[Chapter 4: The Harvest]
World Enemies. If there was one word to describe them it would be "overwhelming." The devs, shitty as they were, still decided to have raids in the game, as MMOs should. However among raid bosses was the apex of the monstrosities YGGDRASIL had to offer. Where they fair? No. Did the players like them? Yes. The only reason they were liked was because of the sweet loot they could drop and because most of them granted a World Item to the first person or group that killed them.
Still there was however a glaring issue, making the boss fights engaging. There were few World Enemies in the game, less than fifty including all the secret ones no one knew about. Given how few in number they were, the developers decided to focus on one aspect especially heavily, that being the spectacle of it all! What would distinguish the Devourer of the Nine Worlds from every other serpent or dragon-like boss? What could make the Celestial Lord of the Sixth Heavens any different from a simple dungeon boss?
It was the flare of it all. The magic raging against the fabrics of reality, threatening to tear it asunder; dazzling movements of the sword that threatened to slay armies with a glancing blow! This was all of course present in Pyke's most important abilities. Yet there was an aspect missing… Players had a knack for exploiting every detail of the game, which the developers often dismissed as a happy little accident and an unintended feature. But could they really allow that for their masterpieces? No. No way.
Besides the utterly brutal difficulty and requirement of 36 players to defeat, the arena was meticulously crafted to make sure no opportunities to exploit the terrain appeared. One madman seemed to take this a step further… Why not transfer the spectacle to the arena as well? Indeed, most often to avoid any unseen exploits that even the devs may have overlooked, most, if not all, World Enemies were given abilities that forced the players to move to different arenas throughout the fights, each of them equally impressive.
These, in the style of the shittiest developers Japan had the pleasure to produce, were utterly game defining. The Devourer of the Nine Worlds, the NPC World Enemy challenged the most by the players, would destroy an entire world and if any players didn't take a nearby portal to another world then they would be instantly killed. The Lords of the Seven Deadly Sins would invoke the power of one of their realms if players stayed in one for too long, with effects being different depending on which sin's representative layer they were, but they were all extremely devastating.
Most of these abilities were disliked by the players given how brutal the timings on them were and how they could end any attempt in an instant. However there was one that was despised beyond all others, one that was exploited by the boss itself, a World Enemy none have ever beat despite challenging them a ludicrous amount of times.
That ability of course belonged to the only player-controlled World Enemy, Pyke. Initially the devs hesitated to make him such a being, but his use of World Items and the sheer amount of pain he could inflict upon the players in their name forced their hand. They granted him an ability that required specific items to be used, taking them from his inventory and using them as catalysts. Unfortunately for them, the crafting recipe, while difficult, was not impossible.
They simply underestimated how efficient he was and how much time he spent hunting for the materials, which required drops from other World Enemies. Of course, that wasn't the only thing they underestimated, the fear and pain he embodied to the community was so great that some guilds even offered World Items as offerings, as if praying for mercy, which they basically were. Since World Items were also game breaking… Well, he duplicated the item required for the skill many, many times and filled up an entire part of his royal treasury with it. Even if he were to cast it every time it was available at max capacity he would be able to do so for decades.
And now he was going to unleash it in this New World. It was nothing personal against the enemies, never was in his previous life either. It's just business. The moment his opponents stepped on the battlefield they agreed to give away their lives, not it would have mattered if they didn't agree. However first there was a show of force to be done.
He looked behind him, seeing that his councillors, his Great Beasts and Zesshi all were there. His… friends he supposed he could call them, in the form of Gazef and Brain were here as well. The battlefield was no place for nobles and monarchs, thus Renner and Raeven were stationed safely in the command tent, surrounded by the trusted Royal Select.
The odd one out was a boy in mithril armour that at best could match a single knight of the empire, perhaps two if his opponents were particularly weak. Pyke could almost admire the determination on the boy's face, if he didn't know who he served. 'Renner's a devil and this lad has been charmed. Naïve. Wouldn't have lasted a week in the First World.'
Looking further to his right he found Jericho and Amal'Thazad, one standing proudly with a charming grin, the other with a neutral expression that betrayed no hint of any emotion. "Summon them." Pyke simply commanded.
