Empyrean Gardens Community sprawled across the northern edge of Pixar City like a concrete maze of necessity. The vast residential complex housed thousands of migrant workers who couldn't afford proper homes anywhere else in the metropolitan area. It was a place where dreams came to die slowly, one unpaid overtime shift at a time.
Michelle pressed her weathered palm against her daughter's burning forehead, feeling the fever that had kept ten-year-old Moisha bedridden since yesterday evening. At thirty-seven, Michelle's face bore the premature lines of someone who'd aged a decade in half that time, worn down by the relentless grind of factory work and single motherhood.
"Where's daddy?" you might ask about the child.
Dead. Six years now, taken by a secret realm invasion when Moisha was barely old enough to remember his face.
In this world, ordinary people died far more frequently than they had before the arrival of the secret realms. Natural disasters were bad enough, but the unpredictable demon incursions had turned simple existence into a gamble with stakes no one could afford to lose.
"Sleep, Momo," Michelle whispered, her thin fingers gently wiping sweat from her daughter's flushed cheeks. "You'll feel better soon."
Despite the bone-deep exhaustion that made every movement feel like swimming through molasses, Michelle's eyes still sparkled with fierce protective love whenever she looked at her child. Moisha was her anchor to sanity, the one thing that made each grinding day worthwhile.
"Daddy... Mommy..." Moisha murmured through her fever dreams, the words cutting through Michelle's heart like glass shards.
For a moment, Michelle's carefully maintained composure cracked. After her husband's death, she'd stood on their apartment's narrow balcony more than once, staring down at the concrete seven floors below and wondering if jumping would be easier than continuing this struggle alone. Only the thought of leaving Moisha orphaned had pulled her back from that precipice each time.
The sharp chime of her phone shattered the oppressive silence.
Michelle fumbled for the device with hands that trembled from exhaustion and stress. The message was from her factory supervisor, and its contents made her blood run cold.
[It's almost eight o'clock. Where are you?]
[Don't bother coming in again!]
Panic seized Michelle's chest like an iron fist. In her desperation to care for Moisha through the night, she'd completely forgotten to request time off. The oversight could cost her the job that barely kept them fed and housed.
Her fingers flew across the phone's cracked screen.
[I'm so sorry, supervisor! My daughter is very sick. I forgot to ask for leave while taking care of her. Please forgive me.]
The message disappeared into digital silence. Minutes crawled by without a response, each second feeling like an eternity while Michelle stared at the phone screen and prayed for mercy she knew she didn't deserve.
When the supervisor finally replied, his words hit like a physical blow.
[Absenteeism. 500 Empyrean Dollars deducted from your salary.]
Five hundredEmpyrean Dollars. Three days' wages. The difference between making rent this month and facing eviction.
Michelle's fingers, cracked and hardened from factory work, clenched around the phone until her knuckles went white. For a long moment, rage and despair warred in her chest, fury at a system that punished her for caring for her sick child, and hopelessness at her complete powerlessness to change anything.
But what choice did she have except to accept it? People like her, who lacked the talent to become Lore Lore Cardians, were society's discarded refuse. If she died tomorrow in some dark corner, nobody would even notice her absence.
The silence settled over their tiny apartment like a suffocating blanket. Eventually, Michelle forced herself to stand on unsteady legs. Life continued whether you were ready or not, and Moisha needed food even if Michelle's appetite had vanished completely.
She was rummaging through their meager supplies, trying to cobble together enough ingredients for thin porridge, when her phone buzzed again.
Hope flickered for a moment, maybe the supervisor had reconsidered?, but the message wasn't from work.
[EMERGENCY ALERT: Unknown secret realm breach detected. All citizens must proceed to designated shelters immediately. This is not a drill.]
[EMERGENCY ALERT: Unknown secret realm breach detected. All citizens must proceed to designated shelters immediately. This is not a drill.]
The automated warning repeated itself with mechanical indifference, but Michelle felt as though someone had poured ice water into her veins. Seven years ago, an identical message had preceded her husband's death. The memory of waiting in a crowded shelter for three days, praying he would return from his emergency deployment, only to receive official notification of his death instead.
Terror galvanized her into action. Michelle rushed to the bedroom and shook her daughter's shoulder.
