Identity, by Muphrid. A tribe of Chinese sorcerers captures Ranma to purge emotions from the hearts of men. A continuation story, set after the end of the manga.
What's going on here? As the second night of the flood wanes, something stirs at the edge of the spring ground. Elsewhere, the Sorcerer priest Henna continues her experiments in mixed curses on human test subjects, with Ranma helpless, trapped behind bars, forced to watch.
To Fight the Demons That Haunt Us
Chapter Four, Act Six
Night. Or morning. It's not precisely clear when night becomes morning. Is it the first moment a touch of sunlight chases away pitch black? Is it earlier? Later?
To Kohl in his female body, the distinction was of little comfort. One thing he disliked about this Guide's house—the lighting in it was unnatural, far too yellow and white. A torch's flame was warmer. You feel its heat, and the reddish hues are softer on the eyes. It's easier to go from fire to night, but these bulbous filaments the outisders used—they stung his eyes, on or off. To pull a string and have light blanket a room was little less than stunning.
The channelers didn't seem to mind. Then again, they did their work with their eyes closed.
Coming up a wooden ladder, Kohl crouched down, avoiding a crossbeam. This attic space of the Guide's house was cozy, secluded. A fitting place to protect the channelers and have them do their work in peace. "Channeler, speak to me," he said. "Are there intruders in the Maze?"
Of the six who hummed there, only one opened his eyes. Breaking the rhythmic meditation, the lead channeler spoke. Hushed and quiet were his words, hard to hear above the other's hums.
"Yes," said the leader. "The intruders are few. Wild beasts and animals. Their ki patterns are strange."
"I'm not interested in beasts," said Kohl. "Tell me: have the Riverfolk breached the Maze again?"
"If they have, it has been only one or a few. Not many."
"Have they or haven't they?"
The channeler glared. "When you swallow a bean, do you feel it at all times on the way down? Or do you only taste it and forget as it falls to your stomach?"
Kohl huffed. "When I swallow a bean, I know it must come out the other end."
The channeler closed his eyes and hummed, reinforcing the root of the chord.
As I thought. No use at all. Kohl backed himself down a ladder, returning to the upper floor of the abode. There, his deputy awaited his orders.
"Send a patrol," said Kohl. "If the Riverfolk have discovered some other way to breach the Maze, I want to know when they're here. Get the position from the channeler; see if he knows whether the bean's in his throat or somewhere lower."
The deputy blinked.
"Never mind," said Kohl. "Is there something else?"
"The prisoner requests your presence."
"The prisoner is entitled to nothing but food and water."
"She was insistent."
Down the hall, a guard shuffled past, attended by two others. He doubled over at the waist, cradling his crotch.
"So I see," said Kohl. "Very well."
He rounded the corner to a sparse, white room. A bare incandescent bulb screwed into the ceiling and shined yellow light on four walls. Two guards stood at the doorway, their battle staves held upright and tall. Kohl eyed the prisoner, who sat with her back to the far corner.
"Is there an issue here?" he asked. "Have your needs been neglected?"
"No," said Akane. "I've been fed well enough. Your water smells funny, though."
"You can't go without water forever," said Kohl.
"I'll be fine for now, fine enough until you let me go."
"Why should we do that?"
"Because Ranma's going to come," said Akane. "When he finds out about this, he'll make each and every one of you sorry. You'll see."
"Tell me of the Riverfolk," said Kohl, stepping forward. "The people you call Amazons. Why are our movements their concern? Why do you travel with them?"
"Can't you go ask Kohl? I already told him more than I should've."
Kohl touched a hand to his girl form's long, chestnut hair. "I know what he knows. I wish to know more."
Akane looked away.
"We can make this unpleasant if you resist."
"I came here for Ranma," said Akane. "That's all."
"And the Riverfolk?"
Akane was silent.
"So be it." Kohl yanked her up by the wrist.
And Akane grabbed his arm. She planted her back foot and spun!
BAM! Concrete blocks crumbled. Kohl's body bashed a meter-wide hole in the wall. Dust scattered. Rebar twisted and bent. The Sorcerer Guard rushed to their captain's aid, but Kohl shrugged off the blow, wiping the fine white powder from his tunic. "Stay at your posts," he said. "I'm fine."
"What?" said Akane. "I'm not even worth restraining, is that it?"
"Guards." Kohl motioned to them. "Subdue her."
The guards charged. Staves twirled and thrust at Akane, whipping at her clothes as they passed.