Jericho's grin widened, "With pleasure, father." He flipped his grimoire open with a dramatic motion and sent out a message to the overlord's back home to dispatch his divisions.
Amal'Thazad nodded, "Right away, lord-father." With no need for his holy book he simply put two fingers to his temple and signalled the overlords that it was time for the show to begin.
Three [Abyssal Gates] appeared behind the group, blocking the Re-Estize army from sight. From the first came infernal creatures in orderly rows, seeming to make the very area around them vile from their mere auras. At the front stood figures covered in armour from head to toe, perhaps it was once a different colour, but the soot had long covered it. In their hands were jagged swords and kite shields. Their name was rather simple, being merely called shield devils and being a more offensive version of death knights that was available to demonologists, and they were only around level 30.
Compared to necromancy, which possessed a variety of options, most of the demonic summons were focused on offence, such as the ones who constituted the bulk of the army. The next few rows were made up of succubi and incubi in the forms of beautiful humans. They were put in specific rows depending on what kind of weaponry they preferred, whether it be a spiked whip, jagged daggers or something else entirely. Their levels didn't exceed the 45th.
At the end stood a line of robed figures. Their bodies seemed frail and their hands consisted of bloody claws. They seemed to possess no skin and bug-like faces. These were hellish scholars, magic casters that once upon a time sold their souls for magical knowledge or power and were slowly twisted by forces they didn't understand. Their level was on average around 40. A variety of types was summoned, but what they had in common was phenomenal destructive potential.
In the back, on a fiery steed, rode a man with rather handsome features, able to compete with the incubi and surpassing most of them. He wore beautiful, scarlet robes and didn't seem like a front liner. In his left hand was the banner of the Swimming City, while in his right was a beautiful sceptre, a ruby at its apex. "Choronzon, demon of dispersion and guardian of the abyss, reporting for duty!" he called out, flashing a bright smile towards Pyke and then Jericho.
He was a decent, unique demon, only of the seventieth level or so. The stronger a demon generally was, the more volatile it would be. Even the self-proclaimed kings of hell cowered before them, thus they were much too destructive to bring here. However just this small battalion of a few thousand demons would be enough to destroy the entire empire and they surely would if Pyke gave the order.
From the middle gate came beings of a much more simple nature, undead. Rows of death knights, soul eaters and elder liches emerged. Behind them was Thanatos, who accepted his role as commander of the detachment even if it was entirely symbolic for this battle. Given the utility of these undead they were rather uniform and summoned en masse. Demons after all could complain about being forced to guard humans, but undead would not do so even if they hated the living. "Vice-commander Grim Reaper Thanatos, reporting for duty." announced the monster, his raspy voice carrying across the territory that favoured his kind.
The angels that exited the third gate seemed to brighten up the world and pushed the mist even further away from the area of battle. Some of them eyed the demons with hatred, the demons merely smugly smiling in response. First came simple foot soldiers, the angelic guard, of around level thirty or so. They had silver armour lined with gold and two glowing wings. Unlike the ones conventionally summoned in this world, these were plucked directly from the one of the heavenly realms by Amal'Thazad and fully sentient.
Positioned in the centre were angels possessing four wings. As most angels did, they possessed beautiful human features and white robes. Angels focused more on defence and had a variety of caster summons. These were the principalities of judgement, level forty or so casters with good healing abilities. Like the rest of the angels, they were fully sentient.
Some angels however were far removed from the humanoid form. Multiple rings with eyes span around a single glowing core. In Pyke's old world these would be the thrones, but those were typically keepers of knowledge, these on the other hand had a much more offensive role. After all, why would God use his own power to smite mortals when he could have the heavenly equivalent of artillery do it for him? These were the level 60 angels called purifiers. Their attacks had ridiculous range, but lacked a bit of the area of effect that other level 60 angels would possess.
