Hostis Humani Generis
XX: Bulwark
"Are you sure this is alright?"
"Of course," Lockmyer replied to the peasant who had spoken. The nearby villages under royal decree had started to store excess flour under the Greenwood Hill, over which passed the main road between the capital and E-Pespel. Since there was word of Vampires about, Marquis Raeven had ordered there to be no exceptions – all households were to construct a store for grain in case of emergency. That was why Waldwin, the headman of the nearby village of Green Edge, was here – to check on the flour stored.
Lockmyer was so busy, he did not notice a blue-haired warrior being tugged along by the young man, whom he would have recognised as following the silver-haired woman in Re-Ulovale.
Both men passed by, unmolested... and very definitely lost.
"If you are gone, to whom shall the Fleet turn to?"
That was the predominant question that happened at the last Commanders' meeting, before the Fleet Admiral had even been allowed on ashore on the mainland. It was a valid question, for the simple reason of establishing a chain of command. Nobody, though, wanted to voice the exact question; better not to invoke bad luck. By speaking up, Caliban had voiced a large doubt that cast a pall on the Fleet's future missions.
"Hmm... how does the Fleet usually organise itself?" the Fleet Admiral had spoken then.
"All other ships are organised around the Queen of the Night, the Sequoia and the Spruce." Nagato had replied then. "The crew of these three ships form the executive backbone of the Fleet, barring the field command. The personal creations of the Admiralty, rather than renamed monsters adopted into the Fleet, take precedence. Namely, the creations of yourself, Admiral Nurarihyon, Vice-Admirals CAM, Sterling, Rear-Admiral Rear Admiral, and others would hold the greatest social status in the fleet."
The Fleet Admiral was smiling then, facing Nagato across the glass hemisphere dominating the table of the Queen's great cabin. "In that case, Caliban is the one with the next highest status, as the child of myself and Nurarihyon. Is that what you're saying, Nagato?"
Multiple heads swung towards Caliban; the impassive Third Division Commander remained staring towards her.
"Aye, Admiral."
"I see." A flash passed through her sole green eye. "Caliban."
"Aye!"
"You will represent our Fleet before Nazarick as the temporarily designated heir of the Fomorians in the capital of the Kingdom of Re-Estize, three weeks hence." A single index finger, complete with perfectly formed nail the length of a centimetre – short enough to not impede the forming of a fist, but still capable of gouging an eye out – lacquered in clear shellac, pointing towards him. "Your other creator might tend to get lost on the river of life, but you will not get lost, Caliban. Therefore, you must protect anyone showing you the way during this mission – as if they were myself."
In the entire Fleet, the NPC with the highest offensive stats, was Caliban. With this declaration, Gazef Stronoff had unknowingly escorted Caliban into the Kingdom, unaware of the protection so great that had been conferred upon him during the journey.
Now, as Caliban dragged Brain Unglaus behind him in a dead run, the status of beneficiary had changed to Brain.
"Why aren't we stopping, Caliban?" Brain snarled, trying to tug his left arm back from the maniac with the vice-like grip. "They're just monsters, right?!"
"Normal wolves do not hunt at noon, do not chase prey for long distances alone, and do not sense of hatred," Caliban replied tonelessly as his free hand rose up, making a signal of his middle finger and thumb touching.
As they passed by a tree branch, the branch sagged down as a Nephilim Assassin alighted atop it. The wood gave, splintering and sending the black-feather-cloaked assassin crashing down on the two Vampire Wolves. The hidden blades hidden up his arm bracers were unleashed with a turn of his wrists, and Corazón quickly cast the magic buff「Hone Claws」over the blades.
"「Air Assassinate」!"
Both wolves could not react; despite their status as grotesque monsters, the different of sixty-eight levels and custom enhancements had been made clear in a single move. Corazón got up standing, sighed as the blood dripped from both blades, and made to follow after Caliban – if only to keep the Commander well within sight.
His head turned, and he did not react as a pair of highly polished Mary Janes felled a tree near him.
"My kin were slain like this... you have guts, I'll give you that." The silver-haired girl licked her lips as her ruby-eyed gaze was levelled at him. "You are not human," she spoke, after a beat of silence.
Corazón inclined his head. "Nephilim, Beleric-Possessed."
"Oh- ho," the girl smiled slightly. "Pray tell, what does that race mean?"
"It is a race granted to some creations of the Admiralty using a great item."
