Despite the moonlight on the surface world, Pertinax never slept. The black market’s citizens stood terrified by the chef before them. Long ago, people swore he was a barber. Either way, none had belittled the always disgruntled Fieri Hemingway.

In contrast, Kakunō and Kenkō stood their ground, eyes stern. Judging by his bloody rolling pins, he traveled Hell to find the underground’s #1 broker. Elon hid under his table and frantically skimmed through crossbow bolts.

By the door, Fieri took the first step. Anyone nearby had felt ten times heavier to their knees. On the other hand, the two siblings felt their skin blistering at 370°. Yet, they released their own pressure on him. Their eyes narrowed for peak concentration.

Fieri’s tenacity had put the word juggernaut to shame. The stout yet defined chef walked every five seconds. He cared not for his stomach feeling torn apart. However, it had a limit. The illusionary pain bloodied his mouth. He carried on still.

The two siblings narrowed their eyes more, teeth clenched. The sweating, shaky Elon finally found the best ammo. “Here’s more, mate!” his hands reached the table. “Use them wisely. Red melts, and blue freezes!”

Kakunō pulled out his newly bought crossbow. “Thanks.” He loaded the last bolt and turned to Kenkō. “Now!”

They both turned off their pressure. Fieri wasted no second swinging a rolling pin downward. Before hitting the floor, it turned white and powdery.

Bystanders screamed at the thundering explosion in the weapons shop. They ran from numerous bolts firing everywhere. From the white smoke, the siblings jumped out. Eyes closed, they coughed flour.

Kakunō spat at the ground. “Damn it…! Our tandem routine failed.” He loaded his empty crossbow. “Sorry for panicking, Sis. I got three mags left.”

Kenkō wiped both faces clean via runes. She turned off her out-of-sync music. “Don’t be. I’m down to twenty darts. But I’m sure we did overkill on that bast—”

Her words got eaten faster than light. The new foes before them looked edible as well, yet menacing. The gingerbread army made way for their creator. A white tornado whirled.

Fieri’s head was the last to revert from flour. A face still disgruntled. “Futile,” he slowly walked. “That is all. I don’t talk a lot.”

Even at the beast’s den, Kakunō grinned. “Sure thing, dude. We already know where you live. Or at least the one from your tale.”

The chef unexpectedly smirked. “Oh… you mean my hideout? Drury Lane’s lonely with Läufer gone.”

His eyes squinted. “What? And did you just say—”

“Ah, ah.” Fieri wagged his finger. “I made you know too much. Die!”

The gingerbread frontline went first. Now with four arms, iron muzzles jutted out. The igniters had sparked. Kakunō pulled out a fan and swung rightward. No matter its conventional size, the cold gale snuffed the roaring inferno.

Kenkō saw the enemy’s opening and flash-stepped. The frontline crumbled to bits after one touch. “Crush them to dust!” she exclaimed at her brother. “They reform fast.” Her power continued injecting them with sulfuric acid.

He used his crossbow again. “That’s what these are for!” He jumped everywhere, effortlessly dodging. The red bolts turned the living pastries charcoal; blue had liquid nitrogen run through their spongy bodies. Now, it took one punch to cull them by the dozen.

The cakewalk did not last. The creator would not just watch and stand, so Frieri changed his rolling pins together. Another blast of four occurred, and even two per second.

The siblings felt the sting in their eyes once more. More seconds in, the area became harder to walk. Kenkō cast a runic dome before it would smother them any further. The dry flood reached their shoulders outside.

Kakunō stored his weapon and looked around, sweating. “Not good, Sis. We might croak at this rate.” The flood reached five floors after a minute. Some bystanders above had zero luck.

She kneeled and panted after reinforcing the dome thirty times. “Jump… when I count to three.” She gathered mana on her legs alongside him. “Alright. One, three!”

Sadly, the imposition did not last. As Kenkō canceled the runic arrays, the flour vanished with the wind. There was no time to wonder, yet she failed to warn her brother. “Kakunō!” she reached a hand, eyes lit up.

He always bragged as the third strongest. If meant second only to Coelestis’ king, it was an honor. At that moment, he recalled his eldest brother’s smile. Maybe it was better to climb the next summit.

Fieri’s gold rolling pin went through his back like floral foam. He could not feel his lower half. His legs shook like a newborn fawn. A red waterfall poured on both ends. Yet, the self-made title erased any doubt. He grabbed the chef’s arms from behind and shouted.

Fieri screamed and staggered, limbless in the upper half. A straight jab greeted his face. Then, a katana gave him ten thousand volts after three painless swings. Shockwaves leveled the floor into rubble. Windows had shattered.

The chef would not have his resolve destroyed like the area. His flour gave him fresh arms. He now parried with both rolling pins. The advantage was the same: every clash, a blinding powder. Kakunō refused to lose sight, turning red; he grunted loudly and swung 40/s.

The second strongest triumphed with a leftward slash. Fieri’s skin singed, and he fell on his back. Half the bustling underbelly was now fit for an ancient ruin. Multiple caged animals ran amok.

Kakunō sat against a wall and healed himself. Magic could only fortify teenage physique so far. However, the imposition returned. A mass of flour formed a spear before him. He squinted as it perfectly resembled his halberd.

He flash-stepped, but the attack sliced through the air. Luckily, a better practitioner intervened, carried by the arms. More rubble flew everywhere. The chef’s disgruntled mug had amplified.

