[Chapter 5: Holy Men, Saintly Women and Divine Callings]
Amal'Thazad may not have shared Jericho's taste for torture and mutilation of humans, but that didn't mean he was fond of them. They were simply below him, insects or occasionally small animals, perhaps useful tools as Lucius once said, so it was no wonder he wasn't too keen about his surroundings. The maids were no different, although their reverence for Pyke did help him ignore them. Humans were pitiful, at least the angels he summoned recognized the one true God his father was. Perhaps if one were to do so it'd change his mind, but their inferior nature made him doubt such a thing would ever happen. Of course, as with every original member of the Swimming City, the idea of being of use to his father excited him to no end, even if his serious face didn't show it, so the news of an assignment was wonderful. The assignment itself… not so much.
In fact, among the council there was a split between whether humans were pathetic creatures worthy of being only tools or cattle, or something greater. This division was caused by the different karma values of the councillors, which dictated their morality now, as well as their backstories written by Pyke. The ones who believed not only humanity but those outside of the Swimming City in general could be something more went as such: Vacuus, Valodan, Galakrond, Lily, Cirina, Winston, Trise and Ferra.
The opposite of them were those who viewed outsiders as, at worst, toys and insects, and, at best, tools: Lilith, Lillius, Lucius, Hycarius, Cophi, Jericho and Amal'Thazad. The exact range of their hatred varied, from disinterest to deliberately seeking their torment, but the consensus was that no race could truly reach their heights of devotion or usefulness; all races were mere playthings in their father's future realm.
Having humans labour for his father in the Swimming City was one thing, but being sent among them? With their pathetic knowledge of magic and disgusting liquors? It was not a pleasant experience. His counterpart, Jericho, was sociable and easily hid his sadistic nature behind masks of pleasantries and helpfulness, striking when it would bring the most despair. All of the citizens of the Swimming City could hide such urges if they had them and weren't authorised to unleash them by Pyke, but hiding his irritation with the lesser race was much harder.
While Amal'Thazad's karma should have been high in order to facilitate his holy magic and angel summoning capabilities, it wasn't high at all. It was at a firm negative of -250, which would normally impair his main abilities. Of course, much like his brother, his power and rule over the heavens was in truth cemented by a World Item, [Chaotic Order], which simulated his karma to be at its positive limit, 500. It granted him access to all holy spells, empowered them and so on, and was supposed to be wielded by the ruler of the heavens in the lore of YGGDRASIL, granting him such authority. Sadly, humans seemed to be too stupid to recognize his status and merely gawked at his marvellous robe and staff as he moved through the streets of Re-Estize. He took a swig of whiskey that was in his crystal canteen and thought about his assignment.
He was sent here to pacify a group called the Eight-Fingers. Pyke had a run-in with one of their leaders, but they still remained as influential as ever and would be instrumental in controlling the regions of both Baharuth and the kingdom. It went without saying of course that their illegal activities wouldn't be permitted anywhere near the territories of his father once they were established, so Pyke had decided that taking them over now would be the right call.
They had info on the entire thing, shadow demons mapping out all the major points of the network within days, including the leaders' positions and plans. At this point there were seven, the eighth being killed by Pyke and not being replaced yet, presumably due to internal friction. They had a meeting scheduled in a few days, but for now Amal'Thazad decided to make an effort to understand these pathetic creatures a bit better.
First he wanted to visit the mages guild. Even if they didn't have anything above Tier 3, there still existed spells in this world that hadn't in the previous, driving the scholar to expand his own repertoire. All the holy magics were listed inside his World Item and he had already learned them all, even expanding on them and increasing their power significantly. Still, utility spells for creating spices or water, such as those used in the palace of Jircniv, were not and so he wanted to learn of what other uses of the arcane these creatures have found.
The streets were clean and paved, given that he teleported directly into the main square instead of suffering the fate of not only being around humans, but dirty humans at that. Sure, most of the councillors inherited parts of morality from Pyke, but their personal distaste sometimes was stronger. Also, he was dressed in white! His clothes may have been magical, but by the deep he was not going to chance it!
He may have looked like a man in his thirties however his impressive physique and divine beauty turned many heads, both envious and enamoured. The clicking of his staff suddenly stopped as he registered a commotion happening to his right. Slowly, he turned and saw a crowd gathered so densely that he had no hope in breaking through without at least a Tier 4 spell, but he was ordered to not cause a commotion so he simply used [Fly] and levitated above the swarming mass.
Inside the ring formed of people was a group of drunkards beating a young boy. Amal'Thazad scoffed and was about to fly off until he recognized a face in the crowd that was mentioned in the reports. Said face was a boy on the verge of adulthood with short, blonde hair and a face too serious for one so young as him. 'That's the princess's pet? Poor taste. There are plenty of orphans to groom and brainwash, yet she chose this one? But I suppose I should make a good first impression. Even if Lillith collars that one, leverage is infinitely valuable.'
Before the boy managed to push through the crowd and get to the scene that was seemingly ignored by local guards, Amal'Thazad landed in front of the men. They must have been heavily inebriated as they didn't realise that simply the act of landing distinguished him as a caster who could use at least Tier 3 magic. The largest of the men looked upon the newcomer and was about to speak, but didn't get the chance as ropes of light bound and gagged him. His two companions met the same fate as Amal'Thazad silently tripled the spell.
The men were now wriggling on the ground until Amal'Thazad made a fist with his right hand, tightening the holy ropes and making them lose consciousness as blood flow was cut off. He sighed and took another swig from his canteen, the whiskey inside burning his throat and distracting him from the curious gazes of the onlooking bugs. He looked towards the boy and casually waved his right hand, silently casting a healing spell on him, covering him in a soothing white light. He used short-range teleportation and kept walking forward, in sight of the princess' pet.
Climb watched all this and, as expected by Amal'Thazad, decided to follow the man in order to at least extend his thanks to him. A secondary, although vain, hope was that the man would teach him magic of some sort. His attire screamed of holy proficiency and yet he used a spell like [Fly]. During his friendship with Blue Rose, their magic caster, Evileye, repeatedly told him he had no talent for arcane magic, but perhaps holy would be different?
