Author's Note:It took me longer than expected to write this chapter, but I had some trouble finding the right inspiration. Plus, I am working on my graduation thesis, which is consuming a lot of my time.
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Story Arc: Wandering the World
Episode 1: The Goddess with the Punch Card (II)
Chapter 2: Tourism and Press Conference
Plot: A few days have passed. Ishtar has continued her usual cycle of actions, and the effects are being heavily felt across the world.
XXX
Narrator POV
Just two days have passed since the Justice League's emergency meeting. In the meantime, the savior "Goddess" of Qurac has not sat idly by: after New Zealand, she reached Norway and Chile, until finally arriving in Indonesia, leaving behind a trail of miracles impossible to ignore.
In New Zealand, Venus faced a terrible forest fire. The flames, as high as buildings, were about to devour one of the country's most protected nature reserves, threatening to extinguish the last wild colonies of rare birds like the Kiwi and the Kakapo.
Those who were present described the scene with bated breath: Venus descended from the sky enveloped in a glowing aura, spread her arms, and literally "sucked" the oxygen away from the fire front, extinguishing it in the blink of an eye.
Immediately after, she extended her hands toward the charred earth. Driven by her energy, the ground shook, and the forest grew back in a few minutes, emerging from the ashes greener, denser, and prouder than before.
Today, experts confirm that the rare bird population is bound to double, while the air quality in the region has improved by 25%. Scientists, analyzing the new trees, discovered that the flora has not only been reborn but possesses enhanced plant tissues, ultra-resistant to pests and future fires. This ecological miracle has triggered a literal boom in green tourism: enthusiasts from all over the world flock to the area to admire flowers with magnificent and unnatural colors, which seem to have been literally "blessed" by a divine touch.
In Norway, the Goddess turned her attention to the opposite element. Diving into the glacial waters, she utilized her capabilities to instantly heal the seabed, which had been poisoned by decades of oil drilling and toxic sludge. Then, she rose in front of the gigantic Svartisen glacier. Concentrating her power, she reversed the melting process caused by global warming: the air around her dropped to winter temperatures as she stabilized and solidified millions of tons of water into pure ice.
Marine biologists are rejoicing: schools of fish and marine mammals are already repopulating the once-barren areas, promising an immediate boom for sustainable Norwegian fishing. Meanwhile, European governments are recalculating rising sea levels, discovering with relief that coastal cities have gained precious extra years to prepare for climate challenges. But the real surprise comes from glaciologists: the new ice created by Venus possesses a hyper-dense molecular structure. It is a compact, almost indestructible crystalline matter, engineered to withstand subsequent summer temperature increases.
In Chile, nature showed its most violent face with a devastating 8.2 magnitude earthquake that struck the Valparaíso region. Venus intervened, tearing through the sky. She did not limit herself to providing first aid and digging through the rubble, saving countless lives, but did something inconceivable.
A local journalist managed to film a surreal scene: Venus, upside down with her feet pointed toward the sky, pressed the palms of her bare hands against the cracked ground.
With strained muscles and an expression of pure exertion, the Goddess was "pushing" against the Earth's crust. Utilizing her capabilities, she forcibly stopped and stabilized the underground tectonic plates in full slippage.
Immediately after, she dove into the fissures of the ground, passing through the matter as if she were a ghost, penetrating into the depths of the earth to save hundreds of miners trapped in collapsed tunnels.
Geological tests executed in a rush over the following hours left experts speechless. The Valparaíso region, historically battered by earthquakes, now experiences a geological stability never recorded before. Seismographs show a flat line: the micro-aftershocks have been zeroed out. The fault has been literally "repaired" and sealed by her millennia-old pressure.
Today, in Indonesia, the 8:00 PM news opens with dramatic footage from the Strait of Malacca. A cartel of modern pirates, heavily armed with machine guns and rocket launchers, had raided three massive international cargo ships, taking hundreds of crew members hostage. The network broadcasts amateur videos shot by the sailors: Venus can be seen descending like a comet onto the deck of the first ship.
The pirates unloaded entire magazines at her, but the bullets were simply destroyed by an invisible barrier surrounding the Goddess.
Without showing a shred of fear, the Goddess extended her hands forward, activating her "telekinesis." With a fluid upward gesture, she lifted the pirates' assault boats into the sky as if they were plastic toys.
Then, moving her fingers with surgical precision, she ripped the weapons from the hands of the terrified criminals, sending them flying away.
Before the incredulous eyes of the freed hostages, Venus guided the boats suspended in the void through the sky, gently depositing them directly into the inner courtyard of a maximum-security prison in Jakarta, in front of the stunned guards.
The news anchor emphasizes a crucial detail: despite the ruthless violence of the pirates, Venus did not shed a single drop of blood. She manipulated gravity with such mastery as to disarm and capture the criminals without a single effective shot being fired.
XXX
In the Middle East, precisely in Qurac, the clock strikes 3:00 PM. The country breathes an air of perpetual peace, an atmosphere almost unreal for a historically tormented land. Crime rates have plummeted, hitting historic lows that border on zero. Credit for this social miracle must be equally divided: on one hand, the watchful shadow of Ishtar; on the other, the increasingly persistent rumors about a mysterious vigilante armed with a bow and arrows. Of the latter, however, no physical evidence, footage, or findings yet exist; only whispered stories in the alleys, urban legends of arrows fired from nowhere that leave criminals immobilized before they can even realize it.
Venus's daily stops are redrawing the geopolitical and ecological map of the nation, triggering a metamorphosis with almost entirely positive effects.
