’s mouth began to move and, in a voice as thick as glue, began to chant. With each syllable, his saliva dribbled from his mouth and dripped onto the flagstones.

“…My fifth disciple… Corpulo the Avaricious… A mere swine, lacking both strength and piety. Nonetheless…his vapid, witless existence was very useful to me… Now…this faithless cur has revealed to the faithless monetarists the path of worship. That…is his greatest act of virtue—”

As the founder spoke, Milo instinctively seized the opportunity, drawing the blade concealed at his belt.

These numbshrooms will put you back to sleep!!

With a flash of steel, the poisoned blade carved a half-moon through the air and landed on the founder’s collarbone. A streak of blood stained Milo’s face.

…?! The poison!

However, Milo’s blade had only scratched the surface of the founder’s skin, and the numbshrooms showed no sign of taking root. Looking closer, he saw that the peerless edge of the lizard-claw blade was marred with rust, blunting it completely.

Dammit! It must have been that mantra…!

The blade was still lodged in its target’s flesh. Milo tried to abandon it and step back to form a new plan, but the founder’s flabby arm reached out and grabbed him. With unbelievable force, his fingers closed around Milo’s neck.

“Where is…the Scripture? …Ha…ha… I suppose you cannot answer.”

“Gh…ah!”

Blood began dribbling down the edge of Milo’s mouth. Just then, a red blur flew in from the shadows and unleashed a roundhouse kick sharper than a slash from a master swordsman. The blow struck Milo’s sword with such force that it pushed the rusty blade clean through the founder’s meaty shoulders, launching his head against the stone wall with a wet thunk.

“Don’t be a hero! Call for me!” said Bisco, irritated.

“Herk, pfeh! B-Bisco! Behind you!”

The enormous headless body of the founder raised its arms and swung them down on Bisco from behind. He whirled around and caught the blow on the back of his saber, causing a tremendous clatter and cracking the flagstones beneath his feet.

“…You piece of—!”

“Bisco!”

Milo watched as blood leaked between Bisco’s gritted teeth. The battle within his body had left him weak, able to summon only about a fifth of his full power.

“Krh!”

Still, Bisco flared up his strength and called upon whatever his stomachless body could muster. Delivering a spinning slash like a tornado, Bisco’s saber tore a straight line right through the founder’s torso.

A wave of blood painted the two boys red. Yet even now, with his head removed and bowels torn open, the founder’s body lumbered on. It reached inside itself and with a Splat! pulled out its own intestines and lashed them like a whip. The disgusting weapon knocked Bisco clean off his feet and wrapped around Milo’s legs as he moved in to protect his partner. The two boys found themselves being thrown around the room, slamming against the walls, scattering scrolls everywhere.

Bisco let out a yell, unsheathing his own sword and lopping off the hand in which Corpulo held his weapon. Then he ran up the slope and grappled with the body, but he was unable to summon up his full strength, and he eventually lost out to his opponent’s seemingly limitless stamina. Thrown to the ground, he could only watch as the chunky pair of legs sat on his chest.

“Grr…rrrgh!”

“Ha…ha…ha…ha…ha…ha…ha…”

As the founder pinned Bisco down by the throat, a cloud of rust rose up out of Corpulo’s neck and began to take form. Eventually, it took the familiar shape of an old man’s face, which laughed in a voice like sandpaper.

“The old dude… I knew you were behind this…!”

“You have fought well with the Rust ingrained so deep. Truly terrifying, Akaboshi… Or perhaps it is the Rust-Eater I should fear… I have erred. It is because of that vixen that I allowed you to live, but in the Rust-Eater’s power I can see the face of God. I will not allow my path to be altered any further.”

“Pfft! You want my organs? Then come and get ’em! I’ll eat you up from the inside out!”

“…It seems you must die after all. There can be only one God.”

“Kelshinha!”

Just before the founder snapped Bisco’s neck, a saber glided through the air and lodged itself in his side, causing him to crumple.

“Hmm. So you yet live,” said the voice as the founder’s body turned to face the assailant. Milo pounced at him, his face bloodred and sapphire eyes blazing. Evading the slicing action of the intestine whip by a hair’s breadth, he got up close and plunged the golden needle in his hand into the founder’s chest. The Rust-Eater vaccine.

“Your poisons are futile against my puppet. Give it up.”

“Get back, Milo! Get away from him!”

The founder closed his eagle-like grip around Milo’s face, not paying the slightest attention to the injection. His thick thumb pressed against Milo’s left eye.

“Ugh… Grh…!”

“I have found myself desiring that knowledge of fungi you possess more frequently of late.”

A twisting stream of rust issued forth from the founder’s thumb and wormed its way past Milo’s eyeball, into the socket. Milo didn’t even flinch. With a battle cry, he squeezed out every last drop of the syringe into the founder’s veins.

“Ha…ha… With Akaboshi’s stomach, and your brain, I shall be— Urgh?! Groargh?!”

Gaboom! Gaboom! Gaboom!

A throng of golden Rust-Eaters burst forth from the founder’s back as he was speaking.

“You craven, what have you done to me…?!”