Amal'Thazad moved slowly, but that's because he didn't have to move for anybody. His impressive gear, stature and the slight aura he let loose granted him enough room to walk and let Climb easily follow him. He turned towards a less populated alley as he detected Climb was catching up to him. After turning the corner he stopped and awaited his stalker.
Climb followed the man who, given his choice of clothing and wide berth given to him by the people, was impossible to lose in the street. After following him down an alley, Climb found himself face to face with the pale stranger, who seemed to have been waiting for him. He quickly bowed in order to avoid any awkward interaction, "Thank you for helping that boy, sir!" he called out, slightly too loudly given the feeling of anxiety that the man's presence caused him.
"A thanks is hardly worth following a man for, what is it you want boy?" Amal'Thazad asked. Hopefully it would be something only he could grant, ensnaring the boy and the princess alongside him. Jericho may have been the one known for deals, but since when have angels not granted boons?
"Well, um, sir, I'd like to ask if you could teach me magic…"
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The Slane Theocracy was in total and absolute disarray. Two of the cardinals, namely Yvon and Dominic, had become completely useless and delusional following the night of Pyke's visit, and no replacements could be found, on account of all the priests in the capital being murdered. Now all the two did was grovel, weep and beg in front of the Gods' new resting place, which could not be torn down due to the enchantments put onto it by Pyke.
Raymond, in all honesty, wasn't faring much better. The psychological toll from not only knowing that thousands of priests were killed within minutes, not only having the greatest of monuments to the Gods being washed away, but to see the very deities they worshipped be like cattle in front of a butcher, was heavy. Yvon had tried resurrecting them, but it was useless.
Perhaps one of the artefacts could have done it, but the treasury was emptied by one of Pyke's agents, most likely with the help of Zesshi. That part probably stung as much as the death of the Gods for Raymond… Even though she was a half-elf, considered subhuman, and many times his age, he still thought of her as a friend who saved his ass on many missions.
Now, in the gloomy and poorly lit former treasury the remaining four cardinals sat. Normally they would meet in one of the cathedrals, along with the High General and Pontifex Maximus. However, the Cathedrals were gone, the grand general had committed suicide shortly after that accursed night, along with many other citizens, and Julius was nowhere to be found.
Raymond opened up the meeting, the shadows dancing on the walls as if to mock the man who at the age of forty looked well into his sixties thanks to the stress. "Our treasury is empty. The only scriptures that can be active domestically are the Windflower and Clearwater scriptures. Our plans to create a scripture dedicated to the God of Earth have fallen through as all the candidates have escaped the country, committed suicide or will resist should we try and make use of them. The Holocaust scripture is fighting the elves. All the priests in the capital aside from us are dead and only a select few have come from outside the city. Morale is at an all time low and the foundations of our faith have been shattered in the eyes of the common people. The slaves are also getting restless. Finally, the bodies of the Black Scripture haven't been recovered making resurrection impossible."
He sighed, "The rest of the country is doing fine, but our fighting strength is now lower than even Baharuth's. Any ideas?" he asked, putting the stack of papers away, as if they disgusted him. Raymond himself possessed none, at least none that were feasible and none that brought hope against the one they were facing.
Ginedine spoke up, his sunken eyes betraying little signs of life, "What of the Holy Kingdom? Would they not come to our aid?" Historically, the two nations, particularly the south of the Holy Kingdom, have been very friendly. Their dealings in slaves and resources was as old as the two nations themselves.
Berenice shook her head, looking much more like an old hag from a fairy tale than the matronly woman she usually embodied, "You know of the internal divisions there, were something to happen then we would be left on our own. Not like their military is strong enough to do anything, they struggle with the damned demihumans in the Abelion Hills!"
"Nothing short of a Dragon Lord is strong enough to help with that damned Ripper!" Maximillian yelled, putting two of his hands on his hand and leaning back. "The Elf King could help but it's not like we can just forget all the years of war! If Zesshi was here we could give her as an offering, but she's gone as well! Fucking half-breed!"
Raymond involuntarily widened his eyes upon hearing Maximillian's suggestion. The Elf King was notoriously powerful and notoriously disgusting. Zesshi's mother was in fact a godkin sent on a suicide mission in order to have the Elf King rape her, as he pursued strong offspring. That was only meant to be a casus belli and to grant the Theocracy an easily controllable weapon. Obviously, the plan was successful and the war against the elves had been going relatively well, until Pyke's arrival.
Still, for the Cardinal of Earth it was not something he'd willing to do, even against a menace like the one they were facing. Evidently though, the help of one as powerful as him was an enticing offer as both Ginedine and Berenice nodded, silently expressing their agreement. Raymond… had his doubts about the very notion that the Elf King would be useful. Weren't they admitting here that their Six Gods, who didn't stand a chance against the monster, were weaker than what they saw as a lesser race?
"The real problem are the slaves in the capital." said Raymond, hoping to distance himself from the topic of using his friend as a piece of meat. "If they get any more restless and, Gods forbid, see an opening for rebellion in the capital then we won't be able to do much."
"Bah! I'm sure the guards will be plenty able to deal with those pointy eared animals." said Maximillian, waving Raymond's concerns away. The torture methods of the Slane Theocracy were second to none in the human world. It was considered an art to break an elf, turning the usually elegant and noble race into living dolls that could do nothing but obey what the cardinals saw as their betters. Some of the previous cardinals throughout history even got their positions partially because of their innovations in the field.
"I think you're forgetting the part where these animals have successfully fended off the Holocaust scripture and our army for many years inside their forest and our capital is surrounded by a dense forest where there are no monsters to inhibit their ability to hide." countered Raymond. Wood elf biology wasn't significantly different from humans, but they aged much slower, had skills for magic, particularly druidic, and the bow, and were more resistant to poisons and diseases. Most importantly though, they felt at home in the forests, which made them deadly combatants and tough enemies when they waged a guerrilla war.
"We still have the Clearwater and Windflower scriptures, they'll be plenty. Most of these slaves are too broken anyway, so we don't have to worry about recalling the Holocaust scripture." said Berenice. Though they specialised in spying and information gathering, the average scripture member was still easily on par with platinum adventurers and elevated further thanks to their often divinely gifted gear.