Before her advent, Qurac's landscape was an infinite and monotonous expanse of hyper-arid desert, a desert of blinding sand and sharp rocks. That mineral silence was interrupted only by barren hill ranges, sun-dried wadis, and rare, isolated oases.
Today, although the desert still dominates the deep horizon, urban geography has been literally overturned. Around the most densely populated areas, miles of brilliant green lawns have appeared, dotted with thousands of colossal trees, as high as two-story buildings, whose branches bend under the weight of exotic, juicy fruits. The oases have multiplied by the hundreds: no longer pools of water snatched from the sand, but true earthly paradises feeding huge lakes of crystal-clear water, capable of reflecting the sky without a single trace of dust.
Once, in the summer months, daytime temperatures constantly exceeded 45C (113F), with oppressive peaks of 50C (122F) in inland areas. Now, the thermometer has stabilized around 38C (100.4F)—a thermal variation imperceptible to seismographs but vital for human beings, who can finally breathe.
Rain, historically considered a miraculous event that brought a few millimeters of water a year, is becoming a semi-regular routine. Practically every Sunday, a refreshing weather disturbance condenses over the territory protected by Venus. The Goddess, during her patrol flights, does not hesitate to leave behind trails of rain-heavy clouds, soaking the newly born agricultural fields. According to climatologists' projections, even the most cynical ones, at this rate Qurac will soon cease to depend on foreign imports, transforming into the literal green garden of the Middle East.
This ecological revolution is accompanied by an unprecedented socioeconomic earthquake. The tourism, hotel, and real estate sectors are experiencing a vertical expansion.
Tourist flows have literally taken off. Ocean-like crowds from every corner of the globe land every day in Dhabar, the capital, driven by the sole desire to see the "Goddess" or to hope for a miracle. Dhabar has become the belly button of the world for a specific reason: it is the only inhabited center on the planet that Venus flies over twice a day, with the sole exception of Sunday.
A massive percentage of these visitors is composed of terminally ill, disabled, or mutilated people. Many of them pay exorbitant sums just to occupy a square meter in waiting rooms or to bivouac in hospital courtyards, convinced that the very air around those facilities is impregnated with the Goddess's healing energy. To prevent chaos and crush the risk of price gouging in its tracks, local police have had to deploy cordons of squad cars and armed patrols to protect health districts. Fortunately, public order holds: cancer patients and individuals with disabilities prove to be much more disciplined and easier to manage than fans in a football stadium.
Hotel structures are saturated, booked months in advance. Every evening, the lobbies fill with foreigners awaiting their turn; and when someone among them receives grace, the city ignites in wild celebrations, colossal parties where people consume life as if there were no tomorrow.
High finance and private investors have sniffed out the business. The wealthiest tycoons are already laying the first stones of lavish casinos and luxury resorts equipped with every imaginable comfort, including massive indoor water parks with gravity-defying spiral slides. The real estate market is in a state of feverish frenzy: in the capital, old dilapidated neighborhoods are being bought in bulk, razed to the ground, and replaced by construction sites for cutting-edge apartment complexes and glass-clad skyscrapers. Meanwhile, small investors buy lots of sterile desert at inflated prices, betting on the fact that, within a few years, the rock will turn into fertile, arable land.
Even global industry giants like LexCorp, Wayne Enterprises, and Schicksal Industries have made their moves, positioning their pawns on Qurac's chessboard:
LexCorp: It has bestowed generous donations upon the local democratic party and launched an aggressive land acquisition campaign in the deep desert. Lex Luthor's goal is clear: to plant high-tech mining hubs and factories destined for the mass production of high-performance armored off-road vehicles.
Wayne Enterprises: It has focused its strategy on rescuing local companies facing bankruptcy or severe structural crises, taking them over to restructure them and return them to the market according to Western industrial standards.
Schicksal Industries: Otto Apocalypse, the charismatic CEO of the giant, landed in person in Qurac to conduct negotiations directly with the top government officials.
Otto Apocalypse's philanthropic initiatives have assumed monumental proportions. In his public statements, the billionaire makes no secret of his devotion, stating that after being saved by the "Goddess of Qurac," he felt the moral duty to follow her example, dedicating his resources to the common good. Under his drive, the country's overcrowded orphanages have been restocked with tons of provisions and renovated from top to bottom; chronically underfunded public schools have received shipments of new books, educational aids, latest-generation computer labs, and infirmaries equipped with immaculate gear. Otto has also established an excellence scholarship program, offering Qurac's brightest young minds the opportunity to attend the best universities in Berlin.
But the centerpiece of his plan is another: Otto Apocalypse has announced the construction of the largest private hospital in the Middle East right in the heart of Qurac. A cutting-edge facility designed to treat patients twenty-four hours a day, conceived expressly to lighten the workload of their "Busy Goddess."
Thus, while Lex Luthor and Bruce Wayne remain confined to their respective offices within towers of glass and steel in Metropolis and Gotham, Otto Apocalypse is conquering the hearts and minds of the population of Qurac. To public opinion, he is the first great man of Earth to openly, and without any ulterior motives, support the humanitarian work of the white-haired Goddess.
Qurac is going through a golden age, a blossoming that affects every single sector of society.
However, the inhabitants of Qurac can only perceive the most macroscopic, visible, and tangible changes born from Venus's presence.
No one, for the time being, possesses the tools or the magical sensitivity to notice the subtler and deeper changes that are appearing within the population.