Kenkō laid her brother down on another wall far away. She checked the perimeter, hand over her forehead.

Kakunō grunted again and stood up. “What the fuck, dude! I just had that until you—”

“I’m not in a mood for arguing, country boy.” She held her upper arm; the former’s eyes widened at the exposed tricep. She sighed and turned. “Sheer power only works when you’re clever enough. That’s why our eldest reigns supreme.”

He squinted again. “What are you on about? Hokori declared himself an anomaly in this world’s ‘power scaling.’ Do you deny it?” He counted his previous wins. Sure enough, only the king and mentioned brother bested him.

Surprisingly, she smiled. “That’s what I’m saying. You need more smarts.” She neared his right ear for the plan. If a failure, everything else would.

He smiled back. “Can you really pull it off?”

“Of course.” She pulled out a syringe. “He was a willing guinea pig before I became family.”

Fieri slowly walked toward their whereabouts. What frightened the underground most was his nigh-omniscience. Flour had flown through the air and discerned the living. He found luck within thirty seconds. With Kenkō standing stern, he smiled faintly. “Quite the defiance. But what’s an archmage to an Earthly Mytho? Quite the wonder.”

Her gloves materialized, darts at the ready. “Not much. It’d usually take three against one. Or should I go into specifics? Either way, as Big Sis, I outta protect the little ones.”

He shook his head. “I hate tangents.” Flour had galed around him, fists clenched. “To omit, divine!” A scythe the size of a mansion swung down. Its candied look was pure deception for the kids.

Kenkō jumped to the right and threw five darts. However, the chef’s real might had become apparent. Each attack phased through him. He summoned another army—only for them to dissolve. It was all according to plan.

Every dart thrown detonated when missed. Gingerbread stood no chance against acid gas. For their creator, it was next to nothing. Now annoyed, Fieri transformed into a white tornado again. Parlor tricks stood no chance against wheat-based substances.

Closing the distance, he grunted with clenched teeth. “Fight upfront!” He swung to and fro at Kenkō’s afterimages. He stopped in his tracks and stretched his arms like dough.

She cast runes at the arms for a guard stance. It merely held off the Palladium rolling pins for a time. She heard a crunchy snap every hit. Her arms formed an X, yet she went flying several walls.

Fieri walked through the debris, still annoyed. Seeing Kenkō stand, several veins popped in him. “Enough!” He aimed for the gut.

She closed her mouth but to no avail. Now, the world appeared hazy. She could only discern a golden light. The bloody beating occurred 20/s. It continued even when a chasm had formed.

Ten minutes later, not a bone remained single within her. Skin pale, she shook violently. Her face could be a case of an animal mauling. Her eyes widened upon hearing the last strike. Then, it was lights out.

Fieri pulled his pin from the chest cavity. With the fly gone, he smiled again. However, he would have it alone. “Such looks,” he walked toward Kakunō. “Are siblings cheap to you?”

He snickered and chuckled. “Nope. You just fucking get it.” His eyes turned to the one behind him.

The chef looked back in confusion. Before long, his neck had bruises. In a cruel irony, Kenkō’s head was the last to reform. Her vice grip fastened tenfold, eyes aglare.

Fieri tried concentrating but could only transform halfway. Kakunō shot a blue bolt from behind to seal his fate. In a gross amalgamation of flesh and dough, he froze, screaming. The final thought was a man’s inexpressive face.

Kenkō inserted a tube down the human sculpture’s throat. It connected to a heart-shaped device that showed vitals. In return, screws dug deep into the same organ. She calculated the correct blood pressure. “He’ll live,” she turned to her brother. “It’d be back to square one if not.”

They cast runes together to store said sculpture. Either one could not summon it alone. So, Kenkō smirked at her brother’s dull proficiency. Many veins popped within him. “If you’re that good, why not do it yourself!?”

She shrugged with closed eyes. “Who knows? Maybe nurses can enjoy one’s pain sometimes.” She walked past him. “Especially sword-fiddling country boys.”

He grunted but sighed more or less. “Still wondering who’s the mature one here.”

Their stroll through Pertinax was now like an apocalypse. Whether they could revert the damages had depended on their economy. No sane state would send it relief programs. “And that’s the gist of it, country boy,” Kenkō shrugged again.

His eyes rolled. Then, he knew the perfect counter to the annoyance. “C’est la vie, as they say, Sis…” he smirked. “However, that means Mr. Gatsby ain’t got a home for now. Perhaps we should—”

“You’re not funny, you know.” She put her hands on her hips.

He smirked further. “Oh, I’m aware. But why else would I have him on speed dial?” He showed his Every Hub screen. The number even had a selfie picture together; peace signs, no less.

She instantly grabbed his shirt and seethed, head lowered. “If you add him to the family… you’re Lil Bro no longer.” She kicked his ankle and walked with crossed arms.

He continued walking from behind. Despite the unpleasant reaction, he smiled calmly. “You really mean that, Sis?” He looked above at the broken lights.

Eyes lowering, she stopped in her tracks. “Every single word, country boy. I know you won’t anymore, but don’t stab my heart. They’ll feel it, too.” She went for a door back to the city.

As it had closed, he recalled his fifteenth birthday. To think the scars never faded. “I won’t let you remember, Sis.” He followed suit, smiling.