The Villainess Is An SS+ Rank Adventurer

There were two ways to escape a dragon kidnapping.

The first was to use Clarise’s Emergency Protocol Princess Propeller Device™. The second was to dash down the stairs. Both had its advantages and disadvantages. 

Use of Clarise’s specially designated chair ensured escape at such velocity that no dragon would be able to seize me. Whether this was an advantage or disadvantage, I’d yet to decide. And neither had the squire still searching for my test pillow launched several years ago.

And then there was dashing down the stairs.

The advantage was that dragons lacked the dexterity to poke through the tiny windows of staircases and were thus disinclined to seize us this way. The disadvantage was that running was highly embarrassing.

Recently, I discovered there was a 3rd option.

An ingenious new mode of escape. 

One incorporating both the positives of descending the tower while doing so at rapid speed. No servant would miss where I landed. And no dragon was swift enough to snatch me from the air.

After all–

“–Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!”

It was also known as falling.

Holding onto Coppelia like a duvet in the winter, I could do little but accept gravity’s reminder that we were all her children, and children should keep their feet on the ground. 

Even if the ground was very far away.

“Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee~!”

Despite my hair blowing into my face, nothing could stop the sight of Coppelia’s wide smile as we plummeted past the side of a tower now missing its roof, several floors and even the hole through which she’d leapt from.

Which was fine!

This … This was all fine!

Explosion? What explosion?

Indeed, I fully intended on full-scale refurbishment!

The giant plume of destruction nibbling at my back? Outdoor lighting. The flaming rubble crashing down like the prelude to the end of the world? Scenic ambience. The spire racing me to meet the ground? Limited-time entertainment. Did this look like half a tower combusting to the power of a falling volcano conjured by a mage in scandalous undergarments I’d most certainly never purposefully aggravated? Nope. Not at all.

Thus, I smiled in satisfaction at the knowledge my renovations for the Royal Institute Of Mages were proceeding on schedule. 

Now that an office formerly belonging to a lich had been sanctified along with said lich, I could begin planning which paintings of myself I could move in as part of the public exhibit I intended to replace it with.

The showpiece–

My dignified expression as I gracefully floated down like the angel I was.

“C-C-Coopppeeeeelliaaaaaaaaa!!”

“Oh boy, if that wasn’t a 10/10 explosion, I can’t wait for the one that is!”

“T-The groouundd! T-The grroounndd is geettinng bigggeerr?!”

“Did you say somersault? … I can somersault!”

The world turned upside down, helpfully removing the hair from my face and smacking into a highly entertained clockwork doll’s instead. 

She flicked the strands away, then proceeded to do the same with the newly arrived lighting. 

Darkness came with a clap of her hand. And then a scythe wrenched from the abyss. 

She gave a final cursory roll before slamming the tip of that silvery blade into the side of the tower, ensuring no part of the building was spared from our renovation efforts. The stonework cracked, a deep fissure trailing in our wake as she slowed our descent.

Moments later–

“Hup~”

She leapt from the side of the tower, slicing away a falling sofa before taking its assigned spot in the grass. The moment she landed, I warily released my hold and held out my arms, balancing myself like a ballerina after a normal jump resulting in terminal velocity.

And my audience was a field of flaming rubble and furniture.

I craned my neck and peered up at the sky. No unfashionable spectacles were required for this. The Royal Institute of Mages was now my kingdom’s newest lighthouse. The only danger was captains accidentally ramming into one another as their eyes were fixated on the spectacle.

A torch against the darkness of the sky.

Something I very much hoped would disappear the next time I blinked, courtesy of a lich whose presence was now replaced by a volcano melting what remained of a mage’s tower. 

A vast improvement, but one I considered temporary.

A problem, then.

My newest assistant was proving highly enthusiastic.

“Heheh … heheheh … aahaahaahaaahah!”

Poomph.

She landed with enough force to crack the earth, sweeping aside a ring of flames.

Like a merchant freshly crawled into the lowest echelons of nobility, a certain Witch of Calamity, also known as Miss Racy Corset, also known as everything beginning with the letter ‘M’, spread her arms and smiled. 

Her silver eyes glowed with delirium, satisfaction and triumph all rolled into one.

Adorned by a cloak of smoke and flames, her hair was resplendent with strands of violet, amber and scarlet, mimicking the crown which burned more feverishly than even the tower rising beside us.

“I dare you to throw a duck at me.”

The flames bloomed around her as she imperiously took a step forwards. 