And so they sat there, in the uncaring darkness, quietly pondering what they could do to stabilise the city. Their trains of thought were however interrupted as footsteps rang out through the corridor leading to their meeting spot. Presuming it to be either Yvon or Dominic finally coming to their senses and trying to find them, they turned to the entrance.
Indeed, one of their colleagues came through, but it wasn't who they were expecting. It was Julius, but the real surprise was the men behind him. One they recognized as the leader of the Holocaust scripture, but the other was something you'd never see in Kami Miyako, a well-dressed elf.
"Colleagues, I bring good news!" announced Julius, a savage smile on his face…
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Queen Calca Bessarez was the first holy queen in the history of the Roble Holy Kingdom, managing to take the throne instead of her brother. Her radiant beauty and idealism led to the common people loving her. This however didn't extend to the nobles. Most of them disliked her for being naive or had their own ambitions of usurping the throne. There were nobles that loved her, but quickly changed their tune once their marriage proposal was rejected.
Making a country where nobody cries was impossible and her focus on this goal made her neglect the political intrigues and games that the Southern nobles, who were far from the threat of the Abelion Hills, played. Instead, most of such matters were managed by Kelart Custodio. Calca could be called a saint, but she embodied the saying of "ignorance is bliss" to her core.
For now however the throne was unquestionably hers. The massive wall that separated the demihumans from her kingdom and the mandatory service that came with it kept her rule secure from external threats. Domestically however the situation had noticeably worsened
The Theocracy, a major trading partner, had become entirely isolationist except for a few independent traders. This slowed down the economy heavily, especially in the areas that relied on elven slavery in the South. The cause for all this was a singular man and a troupe of monsters, Pyke and his councillors. The leader of Blue Rose and a veteran member, Lakyus and Gagaran, were found passed out and brought to her castle and were the main source of information about them.
Following an unfortunate visit from one of said monsters that cost Kelart and Calca much mana to remedy, Lakyus had to be forcefully calmed down, the talk about the man in question being postponed for several days. And now, the time for it has come, hopefully with no unexpected visits this time.
Calca sat on her throne, with only her most trustworthy advisors and nobles nearby, surrounding a large round table that was brought in for the discussion. The two guests of honour took their seats so as to directly face Calca and the discussion began. "Start from the beginning. Where did he come from?" asked Calca.
"Well, um, your majesty, we don't actually know much about that. One day he just appeared at the guild, beat Gazef and Brain like children, and then went drinking." Lakyus began, "But he says he comes from the same world as the Gods, whatever that means. His base of operations seems to be a massive city somewhere underwater, called the Swimming City. The things there are an army that we could not hope to defeat!"
"What do we know about his power and those in that city?" inquired Kelart, her eyes closed as she processed the information given to her. An adversary such as this was different from the nobles she usually combated, in fact he was the opposite and that's what made him so deadly. Pyke didn't need to play by any established rules and instead could make his own.
"He says he can cast Tier 10, which we never knew existed, and Evileye confirmed this before she was turned. We also went on a quest from the adventurer's guild with him and he killed an old Demon God in a couple hits!" said Lakyus, cold sweat pouring down her forehead as she realised just what kind of a force she was trying to oppose.
"His councillors, as he calls them, are also at least on par with Demon Gods, although they say they're stronger than the Gods. You've met Lucius, who is in fact a minister, not a true fighter." she continued. Though the councillor's form was grotesque, none that saw what happened in the room that day could deny the power and horror that hid beneath that white and gold robe.
"Yea! One of the actual fighters, a little girl less than a third my height, threw me like a ragdoll!" interjected Gagaran. She hoped this kind of knowledge would dissuade them from what amounted to suicide. If a legend like her was a nobody in that city, what good could the army hope to do?
Remedios snarled, "We can still beat them, to think themselves equal to the Gods! Ha!" Her brain was most likely already overheating and the only part she truly got was the fact that she was going to fight someone.
Kelart looked at her sister with pity reserved for the ignorant, "Honoured sister, do you not realise that a minister took on everyone here with no trouble?" Remedios was always stubborn, but especially when it came to matters of her being defeated, as she had not tasted such a thing ever since the early years of her training.
"It must have been a fluke! Next time I see him I'll beat him!" she said, crossing her arms and straightening her back, prompting both Calca and Kelart to sigh deeply. It was an action born of both amusement and frustration. Remedios may have been an idiot, but she was their idiot.
"And what of his temperament?" the queen asked. This would be the deciding factor that would determine their behaviour towards the man and whether they should panic or not. A lunatic with overwhelming power would be no better than a mad Dragon Lord setting his eyes on their nation.
"He seems to hate nobility and royalty. Last time we were in the Re-Estize Kingdom he executed several nobles in court, your majesty." said Lakyus. This… was probably the worst case scenario for Kelart and second worst for Calac. 'At least he doesn't target my people…' she thought to herself.
"Additionally, our spies report that he forced the execution of Prince Barbro of Re-Estize for his dealing with the Eight Fingers." said Vice-Commander Gustav, speaking up for the first time during this meeting.
Calca put her hand up to her forehead, "That is grave news indeed, but didn't the emissary say they would still be open to business with us? Didn't he also say something along the lines of that Pyke looking favourably upon my rule? Perhaps we could yet make use of them…"
Lakyus' jaw fell wide open, "Your majesty can't be serious… Those are monsters! Exactly like the ones in the hills, worse even!" she cried out. What kind of spell had Lucius cast on the queen? Why did everyone keep falling for that monster's charms?!
"Lady Aindra, you are welcome to stay in my kingdom, but I will do what is required to keep my citizens safe. If it means I have to deal with such creatures then I will. We already do it with mermen, what would be so different here?" Calca said, trying her hardest to be stern and intimidating, failing miserably, but still getting the message across.
"Understood, your majesty." answered Lakyus, lowering her head as an apology, lest she lose it for disrespecting the queen. Lakyus and Gagaran were good, but she wasn't sure if they could break through both Remedios and Kelart, who were legends equal to their own, should the need arise.
"For now, Blue Rose, you are dismissed." she said, her voice leaving no room for disagreement. She may have been a kind and idealistic monarch, but she was a monarch nonetheless.