"Momo! Wake up, sweetheart!"
Moisha's fever-bright eyes fluttered open with visible effort. "Mom? What's wrong?"
"Secret realm invasion," Michelle said, trying to keep her voice steady despite the panic clawing at her throat. "Can you stand? We need to get to the shelter right now."
The words 'secret realm invasion' cut through Moisha's fever-induced haze like a lightning bolt. Though only ten years old, she understood that such invasions had taken her father away forever. Fear gave her strength she didn't know she possessed.
Moisha struggled to push herself upright on arms made stick-thin by poor nutrition, but the effort sent the world spinning around her. She collapsed back onto the bed with a soft cry of frustration.
"It's okay, baby. Mommy will carry you."
Without hesitation, Michelle crouched beside the bed and lifted her daughter onto her back in a piggyback carry. Moisha weighed far too little for a child her age, another reminder of how their poverty affected every aspect of their lives, but even so, the added burden would make their evacuation challenging.
Grabbing only her phone and keys, Michelle hurried from their apartment into the corridor beyond.
The narrow hallway stood empty. Most of Empyrean Gardens's residents were already at their jobs, scattered across Pixar City's industrial districts. The few who remained were probably elderly or sick, populations that moved slowly during emergencies.
Michelle half-ran to the elevator bank, supporting Moisha with her left arm while frantically mashing the down button with her right hand.
"Come on, come on!" she whispered desperately.
When the elevator finally arrived at the seventh floor, Michelle's heart sank. The car was packed shoulder-to-shoulder with other residents, their faces tight with the same fear she felt. There wasn't even standing room for one person, let alone a woman carrying a child.
"You're too slow!" someone shouted from inside the elevator. "Find another way down!"
"Get out of here! You're wasting our time!"
The cruel words stung, but Michelle had no time for hurt feelings. As soon as the doors closed, she pivoted toward the stairwell entrance.
Seven flights of stairs. For a healthy adult male, the descent would be manageable. But Michelle was a malnourished woman carrying a sick child, operating on maybe three hours of sleep. The challenge felt insurmountable.
But what choice did she have?
Michelle's breathing became labored after just two flights, her heart hammering against her ribs like a caged bird desperate for freedom. Sweat poured down her face despite the stairwell's cool temperature, and her legs began trembling with the strain.
"Mommy?" Moisha whispered against her ear, feeling the violent shaking of her mother's exhausted body.
"I'm okay, baby," Michelle lied, forcing herself to continue downward step by agonizing step.
Somehow, maternal desperation gave her the strength to reach the ground floor. But there was no time to rest, they still needed to reach the community's main gate and join the evacuation convoy.
The distance from their building to Empyrean Gardens Community's entrance was substantial, a consequence of the cheap rent that had made this apartment affordable. By the time Michelle stumbled to the gate, most residents had already formed orderly lines and begun marching toward the nearest public shelter.
She struggled to join the tail end of the procession, Moisha still clinging to her back.
"Mom," Moisha whispered weakly, feeling her mother's ragged breathing. "I can try to walk..."
But Michelle knew her daughter lacked the strength to keep pace with the group. The fever had left Moisha barely able to lift her head, let alone maintain the rapid walking speed necessary to stay with the evacuation.
For one horrible moment, a treacherous whisper echoed in Michelle's mind: Just leave her. You could move so much faster alone. Everyone would understand, survival comes first.
The thought made her physically sick. Instead, Michelle grabbed the sleeve of a young man walking beside them.
"Please," she begged, her voice cracking with desperation. "Can you help me? Take my daughter with you?"
The man's first instinct was suspicion, in crisis situations, people became wary of additional burdens. His expression was guarded as he shook his head.
"Look, lady, we're all trying to survive here. I can't be responsible for your kid too."
But then his gaze fell on Moisha's pale, fever-flushed face and the way her thin body trembled against her mother's back. Something in the child's vulnerability pierced through his self-preservation instincts.
The man cursed under his breath and scrubbed a hand through his hair. "Fine. I can take the kid, but that's it. I'm not carrying both of you."
Relief flooded through Michelle with such intensity that her knees nearly buckled. "Thank you! Thank you so much!"
