Volume 4 Chapter 22: Aid

“One, two, three, push!” Liv hooked a huge stone slab with her red sickle-shaped blade, while Irene’s hands glowed with magic as she struck hard at the slab’s lower end.

“Bang!” The millstone-sized slab spun twice in the air before landing on another pile of rubble, kicking up a cloud of dust.

Below the slab was a pit made of broken roof beams and bricks, with a large and small figure squeezed inside. It was a veiled Muslim woman—clearly elderly from the wrinkles on her hand—holding a little girl around seven or eight years old.

They were lucky to have hidden in this chaotic dark hole during the collapse, escaping burial like the rest of their family.

“Hey, you’re safe now!” Liv leaned into the pit and helped them crawl out.

The elderly woman and child were both weak, likely from lack of air. They stared at Liv and Irene without any thanks, just blank numbness in their eyes.

Two Allied soldiers wearing cross armbands ran up from afar and led them away. These homeless refugees had to live in military tents outside the city until the area was cleared, then rebuild with other survivors on their own.

Predictably, the American and British forces wouldn’t focus on aiding refugees; they still had a war to fight. Years of hunger and cold likely awaited these poor souls, and over half of tonight’s survivors might not make it to war’s end.

“Hrmph…” On the rubble-filled street, a military jeep raced toward them. A middle-aged American Army Colonel jumped off before it stopped.

“Miss Liv, Miss Irene, I found you at last!” said the Colonel sternly. “With all due respect, your duty isn’t here. Head to the underground shelter—my men will handle rescuing civilians.”

Liv frowned, but before she could speak, Irene beside her said coldly, “Colonel, sure about that? You and your soldiers got here after nearly thirty minutes. How many civilians would’ve died without us?”

“Miss Irene, the 101st Division had to clear German Special Forces Soldiers downtown first. Plus, the Germans used firebombs—you can’t imagine our losses…” a lieutenant beside the Colonel retorted, barely keeping anger in check.

“Really? A whole paratrooper division against thirty German assault troops?” Liv said sarcastically. “Tell me, if this were New York City, what would you do?”

The lieutenant gaped, speechless.

“Forgive Lieutenant Jonathan—he’s upset over comrades’ sacrifices. Casablanca isn’t New York; it lacks fire trucks or city services. We can’t send soldiers as firefighters to rescue people from fire pits!” The Colonel sighed weakly.

“In the end, you’re American soldiers who don’t care about Casablanca civilians!” Irene flicked her ponytail and climbed into the jeep. “Let’s go, Colonel. Hope you keep your word and help these survivors as promised.”

The jeep sped off toward the museum.

“Colonel, how’s the situation at the underground shelter?” Liv asked after a silence. “One of us already headed there.”

“I don’t know details, but reports are urgent. Superhumans led by Skorzeny almost broke through the main protected area with the three-nation leaders, yet they retreated at the last moment for some reason,” the Colonel said, frowning.

“According to intel, at that exact time, two Gentlemen Alliance members breached another lab. That lab was nowhere near as important as the leaders’ zone. To block German return, the Justice League didn’t pursue them.”

Liv and Irene locked eyes and fell silent, both worried about Kathleen and another comrade.

“Irene, do you think ‘The Queen’ and the Professor are okay?” Little Red Riding Hood asked her companion.

“Professor Kathleen is far stronger than us—she’ll be fine!” Irene sneered. “And that Witch always dressing like The Queen? She’s too sly for anything to happen.”

“Hehe, your feud never ends—one sees herself as Snow White, the other as the evil Queen!” Liv giggled, covering her mouth.

“Pfft! As if I care! Wait—what’s that?” Irene paused, glancing out the jeep window.

As the jeep neared the museum, the roadside filled with injured U.S. soldiers. Most lay dead in odd poses on the rubble, while others clutched their wounds and groaned in pain.