In the clinics of Dhabar, doctors look through microscope slides with bewilderment: male and female infertility has literally vanished into thin air for anyone who spends even a few weeks in the capital.
Reproductive pathologies are reabsorbed, tissues regenerate, and the birth rate has undergone a slight but steady surge, registering births even among women who had lost all hope.
Many think it is a side effect of Venus's actions—if she takes the trouble to heal people from the most dangerous diseases, then she can surely deal with infertility.
No one in the world knows that the actions of the twin-tailed Goddess will show their results in 7 years at the earliest, 15 years at the most.
Children conceived in Qurac from the day of Venus's first appearance onward are growing in the maternal womb enveloped by an invisible energy.
The same applies to newborns and infants in the womb present in the hospitals that Venus visited during her famous 15-minute healing breaks.
The white-haired Goddess might not know it, but she is practically a high-power nuclear plant with a minimal leak; yet instead of leaking lethal radiation, she leaks an energy that is a unique mix of True Ether and Honkai.
Normally, these energies would cause a disaster or a global pandemic of zombies and monstrous mutations, but Venus sincerely wants to do good; therefore, the energy emitted by her body is following her will, but it also obeys her nature to make humanity evolve.
The next generation of humans will have hair and eyes of any color of the rainbow; they will be much more attractive, stronger, and healthier.
A generation blessed with healthy bodies, strong minds, and the charm of supermodels.
But above all, they will have an inclination toward magic and Honkai manipulation.
The greatest of this future generation—those who have a grand ambition or a dream to fulfill, or are in tune with the energy of the twin-tailed Goddess—will display supernatural abilities.
But all of this will show itself over time.
XXX
Exactly 100 kilometers east of Qurac's capital, near the border with Bialya, lies what many call the territory of the Goddess, the blue realm, or the lapis lazuli city, even though the last two names are not technically accurate.
The epicenter of this zone is the ancient Babylonian temple of the Goddess Ishtar, which, according to satellite imagery, has undergone a massive restoration, looking as if it were recently built rather than during the era of Gilgamesh.
Not far from the Temple stands the Tree of the Goddess, a 240-meter-tall plant that continuously grows without ever stopping. The giant tree is not made of simple wood, but rather of a crystalline, semi-transparent material that emanates a crystal-clear white and blue light.
Venus's territory is a perfect circle with a radius of 50 kilometers, occupying an area of 785,398 hectares.
For a couple of kilometers around the temple of Ishtar, the landscape is a paradise of greenery, featuring a large lake, streams, and countless flowers and plants that look like something out of a fairy tale; some flowers are larger than an adult man.
The rest of the territory is a mass of desert land, rocks, sand dunes, and enormous craters.
This small realm takes up roughly 25 kilometers of Qurac and 25 kilometers of Bialya, and can be considered either a theft of territory or a buffer zone between two nations.
On the edge of this territory stands an old-school defense system that double-functions as a majestic monument.
Surrounding the lapis lazuli city is a Babylonian-style wall, characterized by a brilliant blue color, 14 meters high, 11 meters wide, and 314.16 kilometers long, forming a perfect blue ring.
This wall is clearly inspired by the Ishtar Gate, with its imposing and ancient style, characterized by glazed ceramic bricks of a deep, glossy blue.
The outer walls are decorated with bas-reliefs reproducing alternating rows of seven figures and seven mysterious symbols, molded directly onto the ceramic with ochre and yellow pigments; seven anthropomorphic figures depict precise archetypes: a knight with a drawn sword, a warrior clutching a spear, a noble archer in a shooting stance, a witch cloaked in mystery, a nomad riding an untamed steed, an assassin hidden within the folds of his hood, and an anthropomorphic beast wielding a double-headed axe.
The seven symbols are even more unique and intriguing in the opinion of many.
The first symbol is composed of three stylized wings rotating around a central core, resembling a whirlwind or a pinwheel.
The second symbol is a solid diamond enclosed within partial squares and sharp lines, recalling the shape of crystals or rock layers.
The third symbol resembles a triple spiral or three Japanese tomoe converging toward the center, simulating the shape of a lightning bolt or an electrical storm.
The fourth symbol depicts three stylized leaves or a plant bud unfolding from below.
The fifth symbol is composed of three sinuous water droplets joining and floating inside each one another in a fluid manner.
The sixth symbol is a stylized flickering flame with three main points facing upward.
The seventh symbol is an ice crystal or a snowflake with six geometric and symmetrical points.
This masterpiece of art and engineering, which materialized out of nowhere in the span of a single night—a Sunday, to be exact—is not a blind and impenetrable barrier. It possesses a single, majestic entrance gate: an enlarged and enhanced replica of the original Ishtar Gate, whose doors, however, have never been seen open by a living soul. Next to the gigantic gate stands a two-meter-high and one-meter-wide monolith of pure blue ceramic, upon whose surface a message has been engraved in golden letters. The text is written in four different languages, one for each face of the marble block: German, Japanese, Chinese, and English.
The warning is of a disarming simplicity: "Mortals may gaze upon and touch my walls, but whoever dares to cross or damage them shall suffer the wrath of heaven. Only those who have received my invitation or my blessing may knock on my door; on Sunday, no one is welcome, and bringing gifts is advised. My land is forbidden to the malicious, to those who have raised their hands against women and children, or dared to proclaim themselves the voice of heaven. Naturally, in the event of global calamities, demonic invasions, or threats from foreign deities, my door will swing wide open for every pure soul seeking salvation."
