My Overpowered Bunny Girls

The Oblivion Drake soared over the burning capital, its spectral form cutting through the smoke. On its back, Fester surveyed the chaos below with cold, calculating eyes.

Everything had gone wrong.

The eastern command—broken. The western command—broken. Morrigan captured. Clamour captured. Smithy turned traitor. The depots destroyed. The mutation crystals shattered. The Cleansing, which had been meant to sweep across the outer regions like a purifying fire, had been blunted at every turn. And the cause of it all was a single D-Rank Archer who should have died a dozen times over.

Nathan Cross, the Bunny King.

Fester’s pale eyes narrowed. The Cleansing wasn’t over—not entirely. The other sectors were still active, still burning. But the momentum had shifted. The TCA was pushing back. The guilds were coordinating. And Fester himself was exposed—his position compromised, his operatives scattered, his army of corrupted creatures culled to a fraction of its former strength.

He needed to retreat. Regroup. Rebuild. But first, he needed to send a message.

A memory surfaced—Smithy’s report, filed weeks ago after the Sunken Depths. Nathan’s address. His apartment. His sister.

Lucy.

The Bunny King had taken everything from Fester. It was only fair that Fester take something from him in return.

Fester said quietly. "Head for the capital. I have one last errand to run."

The Oblivion Drake banked, its void-eyes gleaming. The red sky stretched before them, burning and endless. But Fester was no longer looking at the horizon.

He was looking at a single, unguarded apartment in the capital’s lower district.

---

The apartment building was quiet when the Oblivion Drake descended.

Fester dropped from the creature’s back, landing on the rooftop. The Drake remained airborne, its spectral body coiling around the building like a serpent. The street below was empty—the capital’s residents had been evacuated to shelters when the sirens began, and the few who remained were too frightened to emerge.

Fester walked to the edge of the roof and looked down. The apartment was on the fourth floor, its single window dark. He could sense movement inside—a single heartbeat.

The sister. Lucy.

He raised his hand. Dark energy gathered around his fingers, and he unleashed it at the wall below. The blast tore through brick and mortar, ripping a hole in the side of the building. Dust and debris rained down onto the street. Fester dropped through the opening, landing in the wreckage of what had once been a bedroom.

The apartment was small and cramped, even. A single room with a kitchenette, a bed, a star-shaped nightlight on the bedside table. The walls were covered in cheap wallpaper and children’s drawings. The air smelled of toast.

And standing in the center of the room, her back to the hole, was a woman in her late fifties with grey-streaked hair and a combat tunic.

Fester froze.

Valerie Mayfeather smiled.

"Took you long enough," she said. "I was starting to think you’d actually be smart enough to run."

Fester’s pale eyes narrowed. "The Guild Master. How did you—"

"Did you really think we’d leave the Bunny King’s sister unguarded?" Valerie cracked her knuckles. "After everything you’ve done? After Ashwick? After you nearly killed Nathan a dozen times over? We’ve had this place watched for weeks. When your Oblivion Drake entered the capital’s airspace, we knew exactly where you were heading."

Fester’s expression darkened.

"I know you’re a coward who thinks attacking a child will make him feel better about losing." Valerie’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. "And I know you’re about to have a very bad night."

She raised her hand. A summoning circle blazed to life at her feet, pale blue and white, crackling with frost.

"Boris."

The Yeti materialized in the small apartment with a roar that shook the walls. It was massive—nine feet of white fur and glacier-blue eyes, its breath misting in the warm air. It filled the cramped space, its bulk pressing against the walls, its presence radiating cold so intense that frost began to form on the windows.

Fester stepped back, his composure cracking.

"Are you ready fester?." Valerie cracked her knuckles again. "you were too busy being a monster to think about consequences, huh?" She rolled her shoulders. "See, there’s something you should know about me, Fester. Before I was a Guild Master, I was a maniacal Brawler. I’ve spent fifty years learning how to hit things really, really hard. And I’ve been waiting a long time for someone who deserves it."

She lunged.

---

The battle was short and brutal.

Fester tried to call the Oblivion Drake, but Boris was already moving—the Yeti’s massive form grew, its body expanding until it filled the apartment, its shoulders pressing against the ceiling. The Drake couldn’t reach its master without bringing the entire building down.

"Stuck on your own?" Valerie drove her fist into Fester’s chest, and the Dominator staggered backward. "That’s the problem with your type. You rely on monsters. You forget how to fight for yourself."

Fester lashed out with dark magic, but Valerie was faster. She weaved under the blast, closed the distance, and hit him again—a brutal, punishing strike to the jaw that sent him crashing through the apartment’s flimsy wall.

"Fifty years of brawling, Fester. Fifty years of learning exactly where to hit." She followed him through the hole, her fists still raised. "And I’ve been waiting for a chance like this since the day I heard what you did to those villages."

Fester tried to rise. Boris’s massive hand closed around him, pinning him to the floor. The Yeti’s grip was like a glacier—immovable, crushing, utterly without mercy.

"The Cleansing," Fester spat. "The new world. The Shepherd—"

"The Shepherd isn’t here," Valerie said quietly. "It’s just you and me. And you’re done."

She raised her fist. Fester’s pale eyes widened.

And then, Fester begged.

"Wait—I can give you—I know things—the Shepherd’s plans—"

"I’m sure you do." Valerie’s voice was cold. "But I don’t care."

She hit him.

One blow. Perfectly aimed. The kind of blow that ended fights and lives and wars.

Fester went still.

The Oblivion Drake, severed from its master, let out a scream that shattered windows across the capital. Its spectral body convulsed, its void-eyes flickering, and then it dissolved—unraveling into motes of dark light that scattered on the wind like ashes from a dying fire.

The Cleansing was over.

---

Valerie stood in the wreckage of the apartment, breathing hard. Her knuckles were bloody. Her combat tunic was torn. But she was smiling.

Boris shrank back to his usual size and padded over to her, his glacier-blue eyes solemn. He made a soft, rumbling sound.

"I’m fine, old friend." Valerie patted his head. "I’m fine."

The apartment was a ruin. The wall was gone. The furniture was shattered. The star-shaped nightlight lay on the floor, its glow still flickering. Valerie bent down and picked it up, turning it over in her scarred hands.

"The sister is safe," she said quietly. "That lady... Mrs. Chen took her to a shelter the moment the sirens started. Nathan doesn’t know yet. He’s still at the western front."

She looked at the hole in the wall, at the red sky beyond. The Cleansing’s fires were fading. The Court was broken. Fester was dead.

"I guess the kid would be needed a new apartment huh" she said, looking around. "But at least this whole shit is over"

But even as she said it, she knew it wasn’t entirely true. The Cleansing was over, yes. But the Shepherd, the one controlling fester, was still out there, waiting for his moment. And Nathan Cross, the Bunny King, was still climbing toward a confrontation that would make everything they’d faced so far look like a warm-up.

Valerie tucked the nightlight into her pocket. Then she walked out of the ruined apartment.

The battle against the Court was over but the war against the Shepherd was just beginning.