Somewhere, songbirds hummed to the chord of her magic. A harmony of death, orchestrated by her flourishing arms as she directed her own coming.

And still, her smile rose above them all.

“Fools. The both of you will be naught but cinders before this night finds day … for you face a foe beyond … beyond your … a-ability to … guhh … fathom …”

Marina glanced down.

Then, she tugged at the foot stuck in the earth. 

Once. Twice. Three times.

As the flames silhouetting her figure blared and lashed at the air in a cacophony of unbridled power, she tugged at the ankle solidly buried where she’d otherwise impressively landed. 

I gently waved to catch her attention.

“… Do you need help?”

“No, I do not need help.”

“Are you certain? … It’s no effort on my part.”

“I’m fine.”

Magic flared around Marina’s hidden ankle. 

A plume of smoke immediately rose to greet her. Smoke which was different to the magical variety, as a hacking cough immediately filled the air.

Beside me, my kind handmaiden offered out her scythe, her words of pity written across her face.

After a painful pause, the newly reborn Witch of Calamity grabbed the back of the scythe and hauled herself from the hole. Newly released, she looked down at the smoking dirt caking her ankle, before bending down to whack it away. 

A moment passed.

And then–

She spread her arms out, a smile of unlimited power filling her expression.

“The both of you will be naught but cinders before this night finds day, for you face a foe beyond your ability to fathom. The magic which you dared to … to awaken like a … like a …” 

Marina paused.

Then, she pursed her lips, before leaning down to remove her boot entirely.

Small stones and bits of soil drained out before she roughly stuffed it back on. 

“The both of you will be naught but cinders before–”

“You can just resume from where you paused,” I suggested.

“–before this night finds day,” she continued through gritted teeth. “For you face a foe beyond your ability to fathom. The magic which you dared to awaken like a dragon’s wrath will not only destroy you, but undo you, erasing the very threads which bind your existence. Your souls will be cast into the void where no light can catch the strands. Time will be your prison as you erode like a breaking shore. Only the sound of your regret will be immune to the abyss, echoing as a warning for all eternity to those who would dare belittle my power.”

Suddenly, flames in the shape of countless armaments gathered around her.

Conjured as easily as a child could draw, a veritable armoury shook away the darkness seeking to encroach. Greatswords branded from tip to hilt. Mauls, hammers and maces gleaming white as though still in their forge. Spears and lances dribbling with bloody embers.

And they were all directed towards us.

“I am the beginning and the end. The first and the last. Time now marches to the beat of my presence. And you fools shall count the seconds within the chasm of an unseen horizon.”

She raised her arms, her flaming weapons ready to soak where we stood like a rain of arrows.

Coppelia and I leaned slightly forwards.

A moment later, we both looked at each other.

And then–

“... Her crown is rather small, isn’t it?”

“Mmh, I noticed too.”

“Oh, thank goodness. I almost feared for my own judgement. Her magical crown truly is the wrong size. The band doesn’t correctly fit upon her scalp.”

“Yeah, it makes her forehead look big.”

A freshly emptied boot immediately stomped the ground.

“What is wrong with you people?!” said Marina, as all the weapons promptly collapsed in a flaming heap. “I am an avatar of calamity!”

“Yes, I can see that. For your latent powers to awaken but not even result in a properly fitting crown is a catastrophe. It looks like it’s digging into your head. Is it not uncomfortable? Can’t you change it?”

Marina’s brows suddenly furrowed. Not merely as a frown. But also as a way to shift the crown.

I’d seen my father do it often.

“It matters not,” she said brusquely. “You are the only ones who will see it.”

“Excuse me? What do you mean by that? Will you use that crown to poke out everyone’s eyes? Because I’m almost certain that the moment you begin walking, it’s going to fall off and land on someone’s face.”

Marina pursed her lips.

A moment later, her silver eyes winced as her head visibly shook … to no change whatsoever.

“... I can’t seem to change it.”

“Why not?”

“How should I know? … I’ve never had to change a burning crown’s size before!”

“You just said you were going to turn us into cinders. Are you saying that you can’t even change the size of the accessory on your head? Because that’s deeply offensive.”

“Why is that offensive?!”

“You’re suggesting that Coppelia is easier to reshape than a crown. That is highly insulting.”

“Yeah.” Coppelia nodded. “You bigot.”

Marina raised her arms in exasperation.