Along the outer perimeter of the Blue Walls, there is always a frantic coming and going of people. One can spot the camps of archaeologists who have rushed to study the composition of the ceramic, groups of tourists equipped with cameras, and ocean-like masses of pilgrims healed by the Goddess's miracles. The latter stack offerings and thank-you gifts before the barred threshold; gifts that punctually, every Sunday night, vanish into thin air. In their place on Monday morning, the faithful find flowers with colors never seen before and juicy fruits that have never appeared on the face of the earth, as well as small ancient-style trinkets crafted from chemical elements completely absent from the Earth's periodic table.
As mentioned before, tourism is becoming a cornerstone in Qurac, and every action performed by the "Goddess" attracts even more attention.
But in the middle of this colorful media and religious circus, a careful eye would have no trouble noticing different figures: men and women with rigid shoulders, with transparent earpieces tucked into their ears. In their hands, they clutch high-tech cameras or video equipment worth more than a luxury car, and on their shoulders, they carry heavy backpacks packed with the latest miniaturized scientific gear. Their cautious and camouflaged approach is the direct consequence of a long series of bloody failures in attempting to breach the Goddess's border.
The deployment of drones or remote surveillance devices fails instantly: the aircraft are intercepted and shot down from astronomical distances by arrows fired from within, or the sky above the target suddenly darkens, unleashing gale-force winds and magnetic lightning that fry any technological circuit.
The Japanese intelligence services attempted an incursion with elite paratroopers. Those who were lucky were killed in mid-air, shot through the heart or head by a single invisible arrow; those who instead managed to touch the desert ground beyond the wall suffered a worse fate: voracious swarms of scarabs made of lapis lazuli emerged from the ground, literally devouring the soldiers alive within a matter of seconds.
The Chinese opted for a subterranean provocation, purchasing a plot of land one kilometer from the border to dig a geopolitical tunnel of infraction. As soon as the drill head neared the foundations of the walls, the entire tunnel was flooded by a flow of boiling water at devastating hydraulic pressure. Their excavation base was wiped out, transforming overnight into the largest Geyser in the Middle East—an additional and ironic attraction for Qurac's tourism.
The Russians, for their part, attempted a night assault to demolish a section of the wall using explosives and artillery shells. But as soon as the munitions made contact with the blue surface, their trajectory was reversed by the effect of a mystical force field: the soldiers practically shot themselves, and the exact same principle neutralized long-range missiles. Placing C4 charges and detonating them did not scratch even the paint, while the attempt to ram the entrance with an armored off-road vehicle concluded with the vehicle crumpled like a soda can and the driver pulled out on the verge of death.
The most high-profile case, however, remains that of Dirk, a YouTuber from Los Angeles famous for his extreme stunt videos. To boost his subscriber count, Dirk thought it would be a brilliant idea to have himself shot over the walls from a circus cannon.
The idiot staged his stunt, and the Goddess herself descended from the sky. What she did to him within those walls remains an absolute mystery, but the following Monday, Dirk woke up in his own bed back home in Los Angeles.
Since that day, he has never once stepped past the front door of his house: his social media channel now deals exclusively with home cooking, interior design, and practical tips on how to pass the time when forced to remain trapped within four walls. His friends' attempts to drag him outside have ended in hysterical panic attacks; doctors have diagnosed him with an acute and irreversible form of agoraphobia combined with a clinical case unique in the world: Twin-tail Phobia—that is, a mad terror of women with their hair tied in two pigtails.
After these episodes, the global superpowers finally learned their lesson: attempting a forced entry into Venus's territory means certain death or, in the best-case scenario, a lifelong psychological trauma. Undercover agents had no choice left but to bow their heads, blend in with the tourists, and limit themselves to constantly monitoring the area from a safe distance.
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While the vast majority of humanity goes about its business, observing the Temple of Ishtar with a hint of morbid curiosity, things change depending on who is looking. A minority of the faithful from various religions obsessively wonders if the true Terrestrial Paradise is hidden beyond those imposing blue barriers, while intelligence agencies across the entire planet analyze every millimeter of terrain, searching for signs that translate to an imminent plan for global domination or a large-scale invasion. Yet, right in the heart of the most heavily fortified, spied-upon, and sought-after place in the world, a cute nine-year-old girl and an adult man are enjoying a day of absolute, serene tranquility.
Fern is a one-hundred-percent human child, but her aesthetic possesses an almost unnatural magnetism. She has large purple eyes and long hair of the same shade that falls straight to her shoulders; a sharp fringe frames her face in a perfect hime-style cut, with the side strands partially gathered and tied at the back.
She wears a long, light white dress, strapless, leaving her neckline and the upper part of her chest uncovered. The skirt of this dress is characterized by a deep side slit that opens boldly along her entire leg, reaching up to the hip, while the lower edge of the fabric is finished with a sharp black hem. On her arms, she wears matching white sleeves—detached armbands from the body of the dress—positioned on the upper part of the bicep and decorated with a glossy black ribbon. On her feet, despite her young age, she wears white high heels. In some ways, the little girl resembles a very young Sakura Matou wearing the ceremonial clothes of Stheno and Euryale.
Fern is an orphan. Her parents were political dissidents from Bialya who had attempted a desperate escape across the border. The border guards had hunted them down and killed them mercilessly under a rain of lead, but Fern had managed to survive the massacre by a miracle, vanishing into the blinding folds of a sudden sandstorm.
