"So, you've seen her true form?" they all asked at once.
"No," Lukeandria replied, her voice tight with a barely perceptible shiver. "But I saw her face—ghastly, wrinkled. If we can force her back into that state, she'll be drained of energy. Plus, we need to get that guitar away from her... and shut that snout of hers." A wry smile curved her lips. "Then maybe we'll have a chance to break her hold on the others."
"I think she wanted me for some kind of body-swapping ritual or something," Lukeandria mused, crossing her arms and furrowing her brow.
"I see..." Alita murmured, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "That might be our way in. She doesn't know we escaped. If we can lure her out, we could set a trap—but first, we need to cut off her source of power. We have to rescue Paltio and the others."
The girls pressed forward through a damp, narrow tunnel winding beneath the castle. Their footsteps echoed softly off the walls, the air thick with moisture. At last, they reached the door. Lukeandria opened it with great care, making sure nothing waited on the other side. Beyond it stretched a wide corridor that led straight to the castle's main hall.
"We're back," Galatea announced, scanning the space cautiously.
"We need weapons," said Alita. "Any idea where we can find some?"
Galatea nodded. "When I worked here, there was a room filled with all kinds of gear."
Following her lead, they arrived at a green door. Behind it lay a formidable arsenal—bows and arrows, swords, shields, and other implements of combat.
"Take what you need," Galatea instructed her daughters, while Alita moved with sharp intent, searching for tools that might counter Troba specifically.
Once armed, they made their way to the chamber Lukeandria had mentioned. As they searched the space, they discovered a suspicious-looking mirror. With caution, they moved it aside, revealing a hidden passageway. They lit a torch and descended a steep staircase. At the bottom, they found their friends—Prince Paltio, Ron, and Mok—drained, shackled to the wall, barely conscious.
"That wretched badger will pay," Alita muttered, her fury barely restrained, as Galatea shattered the chains and released the boys.
"So, what now?" Lukeandria asked, folding her arms as she took in the scene.
Alita knelt beside Paltio, trying to rouse him, but he didn't respond. She even attempted to call out to Golden—nothing. "What did that witch do to my friends?" she cried, her voice catching with frustration.
"Ron was already a bit dense, but now he's worse," Lukeandria joked, though there was a flicker of real concern beneath her tone.
"Hey!" Alita snapped, shooting her a sharp look.
"Okay, okay—poor timing," Lukeandria shrugged. "But seriously, without our golden guy, we would be in trouble."
"We need to get them away from her," Alita insisted, urgency rising in her voice. "She's burned through a lot of power. She'll be looking for more soon. We have to move fast."
Galatea and her daughters carried Alita's unconscious friends through the dim corridors, heading for a secure room only Galatea knew about—an old strategic refuge built to keep Troba at bay.
Once inside, they set their plan in motion. Galatea gently laid the boys on the floor while the others readied themselves to carry out the combined strategy of Lukeandria and Alita.
Suddenly, footsteps echoed down the hall, approaching fast—the same hall where they'd just retrieved the boys. Then, a roar burst through the silence:
"No! Where is my energy source? Who dares steal my sustenance?"
It was Troba. Furious. Unhinged.
"Your turn," Alita said to Lukeandria with a confident smile.
Lukeandria nodded resolutely, stepped toward the door, and flung it open without hesitation. A crooked grin curled on her lips as she said:
"Miss me, you deranged badger? Oh, and thanks for letting me borrow your energy source."
Her tone dripped with mockery, laced with a dangerous sarcasm—but the glint in her eyes revealed she wasn't bluffing. She knew she was taunting a beast, but she also knew Troba wouldn't resist the bait.
"You! How did you escape, you wretched traitor of the Red Shadows? Come here. I'll finish what I started. I need your body for my new form!" Troba snarled, her voice a low, savage promise.
Lukeandria didn't wait a second. She broke into a sprint, weaving down the corridors with swift, unpredictable steps. Troba gave chase, relentless.
"Come now! I won't hurt you… I can't hurt my new body. I have all the ingredients. Come to me," Troba cried, her voice fraying with impatience.
"No, thanks. Catch me if you can, granny badger," Lukeandria shot back, not missing a step.
"You won't get far! I'm faster, and putting that armor back on won't save you!" Troba roared behind her, gaining ground.
Suddenly, the floor groaned under the weight of something massive. Lukeandria glanced back and saw it.
A towering creature, nearly scraping the ceiling: a demonic badger with a woman's twisted form, talons sharp as sabers, and a long, serpentine tail dragging behind her.
"Ah, so that's how you knocked me out without warning. That tail, huh? Pretty revolting," Lukeandria quipped, feet hammering the ground in a blur of motion.
"Damn. This monstrous badger's fast," she muttered, breathless, dodging blow after blow.
Troba was unstoppable, smashing through anything in her path. As they barreled through a corridor intersection, a voice rang out from the shadows:
"Now!"
In a flash, Alita leaped from hiding and yanked Lukeandria to the side.
"This is it, girls!" she cried.
At that moment, a tough, thick rope shot up from the floor, lashing around the monstrous badger and yanking her to a halt. Galatea gritted her teeth, pulling hard on one end, while her daughters heaved with all their might on the other.
"Pull, girls! Pull with everything you've got!" Galatea shouted, her strength and resolve radiating through every fiber.
Her daughters met her gaze with fierce determination—and together, the Strong family made the towering Troba stagger.