"Come out, Rescue!" the man called, activating his card.
A magnificent Alaska Malamute materialized beside him, its thick coat gleaming and intelligent eyes surveying the situation. Michelle finally understood why he'd been willing to help, the large dog could easily carry Moisha while maintaining the group's pace.
With infinite care, Michelle transferred her daughter to the Malamute's broad back, making sure Moisha was securely positioned before letting go.
"Listen to the nice man, okay sweetie?" Michelle said, forcing a smile despite the tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. "Stay close to the dog, and don't wander off when you get to the shelter."
Moisha nodded with the solemn understanding that sometimes comes to children in moments of crisis. "Okay, Mommy."
Michelle's hand briefly touched her daughter's burning forehead one last time. "You have to be strong now, Momo. Take care of yourself."
As the evacuation group resumed its urgent march toward safety, Michelle managed to keep pace for the first few minutes. But the adrenaline that had carried her this far was rapidly fading, leaving behind crushing exhaustion that made each step feel like lifting lead weights.
Gradually, inexorably, the distance between Michelle and the group began to widen.
Moisha twisted around on the Malamute's back, watching her mother fall further and further behind. Through her fever-clouded mind, a terrible understanding began to dawn.
"Mommy!" she called out, her voice cracking with panic. "Where are you going?"
The man walking beside the dog felt his throat tighten with emotion he couldn't afford to acknowledge. He'd already committed to helping the child, stopping for the mother would endanger all three of them. Sometimes survival required impossible choices.
Michelle's steps grew slower and more labored until finally, she simply couldn't continue. Her legs gave out completely, sending her stumbling to her knees on the empty street.
But as she knelt there, gasping for breath she couldn't catch, Michelle felt an unexpected sense of peace wash over her. Moisha was safe. That was all that mattered.
The sound of heavy footsteps echoed behind her.
Michelle turned to see a massive antelope-like demon approaching, its red eyes gleaming with predatory hunger and saliva dripping from jaws filled with razor-sharp teeth. The creature stood nearly eight feet tall, its muscular frame rippling with supernatural power.
In the distance, though Moisha was only ten years old, school safety drills had taught her exactly what such creatures meant. She watched her mother face the approaching demon and began struggling frantically against the man's restraining hands.
"Let me go!" she sobbed. "I have to help Mommy!"
"Stay still," the man said roughly, though his own voice shook with emotion. "Don't make your mother's sacrifice meaningless."
He forced himself to look away and continue walking, knowing that witnessing Michelle's fate would haunt him forever.
Suddenly, the evacuation group ground to a halt as people began bumping into those ahead of them.
"Why are we stopping?" the man demanded of the person in front of him. "Keep moving!"
"There are demons ahead too," came the terrified reply.
The man's blood turned to ice as he realized their escape route had been cut off. Panic rippled through the crowd as people spotted more creatures emerging from side streets and alleyways, surrounding the evacuation group in a tightening circle.
"How are there so many?"
"Are we all going to die here?"
"Where are the Lore Lore Cardians? Why isn't anyone coming to help us?"
Some people broke from the group and tried to flee in different directions, only to encounter more red-eyed creatures blocking their path. They were trapped.
Just as despair began to set in completely, a voice boomed across the street with electronic distortion that made it sound barely human:
"Wait here. I'll be back soon."
Meanwhile, Michelle knelt motionlessly as the antelope demon approached, her eyes closed in resigned acceptance. She'd done everything she could. Moisha was safe with the evacuation group, and that knowledge let her face death with something approaching peace.
The demon's putrid breath washed over her as it leaned down, its forked tongue sliding across her trembling shoulders in anticipation of the meal to come. Its jaws began to open, revealing rows of teeth designed for tearing flesh from bone.
"Psychic Whirlwind!"
A feminine voice, cold as winter steel, cut through the air.
Invisible telekinetic force erupted around Michelle like a protective cyclone, catching the demon's descending bite and deflecting it with such power that sparks flew from the collision between supernatural fang and mental energy.
Michelle's eyes snapped open in shock. Behind her, a figure of living nightmare sat upon an ornate throne that seemed carved from darkness itself. The being appeared humanoid but wrong somehow, its black and red form radiating malevolent power that made reality itself seem to recoil.
