Above the scorched forest floor, the flames on Isabella's sword flared again, forming a dancing halo around her.
She held her longsword angled toward the ground, but her eyes stayed fixed on the uninvited guests before her.
Four figures descended from the sky with rocket packs on their backs. Three of them looked unmistakably like "villains."
They wore close-fitting combat suits resembling black formalwear, with matte mechanical armor covering their joints. Their black helmets looked like futuristic motorcycle helmets, each with a vertical purple light down the center.
...Well, according to the "script," this was also Isabella's first time "actually meeting" the Praying Hands.
Sham, the normal-height Praying Hands leading the group, seemed not to notice the handcuffed Shuzo on the ground or the Seven Star Sword planted nearby. Instead, he politely placed a hand over his chest and bowed.
"Good evening, Lady Flame Angel, Miss Ain. Please allow us a moment of your time."
His voice came through his helmet with a peculiar calm, like an ordinary office worker reporting on his work.
"And this one will, we hope, serve as a guarantee for our discussion. Reynolds..."
Reynolds, the four-meter-tall, powerfully built Praying Hands, stood to Sham's left with York's rifle in his hands. He also held York hostage, nudging his waist with the muzzle.
"Boo-hoo-save me, Lady Bella! Please save meee!"
York looked like a kitten caught by the scruff of its neck, his hands locked in a pair of seamless cuffs.
Apart from his clothes, all his equipment was gone. His feet were wrapped in makeshift "shoes" fashioned from a black suit, with an outer layer of the same unknown metal as his handcuffs.
His usual carefree, cheerful expression had vanished, leaving only pallor and uncontrollable trembling.
Damn it, that fat bastard took all my gear!
Even