“Does this crown look like it was intended?! Does any of this look intended?! … I am on fire. Literal. Fire. It is a new experience. I do not have full control. Fiddling with the size of a crown isn’t something anyone other than you two consider a priority!”

And now it was my turn to be offended.

“Excuse me!” I gasped at the impropriety. “That is no excuse if you hope to sit on a throne! If your crown doesn’t fit, all your subjects will laugh at you before you set them ablaze! Their jeering laughter and screams will plague you all night! A crown must exemplify perfection.” 

Marina clenched her fists. Embers squeezed out in response. 

“I am perfection. I can feel it now. The familiarity. The power. I am the harbinger of flames.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“Redundant.”

“What?”

“Less is more. You don’t need to introduce yourself as the harbinger of flames. You said it yourself. You are on literal fire. Something which looks very unhealthy … is that smoke not clogging up your pores?” 

Whatever Marina wished to say, it came to a sudden pause as she held out her arms, examining the flames coating them.

“No … I don’t believe so … this isn’t real smoke. It’s magical.”

“And that makes it acceptable? Are you even aware of what goes into magical smoke? You are what you eat applies to more than just food. Why, if your skin absorbs all that, you’ll become a walking chimney! Is that the image you wish to cultivate?”

The smoke lessened at once. 

A few moments later, a single heroic bead of sweat instantly evaporated, her face no longer veiled through a cauldron’s worth of smog. Even so, it failed to completely disperse.

“... The strength of my flames are unparalleled,” she offered as an explanation.

“Is that so?” I nodded charitably. “... Very well. Those flames will have to go, then.”

“Go? What do you mean go? My flames cannot go! … I am flames!”

“A matter of mind over matter. And this is a matter you need to take seriously. I didn’t notice because of the vomit robes that man wore, but your attire is hardly any better.” 

“You can’t even see my attire!”

“Exactly. All I see are flames. You look less like a witch and more like a burning building.” I pointed at the tower. “This is you right now. Not only is it excessive, but the balance is off. If you want to be the Witch of Calamity, you need to control your image. Now, try erasing the flames and we can start from scratch.” 

An appalled look met my very reasonable suggestion. Mostly towards the tower.

And then–

She squeezed her eyes shut.

Slowly, the flames encompassing her entire figure faded like a candle brought down to its last smidgeon of wax. Her body visibly shook from the effort as if engulfed by a freezing snowstorm. 

Then, silence passed, ushered in by the darkness only kept at bay by the unnatural silver of her eyes. They gleamed like an owl’s, the vibrancy matched by the half-rainbow that was now her hair.

Coppelia and I shared uncertain looks. 

“... It looks a bit creepy, huh?”

“Yes, indeed, I don’t believe this is the effect she wants.”

“What is it now?!”

I pointed helpfully.

“Your eyes and hair stand out without those flames. And not in a flattering way.”

Marina glanced down, then held up the strands of her hair.

Her mouth widened.

“How come my hair is glowing?!”

Hmm. Interesting.

The fire was fine. But the hair was too much. A sentiment I actually agreed with.

“I dunno,” said Coppelia cheerfully. “But it’s not as bad as the eyes.”

“Why? … What does it look like?” 

I held up my sword. Marina leaned forwards. 

The effect was immediate. 

She closed her eyes, her teeth gritting together until both eyes cautiously blinked open–both as chestnut as Apple’s shaggy mane.

But as for her hair …

“I … I can’t seem to remove it entirely,” she said, biting down on her lips as the ends remained stubbornly colourful.

“It’s not that bad now,” replied Coppelia, nodding as fast as she could. “You stick out a bit, but only at the level of walking into a restaurant for the first time and suddenly everyone stops talking and looks at you because they know you’re not local. That’s the kind of permanent awkwardness from now on.”

Marina covered her mouth. Horror filled every inch of her expression. 

I considered her plight, then raised my sword.

“Would you like me to cut your hair?”

“I do not!”

“E-Excuse me! That was a very rare offer! I assure you I’m quite deft with hairstyling!”

“I don’t want my hair cut! I have no idea what that will do!”

“It’ll make you look more approachable, I assume.”

Marina hesitated as she eyed my multi-purpose gardening, sewing and hairdressing tool. 

Then, she stomped her foot. 

“... What am I doing?! None of this matters! I am … I am the Witch of Calamity! I do not care how I’m perceived! This … This is a monumental day. Everything I’ve worked for has been … has been …”

Despite her lips parting, her words failed to complete.