Akane dodged. A sweeping kick knocked a guard off his feet. Akane jabbed at the other, but the Sorcerer shuffled back, out of reach. The staff had much more range than she did. It could get at her where she couldn't attack in return.
The guard slid his top hand high on the staff and swung, left to right.
CRACK! The iron end-weight smashed Akane's temple, ringing her skull like a bell. The sound echoed through the quiet, pre-morning halls. She staggered, pacified.
"Further resistance will be punished," said Kohl, "as you have been punished now."
Akane stumbled to a wall, bracing herself as she held her free hand to the wound. As blood seeped between her fingers, she glared daggers at Wuya.
"I'm not telling you a damn thing," she said. "No matter what you do to me."
'You say that now, but—"
Drip. A small dot of fluid splashed on the concrete floor.
Drip drip. Not the bright red blood from Akane's head wound. No, this liquid was clearer.
From Akane's hard, open eyes, tears streamed down her face. Her gaze betrayed no weakness, no fear, yet tears came anyway.
"We shall see," finished Kohl. "We shall see."
But rather than take out further vengeance against Akane, he quickly made his exit, retiring to the Guide's tea room, content to watch the springs as dawn approached.
Strange, he thought. That Ranma—she never cried.
He looked past his reflection in the glass, sipping tea by the window alone.
#
Meanwhile, among the tunnels of Mount Kensei…
"You're sick; do you know that?" Ranma gripped the bars of his prison tightly, as if to squeeze the iron into the cracks between his fingers. "You're sick, Henna. Totally si—" He coughed, wincing. His throat ached and spasmed. Even to talk at a whisper taxed him.
"I assure you, I think clearly," said the priest, stirring water in her cauldron. "Tell me, do you know why the Sorcerer Guard exists?"
Ranma shook the bars, but all he felt was his body moving, not the metal. Was he already too parched for water to break out? It'd only been two days, right? Not three or five or ten?
Who could say anymore.
"Come now," said Henna. "Surely you have some sort of inkling."
"Who knows? To be an unsightly pimple on my otherwise shapely ass?"
Henna laughed. "Not quite. The Guard means to protect the people, you see."
"From the Amazons?"
"No. The channelers protect us from outsiders." She met Ranma's gaze. "The Guard protect the people from themselves."
"You mean like police."
Henna laughed again.
"I don't see what's so funny." Ranma bashed his fist on the bars.
A rod bent at a shallow angle.
"When we are born, the nursemaids take us in to live with them and them alone." Ladle in hand, Henna spooned water from the cauldron into a clay bowl. "We stay there a moon—at least that much for some, longer for others—to prove we're fit to live. That is the only time the people are meant to spend in the bodies they were born with. After that, the nursemaids immerse us in the sacred spring."
"I know all this," said Ranma. "I saw what you sick freaks do to your children. You turn them into animals."
"With respect, Saotome Ranma, I don't think you truly understand who and what we are." Henna set the bowl aside, and over a low flame, she heated water in a pot, allowing the steam to rise from it. "The people wield ki magic, but they are insulated from its dangers so long as they stay in bodies that are 'cursed,' as you call it. As everyone calls it but we do."
"So they're people when they're cursed and people when they're born?" said Ranma. "That doesn't make any sense."
"Oh? You're a strange one to say such a thing, Saotome Ranma. Have you not looked upon yourself lately?"
"Looked upon myself? What are you talking about?" He felt down the front of his shirt. "What do you—"
And touched upon a girl's breast.
"Our sacred spring is not like any of the ones here," said Henna, adding more water to the boiling pot. "The Lady told me once that no two springs are identical, but I can't be certain. Whatever the mechanics of it, we live our lives looking like you, like humans, like outsiders, but we are none of those things. These are not the bodies we were born with. Humans are sensitive to the flows of ki, but I…" Her expression darkened. Her hand went to her belt, just above the thigh. "I have only a flow I was never meant to have."
Ranma shuddered.
"Anyone who dislikes the form the spring gave them is hunted, but the Sorcerer Guard…" She scoffed. "They are hypocrites. They use the bodies they pretend to loathe. Even the Lady knows it. That is why she sent me here. Too long have we relied on the bodies we were born with; even I am not immune. We must have some other way. So says the Lady, but that's not why I pursue this work."
She took the pot of hot water and carried it to a cell, a prison not unlike Ranma's own. Inside, she released a creature—a turtle with the spikes of a porcupine on its shell—and poured.
