A Tragicomic Duel: The Maiden of Stars vs. The Serpent King. Part 7

SCENE VII. The Great Hall of Elsinore.

(The hall is lined with ELIZABETHAN GUARDS in heavy plate, their halberds trembling. KING CLAUDIUS sits upon the throne, clutching a goblet of poisoned wine, his face a mask of sweating anxiety. Enter OPHELIA. Her celestial raiment now pulses with a supernova’s heat, and her tome, Missiletainn, rotates orbiting her head like a rogue moon. The floorboards crack beneath her "God-Powered" footsteps.)

CLAUDIUS

(Rising, his voice cracking)

Stay, Ophelia! Close thy book! Thy "True Power" hath turned the castle to a shambles. Thy brother Laertes is but a human lightning rod, and thy father—well, we are still scraping thy father off the masonry. Let us reason! I have imported a new vintage of Malmsey!

OPHELIA

(Her voice resonating with the bass of a collapsing star)

Reason? Thou wretched, rash, intruding fool! The stars do not reason with the maggot; they merely bake the earth until the maggot shrivels. I am no longer the "Rose of May"—I am the Iron Nebula of December, and thy "Aura" is as stagnant as a clogged drain!

CLAUDIUS

(Frantically gesturing to the guards)

Ho! Guards! To me! Pinion this maiden! Use the "Anti-Magic Shackles" of Norway!

(The GUARDS charge, performing a "Tactical Phalanx." CLAUDIUS throws a handful of "Blinding Dust of Deception" into the air, attempting to slip behind a tapestry.)

OPHELIA

(Sneering)

Pocket sand? To a Goddess? Thou art a "king of shreds and patches" indeed! Luminary Aegis: Radiant Repulse!

[Alarum. A shockwave of pure violet starlight explodes from OPHELIA. The GUARDS are launched backward, their armor clattering against the stone like falling silverware. The "Blinding Dust" turns into harmless glitter in the wake of her Aqueous aura.]

CLAUDIUS

(Emerging from behind the tapestry, brandishing a concealed, poisoned dagger)

Then take this, thou "Overpowered" brat! A king’s sting is—

OPHELIA

(Catching the blade between two fingers; the metal melts instantly into slag)

Thy sting is a gnat’s tickle. Thou hast spent thy life "farming" the misery of Denmark, but thy "Level" is barely worth the experience points. Now, behold the final judgment of the Maiden! SUPERNOVA REQUIEM: THE FLOOD OF SILENT STARS!

[A titanic pillar of swirling blue water and white-hot stellar fire erupts from Missiletainn. The throne is vaporized. CLAUDIUS is caught in the vortex, spinning like a leaf in a hurricane.]

CLAUDIUS

(Wailing as he is tossed toward the ceiling)

O, my offense is rank! It smells to heaven! But this "Aqueous" magic is surprisingly exfoliating! I am cleansed... and also quite broken! Help!

OPHELIA

(Standing amidst the magical ruins, her eyes glowing with absolute authority)

"A vice of kings; a cutpurse of the empire and the rule! Thy crown was but a borrowed hat, and now the wind hath claimed it."

[With a final clap of her hands, the energy implodes. CLAUDIUS is deposited in a heap within a suit of decorative armor, stuck fast and spinning. The guards flee, screaming about "High-Level Bosses."]

OPHELIA

(Dusting off her tome, her expression turning toward the distant towers)

The Serpent is defanged, and his "trickery" was but a low-tier debuff. Yet, I feel a disturbance in the "Aura." A new pretender approaches... one who thinks his "Fortinbras" swagger can match my celestial scaling.

"Rest now, sweet Prince Hamlet, for thy Savior is coming—and she is bringing a tactical nuke."

(Exit OPHELIA, her cape trailing sparks of divinity. The crown of Denmark lies melted on the floor.)