Somehow, guided by instinct and luck, the child had reached the temple of Ishtar, finding refuge within its millennia-old walls just as the storm raged outside. Aware of being left alone in the world, destined to die of hunger, thirst, or from a stray bullet to the chest, she had collapsed into the darkest desperation. Alone in the darkness of the sanctuary, Fern had prayed with all her heart. It was at that precise moment that the miracle occurred: her life changed radically and, with it, the destiny of the world and the lives of hundreds of millions of people changed as well. In a way, Fern had been the spark that started everything, allowing the "Goddess" to manifest in reality and unleash the brutal Bialya Incident.
Next to the purple-haired girl stands a man 187 centimeters tall and weighing 78 kilograms. He has an apparent age between 25 and 35 years old.
His physique is massive, lean, and visibly muscular, sculpted by countless battles. He has short, pure white hair, combed backward in neat strands that contrast sharply with a decidedly tanned complexion. His eyes have the cold, sharp hue of dark gray or steel.
His attire is unmistakable: he wears a long red overcoat, the fabric of which splits at the back into two flowing tails that move with his every step. The coat entirely covers his arms and fastens across his chest through a series of white straps and a burnished silver buckle. Underneath the overcoat, he wears a protective black suit, tight-fitting and sleeveless, reinforced by prominent silver metallic plates that perfectly trace the lines of his pectoral and abdominal muscles. A rigid metallic neck guard, also made of silver, rings the base of his neck. His black trousers, also tight-fitting, are reinforced with matching magical straps and are tucked into a pair of black boots equipped with heavy metallic plates on the toe and instep. His true name is EMIYA, but to everyone, he is simply Archer: the Guardian of the Temple of Ishtar and, occasionally, the mysterious hero who watches over the nights of Dhabar.
At the moment, the two are in a wing of the temple that has been converted from an austere Babylonian sanctuary into a sort of makeshift living room.
The floor is made of ancient stone and the walls are entirely covered with bas-reliefs, engravings, and hieroglyphs of Mesopotamian culture; in a corner stands out a small mountain of gold coins and glittering jewels, which a certain white-haired deity uses as her personal throne. An environment that, under normal circumstances, would represent an academic paradise for any archaeologist on Earth.
However, the space is literally overrun by an infinity of modern objects coming from shops all over the world. The classic wall torches have been replaced by simple incandescent light bulbs; the stone floor is covered with a series of soft Indian rugs; there are two beanbag chairs that arrived directly from Germany, a black leather reclining armchair of Italian manufacture, a red sofa convertible into a bed, and even a Kotatsu table imported from Japan. On a wooden shelf, a collection of snow globes is proudly displayed—glass hemispheres with artificial snow, each containing a miniature of a different world capital.
Finally, a massive television dominates the room, a model so expensive that only a multi-billionaire could afford it. The strange thing is that the screen is perfectly turned on and working, despite the power cord dangling in the void, disconnected from any socket. The Temple of Ishtar, in fact, does not possess an electrical system or a connection to the grid, but it is saturated with an exotic and primordial energy that obeys the whims of the white-haired Goddess: if she desires that power to replace electricity, the energy adapts instantly.
Fern and Archer are sitting together on the sofa. The man holds a hairbrush in his hands and is dedicating himself, with surprisingly gentle movements, to pampering and combing the little girl.
"Lord Archer, thank you again for your kindness," Fern said, tilting her head slightly and enjoying the guardian's attention.
"Don't thank me, Fern. Looking after you when the Master is out is my duty," Archer replied, maintaining a detached tone so as not to admit that, beneath that warrior shell, he actually found it rather pleasant to take care of someone.
Fern reached her hand toward the small table, grabbed a golden mirror older than the entire Qurac, and observed the guardian's work, admiring the precision of her hairstyle.
'At least babysitting is a relatively simple task, especially when the child is this quiet,' Archer thought to himself, drawing a mental sigh of relief at the comparison with a well-known, exhausting "tiger" of Fuyuki.
The purple-haired girl put down the mirror, stopping her self-admiration. She took the television remote and tuned the screen to the international news channel. Before long, the news broadcast showed brief clips of Venus streaking through the skies of Indonesia, lifting the pirates' ship with telekinesis only to deposit it into the courtyard of the maximum-security prison in Jakarta.
"The lady Ishtar is busy as always," Fern commented, with a note of deep and sincere admiration, without taking her eyes off the screen. The little girl was, for all intents and purposes, the Goddess's number-one fangirl.
"She will be back in two hours, Fern. You shouldn't worry about her: that woman is decidedly too stubborn and hot-tempered to let herself be beaten by anyone," Archer commented, speaking of his Master as if she were a capricious cat that comes and goes as she pleases.
"The lady Ishtar is the most incredible woman in the world! Every day she improves a piece of this planet; nothing and no one will ever be able to defeat her," Fern countered, with the unwavering faith of one who blindly believes in her benefactress.
"Except on Sunday," Archer remarked, with a tiny, amused smirk on his lips. He knew his Master's rhythms all too well: the seventh day of the week was sacred, her moment of absolute and lazy rest, and woe to anyone who dared ruin her leisure.
Fern pressed her lips into an adorable pout, puffing out her cheeks at the contradiction.
"Sunday is when the lady Ishtar recovers her strength. She is a benevolent Goddess, not a robot," Fern replied, omitting the detail that on those holidays the Goddess dedicated herself entirely to her—playing, pampering her, and teaching her the first basics of magic, or rather, Magecraft.
'I wonder when she will teach me to fly like her... She said that free flight is extremely complicated and that it would be easier for me to start by using a broom, or by creating a solid surface of energy under my feet,' Fern thought, losing herself in her own daydreams. She ardently desired to be able to soar through the sky like a bird, but even more, she wanted to do something to make her protector proud.