Wasting no time, Galatea pulled out more rope and began binding Troba, driving iron stakes deep into the ground to pin her down. Then, without hesitation, she drew her sword and leveled it at the badger's chest.
"We've got you, filthy badger," she said firmly. "Give me back my family."
"You cursed brats! How dare you! Release me at this instant or suffer punishments beyond imagining!" Troba shrieked, twisting violently in a vain attempt to break free.
"Well, I thought this would be harder... but hey, we did it," Alita said, wiping sweat from her brow with a triumphant smile.
"You'll pay dearly," the monstrous badger snarled, still straining against the ropes that held her captive.
"That's enough. Her soldiers went after our warriors—we've got the upper hand," Galatea observed, keeping her gaze fixed on Troba with icy suspicion.
But then came a chilling laugh—"Ha! Ha! My time has come."
In a flash, Troba's grotesque form began to shift, shrinking and warping until what remained was an old, withered badger, feeble and twisted... and no longer bound by the ropes.
"Ugh... You're hideous," Alita murmured in disbelief.
"You were right, Lukeandria. Horrifying," the others agreed, trading glances filled with revulsion.
"How dare you strip me of my beauty and mock me? You'll pay!" Troba howled. She reached behind her back and pulled out a guitar, then began to play—and sing.
A haunting melody pulsed through the room. One by one, the men of Fuertelia emerged from the walls, drawn by the sound. Only the king, the prince, Paltio, and Alita's friends remained absent, still too weak to respond.
"Now you'll truly pay for your insolence... and I'll devour you all!" Troba snarled, seething with fury.
"We have to destroy that guitar!" Alita cried. But then she noticed Galatea and her daughters, rooted in place—paralyzed by grief. They couldn't bring themselves to fight the ones they loved, now standing beside the decrepit badger.
"Perfect. They'll be my feast... then I'll finish you off, you fools. How does it feel to be helpless, undone by your own family?" Troba hissed, more grotesque than ever.
"Fine. I'll stick to the plan," Lukeandria declared. With a flick of her wrist, she flung a blade straight into the guitar, slicing through its strings in one swift motion.
Troba tried to strum again, but no sound came out.
"Idiots! You think the guitar is my only power? I have my voice!" she roared—and sent the enthralled men charging toward them.
"Yeah? Well, we've got something for that too... I hope," Alita whispered. She raised her ring and fired. A jet of water shot into Troba's mouth, cutting off her scream.
Troba choked and writhed, gasping for air, her voice fading to a rasp.
"Better destroy that guitar for good," Lukeandria urged.
Snapping out of her trance, Galatea looked at the surrounding chaos—at the courage of her companions fighting for something beyond themselves. She charged forward, plowing through the swarm of men.
When she reached the guitar, she crushed it in her bare hands like a tin can.
A burst of radiant light exploded from the shattered instrument—the stolen energy of Fuertelia's people, surging back into its rightful vessels, returning life and strength to their slumbering bodies.
Troba, choking on her own saliva, collapsed to the ground—unconscious.
"Mom!" "My wife!" joyful cries echoed through the chamber. One by one, the men of Fuertelia came to their senses, recognizing the faces of their loved ones.
Alita heard familiar voices too. She turned—and there they were. Paltio and his friends rushed toward her, and without hesitation, she threw her arms around them in a tight embrace.
"What's this about?" Ron asked with a crooked smile.
"Shut up and enjoy it," Alita replied, blushing slightly.
"What happened?" Paltio asked, visibly dazed.
Alita gave him a quick summary:
"That badger you see over there... she was using that guitar to control everyone. Well—what's left of it?"
"Fascinating," Mok muttered, arms crossed.
Just then, the queen appeared, accompanied by the king and their son—faces glowing with renewed vigor now that their lifeforce had been restored. They made their way to Alita and the other girls, offering heartfelt thanks for their bravery and sacrifice.
"What happened while we were gone? Did you turn into a full-on warrior queen—like in the comics?" Ron teased, watching as the women of Fuertelia surrounded Alita, showering her with gratitude.
"Well, not exactly a warrior... more of a tactician," Alita replied, cheeks tinged with a bashful smile as she looked away.
"It was thanks to you that we found our people and pulled off that plan," she added, turning to Lukeandria, ready to thank her. But before she could say her name, Lukeandria slipped close and whispered:
"Don't forget—I'm Pax."
She tapped her voice distortion device, a quiet reminder of her hidden identity.
"You're right... thank you, Pax," Alita corrected herself, nodding with a small, knowing smile.
Lukeandria—now fully dressed once more as Pax—stepped away silently, a flicker of thought dancing behind her eyes.
Patience, she mused. I'll find a way to defeat the Shadows. Maybe... maybe they're the ones.
Her gaze drifted briefly to Paltio and his friends, contemplative.
At that moment, a cheer erupted throughout the hall. Troba had been vanquished, the Yellow Shadows captured—thanks to Nomak's team. The king turned toward Paltio, ready to offer his support and reveal the whereabouts of the missing piece when—
A tremor rocked the castle.
All eyes snapped toward Troba's inert body.
To their horror, they twitched. Then pulsed. Then swelled—until it tore through the castle roof like parchment.
From the ruins rose a monstrous colossus: a towering woman with the enraged face of a badger, hair like gleaming swords, and a serpentine tail lined with venomous barbs.
"CURSED FOOLS!" she roared, her voice deafening across the realm.
"You'll PAY with your lives! I'll devour you all for the shame you've inflicted upon me! You leave me no choice but to assume my TRUE form. I will raze this realm—turn it all into ASH!"