A crazed shriek filled the room, but no longer was it the coarse, inhuman cries of a monster. Nay, this was a person, dripping and unclothed, who bashed on the bars with his bare hands.
"This too is one of the Riverfolk," said Henna. "I believe you've already become acquainted with the other?"
The shiny bird with fish scales pecked at its wooden cage, screeching.
"Perhaps they wish to be human, but this I cannot allow. I have too much use for both of them."
"What are you doing?" Ranma crept against the bars. "Tell me! What are you going to do, Henna?"
"I am a priest and a scientist. You should understand: I will be nothing if not methodical. There are hundreds—nay, thousands—of distinct springs, and with that millions upon millions of combinations."
"Combinations of what?"
Henna dipped her ladle in the cauldron. "Why, curses of course."
Ranma paled. "You're joking!"
"No," said Henna. "You're mistaken." With a flick of her wrist, she tossed the water at the male Amazon's cell.
Ranma pressed his head against the bars his cage, trying to see what the resulting horror was, but the recessed cell walls gave him no view of what Henna had done to the Amazon.
BANG! At least, it didn't until something with claws slashed at the Amazon's iron bars, bending them outward.
"Interesting," said Henna. "This would be a most exquisite form, worthy of someone of rank. Let me see, one part Drowned Bear water, one part Drowned Hawk, two parts Drowned Viper—oh, here we are." Henna uncovered a scroll with Chinese characters on it. "Forgive me, I've already written this down. Let us note the result then, shall we? A creature about five barrels high? Impressive strength? Good, that's very good. Let's move on then."
" 'Move on'?" said Ranma. "What the hell do you mean, 'move on'?"
Henna dipped her ladle in another cask of curse water. "The specimen is still useful for trying other combinations. Why should we stop now?" She moved to the male Amazon's cage once more and doused him in the new curse her ladle bore. Again and again she subjected the man to her horrors, an amalgam of curses so confused and terrible even Henna lost track.
"No, that was the butterfly, yes of course." She grinned. "You really should see this, Saotome Ranma. The wings are quite impressive."
Ranma lowered his shoulder and plowed into the cage bars.
"Come now, you must realize how weak you've become. It's a special blend we reserve for prisoners of great strength. You can't hope to escape that way."
A long, hairy insect leg kicked through the gaps in the male Amazon's cage.
"He, however, stands much more of a chance with that form." Pensive, Henna left her ladle on the floor, reaching instead for a knife and a bamboo pole.
"What the hell is that?" said Ranma.
"You're acquainted with our paralytics, yes?" said Henna. "It's quite effective, even more so when you change the balance of toxins ever-so-slightly. At that point, it becomes quite the lethal agent."
"Oh, come on! You can't be serious!"
Henna tied the dagger to the tip of the hollow pole. She doused the blade in oily poison and, with this improvised weapon for protection, inched toward the Amazon's cage.
"Stop this, Henna."
The creature in the cell hollered and shrieked. Henna darted in, bringing her spear to bear, but claws and legs shot out after her, flailing, shoving her back.
"Dammit!" said Ranma. "I said stop!"
KA-EEK!
The beast thrashed about its cage, but Henna thrust into it, piercing its flesh with cold, meticulous precision.
"Do you not see?" she said, keeping her eyes on the creature—the person—she was killing. "With each curse added, the threat the specimen poses only increases. Eventually, it must be put down and the process begun anew."
Thrust. The male Amazon went quiet. Henna dropped the spear on the floor; it was no longer needed.
And no one but Henna would witness the man's dying breath.
Ranma froze, aghast, horrified. "You're a crazy bitch, Henna."
She glared. "Pardon?"
"If Shampoo and her people don't come in here and kill you, I will! You're a crazy fucking bitch!"
"I am not." Sidestepping the stone lab table, Henna snatched up the ladle and strode toward Ranma's cage, looking him in the eye. "I will not be tempted by this body anymore, you see? I may look human to you, but I am not! I'm wrong! And if the Lady demands I live in a cursed body, I won't let it be human!" She grabbed at her own chest. "I'd rather live my life a monstrosity than carry the weight of these with me forever! I will not be denied! Not by you, not by the Lady." She dangled the ladle over the bars. "Perhaps you would prefer to be my experiment?"
Ranma thrust his arm through the gap, clawing at Henna, but the Sorcerer Priest pulled back, stepping out of reach.