Instead, she wore a look as deeply complicated as when I sat before my mathematics tutor’s chalkboard. 

“... Delivered to you on a plate?” I suggested. “Frankly, I’m not certain what efforts you did, but by all accounts, a nosebleed is all you needed. My congratulations.”

A fist clenched in frustration. She swayed as if trying to shake the grievances away.

“No … this is nothing to be congratulated over. I cannot rejoice. This … This is not what I wanted. Not when I don’t control it. Not when I didn’t know. Blood. It just had to be blood. Of course it would. But how? This doesn’t make sense. None of this does. The Witch of Calamity. Witches. I’ve … I’ve been kept in the dark. For the longest time, I didn’t know. I couldn’t have known …”

“I dunno,” said Coppelia. “I feel like there had to be some clues. Didn’t you ever wake up wondering what the dreams of world domination were about?”

“And there lies the problem,” I said. “I understand that dealing with peasants as one’s livelihood is liable to turn anyone into a reborn calamity. But seeing the world burned down for it is excessive. Simply a barn will do. Maybe two if necessary.”

Marina gritted her teeth.

“I do not dream about burning down the world. I am not that lich. I am …” 

She paused, seemingly unsure who she was anymore 

“... A petty schemer?” I offered on her behalf. “An unsuccessful town alchemist?”

“Miss Racy Corset!”

“I will destroy you both!” Marina instantly raised her hands. “… [Meteor]!” 

And then–

Nothing happened.

She blinked, then gazed up at her palms … before patting herself on the head, feeling where the crown of flames had already faded, its size slowly having reduced appropriately to nothingness.

Of the new powers her blood had unearthed, currently only the most powerful remained.

The ability to induce stares from walking into new restaurants. 

She slowly lowered her hands and gawped at me, her mouth wide open in disbelief.

“Did … Did you just … ?”

I raised my hand to my lips and smiled.

“Ohhohohohohohohoho!!” 

Here it was! My ultimate ability!

[Princess Soothe]!!

Behold! A ruthless technique to quell any flames and douse any ire! 

Using nothing but my gentle words, sweet demeanour and innocent smile alone, I could lay even the wrath of a dragon to rest!

The Witch Of Calamity? 

Ohhohohohoho … please, I have endured horrors the likes of which a nightmare raised from the past measured only as a pleasant afternoon dream!

Yes … the scowl of my mother, my tutors, and my very own reflection as I practised day and night! 

What need did I have to fear any witch’s flames? The ones she sprouted were but the smallest candlelight compared to the wickedness I had to calm!

Indeed, here was a skill trained and honed through the years! 

Mine was an innocence sweeter than the strawberry shortcakes I stole! No matter how many windows I escaped through or snacks I ate, in the end, I would always slip free from the grasp of any displeasure!

For a moment, Marina only had the sense left to look appalled.

Then–

Fwoosh.

A regular sized fireball appeared in her hands.

“I do not need horrifyingly bright eyes to burn you into ash! [Fire–”

“[Coppelia Bonk]!”

Whatever way Marina wished to see us reduced to cinders, it would have to wait.

Coppelia merely skipped a step before sending the bottom of her scythe into the back of her head. She promptly crumpled to the grass. The flames now doubly extinguished, stars filled her eyes as she gazed into the dark sky.

A sight I viewed only with envy.

After all–

The actual stars were still absent.

“Okie~ it’s payment time!” said Coppelia, wasting no time in kneeling down to rob the unconscious woman. “... Ooooh, black again~”

I pursed my lips.

Then, diligently ignoring Coppelia’s unorthodox view of where pockets were sewn, I immediately turned my attention towards something even blacker than whatever she was spying.

The darkness encroaching as the fires dimmed. 

Not only around us. But upon a tower, its designation as my kingdom’s newest lighthouse fading swifter than anything with ample amounts of lime furniture to offer should do.

The reason was simple.

The flames were currently being extinguished, ripped and torn like pieces of premium apples in Apple’s mouth. The fire was drawn towards that impenetrable black hole, just as it was with the sunlight.

A problem.

And not least because my problems refused to queue.

A noise to the side drew my attention as the largest haul of flaming rubble was disturbed. Amidst the remains of what was partially a rooftop spire, a gangling figure in tattered vomit green robes slowly began to emerge, stone and woodwork falling off his shoulders.

The movement was languid and awkward. But that was only to be expected.

After all–

Of the headmaster, nothing but bones could be seen.