While the little girl lost herself in her fantasies, Archer remained staring into space, reflecting on his own bizarre existential situation. His current summoning was a statistical anomaly that occurred perhaps in one out of ten thousand cases.
'I have been summoned by countless variants of Rin Tohsaka, sometimes directly by Ishtar or Ereshkigal, and, in cases rarer than rare, even by Rin's descendants,' the Heroic Spirit thought, as the vague, fragmented memories of an amnesiac, brown-haired girl and a massive, lethal alien supercomputer hidden on the Moon resurfaced in his mind.
The Servant ran a hand through his snow-white hair, letting out an ironic thought: even facing the lethal digital perils of the Moon would have been simpler than managing what was about to happen here, on Earth.
'I do not know how or why, but I have been summoned as an Archer-class Servant by an entity with absolutely no precedent according to my memories,' EMIYA reflected to himself, convinced, without a shadow of a doubt, that this summons fell within the absolute top ten absurdities and uniquenesses of his entire existence.
'My luck is truly Rank E. My current Master is a biological and spiritual amalgam based on the body of Rin Tohsaka, completed by two divine cores provided with their own spiritual imprint and a mortal soul. In short, an unstable smoothie of four different personalities and memory lines,' Archer thought, contracting his eyebrows slightly into a displeased frown. He didn't even want to try to imagine what cosmic chaos was stirring inside the head of that white-haired Goddess, but one thing was certain: he had to deal with her drastic mood swings on a daily basis.
'One second she approaches me with a knowing look, the next she pulls away, rigid. She slaps me for no reason at all, then apologizes mortified, hugs me impulsively, and immediately afterward steps back, staring at me with a grimace of pure disgust. I receive a thousand contradictory signals, each one worse than the last. She is decisively more unmanageable than Rin,' Archer thought, raising a hand to touch his cheek. Just that morning he had taken a sudden slap, guilty only of making the deity blush with a mundane compliment about the silvery shade of her hair.
In any case, the Heroic Spirit wasn't all that worried. Getting a slap every now and then was certainly not comparable to taking a Gandr magical bullet fired by a truly furious Rin Tohsaka, or enduring other assorted tortures. After all, the hero of wrought iron shared an incredible and paradoxical combination of luck and bad luck with the female gender: both during his mortal life and after his transition into the Throne of Heroic Spirits, EMIYA had punctually been the target of the conflicting feelings, mad loves, and fits of rage of several extraordinary women. A condemnation that had amplified immensely after death, forcing him to bounce across alternate and bizarre realities.
'And as the icing on the cake, this time I wasn't summoned to participate in a Holy Grail War or to save the planet from the brink of the abyss. My only task is to protect a Babylonian temple and an orphan girl. Taking into account that my Master is a Divine Spirit for all intents and purposes, I could remain stuck in this dimension for an eternity. Well, at least Ishtar is a decisively better employer compared to Alaya,' Archer thought, trying to extract the positive side of his unusual summoning contract. All things considered, this situation resembled a very long, unhoped-for vacation from his bloody institutional duties as a Counter Guardian.
"Lord Archer, I think you should watch the news," Fern said, her clear voice breaking the thread of the Heroic Spirit's thoughts, bringing him abruptly back to the reality of the living room.
"Fern, perhaps you should stop chasing after every single news broadcast to check up on the Master's movements. Why don't you relax with some cartoons instead? I have no idea how it is possible, but thanks to the whims of this zone, we have the entire Pretty Cure franchise available, from 2004 all the way up to today, in 2026," Archer replied, shrugging his shoulders and by now giving up on asking too many questions about the logic of the place. The Heroic Spirit had no intention of wasting his rare hours of supervised freedom watching the televised exploits of his unstable, bipolar Master.
"Lord Archer, I will watch cartoons later, I promise. But right now you absolutely must look at this news: the Justice League is holding an extraordinary press conference," Fern countered, raising her arm to point at the flat screen of the television, which at that moment was framing the compact alignment of Earth's most famous superheroes.
"What is the band of lucky bastards up to now?" Archer commented under his breath, feeling a knot of deeply conflicting emotions toward that group of costumed vigilantes.
In his eyes, Superman represented the exact, geometric incarnation of the Ideal of the Hero of Justice that the young Shirou Emiya had chased in an almost pathological way; and, in some way inconceivable to the Servant's cynical logic, that alien with the red cape actually managed to triumph in his intent without losing his own humanity.
"Lord Archer, I am not a big fan of the Yankees, but the Justice League has saved the world countless times. Sure, they don't hold a candle to the lady Ishtar, but they know how to hold their own... especially in their moments of maximum glory," Fern added, maintaining the typical attitude of a hero enthusiast in general, despite having already sworn absolute loyalty to her personal and favorite deity.
'If it weren't already bizarre enough dealing with a Rin with a fragmented personality, I even find myself catapulted into an absurd world that seems straight out of the pages of an American comic book,' Archer thought, bringing two fingers to his forehead and massaging his temples. For a fleeting instant, he felt a sting of paradoxical nostalgia even for the massacres of the Holy Grail War: in that bloody context, at least, things had a linear meaning... or at least they did sometimes... once in a while... maybe?
"Is that... is that a hologram of the lady Ishtar?" Fern asked, widening her large purple eyes and assuming an expression of pure astonishment.