Corazón did not quite understand the circumstances of his creation; merely that he had these abilities, and was created with them thanks to his creator, Vice-Admiral Mano. Therefore, he could not have explained that the Beleric-Possessed Class was granted by the ultimate NPC customisation World item, the Beleric Keys of Yggdrasil. In-game, the Beleric Keys were supposedly the seeds of the World Tree, left in clusters at the bottom of the nine worlds, hidden ever since Navagraha the World Eater started to eat the leaves of the World Tree and an enterprising guild set out to dive to the bottom and rise to the top, simply to explore the worlds of YGGDRASIL.
"Admiralty..." the girl's face transformed. "You are from the Fomori Fleet!"
Corazón tensed, ready to fight or flee. He could tell that this Vampire was not only a True Vampire, but also at the apex of her power. It would be... terrible.
"The people that Ainz-sama sent us to receive!" The girl gave a curtsy that still managed, in Corazón's opinion, to both look down on Corazón and yet respect him in measured snobbery that could only be born from extremely powerful people. "Shalltear Bloodfallen, Floor Guardian of the first through third floors of the Great Tomb of Nazarick, absolutely loyal to the Supreme Beings led by Lord Ainz Ooal Gown. You're here at last! Finally, you've wasted a lot of time."
"Corazón, third of Los Deditos in the First Division of the Fomori." Corazón saluted, before he pointed a thumb behind him. "The one who ran is the Third Division Commander, Caliban, our main diplomat."
Shalltear's face fell at the new complication. "That is... complicated. Your Commander was meant to meet us as soon as possible."
"You were supposed to have received him in Re-Estize in the first place, begum." Corazón retorted. "Our effendi is directionally challenged, Bloodfallen begum. I am uncertain as to whether he even realises that you are an ally, and not an enemy. Are there any more people with you, begum?"
"Ah, Sebas and Solution," Shalltear replied, distracted from her impeding fit of rage by Corazón's question. "Why?"
"Can they track? Trying to follow the Commander is an uphill proposition."
"No, neither of them have the skills," Shalltear's beautiful ruby eyes glared daggers at Corazón's black-feathered cloak.
Corazón frowned, thinking before he nodded. "There is a human male with Caliban bey at the moment. He is leading Caliban bey to the capital; therefore, he is nominally under our protection until the destination is reached. Since effendi is likely to reach the destination with that man's help sooner or later, I propose to begum to proceed along to the capital proper to set up a base. I will take to the skies and search the area for effendi. That way, you can relay our deepest apologies to Lord Ainz Ooal Gown and receive further instructions."
To Shalltear, who was fretting about reporting another failure to Momonga, such an offer was a windfall. After all, the affairs of the Fomori were of no concern to the dwellers of Nazarick. "Of course. This is an emergency, we must cut the courtesies short. Corazón, was it?"
"Evet, begum."
She nodded, tucking her chin into the high collar of her gown. "May I use your name? In exchange, you may call me Shalltear. None of your strange titles."
Corazón grimaced, making a note that the Turkish styles seemed to be strange when heard with the translation magic that hung around this world. "Of course, Lady Shalltear."
He reached into his cloak, carefully teasing out a clam-shell, both halves still closed with a prominent hinge. He handed it to Shalltear. "The spell「Sound of the Ocean」has been engraved into this shell. Open it, and we will be able to talk through... other shells on the same connection, such as mine. It will self-destruct after ten uses, unfortunately; that is the costs of the spell."
Just like the case with the Beleric Keys, Corazón was also unable to explain the mechanics behind 「Sound of the Ocean」. Originally conceived by Rear-Admiral Surimi when some YGGDRASIL dungeons forbade the passing of messages. Shells that had「Sound of the Ocean」placed within them worked like a cross between a pager or a short-wave radio – the point was to ensure communications that could not be stopped by malevolent architecture, unable to be tapped by divination magics, and incapable of revealing locations while ensuring stable communications. The shell itself would be consumed and self-destruct after ten messages as a cost, which allowed it to flourish as a burner phone of sorts –「Message」always had a definite sender and receiver, whereas 「Sound of the Ocean」was the default messaging system amongst Rán's Net, spread across the multitude of Brothers of the Coast.
Corazón had chosen not to cast「Message」and save Shalltear's mental signature for later use for a reason. As far as he was concerned, he was still an Assassin, and it was bad form to leave anyone a way to attack him through the mental connection of「Message」. The only offensive spells that could get past「Sound of the Ocean」were sound-based spells like 「Boomblast」, which his silencing ability granted by the Admiralty could save him from.