“Lieutenant Jonathan spoke of heavy sacrifices near the museum,” the Colonel whispered, lips pressed tight. “Last night on the beach, we killed nearly 100 German Army’s Oranienburg Special Forces Soldiers. Today they paid us back tenfold.”

“The German Special Forces hid in post-bomb rubble—they were expert shooters who fired just once before relocating. Every inch we advanced cost a soldier’s life. They also had special weapons piercing tank armor—miniature Soviet rockets,” Lieutenant Jonathan said blankly. “Farther ahead, you’ll see burning Sherman tanks.”

“They delayed the 101st Division thirty minutes. With no choice, we bombed all their hiding spots with heavy artillery,” the Colonel murmured. “Casablanca has no downtown left. By the museum, no intact bricks remain—and no bodies.”

Liv and Irene flinched. In this brief battle, the Fairy Tale Maidens saw war in a whole new way.

With no bodies, it implied not escapes but bodies reduced to scattered flesh and sand by the bombardment—unrecognizable as human.

“Irene…” Little Red Riding Hood turned to her.

“Hmm!” The white-haired girl’s eyes flashed. She pushed the jeep door open, leaped out, and rushed toward the museum.

“Colonel, the jeep’s too slow—we’re heading out first!” Liv sprang up, tapped the jeep’s hood with her toes, and chased after Irene.

…

“Joey, your move or mine?” Grant stepped onto a fallen iron door and pointed at the black-haired girl before him.

“Your turn—my apology for earlier rudeness!” Joey grinned, carrying a blood-dripping bundle as he walked toward nearby researchers.

“You even grasp apologies?” Grant sneered, stepping toward “The Black Queen.”

Mira expressionlessly drew her blade, ignoring Joey to focus on Grant, a grim feeling stirring inside.

“Rat-tat-tat!” Gunfire erupted nonstop in the lab. True scientists had fled; remaining researchers were Allied Forces military personnel trained in combat, many carrying pistols.

“Heheh!” Joey licked dry lips, hoisting a heavy chair as a shield as he lunged.

“I hate lab-coat wearers—reminds me of awful memories!”

Joey’s Dagger of Sin fluttered like a butterfly; anyone resisting him dropped within two moves, clutching their throat. Blood flooded the floor crimson in pools, coating the lab in a gory sheen.

“Run! Forget the files! Get out—I can’t stop them alone!” the black-haired girl yelled to survivors, her blade flicking with eerie speed—a black flash slicing Grant’s shoulder.

“Pssh!” Blood sprayed. Anger flared in Grant’s eyes. He glared at the Blade Whip coiled at her feet. “More whip weapons!”

“Know others with whips? Doctor Jones?” Mira’s gaze shifted, her icy expression tense. “German, answer this—since you saw Doctor Jones, did you see…”

“Heheh, Kathleen, right?” Grant’s face twisted strangely. “Who is she? Sister, mother, teacher?”

“Professor Kathleen is my mentor!” Seeing Grant’s look, dread choked the girl.

“I’m sorry,” Grant said suddenly, a graceful smile playing on his lips. “With Grimm Academy in this war…”

“Shut up!” She trembled, face pale, cutting him off. “No! I don’t believe you!”

Grant shrugged, hands out, staying silent. They stood frozen. Not that The Joker lacked desire to kill “The Black Queen”—Joey’s rampage only fueled it. But his severe wounds forced delay.

He waited for Skorzeny’s arrival. Mira guarded researcher exits while Joey gathered lab files. Aside from frantically fleeing lab-coats in a secret tunnel, an unnatural truce held the lab.

But their standoff shattered when a rash researcher saw Joey distracted. He gritted his teeth and lunged for a giant water tank central in the lab.

“Stop!” Mira gasped. Grant lit up—exploiting her distraction, he launched forward.

Meanwhile, Joey—back to the tank—shifted his bloodshot eyes sideways like a sly snake, silently locked on the young researcher.