A slight bit of shock broke through Lakyus' noble mask, but this time she managed to keep her cool. She and Gagaran bowed and left the room. Calca then dismissed everyone but Kelart, Remedios and Gustav. Normally her brother would be here as well, but he was on business in the South.
"Kelart, do you have a [Message] scroll?" asked Calca.
Her aide responded in the affirmative, even though [Message] spells weren't trusted after a country who relied on them fell due to minor miscommunication, it was still customary for most high ranking bureaucrats to have one nearby. In this case, contacting someone who dwelled beneath the waves and seemed to be like a ghost would not be easy if attempted via conventional means.
"Try to contact this Pyke. Remedios, protect me if anything happens." she ordered, the feeling of anxiety already creeping in as cold sweat began to flow down her back; a preternatural chill seeming to permeate the air at the very invocation of the name.
Both Remedios and Gustav got into defensive positions in front of the throne as the scroll was burnt up and the message unleashed. Before Kelart could confirm or deny that the communication went through a blue hole in reality appeared and out stepped a man who oozed dread like a fire gave off heat.
"Calca Bessarez. What is it?" Pyke said, his deep voice chilling the bones everyone gathered, except for Remedios who was too dense to feel fear.
Calca gulped, "I-I'd like to make a deal…"
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"Magic you say?" asked Amal'Thazad. It was about what he expected and something that few could grant in this world and even fewer could learn. Even with everything Renner could try, this was one wish she would never be able to fulfil. Amal'Thazad on the other hand had various options at his disposal, but whether he would was still up in the air.
"Y-yes sir. I want to better protect my liege, but I'm not improving fast enough… I thought maybe I could learn to use holy magic." said Climb, "And sir, are you with Py-"
A frown appeared on Amal'Thazad's face.
"Sir Py-"
The frown lessened.
"Lord Pyke?"
The caster's expression returned to neutral, "I am and it is true I utilise holy magic." Amal'Thazad thought to himself, 'Perhaps I should teach this boy something. It'd be unfortunate were he to die and resurrection became impossible.' He silently cast an appraisal spell and realised something odd.
"You, boy, have little to no mana, remarkably little in fact, but your sense of justice is still higher than that of most of the priests I have met." He began circling the boy, looking over him like a vulture, "Perhaps this would do for an experiment. Could an energy generated from sheer sense of justice substitute for mana, such as it may with some paladins?"
Climb gulped as the man mumbled, "Experiment?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly.
Amal'Thazad ignored him and put his finger onto the boy's forehead and cast a spell, "[Angelic Aspect, Lesser]"
Agonising pain wracked Climb's body as the spell took effect. His skin tore and small wings sprouted from his back, his eyes took on a slightly white glow and the vague outline of a halo hovered above him. While the spell granted him temporary access to holy spells it didn't increase his overall mana capacity.
"W-what just happened?" Climb asked in between gasps. His lungs felt like they were on fire and the cool air did little to quell that sensation. He felt stronger now, not substantially so, but still by a noticeable margin.
"I temporarily turned you into a lesser angel. Attempt to cast a holy spell before I cancel the effect." answered Amal'Thazad.
Climb's head was spinning from all the information, but he tried to do as he was told, the knowledge of exactly how to do it already ingrained in his mind. He didn't question it, magic after all relied on breaking the rules that bound normal mortals. "[Light Healing]" Climb said.
Amal'Thazad waited, pen flying over paper as he noted down the slightest changes in the biology of the subject before him, only to be disappointed when the 1st Tier spell didn't even begin the process of manifesting. Closing his notebook he sighed, "A failure. It was unlikely and yet it still stings."
He cancelled the spell, prompting Climb to feel the same agony all over again, barely holding in his cries of pain. "Boy, there is nothing I can teach you about the arcane nor the holy. Stick to the barbaric ways of melee combat, for you lack the mana and talent required to pursue such noble things as the magical arts."
The mysterious caster dressed in white walked away, leaving Climb barely conscious from the pain and easy prey for bandits. Thankfully, the young lad was not attacked, making it back safely to the Princess, although the memories of pain from that day were oddly absent. This was courtesy of the memory manipulation spell Amal'Thazad cast after going invisible and following him, lest he tell the Princess of the pain he caused him and bring more trouble than it would be worth.
Next Amal'Thazad moved onto his actual destination, the magician's guild. It was guarded by crude golems that barely warranted a glance as he walked in. All eyes inside turned to him and two trains of thought appeared within the minds of everyone there. First, the man was a distinguished caster, judging by the way he dressed and how he carried himself. Second, he was the son of a noble merely playing at being one.
Whichever one it was, the receptionists each tried to get his attention, a caster such as this would most likely spend quite a sum and earn them a bonus. Magic scrolls and magical services in general, due to how scarce the people who could actually use magic were, were very expensive.
Amal'Thazad walked up to one of the counters where the receptionist was and, although his skin's pigment was significantly paler than a human's should be and distinctly unnatural, she still blushed crimson upon seeing his divinely given features. "Show me the list of available spells and scrolls." he said, his voice leaving no room for questioning.
"R-right away!" answered the receptionist, slightly flustered by how frigid the man acted. She took out a massive book, easily thousands of pages long, that was ornately decorated with gold trimming and bound in leather. The paper inside was of the highest quality, made using Tier 2 paper creation spells. It was pure white, with no blemishes or holes, as if it was just created.
Amal'Thazad began flipping through the tome with unnatural speed and quickly stopped as he looked upon a particular spell. The receptionist noticed this and began to describe it, "Oh, this one depends on how high a tier you can use, sir. We have some scrolls of it in a Tier 2 variant."
The man ignored her, instead pointing at the desk, "[Create Crystal]." It was a simple spell that could create low level crystals that would then be used in the construction of windows, mirrors and so on. Of course, there was no magic caster alive that could currently cast the spell on a level that would create gemstone on par with the jewellery worn by nobles, at least as far as humans knew.
And yet this is just what happened, a beautiful, clear crystal that shined with mystical light lay just in front of the receptionist. This already made the trip worthwhile for the caster, as he learned at least one spell. The existence of this tome made his job so much easier, as one of his classes allowed him to learn any spells that were transcribed and usable by him. The creation of such crystals would let him possibly create something akin to data crystals, letting him and Jericho make much more powerful enchantments.