"See you then." The True Vampire leapt away, hovering in the air with help from her magic. Corazón turned on his heel and pulled at his feathered cloak, activating the 「Flight」spell woven within the threads underneath. By then, he was floating up to the forest canopy, about to burst through-
"Ow!"
Shalltear turned back at the ejaculation of pain, only to watch the extremely tall Nephilim rub his head and glare at the broken tree branch that had been offensive enough to be in the path of his head.
"What are these people doing...?" she muttered. "I hope their leader isn't as crazy as all the others... who gets lost on a straight road?"
"Who gets lost on a straight road? No, seriously, are you cursed?!" Brain continued berating even though they had slowed down, still looking out for the Vampire Wolves.
"It got us away from the Vampire Wolves." Caliban pointed out. "That is the best thing. Why were they chasing after us, though? I don't know any local covens."
"...probably from me," Brain finally admitted. "A... a Vampire attacked our base. Shalltear Bloodfallen. That was her name. She was so powerful... she is the peak of strength inaccessible to humans- do you understand that feeling?"
Having slowed his run to a slow jog, Caliban did not seem disturbed. "Having the peak of strength condensed right before me... the insurmountable wall to be climbed right there. That sounds wonderful."
"What?!" Brain flinched. "Even if... even if you die?"
"Those who live by the sword will die by the sword. That is our fated end." Caliban reflected. "Dying in the pursuit of the summit... if I die, I know someone who can resurrect me."
Brain snorted. "Fine, say I buy that... what if your Priest decides to stiff you? Leave you dead?"
Brain never got the answer to his question, for then a familiar-looking horse-drawn carriage rolled by a long stretch of barely-paved road, driven by an old-looking butler. The butler took one look at both men, hied his team of four horses, and turned back to the carriage.
Brain's senses started to grate as a familiar voice shouted:
"「Purifying Javelin」!"
A silvery-white spear hurtled towards Caliban, radiating a pure aura. Brain could barely react as the javelin struck towards Caliban, striking the young man with its particularly large blade. The javelin itself was larger than most men, straining at three metres, and clearly composed of magic.
Brain blinked. No, that was incorrect; his senses had reported a strike, but Caliban stood there unharmed and grimacing. The black katana had been drawn, having knocked the spear off-course into the ground.
"Holy-based ranged magic," Caliban assessed. "Special skill of... Valkyrie: Lance. Effective particularly against evil-aligned beings, and throwing it with additional mana allows it to never miss its mark."
Her silky hair shone brilliantly under the dimmed sunlight, and her dewy, crimson eyes displayed otherworldly seductiveness now narrowed into rage. "I saw you run!" Shalltear Bloodfallen, the monster of Brain's nightmares, screamed towards them. "You were in front! And then you were behind...! This is ridiculous! Weren't you originally behind us?!"
Brain began to hyperventilate. Both of them ignored him.
Caliban blinked. "Do I know you, miss?"
"Don't play that with me!" Shalltear hotly screeched. "If not for Ainz-sama's orders I'd have already sucked all of your blood into a Lesser Vampire for wasting our valuable time and Ainz-sama's attention!"
By sucking all their blood, vampires could turn a target into a lower-tiered undead that was absolutely obedient towards their master. Vampires were only able to create lesser vampires with intelligence far below their own, but Shalltear, as a True Vampire, could create vampires with an intelligence on the level of a human.
"Know your place, and the honour that your puny Fleet and your dumb Admiral has received with Ainz-sama's benevolence!" Shalltear continued to rant, clearly having missed out on the human's presence. "I had had it with your disrespect of Ainz-sama and Nazarick!"
Caliban had quietly listened up to now, where his dark blue eyes narrowed at Shalltear. "Forgive my presumption. The Fleet Admiral Sycorax, whom I represent, has claimed that the denizens of the Great Tomb of Nazarick are polite, well-mannered, respectable beings worthy of respect. I would therefore know them when I see them, and respect them as a result."
Shalltear looked mollified, but her expression slowly slid towards rage as Caliban continued: "Since you are none of the above categories, I can only presume that you are not the delegates from the Great Tomb, and are instead imposters who would destroy the good relations between our Fleet and the Great Tomb of Nazarick. As the sword of the Fleet Admiral, I will therefore neither think nor reconsider, but will instead move towards the summary elimination of an obstacle to the Fleet Admiral's plans."