"Wonderful. In the end, the paladins of this absurd planet have decided to take a serious interest in my eccentric Master," Archer commented, narrowing his gray eyes and focusing all his attention on the television along with the little girl, as the live broadcast truly got underway.
XXX
A few seconds prior, in Washington DC, the clocks strike 8:00 AM sharp.
Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, Flash, Green Lantern (Hal Jordan), Aquaman, Martian Manhunter, Green Arrow, Hawkwoman, Zatanna, Captain Atom, Black Canary, Green Lantern (John Stewart), Captain Marvel, Red Tornado, Ice, Fire, and Vixen are gathered in front of the monumental Hall of Justice, deployed as a compact and impenetrable front. The mere physical presence of so many modern heroes, with their vibrant costumes and gleaming armor, emanates a monumental gravity.
In front of this wall of heroes packs an immense crowd of journalists, technicians, and cameramen dispatched by the most prominent television networks on the globe, ready to broadcast every single word via international live stream.
"Good morning, everyone. I thank the press for showing up at such an early hour for us, but we had to take into account the complex time zone changes," Superman said, breaking the square's silence with a simple and formal introduction.
The reporters remain listening, motionless and filled with tension. They know perfectly well that press conferences called urgently by the Justice League are, almost by definition, front-page material.
"We are here today to discuss a thorny and controversial topic: the recent Bialya Incident and its heavy consequences," the Man of Steel continued, his facial expression turning extremely severe.
At those words, the journalists tensed instantly, like lions ready to spring from the savanna to strike a gazelle, or like sprinters awaiting the gunshot to start running.
"The Justice League is about to express its official position on a woman whom we, for convenience, have decided to nickname Venus," Superman declared. At that precise moment, several holographic projectors came to life behind him, materializing three-dimensional screens that showed a crisp image of the white-haired Goddess.
The press audience exploded. The air was torn by the frantic sound of camera shutters and blinding flashes. Dozens of reporters raised their microphones into the air, shouting overlapping questions in an attempt to snatch an immediate statement.
"I will answer all your questions at the end of my speech. Until then, I ask you to behave in a civilized manner," Superman said, raising a palm to signal the crowd to calm down. The tone of his voice, though not coming across as threatening, possessed such intrinsic authority as to silence the square. The journalists, shrewd professionals that they were, preferred to go along with him to understand where the hero wanted to head with this.
"First of all, I want to make it clear that the Justice League does not support or approve in any way of the actions carried out by Venus during the Bialya Incident. I cannot ignore the fact that she perpetrated a literal massacre, destroying the entire enemy army and its vital infrastructure. From our point of view, it was a complete waste of human lives and a catastrophic failure of diplomacy," Superman said, laying out his ethics in no uncertain terms.
A dense whispering arose among the reporters. Half of those present nodded, sharing Metropolis's pacifist dogma; the other half openly manifested their dissent, considering Venus's intervention a drastic but necessary act to put an end to a geopolitical nightmare.
"However, I am not blind to the circumstances and to who the real victims of the situation were. Bialya had formally declared war and was preparing to invade Qurac's borders. The countless individuals killed on the field were soldiers in combat gear. As several colleagues have pointed out to me, there is a profound moral difference between massacring a defenseless civilian and actively striking down a soldier marching to war. I still consider that every single life deserves to be saved, but I understand the logic behind such a reaction," Superman admitted, granting a partial rational opening, even though his heart refused the acceptance of violence.
Almost all those present welcomed those words with nods of agreement, except for those who harbored an ancestral distrust of meta-humans or the most radical supporters of Ishtar.
"We are convinced that other methods existed to halt that senseless war, ways that would not have involved such a high loss of human lives. But by carefully studying the vectors and dynamics of Venus's actions, we have understood that she deliberately sought to contain collateral damage, limiting herself to striking the military and their infrastructure. Had she acted indiscriminately, hitting the civilian population, the Justice League would have undoubtedly intervened on the field to stop her by force," Superman specified, his gaze seeking the main camera to convey the certainty that none of the champions behind him would stand by and watch a country devastated by the whim of a single semi-divine individual.
Several reporters looked visibly relieved to hear those reassurances coming from the mouth of the planet's greatest protector.
"Taking into account these extraordinary circumstances, the total absence of precedents, and the humanitarian conduct maintained by Venus over the course of the last few weeks, the Justice League has decided not to legally or militarily pursue Venus for her actions in Bialya. For the time being," Superman declared, effectively dropping the first true diplomatic bombshell of the morning.
The wall of journalists gave way abruptly; the crowd turned to agitating again, loudly demanding explanations for that shocking clean slate.
"Since the second day following her appearance, this woman has dedicated herself exclusively to acts of pure and selfless heroism, rescuing countless lives and offering concrete help to the world that even I, with all my faculties, would be unable to replicate," Superman continued, conscious that, as immense as his biological gifts were, he did not possess healing powers capable of eradicating incurable diseases or regenerating entire ecological reserves with a simple touch of his hands.
"But the most important thing is that, since then, Venus has not killed anyone else, not even when facing hardened criminals or terrorist cells. She has always preferred to neutralize threats by rendering them completely harmless, and then handing them over to local authorities. This is an approach that I deeply appreciate," the Man of Steel added.
Of course, Superman was entirely unaware of the brutal fate awaiting the special forces soldiers and secret agents who dared violate the borders of the Lapis Lazuli City. But dealing with unauthorized government missions on foreign soil, no political leader or high-ranking general would ever be able to report the disappearance of his men without raising an international scandal of catastrophic proportions.