"No, it is not your time," she said. "The Lady has use for you." She looked away…
…and eyed the birdcage instead.
"Don't you dare, Henna!"
"The words of a toothless horse don't frighten me." She opened the door to the birdcage, releasing the female Amazon's cursed form into the second cell.
Ranma punched at the iron bars of his own prison, but the metal rang dully, and so did his knuckle. Numb he was. Numb and hot because his body wouldn't sweat. His eyes recessed into his skull. Colors bled from the world around him, painting the lab in shaded monochrome.
Toothless.
Like television static, the sight before his eyes flickered, a dizzying mess of white and black.
Can't do anything like this.
His heart thumped in his chest, frantic, racing, for it labored pump iron sludge through his veins.
Too weak, too thirsty.
He put a hand to his chest and felt the lump of fatty flesh that, just like with Henna, weighed him down.
Still a girl.
The snowed out remnants of the room faded to black, but in its place, a pair of eyes stared from the darkness. Clear, steady, brown eyes on a backdrop of dark hair. A girl in uniform she was, with a green skirt and white sleeves.
Sorry, Akane. I guess I'm always just bothering you.
Her gaze was cold, frigid. Withering. This icy expression did not befit her, not when the fire of her anger could be so exciting, when her tenderness could be so warm. That was the problem. Akane was like an unbridled flame, pleasant to be around when tended to, like a campfire, but one loose ember could set a whole forest ablaze.
Yet Ranma saw not an Akane possessed by bright, stunning fury. This Akane was cold to him. She pierced him with her gaze.
This was the Akane who glared at him under storm clouds, unflinching as the first drop of cold rain fell.
"You are not a man, Ranma!"
"No!"
CREAK, SNAP! Iron bars crunched in his hands, pulling from their holes in the ceiling and floor. The metal warped and deformed like putty in his fists.
I did it? I'm free? He looked over the wreckage of the cell. I'm strong again?
He dropped the bars, clenching his fists. There was a weakness still in him, to be sure. The ill effects of dehydration plagued him, but for a few short minutes, he could ignore the symptoms. His heart raced, but all he needed was one good punch. One good punch to take out the freak who stood before him. Henna, the Sorcerer Priest.
Henna, the murderer.
There was one dead in the lab already, with another on deck, waiting to be deformed and slaughtered. And somewhere far away (so Ranma hoped), there was a girl waiting for him, counting the days until he was a man again.
Only one dared stand in his path.
"Henna."
Though shock may have possessed the Sorcerer Priest, she quickly dispelled it. She cast aside her ladle, wielding instead the bloody bamboo spear.
But Ranma watched her charge in slow-motion. A chill coursed through the room. He touched just his fingertip to the air, and a fragile string of frost connected them—jailer and escapee.
The only thing colder was Ranma's gaze.
"Goodbye."
THWAP!
Henna lurched. A column of ice bored through her gut, stopping her mid-step.
THWAP-THWAP!
A pair more pinned her to the far wall, shattering precious clay-ware, but Henna eyed the thick pillars of ice with bewilderment.
"How can this be?" she said. "The magic—it should be weaker…"
For the first time since Ranma set foot in the cursed menagerie, the room was silent, but what noise the beasts suppressed was replaced instead with the crazed beating of Ranma's heart. It pounded and thumped in his chest; pulsing blood rang through his ears. Cold air from the ice spikes swirled against the heat of many bodies, all crammed in this lab together.
Ranma looked to the side, glimpsing the male Amazon's cell.
He looked to the front, where Henna's body sagged against the support of three ice beams.
And the laboratory was silent, save for the splashing of Ranma's stomach acid on stone floor.
#
The good thing about ice, though, was that he trusted it not be cursed—at least, not cursed enough to matter. Not to say he was stupid enough to trust it implicitly, but Ranma hoped, prayed, that this water would be safe—both for him and his Amazon companion.
From the very spikes that slew Henna, Ranma hacked off chunks of ice and melted them in Henna's unused pottery. He tested it carefully: he doused a selection of animals in boiled water and then cold again, and seeing none of them exhibit new cursed forms, he could be sure it was safe. He guzzled cold water in liters at a time, as if the stuff would pump raw strength back into him, and sure enough, his muscles felt springy after just the first gulp.
But he had more need for this water than his own thirst. With another batch of boiled water, he doused himself, growing taller and broader as soon as the first drop hit.
Heh. It's good to be me again.
He ripped out the bars to the female Amazon's cell, freeing the colorful bird with shiny fish scales.