He stared at the curiosity with slightly upturned lips, while a small crowd formed around him. "S-sir, what tier is that?" asked one of the receptionists that came to view the spectacle.
The sound of insects muttering around him was, as expected, ignored by Amal'Thazad as he crushed the crystal into dust and began flipping through the book once again. After absorbing all the knowledge and spells that were contained inside it he teleported away, leaving behind a stunned audience that quickly turned into a mob as they tried to gather as much dust from the crystal as possible.
His destination this time was a specific noble's mansion, given that in reality it belonged to no noble, instead being a front for one of the leaders of the Eight Fingers, Hilma Cygnaeus. It was a bit out of what would normally be considered the noble district, but it still wasn't far from the main square. Not soon after he teleported to the central plaza he was in front of the gates to the massive house, a vast garden in front of him.
According to the shadow demon assigned to her, she was currently taking a nap somewhere in the massive mansion. He walked up to the gate, only to be stopped by a well-built man, "Move it if you don't want your legs broken." he said. The aura of the man was of one accustomed to violence, which means he was probably a common thug nobody would miss.
Amal'Thazad pointed at the man and silently cast a Tier 7 spell, [Cleansing Light]. Before a scream could escape the man's throat he was already null and void, reduced to his base particles by the beam of light. The caster touched the gate, instantly freezing it over and shattering, making it seem as if it was snowing for just a brief second. He stepped forward and made his way towards the shadow demon's presence…
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"What is this animal doing here?!" yelled out Maximillian upon seeing an elf that wasn't in chains, a sack or an outfit fit only for whores. As much as the elf tried to look dignified he still flinched at the cardinal's words. Evidently the elf king wasn't kind to his nobles regardless of gender, a bruise on the elf's neck being barely visible beneath layers of makeup.
"Relax Maximilian." said Julius, making a placating gesture with his hands. "This one in particular represents their king. He says he will assist us with fending off the Ripper, under certain conditions…" The Pontifex pointed at the elf, allowing him to speak.
The elf cleared his throat several times, "My king demands hand over any female scripture members for… breeding purposes. Any strong females captured during conflicts with the so-called Ripper are to be given to him, for the aforementioned reason, as slaves. Additionally, you are to return his daughter to him for the same reason once she is captured." A bit of bile rose up to the elf's throat as he named the conditions and the same went for Raymond upon hearing the last bit.
"Is that all?" asked Ginedine, drumming his bony fingers on the table. The elf nodded in response and folded his hands behind his back. "Hm. I think we unanimously agree to these conditions. There isn't much we can do against the Ripper, what's a few scripture members and a half-breed?" The two other cardinals nodded, accepting that morals sometimes had to be superseded when the times called for it.
Raymond meanwhile was almost shaking with rage, which the others took as excitement towards the idea. Former Black Scripture or not, he had morals and believed that the Gods, whether dead or alive, would never stand for betraying his comrade. Still, he remained silent, not being stupid enough to actually reveal his position and get executed for treason by the Pontifex, who's eyes now burned with a fanatical fury that incinerated the logical man he once was.
"We can't go to war as we are though. We need time to rebuild. The Holocaust Scripture will withdraw, but consider this a defensive alliance. If your king decides to go after him, let him do so personally." said Raymond, hopefully buying himself enough time to actually find Zesshi and tell her of what the others were planning. His bond with the Gods may have been great, but this was the least he could do for an old comrade…
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The envoy he had sent out several days prior had returned and brought him the news he expected. The cardinals accepted his conditions and decided to be defensive for now. It was unsurprising given what he knew of this one. The memories from the old world were hazy at best, even when he initially found himself here, and now they were further covered by the sand of time. One thing however was still as crystal clear as the lake he looked upon.
He ruled his domain in the old world, often being challenged, the outcome being unclear. Yet one day, he came and humiliated him. It wasn't even close, he was outmatched and out-skilled, and eventually killed like a dog. The elf king crushed the golden goblet that was in his hand as the bitter memory resurfaced, the amber liquid inside splashing all over his immaculate green robes that left little to the imagination.
That didn't matter, the slaves he ruled over weren't useful for breeding strong children, but their tongues learnt to work quickly after the twentieth or so beating. He could have ruled the bloody continent by now if he wanted to! Who would stop him? The Dragon Lords? Ha! What a joke! But no. All he wanted was strong offspring, strong enough to challenge the Ripper when he inevitably came here and yet only disappointments grew out of his glorious seed.
"You shall yet see, Ripper. You shall see how the tables have turned…" he mumbled to himself, while overlooking the lake in front of him. He stood up, the barely clothed maids around him flinching as one. He made his way towards his bedchamber, hoping that this one would be worth something…
ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ
"A deal? With me? Ha! You must have lost your saintly ways, Bessarez." said Pyke, chuckling at the delicious irony, although it seemed as if he was the only one amused as Calca's aides all tensed up.
"Refer to her majesty properly, monster!" yelled out Remedios. Both Calca's and Gustav's eyes widened as Pyke suddenly appeared behind Remedios, his harpoon's jagged edge at her throat. His voice was like the most viscous of poisons and, for once, made the indomitable Remedios think over her next move, unless she wanted it to be her last.
"Watch yourself, commander, or should I say captain? Your time on the list will come." As if nothing happened, the atmosphere returned to normal and Pyke was once again where he stood before. "And you should address a king properly, captain. I demand respect from your dog Bessarez, unless you want me to put her at the top of my list."
Calca gulped, "No, I understand, please excuse her behaviour. Can we discuss our dealings now?" she asked, trying to get this over with as soon as possible, the very presence of this man unnerving her to no end. He felt unnatural, as undead typically did, but there was something worse under the surface, barely contained in the flesh he wore.
Pyke however dashed her hopes as he shook his head, "I come to your throne room when you ask me for a favour? And you used a spell, not a proper messenger? You have less tact than that Baharuth brat! If you want a favour, you come with me to my palace. Alone." He threw an invitation on her lap, lest she be crushed by the deep without it.