It had yet to be tested, but NPCs could technically be revived at the Queen of the Night. However, regardless of the fact of his existence being a creation of others, every word of his opinion was, indeed, as true as he believed in them. Therefore, as Caliban swung his sword at Shalltear Bloodfallen, it was done with all the strength of a level 100 warrior with maximised offensive stats and all the resolution of a martyr.
Gold flames sparked; the fury of Caliban's retaliation had torn at his human guise, revealing the little beastly attributes that had been hidden so long by his passive nature and lack of battles. The Knight of Muspellheimr had accidentally activated his「Flame Aura」skill, casting a pall of golden flames that swept along the length of his sword as he leapt up towards Shalltear and the carriage, swinging his sword towards her eyes in a sharp thrust.
"「Misunderstood: Three-Stage Thrust」!"
Shalltear's ruby eyes widened, as she realised that this warrior's sword was moving faster than she could move. It was also loaded with one of the Undead races' two weaknesses. As a faith-based Magic Caster, Shalltear had resistance against holy-type magic, which was one of the Undead races' two major weaknesses. Nothing in her arsenal was currently prepared for Fire-type elemental damage of such magnitude.
Sebas and Solution dived from the carriage as Shalltear disappeared in a wink of light using「Greater Teleportation」.
The sword stabbed through the wood, through the under-carriage, into the ground, splitting the hard-packed dirt underneath. Laden with so much force, three thrusts placed with such skill as to be considered 'instantaneous threefold one-hit-kill' to anyone without defences on par with Albedo stacked with all of her buffs, sliced through the crest of the raised ground. A yawning chasm began to gap where the sword had cut, slicing through the earth like butter, and it pierced with all its fiery force into the cellar containing excess flour underneath.
Immediately afterwards, all sound was blown away.
The area in which the flour had been stored had been a giant bomb waiting to happen. Now, the entire area went up in flames and heat, as if the air had been laden with vapourised oil and ignited.
Brain, who had seen the explosion, started running. He was lucky; the shock wave struck his back and knocked him down to the gravel, but he managed to avoid being enveloped in the flames themselves. A sudden drop in the force of the air, though, squeezed at his organs, stunning the human momentarily. Fortunately, his body did not burst open, since there was no vacuum to be formed in an outside environment, but he did not know how close death had been.
"Did... he...?"
From within the explosion, a voice spoke "Ah."
Smoke and dust parted, and Caliban's dark blue eyes blinked at Brain before he fell into the chasm of his own creation.
"What the fuck, he survived that?!" Brain cursed as he scrambled to look over the edge. "Did he fall to the bottom of the hill? Shit, is the hill still standing?"
Lockmyer stood at one end of Greenwood Hill, having just barely survived the flour stores exploding in a shower of earth and dirt. The villager beside him was not so lucky; the conflagration and resulting drop in oxygen had already turned the man's partially crisped face blue in death. Then a thump resounded, and the body jerked; another body had landed on the villager.
The second body sat up, and Lockmyer spotted the glint of gold in the man's ears. The man blinked, sheathing a Katana back into his scabbard – and here Lockmyer's eyebrows shot up at the sight of the very expensive blade.
"Seemed to have done a lot of damage," the strange dark-haired man analysed calmly. The lack of panic did not factor in very well to Lockmyer, a former Orichalcum-rank Adventurer. The man was either too confident, or an idiot – a phenomenally strong idiot, but still equipped with the common sense of a brain-dead pigeon.
"You did this?"
The dark-haired man turned to face Lockmyer. His blue eyes held no doubt as he replied: "Yes."
It was the latter option. As part of Marquis Raeven's private security, Lockmyer felt extremely justified for protecting this half-wit from more charges of destroying public property.
"You're under arrest for destroying public property," Lockmyer declared. "That includes this cellar... come to think of it, what did you do?"
"Went for a walk. I cut a mountain in the way."
Deafening silence ensued. The destroyed flour cellar built in the mountain – and now a giant hole opening up from the foot of the hill to the very summit of aforementioned hill – belched out a column of smoke.
"I'm just going to put that as destroying Crown property," Lockmyer decided at last, faintly turning green around the gills. "Come along now, we'll settle everything in Re-Estize."
Caliban quietly followed behind the retired Thief. He could have escaped, but he was extremely lost anyway, and this was not the time to be banking on his strange luck to get himself lost before finding himself at the other end of the continent.
