“Eh? I this is…it’s it. I must be a complete klutz.” The large elf laughed. Her white booties swung as she sat on the cliff that the castle was built into, leading to her black stockings that went up to the white robes. Characteristic sadistic grin, golden eyes present along with the black hair and hime-cut farming her face. “Here I expected more.” She pressed a palm to her cheek. “How silly of me to expect as much from humans.”

The castle, looming at an impressive 400 feet, was paled by her 1500 foot frame. The heels and underside of her booties already demolishing some of the higher pillars, she finished her massive cup of tea, set it to the side on the cliff and hopped down with a girlish “Hyup!” that was followed by a bellowing tremor and rumbling, her feet landing square in the barracks of the city. To call it rubble would do it a disservice, it became apocalyptic around her feet, the resulting crash making something of a crater that person and building alike crumpled into. “So fragile.” She mused, lifting up a leg and flicking her ankle, tossing the pieces of rubble and life that clung to the tip of her boots off in the distance.

She turned around and peered in to the castle, or the upper portion. She couldn’t quite see anyone readily there, no surprise. “I’ll be with you in a moment, so please be patient, okay?” Her fingers, with the white leather gloves squeezed, easily shattering the roof, in the lower portions where the inhabitants of the castle hid they had dust fall from the rafters, boards creaking and heaving, and yet all she did was grip at the roof. From her hands little ethereal sewing needles sprouted, materializing from nothing and- as if with a mind of their own- ran around the castle, treating it like cloth. They had a glowing blue thread that followed them as they found any opening and stitched it close, the doorways and windows becoming glowing blue walls. “My own toy castle…” she softly whispered, the words echoing to those hiding within, “But work should be done first, no? Of course it should.”

She stood up onto her tip-toes and twirled around and nodded. Lifting her foot, it dropped rubble and dust. In the city below her slightest movement shook the ground, it commanded the earth. She seemed to tower endlessly into the sky, more so than the castle that they all admired and were so proud of. The magnificent pillars and spires were nothing in the face of her lithe legs in their black stockings. “So first…” she thought aloud, foot hovering in the air, boulders raining from underneath it. Golden eyes darting around, she eventually spotted another spire. It was more of a little stick, than a spire, but regardless, the cathedral had caught her attention. Lowering her foot slowly, the displacement of the air alone let out a hum as it approached.

Touching down, the heel of her bootie crashed effortlessly through the window, displaying itself proudly above the altar as it threw down chandeliers and shards of glass, hovering in the main area. Hordes of cowering families screamed and hugged their children as it displayed itself. Meanwhile the roof groaned in protest from the toe portion and the underside being pressed into it. “Is it somehow foreshadowing that I destroyed an image of your god? Or…would it have been foreshadowing if I did it at normal size? Common is such a poor language.”

Amid the pressure of the boot and the echoes of the elven voice teasing them, people were fleeing the cathedral. Doors had been flung open with crowds and countless people, families, children, priests, all types running in hordes. They weren’t quite worth noticing, however, since even the slightest angling and pressure from her feet changing caused the ground to tremble. Her foot that was not on the cathedral, when shifted just now, had impacted the ground and caused a minor divot. People slid downwards from the sloping crater as they slammed into and piled up down at her foot, fighting and clawing in piles to get out.

She then pressed her foot more and more, making dust and tiny pieces of stone fall from the ceiling, this only continued for a second or two before she truly pressed.  And once she did, the entire structure buckled and fell, a horrific crunch, splat, and the sound of collapsing bricks melded it one. She dragged her foot back, smearing the red liquid and mixing it with the dirt and dust into a paste that muddled the bottom of a crater that was her shoe print.

The crowds were ground into a pulp despite their fleeing, albeit not all of them were killed under foot. Many were slammed by rubble from other collapsing buildings and others were killed from the mere force sent out from the impact, much like an explosion of sorts. Those in the divot were treated as if it was some kind of brutal meat grinder or wood chipper, each tiny movement allowing a portion of a person to slip underneath before it got juiced. One leg, body, or person at a time they worked effortlessly to stain her white booties.

“And so next is the ironworks, yes? Polluting so wantonly.” She lifted and shook her foot again, getting the real remains of a false religion off of her shoe. Taking steps without a single care for those below, their lives would flash before their eyes. The world quickly darkening and then ending, the only thing they feel- be they in buildings, streets, or otherwise- is a heaving pressure and then the blackness of death. Each step let out a large thud and puffs of debris and smoke, those near but not under her steps seeing and hearing the hum of her foot as it came down and ascended, like a meteor landing and leaving. She didn’t quite pay them little mind; she paid them no mind. Once the ironworks was reached, though, she squat down in her stereotypical pose. “Crushing it would damage my boots. And so now comes the time in my job where creativity is needed.” She pursed her lips and pinched the roof of the large factory.

Pulling, the corner of the roof ripped off, but that was it. She made a dissatisfied grumble as she pushed a finger into the facility through the hole, easily squishing a few stray workers without even intending to, the size of the digit making the process unavoidable. She wiggled and squirmed it, sticking a tongue out in thought, inside she knocked about coal and hot metals, creating a torturous procedure that many of the employees probably wished was just a footstep. The metal burned and ignited parts of the building, and once her finger had got a good grip, she pulled again, finally getting the rest of the roof off. “How clumsy,” she said, viewing the facility in disarray as it was flooding with metal and burning, “Allow..” she pursed her lips again, pausing. She spit, a large glob of sweet elven spit splattering into the facility and flooding it more than the metal and coal ever could. The impact killing many, others surviving broken as they drowned in the thick substance. “Me.”

She stood up, letting out a contented sigh. Lifting the foot, she gave a little princess-style wave to them before slamming it down, the characteristic puff of smoke and echoing sound emanating outward. She then scraped it backwards, a thicker paste being created from her spit, she was quick to wipe it off on a nearby mineshaft, letting it seep down into it, the mix of spit, rubble, metal, coal, and blood flooding the shaft and rendering it not only useless, but also trapping any inside. With those two tasks complete she looked at the tome chained to her hip.

“Early? I seem to be so good at my job, wouldn’t you all agree?” she blushed, pressing a hand to her cheek before tapping the heel of her foot a few times, shaking the area around her. Fortunately it was just the slums of ironworks employees, nothing to fret about. The shanties and tents and shacks of escaped employees, widows, and families collapsed in on themselves or swayed and took irreparable damage due to her tiny little thought process. Inside the shacks, new widows and abandoned families clung together under tables, tears falling down each of their faces. Many of the mothers promised their children daddy would be home, others saying it was all a dream. Others had no such thing as a coping mechanism, after all: you may prepare for war or famine, but absolute decimation of your life and having your father drowned in spit while you pray the elf doesn’t step on your shack is another thing. Their homes were collapsing around them.

Her foot continued to tap as she eventually stopped and slammed the book shut, the moment of silence seemed to add more fear to the families in the slums, afraid that her feet were lifting or that her job wasn’t quite done. Deep in the houses, far below the elf, it would be difficult to notice much. The streets were littered with rubble and the houses were echoing with screams and cries, impacting homes and poorly-made structural supports resulting in the death toll rising rapidly just from her foot tapping. Walls, stones, and pillars impacted children and wives alike, not even quite worth dying under her foot, but instead collateral damage to her existence. “If I’m done early…I can visit some tea shops.”