"You ready?" he asked the bird.
The creature blinked, sitting as if to guard a nest of its chicks.
"All right then." He tilted the pot and poured.
And before he could turn away, a mass of dripping, naked flesh embraced him, sobbing into his shirt.
"Oi, oi!" He dropped the pot, falling to his back. Dear gods, he thought. What is it with naked girls trying to rub themselves all over me? Reluctantly, he placed a hand on her shoulder. "It's okay; you're okay now. It's all right."
The Amazon shivered, pulling away. She felt her own face, as if to check she were really human after all.
"Here." Ranma took off his shirt, wrapping the poor girl in it. Her long, braided ponytail dangled past the shirt's seam, but it would do for now.
The female Amazon rose, clutching the cloth to her skin, and wandered to the male Amazon's cell. Shaking, she beat her fist against the bars.
"He was a friend of yours, wasn't he?"
She met Ranma's gaze, but her expression was blank.
"You don't understand a word I'm saying, do you."
She pointed at him and pressed her finger to his sternum. "Ranma."
"Yeah, I'm Ranma. Doesn't that figure; all the damn Sorcerers speak Japanese, but you don't know a word."
"Ranma." The female Amazon poked him again, seemingly content with this.
"Well fine." Ranma poked back with the same motion. "Who are you?"
She blinked for a moment but soon caught on. "Marula."
"Okay, Marula, then. You had my photo, right?" He traced in the air an outline of the snapshots. "Of me and Shampoo?"
"Shampoo!"
Ranma sighed. "Oh boy."
Marula put both hands in front of her chest, making a cupping gesture.
"Well, yeah, her breasts are pretty huge, but—" Ranma slapped himself. "This ain't no time to be talking about breasts. Let's see, uh, who else is with you?"
Marula blinked.
"Dammit, the Sorcerers are coming at dawn, and I need to tell someone! Who else is with you?" He poked himself. "Ranma." He poked her. "Marula." He poked at air. "Shampoo. Who else? Who's at the hole I found you guys at?"
Marula put her hand low to the ground, and with the other, she curled her fingers, placing the gap over her eye.
"Short, with beady eyes?" Ranma grinned. "I never thought I'd be so glad to see the old bat." He grabbed her wrist. "Come on; let's go!"
But Marula yanked it right back.
"Hey, come on, I don't have time for this!"
She stole the torches from the wall, collecting them in one hand, and circled around to the male Amazon's cell.
"What are you doing?"
Marula guided each torch through the bars, and with each club of flame added, the body of the male Amazon burned.
Of course; I'm stupid. It's a ritual for the dead.
Marula marched to the doorway, her footing uneasy on legs she'd grown unaccustomed to, but Ranma stayed behind. Before the pyre for the male Amazon, Ranma stood by the bars, letting the smoke and flames whip across his face.
Two.
He glanced aside. The last of the ice columns melted away, and Henna's corpse fell to the floor, dripping in a puddle of cold water.
Three.
Three dead rabbits, tied to a string, and like the carcasses he so casually discarded in the tunnels of Jusendō, he left the bodies of the dead behind him.
Of one he killed through weakness.
Of another he killed through rage.
And a third, he imagined, might be lying in a crib on Mount Phoenix, waiting for the Sorcerers to come.
The dead must inevitably be left behind.
His penance at the graves of his victims done, Ranma set off with Marula, into the tunnels. With Henna's lamp they lit the way, heading upward, toward the surface, and Ranma gladly followed Marula's lead.
"Who else is with you?" he asked her. "You, me, Shampoo, Cologne. Who else? Kunō, maybe? That idiot would chase me to hell and back, you know."
Turning over the lamp, Marula gestured again as they walked. This time, she traced out a long weapon with a broad striking surface and touched a hand to her own ponytail.
"Ukyō?"
Marula nodded.
"So Ucchan's here, huh? That's good. I could really go for an okonomiyaki or three about now—when we get out of here, anyway."
Marula went back to her pantomiming.
"Oh, there's more?"
She placed a flat hand at eye-level.
"Shorter than you."
She pressed both hands hard against her chest.
"Little smaller, huh?"
She touched her hands to her hips and held them out, broadening the space between them.
"She's a little wide in the—" Ranma stopped. "Akane?"
Marula nodded.
"Akane's here?"
She nodded again.
"Why?"
Not like Marula would know—or even understand his question. She moved on, taking the lamp away to find the path again.