Before both of the Custodio sisters could object, Calca raised her hand and silenced them pre-emptively. Gears were turning in her mind, evaluating whether she should trust the man, monster, in front of her. "I will go, alone. I would do anything for my people and if that means I have to go with you then so be it." Her other thoughts went unspoken for now, 'If I want to come to an agreement I have to display a bit of trust.' Calca may have been no Jircniv or Renner, but she still was a queen granted royal education and with substantial political skill.
The Ripper widened the hole in reality and motioned for her to come through before disappearing into it. Calca stood up and walked up to the [Abyssal Gate] with short footsteps, as if to make her way there as slowly as possible. She looked upon the gate and clutched the invitation, briefly looking back at her trusted advisors, then she took a deep breath and stepped through.
There was an odd feeling, as if breaking the surface tension of the water, before she found herself in a marvellous office. The walls were dark blue, with a wallpaper displaying a subtle wave-like pattern. The floor was covered by a fluffy, blue carpet. In front of where she stood there was a beautiful, dark brown desk that was so smooth it reflected all the magically created light in the room.
On the desk many piles of documents were stacked high, a brown leather chair fit for none other than royalty was behind it. A banner hung on the back wall, displaying a harpoon, a single glowing eye behind it. She looked around for her host, finding him looking at a display cabinet full of crystalline bottles containing an amber liquid.
He picked one out and sat at the desk, pouring two glasses of it, "Sit." he said. Calca did as she was told, still in shock from the beauty of the office, which could only be described as divine. He handed her a glass and she took a small sip of the strange liquid, promptly coughing as it burnt through her throat. Pyke chuckled slightly, "Can't handle your liquor?"
Calca put the glass down, "Not this one, no." It was a bit strong for her taste, like most other spirits given that she didn't often partake, unless it was wine at a notable event. Still, she appreciated the gesture and it wasn't often one got to drink something as exotic as this.
"A drink can sharpen the mind." he said before downing what was in his glass in one go. "Tea?" he asked, surprising Calca with the fact that he actually took on the role of the host properly rather than trying to intimidate her further. The fact that he actually had tea was surprising, perhaps he was not too different from the others she had to deal with?
"If you'd be so kind." she answered. Pyke pulled on a nearby rope and a maid quickly appeared in the room, a tray with a teapot and various snacks already in hand. The little cakes looked phenomenal and an enticing aroma wafted towards her. She took a bite and indeed there were divine, practically melting in her mouth. It was sweet, it was creamy and it was easily worth a trade agreement of some sort to import it. 'His cooks and bakers must have God-given skills.'
"Thanks Tsuare." he said as the maid retreated after also refilling his glass with rum. She bowed slightly, a courtesy much more perfect than anything the maids in the Roble palace could replicate, before closing the door. It was evident from both her surroundings, the maid's pristine traditional uniform and the maid's mannerisms, Pyke or whoever else ran the city cared for vanity.
Calca gingerly took a sip of the tea before finding out it was on par, if not better, than what she could get at her own palace. One thing however was off, "A human? Here?" she asked. From the brief explanation given by Blue Rose she expected the only monsters to dwell here.
Pyke shrugged, "A slave I rescued from an Eight Finger brothel. She and a couple others decided to stay here. They're not fond of humans, not after what was done to them. Now, tell me what kind of deal you want to make."
As much as she wanted to inquire further about that tale it would not be wise to defy her host's wishes. The queen straightened her back and put on her most diplomatic smile, "I want an alliance."
Immediately Pyke began choking on the rum he was drinking, hitting himself in the chest multiple times, which was rather odd as he didn't need to breathe and thus couldn't choke; it seemed that some instincts still remained from his old body. "Don't think I heard you right. You want an alliance with me?" he asked after regaining control of his windpipe.
"Yes. In truth, the Abelion Hills still pose a threat and without the Theocracy we don't have much security should the worst happen. I presume you have the power to help, should something happen." she said. Her paladins were strong and the levy cycle made sure the wall was always manned, but demihumans could also be ridiculously strong. Most relied on their natural strength, but those who trained as humans did often became on par or better than orichalcum adventurers. Assistance from one such as Pyke would do much to ease Calca's anxiety.
Pyke slipped his hand into the void that was his inventory and took out a large mirror, a metre and a half long and a metre wide. "Let me show you something that'll change your mind." The mirror suddenly stopped displaying the reflection of the two leaders, instead showing the city Calca recognized as Kami Miyako. The square seemed to be completely empty, with the exception of two men in priestly garbs praying.
Where once she knew the statues and cathedrals to stand, now there was nothing but rubble. Nothing, but rubble and six severed heads. She clasped her hand on her chest in order to make sure her heart didn't jump out of it. "Impossible." she mumbled.
Pyke shook his head, "Possible. Very. I killed them. That's why the Theocracy is doing what they're doing. I promised to them I would destroy their holy texts and defile their holy ground. This all happened because they threatened people I saved, because your religion is an abomination. So, what'll it be, Holy Queen? Stay loyal to dead Gods and cut your people's line? Or will you stay true to your ideals?" he asked.
"May I… have some time to process this?" she asked, silently praying that this was only a test, a vision, something! Anything! Just not the truth.
"No." Pyke said, "Decide. The dead who never cared for you or your people? Choose"
Her heart was being pulled in two directions, first her devotion to the Gods, the ones she thought granted her her holy power, and the people she was sworn to protect. She picked up the glass of rum that was still in front of her and let the burning sensation engulf her throat. She closed her eyes as the grandfather clock in the room broke the silence, chiming as it became high noon.
She opened her eyes as it rang for the final time, "Fine. If the Gods really are dead then it just means my people don't have divine protection anymore. Godslayer or not, it is the duty of a monarch to protect their people!" she said, her voice hard as adamantite, filled with a scarletite conviction.
Pyke leaned back into his chair and put his legs on his desk, "Smart choice. You wouldn't 'ave walked out of here alive otherwise. However, I won't ally with you…"
"Why?! I have forsaken even the Gods making this choice, is it not enough for you?! And you still threaten me?!" she cried out.
He put a hand up, "Let me finish. I won't ally with you, but if the need arises you can send a messenger to E-Rantel. You trusted in your Gods for so long, now you should trust in their killer. Not to mention there is still slavery in the South of your kingdom... Consider yourself lucky you're leaving this place alive, not many like you do."