“I see. I get it now. I know how to control the Rust, just like Tirol!” Milo, seeing his attack strike true, steadied his breathing and proclaimed, “It doesn’t matter what trickery you resort to. As long as your power comes from the Rust, we won’t be afraid! For we are Rust-Eaters, and we fear the Rust no more than an anteater fears an ant!”

“Cease your prattling…!”

The face of rust became warped with anger. Kelshinha forced the enormous body of the founder to its feet, then picked up the fallen saber and swung it at Milo…

Gaboom! Gaboom! Gaboom!

The body exploded into a parade of brilliant golden Rust-Eaters. For a silent moment, the founder wobbled on his feet, before crashing front-first into the ground. Instead of blood, countless grains of rust poured out onto the flagstones, whereupon new Rust-Eater mushrooms grew out of them like soil.

Milo simply watched for a moment and turned to check Bisco’s wounds… But suddenly, he felt faint and collapsed into his partner’s arms.

“Milo!! Stay with me…! Did he get your eye?!”

“Don’t worry. I can still see… I think.”

Blood spilled down his panda-eye birthmark, but Milo relaxed as Bisco administered the Rust-Eater injection. There was still a dull ache somewhere in the back of his skull, and he groaned as he wound a bandage around his eye and rose to his feet.

“It was Kelshinha controlling that man’s body. I never knew mantras were capable of anything like that… That elderly gentleman is a more formidable opponent than we’d ever imagined, Bisco!”

“Don’t talk, you idiot! How are you? Do you need me to carry you?”

“Don’t be silly. I said I wasn’t going to be a bother, didn’t I?”

Milo accepted Bisco’s hand and rose to his feet. He looked over at Tirol, who was slowly making her way back up the ramp. She carried a large cylindrical box in her arms, covered in a cloth inscribed with esoteric writing. When she saw the scene before her, her face froze in shock.

“Wha—! What the heck have ya been doin’ in here?! What’s with all the mushrooms?!”

“The old dude interrupted us with some weird magic. That the Scripture you got there? I guess that means we win.”

“I guess so, but how’re we gonna get outta this next one?!”

Tirol heard the sounds of footsteps coming from outside the room. Guards had heard the noise and were coming to investigate.

“Lord Corpulo! Is something the matter?!”

Tirol shushed the boys and crept over to the door, wiping the sweat from her brow. She opened it, and in as dignified a voice as she could muster…

“Whatever is all the commotion? Lord Corpulo is presently meditating.”

“Lady Ochagama! Excuse us… We were downstairs and heard noises.”

“Noises, you say?” Finally back in her zone, Tirol’s quick wits and fast-talking action came to the fore. “You heard noises downstairs from our bedroom? Whatever are you trying to imply? I could have you executed for such impudence, you realize.”

“N-no! Th-that was not my intention…!!”

Bisco’s eye twitched. “I feel sorry for the poor guy,” he whispered, “for havin’ that toxic jellyfish as a boss. I wouldn’t have lasted fifteen minutes before snapping.”

“I’m just glad she’s here,” replied Milo. “Some problems require a gentler touch. You’re the only one who can afford to use brute force on everything.”

“And your sister, too, don’t forget.”

Just as Milo was about to object, the tiny particles of rust on the ground caught his eye. Although there was no wind, they slipped between Tirol’s legs and out the door as though they had a mind of their own.

“I will overlook your impertinence this time,” said Tirol. “Hurry up and leave us.”

“Y-y-yes, my l-lady. P-p-pardon m-m-m…”

“…? What are you dawdling for? Return to your…”

Tirol looked up and froze. The guard’s face was scarred brown, and a stream of rust flowed into his nostrils like a swarm of tiny locusts.

“…M-m-me… Blgagh.”

Right before her eyes, the guard’s head swelled up like a balloon and burst in a shower of blood. As she stared in shock, the other guards all met the same fate, with a Bang! Bang! as their heads exploded one after the other.

“…Give me…”

“…the Scripture.”

The corpses spoke with one voice, their heads reduced to lower jaws and flapping tongues, and reached out for Tirol like a pack of zombies. As she shrieked and fell backward into the room, Bisco scooped her up along with the Scripture and launched a kick like a spear into the horde of walking dead.

“This is that old man’s power again!” he said.

“It must be!” said Milo. “Bisco, can you make it to your bow?!”

“Better than you can!”

Bisco took Tirol, and Milo the Scripture, as the pair kicked their way through the zombie swarm and ran deeper into the temple. Suddenly, the doors on either side of the long corridor flew open, and out poured an immeasurable number of the walking dead.

“How many of them are there?!” cried Bisco.

“It’s a bluff. They’re moving too slow. They’re nothing compared to the leader we just fought!”

It was like a sea of the creatures, but the two boys leaped up and ran across, using their heads like stepping-stones. When they finally left the temple, they turned and closed the doors behind them with all their might. The doors took off several arms that were reaching through the doorway with an unpleasant squishing sound, but as soon as they hit the ground, they turned into powdered rust and were swept away by the breeze.

At the entrance to the shrine, Bisco yelled to the guard tasked with safekeeping luggage, “Hey, you there! Gimme back my bow…and get outta here! There’s a buncha zombies on the other side!”