"At the exact moment I am speaking to you, Venus is in Indonesia, to be precise, above the largest hospital complex in the country, the Rumah Sakit Cipto Mangunkusumo," Superman announced.
The holographic screens behind him shifted angles, showing a live satellite video feed. The close-up image showed Venus floating lightly above the roofs of the Indonesian medical facility, with her legs crossed and a latest-generation smartphone clutched in her extended hands. Suddenly, in the subsequent frames, the Goddess snapped, raising her head directly upward; she had clearly realized she was under the eye of an orbital camera. With a fluid gesture of her left hand, Venus condensed a thick blanket of white clouds around herself, vanishing from the satellite's view an instant before the video signal cut off, leaving the holographic screen black. The journalists still managed to capture dozens of freeze-frames of that eye contact.
"Putting aside her initial bloody misstep in Bialya and evaluating the totality of her current actions, the Justice League intends to extend an official invitation to Venus. We invite her to present herself here, at the Hall of Justice, next Sunday, to discuss with us face-to-face," Superman concluded, launching a formal message that would dominate television schedules and diplomatic offices for days to come.
"I give my word of honor that this is not a trick or a trap laid behind her back. I myself wish to speak with her: I want to understand where she comes from, what the ultimate purpose of her actions is, and if it is possible to find a constructive compromise that allows her to continue doing good, while appeasing the growing global socio-political tensions," the hero concluded, formulating a request that public opinion could only judge as impeccable and reasonable.
XXX
On the other side of the world, in the heart of the late evening in Indonesia, a certain white-haired "Goddess" abruptly closed her smartphone, having heard more than enough from that ridiculous television broadcast.
"Venus, seriously?! I am an entity with capabilities such that I could change the entire evolutionary path of the planet and the human race, and they call me Venus!" the Goddess exclaimed aloud, her voice steeped in pure Babylonian rage as she spoke in the ancient language of Mesopotamia.
"What do they think, that my name is Minako Aino?! I can already see the fanart putting me in a Sailor Venus outfit!" the woman shouted, a Divine Spirit in the middle of a nervous breakdown, clenching her fists and furiously kicking the air.
"What am I, the sexual fantasy of teenagers?!" she exclaimed again, raising her arms to the sky in a sign of open protest against the Western media.
Her "divine" wrath, however, subsided all of a sudden. Venus slowly lowered her gaze to her own body, carefully observing the skimpy clothes she habitually wore.
"Okay... to be honest, a fanart of me dressed as Sailor Venus would still be a clear step forward toward decency compared to how I usually dress," the twin-tailed Goddess muttered to herself, her facial expression shifting in an instant from furious to deeply embarrassed.
Shaking her head, Venus grabbed the phone again and quick-dialed a certain archer in the Middle East.
"Let me guess: you saw the news?" EMIYA asked on the other end of the line, his tone of voice far too playful for the situation.
"Archer, if you intend to be sarcastic with me right now, I swear that as soon as I get home, I'm going to kick your butt. I'll send Fern to have fun out in the garden with her little animals, and then I'll turn you into a hamster or a woman! And I assure you that even I don't know what I might do to you if you ended up looking like a tanned, white-haired version of Raiden Mei," Venus hissed, her voice suddenly icy and her gaze scary enough to curdle the blood of an entire army.
"Who would Raiden Mei be?" EMIYA asked with genuine curiosity, not at all shaken by that barrage of threats, being all too used to the fiery glares of women.
"Don't play dumb and don't ask me stupid questions, Archer!" Venus exclaimed loudly, not liking at all being cross-examined on certain confused aspects of her own abstract essence.
"In five minutes my break will be over, and I still have two hours left before the end of my shift. I think I'll use the local drug cartels as a venting valve," added the Goddess, who had accumulated an industrial amount of stress and nervousness over the last few minutes.
"Better them than me," EMIYA murmured in a low voice, vastly preferring that someone else endure Ishtar's devastating wrath instead of him.
"What am I, your househusband?" Archer then asked, openly defying the whims of the white-haired Goddess and continuing to treat her like a vain and somewhat temperamental cat.
At those words, Venus's face rapidly cycled through several emotional phases: first she blushed conspicuously, then she felt a shiver run down her spine, and finally she turned red with indignation.
"No! You will become my battered wife if you don't prepare a top-notch dinner and a giant chocolate cake for me!" the Goddess exclaimed, throwing out all her aggressive energy before abruptly cutting off the communication.
"Understood. Go ahead and vent; I'll prepare dinner for you," EMIYA concluded casually, having no problem managing the emotional flows of the twin-tailed Goddess... as long as it was done from a safe, proper distance.
The call ended with a click. Venus remained motionless for a few moments, suspended in the Indonesian sky, reflecting with a cold mind on her latest reactions.
"Damn short fuse from a Tsundere Tohsaka and stupid impulsiveness from a Kaslana," she muttered exasperatedly, perfectly aware of having several behavioral issues linked to the souls that composed her being.
The white-haired Goddess's gaze shifted from the city lights toward the ocean horizon, where several small private islands extended, known for being the golden havens of the local underworld.
"I'll disrupt the plans of some drug traffickers, then I'll send a shark and an official response to the Justice League. After that, finally, I'm heading home," Venus murmured to herself.
With a burst of energy, she launched herself into flight toward her next destination. Several attack approaches were already buzzing in her mind to punish the criminals; some of these, she thought with a sadistic smile, would be decisively worthy of a Looney Tunes cartoon.
To be continued...
XXX
Author's Note:
This chapter is a bit short, but I think it is more than enough. I hope you like it!