He opened the gate once more and motioned for her to go, "Remember this. I answer prayers, unlike those you knew before."
Before Calca stepped through Pyke left her with one last message, "Have faith." and then she stepped through, her emotions as mixed as her venture successful…
ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ
Hilma awoke from her nap slightly disorientated, a testament to just how refreshing a nap it was. She put on a bathrobe and was about to go downstairs to have someone make her dinner before the meeting, but she felt that something was wrong. It was… chilly. True, winter had officially started and the war with the Empire was most likely only a week or two away, but magical heating tended not to malfunction.
She looked around the dark room, spotting a strange figure that seemed to be sitting in the corner, but without any light in the room it seemed to only be a shadow. After rubbing her eyes it was still there, and another and another, yet the figure remained. How did they get past all her guards? That she didn't know, but it wasn't important right now.
Tapping one of the magical lamps nearby caused the room to be illuminated in a warm orange glow. The one who sat in the corner was a man that seemed to be unnaturally pale, dressed like a magic caster should be and all of it in white like a priest no less. Despite looking as if he was in his early thirties he was still handsome, unnaturally so, enough for Hilma to not have minded if he hired her services back when she was still a high-class prostitute.
However, just because she was a former prostitute didn't mean she lost her charms. Her body was still voluptuous, her long blonde hair still well-groomed and her purple lipstick was applied even while she was napping. Several possibilities ran through her mind, an incubus or a vampire, but either way he was a man first.
"Hello there~" she said with a sultry voice, trying her hardest to move towards the man in a seductive manner. The way she got close to him didn't matter, men tended to lose all higher brain function once their second head was awake. She pushed up against his chest, but his firm expression never faltered, betraying no emotion; his eyes sent a shiver down her spine, as if they were looking at speck of dust not a seductress. This however didn't matter, she activated her magical tattoos once she got close and immediately snakes that contained potent neurotoxin lept off her skin and attempted to strike at the man.
The moment she thought she had won and the snakes would pierce his skin, letting her rest easily, they froze over and an agonising pain overcame her senses. She looked upon her hands and realised they were frostbitten, the flesh already turning greenish-brown and dying. Before she could yell out for her guards the man forced his hand down her throat, made an icicle out of her tongue and shattered it; all she could do was let out pained moans.
Amal'Thazad sighed, 'Normally this would be Jericho's or Lillius' domain. Alas, whatever the situation dictates.' He took a sip from his canteen and waved his hand. Shackles of ice bound the woman to the wall. He ripped off the clothing and, caring not for the flesh of another, he focused on his task. For a moment he stood there, flipping through his spellbook and looking for spells that would not kill this woman, but traumatise her sufficiently. Sadly he didn't have any such spells, or skills like Lillith who was given them during her creation. He decided to improvise and use what he learnt from Jericho's rants.
He touched her abdomen and a thin layer of ice began to form as her skin froze over. It was as if a thousand or more icy knives stabbed into her at once and her vocal cords strained as she tried to cry out to no avail. Even if she did manage to find a way to scream it would not have mattered, everyone from the guards to the maids in this mansion was now dust or less.
Once Hilmas' first layer of the epidermis froze over everywhere below the neck, he lightly tapped it, bursting it with an awful crack. The nerves were already dead, letting her avoid that excruciating pain that would have come from it. Instead he began creating snow on her now sensitive and exposed new layer, sending wracking pain as the snowflakes landed upon her. After a while he repeated it and removed another layer, moving through the other layers of the skin as the woman progressively became more fleshless, her organs becoming slightly visible and her blood clung to her body in a slushy-like form as it condensed in the cold.
After he got past the dermis layer, he healed her once again and began the process anew. On and on and on and on for hours upon hours that felt like years or decades of eternal torture in that damned frozen hell. By the end of it she was little more than a broken marionette, only desiring a release from the endless pain, no matter the cost. Thankfully for her, Amal'Thazad had a use for her. Unfortunately for her, this process would have to continue until he was absolutely sure that all that remained was an empty shell of a human, her will erased.
When it was only half an hour to the scheduled meeting he dispelled her bonds. She dropped to her knees, the tears still frozen on her face. In her eyes was not a sign of resistance, resembling those of a zombie or perhaps the many girls in Eight Finger brothels. She looked up at him, expecting more torment, but silently begging the man in front of her to end her instead.
He pointed at her, "You will now obey the Swimming City and my lord, Pyke. Is that understood, insect?" Amal'Thazad was… quite pleased with himself. Despite not being too interested or skilled in torture he managed to break this one in a timely manner, even if his method might have been too humane for one such as Jericho.
For Hilma it all clicked into place in her broken mind, she wasn't a human, ever. She was always just an insect and a toy, meant for use by her eternal masters. Her dreams of humanity were silly and should have been long abandoned. She prostrated herself before her master, "Yes master, what would you wish of this insect?" she asked
"My master will be taking over the Eight Fingers and you, given you behave yourself, will be given control while the other division leaders are re-educated. Now put on some clothes and move, I prefer my time not be wasted…"
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The six bosses of the Eight Fingers and their executive leader were gathered around a round table in a mansion renovated from a former casino. They waited in silence for their last associate, Hilma Cygnaeus, to arrive. Some fidgeted with a blade, some sat in silence with their eyes closed and others were lighting up a pipe full of black dust. With the Blue Roses gone for a while it freed up space for Hilma's drug plantations that were being hit before. At this point she was by far the most influential of the bosses, especially given how uncooperative Prince Zanac had been during their coovert negotiations, the Eight Fingers receiving only the head of their messenger in return.
As a rule, they worked to maintain the most power for themselves and sabotaged one another, but meetings like these were special. This time they would talk about trying to get that Black Lagoon company that popped up in E-Rantel on their side. After killing one of their fellow leaders and a member of the prestigious Six Arms of the security division, Pyke was viewed as a threat, but perhaps if they controlled his company they could control him as well.