Standing beside the throne was a striking woman in an elegant dark green dress, her black hair framing features that would have been beautiful if not for the dangerous intelligence burning in her eyes.
Several figures in dark clothing materialized around Michelle, moving with inhuman grace and purpose.
When Michelle next looked around, she found herself standing beside the nightmarish throne. Terror and confusion warred in her mind as she tried to process what had just happened.
"Are... are you a Lore Lore Cardian?" she asked hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper.
The distorted voice that emerged from the dark figure carried electronic modulation that made it sound like something speaking through broken machinery, "Yes. You're safe now."
Despite his terrifying appearance, those simple words filled Michelle with more relief than she'd felt in years. A Lore Lore Cardian's presence meant protection, meant hope, meant that death wasn't inevitable after all.
The overwhelming emotional release of surviving certain doom proved too much for her exhausted body. Michelle began to collapse, but one of the black-clad figures caught her before she could hit the ground.
The nightmarish figure was naturally Azrael, arriving just in time after receiving the emergency alert. Finding Empyrean Gardens's residents before the demons could massacre them had required every bit of speed his enhanced cards could provide.
It was somewhat ironic that when he'd first appeared behind the evacuation group, several people had tried to flee from him. With his imposing presence and the clearly supernatural aura of his summoned cards, Azrael looked more like a demon lord than a heroic Lore Lore Cardian.
Fortunately, his ghost soldiers had prevented anyone from escaping the protective perimeter. In Pixar City's current crisis, ordinary people wandering alone would face almost certain death.
The attack that had just saved Michelle came from Fubuki, whose telekinetic abilities were perfectly suited for precise defensive maneuvers. At such a critical moment, Unohana Retsu's more powerful techniques would have required too much time to properly incant.
"Hell Storm!"
Fubuki's voice rang out again, cold and commanding.
A vicious wind erupted across the street in front of Azrael's position, the air itself seeming to scream as supernatural forces bent it to her will. The telekinetic hurricane caught up debris, gravel, and broken glass, transforming them into a whirling storm of destruction that engulfed the antelope demon.
The creature's agonized roars echoed off the surrounding buildings as countless tiny projectiles found their mark. When the winds finally died down, the demon's massive form was covered in thousands of cuts that ran deep enough to expose bone. Blood flowed freely from the wounds, forming spreading pools beneath its feet.
But the creature remained standing, its supernatural constitution letting it endure damage that would have killed any normal beast.
Azrael sighed at the sight. "Still can't achieve a one-hit kill."
Fubuki's defensive capabilities were undeniably impressive, but her offensive power lagged behind what he needed for the strongest enemies. Still, attacks like the Hell Storm consumed relatively little mental energy, meaning she could wear down opponents through sustained assault.
More importantly, Fubuki's attack had served as perfect cover for his other card's approach.
A petite figure in white and blue armor had positioned herself directly in front of the wounded demon during the windstorm. The antelope demon stared at her in confusion, noting that the small warrior held no visible weapon yet maintained a sword-fighting stance.
A moment later, the demon realized its vision was spinning wildly before everything went dark.
The last thing it saw was its own headless body toppling to the ground.
The petite figure was naturally Artoria, wielding her invisible sword Caliburn.
The reason the antelope demon hadn't been able to see her weapon was due to one of Fubuki's more creative techniques:
[Technique Over Power]: Limited raw ability compensated through micro-manipulation mastery. Fubuki often develops creative applications when using telekinetic powers.
An artificial Wind King's Barrier, as it were!
After Azrael had suggested this adaptation to Fubuki, he hadn't expected her to successfully implement it. Today marked the first real combat test of the telekinetic concealment technique.
The results exceeded all expectations.
The Wind King's Barrier provided tremendous tactical advantage for Artoria, whose abilities were primarily focused on close-quarters combat aside from her ultimate technique. But the concealment wouldn't only benefit Artoria, any of his melee-focused cards could make use of this innovation in future battles.
As the massive corpse crashed to the street with earth-shaking impact, the crowd behind Azrael finally seemed to understand that he was indeed a Lore Lore Cardian rather than another demon.
The realization spread through the evacuation group like wildfire, transforming their terror into desperate hope. They were saved.