At the other end of the Greenwood Hill, Sebas Tien alighted from his mid-air jump next to Shalltear's appearance. A moment later, Solution Epsilon, still outfitted in her disguise, made a three-point landing some distance back from the two high-level NPCs.
"What shall we tell Ainz-sama?" Sebas was the first to speak.
"He is definitely our level," Shalltear admitted, after a long moment of silence. "No wonder their Admiral sent him. But he hasn't got an ounce of sense at all... actually, none of the Fomori people have any sense!"
Sebas hesitated as he saw a touch of doubt cross Shalltear's beautiful face. "Shalltear...?"
"What if Ainz-sama's type is the wild type?!" The girlish shriek echoed across the remnants of forest untouched by the dust explosion, causing flocks of birds to rise up to the skies. "I would do anything for Ainz-sama, but to- to act like the- the maniac who created that blockhead with no sense of direction...!"
"We have to at least get to the capital before that, Sebas, Shalltear," Solution pointed out. "That person is... he's demonic." Since her level was much lower than either personage, she only contributed so much.
"This is indeed troubling," Sebas nodded. The misunderstandings had simply kept piling up, until they culminated in a mess precipitated by the incredible sense of direction possessed by Caliban. Left with no other options since the carriage had been burnt and chopped to kindling in that exact sequence of events, Sebas led both females towards the direction of Re-Estize – thankfully unobstructed by any flaws in knowing directions in his settings.
Arwintar vanished into the horizon behind the pair as they continued on their travels. It had been imperative that they left quickly before the authorities caught up to them, or their mercenary friends decided to sell them out. However, it quickly became apparent that some things had already changed three days into the race, when the pair had already skirted past the last city of the Baharuth Empire and raced towards the general direction of the Great Tomb that Momonga had indicated.
Sycorax hummed, rolling a pair of cube dice in her left hand to stare at the pips. "Nereus, stop for a bit."
The horse she rode was the blue-white of a drowned corpse, bearing duckweed spots and seagrass in its mane. At her command, it slowed to a canter, and she dismounted from it. A heartbeat later, Nereus had transformed back to his human form, looking rather disgruntled as he got back on human legs from a position on all fours.
"What are we waiting for?" he complained. "We're headed in the right direction, yes?"
"We're already on the edge of the property, since there's too many knolls around," Sycorax replied, dropping the pair of dice on the grassland and watching them skitter down the gentle slope that was definitely imperceptible to the eye, but definitely present. After cracking and rolling, runes appeared over the blocks of bone, cracking with the magic of the runes inscribed into them before exploding in a shower.
Then Sycorax took off her ring. A pair of Seven-League Boots dropped to the ground, which she scooped up and dropped into her item-box. After a heartbeat, she pulled Gáe Bolg, a spear crafted entirely of bones twined together. With the spear slung over her shoulder, she waited.
Seconds later, a dark portal appeared nearby. The figure that stepped through it could only be described as an Overlord of death. Nereus stiffened as the portal came into view, and by the time the Overlord had already appeared, a wavy-bladed kris had already appeared in his hands. While it was true that Undead, especially skeletons like the Overlord, were resistant to thrusting damage, Nereus' lips twitched with the knowledge that his weapon, Taming Sari, was equipped with the ability to bring a bad day to anything undead, especially since it was imbued with life energy.
"Don't." Sycorax slid forward, a teasing lilt to her voice added with her next words. "He's a friend. How would you prefer to be named... Momonga-san?"
The skeleton, magnificently shrouded in dark robes and an aura of despair, stared at her. Bony fingers of the right hand, threaded with rings haphazardly where some fingers even held more than one, reached out towards her. Iron-gauntleted hands landed on the clearly delineated metacarpals of his palm.
"I should be the one asking that," Momonga said at last.
"I'm not exactly old in this body." Sycorax's only visible eyelashes lowered. "I am eternally young at heart, I find. And we have known each other for so long, yet this is the first time that we have actually met face-to-face."
The skull's face did not change at all, but his aura fluctuated. "Our bodies have changed. I... what was I thinking? How could I face you like this?!"
"Don't say that!" Sycorax's face hardened. "This is the shape I knew you as. I have crossed rivers and mountains and a continent to find you, exactly as the skeleton you told me you were. I am a Nagini, the same as I told you I was, the same that you have ever seen. It is because of your looks that we have finally found each other... Satoru-san."
"Michiru-san..." The skeleton's shoulders creaked as he let go of her hand, and stepped back to offer a deep bow. "You are here at last. Finally, I can say to you... Welcome to Nazarick."
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