At least that was their thought process. Usually they would only be allowed to bring two guards with them, yet for this meeting they were allowed to bring their best. The most notable of the guards were those of Zero, the rest of the Six Arms. There was Erdström, a woman with dark skin and clad in silks, who masterfully utilised floating scimitars. Next was "Spatial Slash" Peshurian, a man in platemail that claimed he could cut space itself. Third came "Thousand Kills" Marmvist who wore clothing fit for a noble and used a poisoned rapier. Fourth was an elder lich who dubbed himself "Undead King" Davernoch and pursued a human teacher of the arcane. Last was Zero, a huge, bald man with many animalistic tattoos; a man of adamantite calibre.
The rest in comparison were weaklings. Right as they were getting impatient, the door to the meeting room opened and in shambled Hilma. Immediately the others could sense something was wrong with her. Her demeanour was usually one of a woman half out of her mind on drugs, but this time she looked meek and subservient, replacing the casual smugness that could usually be found on her face.
After her came a man dressed all in white and who seemed to be pale beyond compare. "Who is this?" asked Hiron, the executive. Hilma didn't answer, moving to her seat and remaining silent. The man looked at the room and waved his right hand, causing icy chains to wrap around everyone but Hilma.
"Who the fuck do you think you are?!" yelled Zero as he tried to break free of his bonds, to no avail. In response to the yelling of the people, the chains tightened on all the guards excluding the Six Arms, until the tightness caused them to burst into a shower of gore; the survivors' yelling was now replaced with the rattling of chains as they shivered from fear.. Not a drop touched the magic caster, who looked like a beacon of purity amidst the gruesome display.
The chains around Erdström suddenly disappeared and the man pointed at her, "Demonstrate your skills." Amal'Thazad chose this one in particular because, while he had information on all five living members, her ability to control several dozen floating scimitars required spatial awareness and mental processing speed far beyond what a human normally possessed.
In all honesty, she wanted to run, but the only way to the door was through the man. She activated the enchantments on her scimitars and they began to dance as if a swordsman was wielding them. She launched them at the magic caster, hoping that he would be skewered, but instead the blades seemed to pass through him. Everyone in the room could clearly see the blade pass through him, but even his clothing remained untouched.
"Intriguing. I wonder what your brain's structure is." In an instant he teleported in front of her and she was once again bound by icy chains, her ability to use her scimitars seemingly blocked off. He conjured a chair under her and strapped her in. From his inventory he took out the tools of a surgeon and began to precisely cut away at her scalp to expose her skull. As any human would, she began to yell and beg, resulting in having her mouth frozen shut.
Once he removed the skull and took a look at the brain he was thoroughly disappointed, "A talent perhaps, but you remain an equally inferior specimen." He hit her head with his icicle-like staff, making it explode like a melon hit with a warhammer. Any blood that got onto him quickly disappeared as a holy aura cleansed it in an instant.
The next one to be released was Peshurian and he was presented with the same challenge. His hopes of victory were null, but perhaps he could at least prove to himself that he was worthy as a warrior. On the opposite side, Amal'Thazad was actually prepared with silently cast and delayed spells, as [World Break] was a powerful ability that could only be used by World Champions. However he let this experiment go through, purely to see if an insect truly could use such a powerful ability.
Once again however reality didn't match his whims as the man's attack was simply an odd blade that was segmented and could act like a whip, giving the illusion that he cut space to those who couldn't perceive its quick movement. Amal'Thazad caught it in his hand, "Useless. [Reality Slash]." He responded with the real deal, a Tier 10 spell that actually cut reality and was the single most damaging spell in its tier. Before Peshurian could process that the fabric of spacetime was being torn apart in front of him he was already dead, two half of his vertically bisected body falling to the ground with a thud and clank.
"The rest of you are useless." A look of terror and denial crossed the faces of the Six Arms for the brief second before the chains tightened and their insides were splattered all over the floor. A tear in reality opened up behind him and the shadow demons emerged from behind their targets. "Bring them to my lab for re-education." Kicking and screaming the remaining members of the Eight Fingers were dragged to Amal'Thazad's laboratory from which they would never emerge the same.
His gaze fell upon Hilma, "Do not disappoint me."
He turned and left her in that dark room that smelt like blood and death, but for her it was bliss. Soon the others would see the truth, that they too were mere insects in front of their Gods and soon she got to work purging any potential dissenters, deeming them unworthy of such a glorious baptism…
ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ
The sound of Gazef's door being kicked sent him running downstairs, sword in hand. Who would be so presumptuous as to break into the home of the best swordsman in the kingdom? The Theocracy's scripture? The Eight Fingers? Some assassin from Baharuth? Perhaps a hungry heteromorph?
What he found there was none of these things. Instead, it was his friend, saviour and the greatest monster alive, Pyke. In his left hand was a bottle of some really fancy wine, while in the other he seemed to have a basket full of wonderfully smelling foods. "Oi Gazzy!" he called out, "Been a while! Thought I'd drop by and drink something from my own collection."
He should have been annoyed and, in truth, was, but that wine did look good and a late night snack did hit the spot so… Soon they were laughing and catching up on things ever since Pyke moved out from the capital. Of course, given that it was Pyke he was talking to, the tales were outrageous and probably all too real. "So you're telling me you quit being an adventurer because you killed the Gods?" he asked.
"Can you blame me? Those Theocracy fuckers tried to wipe out Carne, again." he finished off his glass of wine and suddenly his eyes took on a much more serious glint, "Listen Gazef. You may be a captain, but you're off the list, a friend even, so you should know. Where I go tough times follow. Be ready for what's to come."
Gazef was about to barrage him with more questions, but Pyke was quicker on the draw. He stood up, "Have a goodnight, captain." A second later, where once stood a man now was nought but mist.
The captain sighed to himself, "Well, at least he left the wine. Still, I wish he actually explained what he meant sometimes." Unbeknownst to Gazef he would learn soon, as a monster in human form was busy executing a plot within her castle walls. Soon the tide would recede and all would know the name of the Bloodharbor Ripper…
(AN: This is basically a continuation of the last AN since I'm writing them a minute apart so... Idk go read [Prosperous Hand of Ainz] by BigBenEco or smth. Anyway, I need to get back to writing Volume 3 of this so stop distracting me with your charms! As always, more to come and I hope you've enjoyed the story!)