The guard’s head swiveled to face Bisco, and he responded in a voice like mud.

“You wish…to reclaim…your baggage…?”

“You… Your neck…?!”

“Here you are… Thank you for waiting…”

The large guard took a massive ax and swung it around. His unfocused eyes and the rust falling from the corners of his mouth showed he was already Kelshinha’s thrall.

“Dammit, him too!”

Bisco launched a flying kick, snapping the ax at the handle. The heavy ax head spun in the air and landed with a thud in the guard’s skull.

“Mr. Bisco, Mr. Milo, sirs! Your bows are here!”

“Amli!”

As the guard’s body flopped onto the counter, Amli popped out from beneath it, holding their bows and quivers in her arms. She tossed them back, and as the two Mushroom Keepers regained their weapons, they turned to see the doors behind them creak and leaped back at the last moment. In a splintering of wood, the doors flew open and an avalanche of corpses spilled out. Even Bisco couldn’t help but balk at the sight. It was like something out of a vision of Hell.

“Forget faith, these guys have no gods at all!”

“Kelshinha must have had this place completely under his control for a while…! Bisco, behind you!”

Looking back, Bisco saw the zombies pouring forth from all the shop windows and doors. Kelshinha’s mantra was powerful enough to take over not just the temple but the entire upper level of the tower.

“We’re gonna have to fight our way through!” cried Milo.

“That’s fine by me.”

The gleam in Bisco’s emerald eyes pushed aside his ravenous hunger. As he pulled the bowstring, the fang in his grin twinkled.

“I hate bein’ on the defensive. Just once, I wanna make that grandpa piss his pants!”

“Don’t get too excited, Bisco, or the Rust-Eater will come back!”

“So I gotta moderate myself, huh? You sure are askin’ the impossible…”

The two stood back-to-back and leveled their bows at the oncoming creatures…

“Hmph.”

Fwsh!

Entirely in sync, the pair unleashed their mushroom arrows into the crowds, which exploded into being with a Gaboom! Gaboom! and launched the zombies into the air.

“There’ll be more, Bisco! Let’s move!”

“Yeah! Come on, Amli, this way!”

The pair grabbed Amli’s hands and pulled her down the gold-paved road before the dead returned, still carrying Tirol and the Scripture under their arms.

“Oh, my poor shoulders,” said one of the effeminate priests in charge of initiations. “That’s all for today. Come on, we’re closed. Come back tomorrow.”

As the priest cracked his neck, the warrior monk guards stepped before the reception desk and crossed their blades. The hopeful initiates grumbled but slowly filed out of the hall.

“My oh my. Looking at their dreary faces day in and day out is doing me in.”

“Oh, I know. They’re like shriveled-up mummies. There’s no point even branding them. I wish that young redheaded boy would come back.”

“I should have asked him, you know. To be my little sugar baby.”

“Your sugar baby? Huh! If you’re into pets, then why not get a pig?”

“Thanks for volunteering, sweetcheeks.”

“Oh, you did not just say that!”

As the priests engaged in their daily banter, the elevator suddenly arrived from above with a thud. The two looked at each other and agreed to a temporary truce.

“Just when things were getting good. I wonder who dropped out today.”

Suddenly, there was a Clang! Clang!, and two large bulges appeared in the metal elevator doors. On the third strike, they were torn clean off and scraped across the reception hall tossing out sparks. A dozen or so corpses spilled out from inside like wastepaper out of a fallen bin and crumbled into rust as they hit the floor.

“Eek! What in the world…?!”

One of the corpses that was still ambulatory lunged for the monk and was about to clamp its jaws down upon him when Bisco came out of nowhere with a solid kick that detached the monster’s head from its shoulders like a soccer ball.

“Mr. Bisco, sir, there’s no end to them!” yelled Amli.

“We need to block them off!” he shouted back. “You there, get outta the way unless you wanna die!”

The two Mushroom Keepers mowed their way to the center of the hall, turning and pointing their bows at the elevator. From a hole in its roof poured more and more of the foul creatures, causing the priests and guards to flee in panic.

“Milo, King Trumpet, on my count!”

“Got it!”

“Two, one…!”

Swf!

A pair of streaks shot from the two bows, pinning the zombies to the back of the elevator. The arrowhead glowed orange, and then…

Gaboom! Gaboom!

The explosive King Trumpet mushrooms filled the elevator car, burst through the roof, and kept going, filling up the entire shaft and blocking it off completely.

Amli looked back at the magnificent stem. “W-wow. So this is the power of mushrooms…”

“I wish we could have done something else for them…,” muttered Milo.

“Either way, it’s a lot more merciful than what that old dude would do to them,” replied Bisco. “C’mon, let’s go.”

The pair turned and left with the fainted Tirol and the Scripture in their arms, and Amli following behind. Like a gale, they ran down the stairway to the lower levels.

The two priests watched them go with rapt fascination.

“…Now that’s a man of danger.”

“Perhaps I’ll quit the Gilded Elephants. He’s the only god for me now.”

Then just as the last surviving zombie was about to attack them from behind, the two of them spun round in sync and punched it in the face.