"Dammit, I'm talking to you!" He dashed forward and spun to face her. "What the hell is she doing here?"
With one arm, she moved him aside, navigating the tunnels, and Ranma was left to contemplate his question in silence.
Of course she's here, he thought. She's as stubborn as ever, and I told Kunō to go find her. Should've been someone else, anyone else! Ucchan's fine. She can hold her own. And Shampoo—I'd expect nothing less. But dammit! Why does Akane have to be here? That dumb tomboy's just going to get herself hurt.
They were higher now. Through cracks in the rocks, tiny beams of moonlight poked into the tunnels.
She's going to be trapped here. When Wuya gets her reinforcements today, we're all going to be trapped here.
Sounds, movement. Marula snuffed out the lamp light, and in darkness, she and Ranma went back-to-back, prepared to fight off any foe.
"Oh!"
But instead of Sorcerers, Ranma and Marula met a group of friendlier faces.
"Well, son-in-law." Cologne, along with a dozen of the Amazon's best, greeted Ranma and Marula with the light of torches' flames. "I see you waste no opportunity to give your shirt to a pretty girl. Shampoo will be most upset to think you've taken advantage of another member of the tribe."
"Shirt? Advantage?" Ranma turned a bright shade of red, springing away from Marula. "Wait, wait, I ain't done nothing to her, honest!"
"I see. So you still save yourself for Shampoo then?"
"Now hold on a second…"
Cologne cackled. "Indeed. Perhaps we should discuss matters of marriage another time. It is good to see you well, Ranma, but I fear we must cut the pleasantries short. War brews between Sorcerer and Amazon, and the war, I think, goes badly."
"Maybe more than you think," said Ranma. "What time is it?"
"I fail to see how that's relevant," said Cologne.
"Trust me, it is. You guys got your hole to the surface around here? I've been cooped up in this mountain for days. I'd like to see the sun again."
And so, with the Amazons as escort, Ranma and company navigated the cursed tunnels, making their way to the surface. As the moon slipped below the high cliffs that surrounded the basin, Ranma looked upon the spring ground, whose waters shimmered in starlight.
"My gods," he said. "It's a disaster. It's all flooded again!"
"The waters have begun to recede," said Cologne, standing at his side, "but not quickly enough, I fear."
"No," said Ranma. "Not quickly enough." He met Cologne's gaze. "The Sorcerers have reinforcements coming."
"When?"
"Today, at dawn."
"Impossible," said Cologne. "It would take—"
"Two days, at least, to reach their village?" Ranma shook his head. "They can talk to each other, just using their heads. Their heads and this damn powder they put in a fire."
"Vision dust." Cologne shuddered. "My people used to use it, too."
"To make psychic phone calls?"
"For more … recreational purposes." She frowned. "You're certain of these plans?"
"I heard it myself."
"Then we must act quickly. The Sorcerers have left us alone for the time-being. I can only imagine they were content to regroup while their forces arrived to overwhelm us. We must strike at the source of the illusion before the Sorcerer Guard achieves full force."
"Illusion?" said Ranma. "You mean the maze thing they have, right? You're looking for the channelers, then."
"Channelers?" Cologne frowned. "I see. So it's people we're after. The Sorcerers use their own magic to shield themselves, and it would only make sense to retreat to that spot, even in this catastrophe."
"If they're not in the mountain, they're in the Guide's house," said Ranma. "Their captain's there. Count on the channelers being holed up inside, too."
"I see," said Cologne. "Then we must attack their stronghold. So be it."
"Elder!"
Cologne winced. "Have I not told you not to call me elder?"
The lieutenant bowed profusely. "Forgive me, elder. There is movement to the east."
"Movement? What movement?"
The lieutenant offered a pair of spyglasses, one for Ranma, one for Cologne. Far in the distance, past the tree line, fireballs engulfed the forest, burning brightly in the murky dawn.
"Shampoo," said Cologne, folding up the spyglass. "Come, Son-in-law, we must hurry. My blood and your beloved are both in danger."
Next: Shampoo and Cologne's forces converge on the Guide's house, seeking to disable the channelers and make a break for the outside en masse, but with Sorcerer reinforcements on the horizon, can they complete their attack before the Maze around Jusenkyō is too large to escape? The freedom of Ranma, Akane, and the Amazon army rest on the outcome of the colossal finale to "Monsters and Demons" - "To Slay the Monsters within Our Souls" - Coming July 23, 2010.
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