At the back was a figure familiar to Amal'Thazad, perhaps a bit too much. It was the Aerosphere angel that was initially summoned by Jericho and then re-summoned by his twin. Her level was well in the 80s, making her the second highest level commander, after Thanatos. Six wings appeared from her back, making Pyke swear they were so bright they could blind him from several dozen metres away. "Servant of Lord Amal'Thazad and Lord Pyke, Seraph Aerosphere Anael." she called out, her voice sonorous and possibly the only reason the Re-Estize soldiers didn't break and rout when the gates receded.
The chattering of teeth and shaking of armour could probably be heard in the enemies camp. However despite their superior discipline, the imperial army still failed to entirely suppress their instincts and the legions seemed to shake in unison. The odds looked like this, the strongest of the Swimming City, 5000 demons, 5000 undead, 5000 angels and 90000 Re-Estize peasants versus 70000 legionnaires. Needless to say, the outcome was decided long ago.
"L-Lord Fluder, what are those creatures?" asked Carvain, standing next to the prolific magic caster.
Fluder stroked his magnificent beard that had regained some of its lost shine since his last visit to the Swimming City, "I do not know. The undead are mostly soul eaters, death knights and elder liches. As for the angels and demons… I do not recognize them."
"Soul eaters?! Death knights?! Elder liches?! That many?!" cried out Carvain, to which Fluder only nodded. The general grabbed the horn from his belt, "We need to signal a retreat immediately. This is not a fight we should have started! What even overcame us!?"
But as he put the horn to his lips, a grand mix of runes and arcane symbols erupted into the sky, a spectacle so beautiful it distracted him from the doom it spelled…
ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ
Despite it being a skill it took the form of a Super Tier spell, the magic circle expanding around Pyke and bursting with the sound of glass shattering after a few dozen seconds. Both his enemies and allies were mesmerised by the spectacle, leading them to ignore the danger it posed.
The demons looked on with glee at the destruction that was to befall the humans.
The undead looked at it with soulless eyes, simply analysing the situation.
The angels looked at the miracle of God and soon realised what would happen to the heavenly realms that didn't kneel.
It activated and Pyke cried out its simple name, "[All Aboard]!" Twenty metres off of the ground the outline of a gate began to appear. It was huge, several hundred metres long and tall, floating off the ground as if the laws of this world didn't apply to it. Soon it appeared in full, casting an ominous shadow over much of the land.
Its border was made of old driftwood, cracked, some areas of it were covered in barnacles and seaweed. The centre of it all had bronze engravings, displaying the harpoon of Pyke. An aura of dread spread from it and even the dead lands of the Katze Plains seemed to shrivel under it.
Something pounded on it from the inside. Once! Twice! The sound reverberated throughout the battlefield, shaking the very earth on which they all stood. Those unfamiliar with the spell looked upon it in fear and awe. The third time the gate was hit it flung open, pale tentacles struggling to keep it open from the inside as the hinges of it creaked. Soon Pyke felt the items in his inventory be consumed and the spell began its true purpose.
Instead of an eldritch monster that left it, it instead was a ghostly apparition. Yet the apparition wasn't of a singular being, no. What left the gate was a ship. It looked rundown and destroyed, as if a massive creature had rammed it numerous times and tried to rip it apart. It flew above the ground, sailing through the air. At its head was the depiction of a jaullfish. Jaullfish were perhaps the deadliest beasts of the sea in YGGDRASIL, only killable by jumping into their maws and killing them from the inside. They were massive beasts with dozens of rows of teeth and bodies that could rival entire castles in size. There was only one player who specialised in hunting them… Pyke; and this was his ship, the Terror.
It glowed a pale blue light and on its sides were stationed cannons and harpoon guns. Into view came skeletal and abominable forms, performing functions you would typically expect of sailors, adjusting sails, preparing cannons and so on. Once it seemed everything was ready a single figure stood at the plank. From the waist down he possessed tentacles of a greenish-blue coloration, spreading out and lifting him up; his silhouette would have looked as if he was wearing a dress that constantly moved and shifted.
His top half looked much more humanoid, wearing a worn down and ripped leather jacket that evidently had seen better days. His chest was exposed, alongside his bones and organs as pieces of his flesh were missing here and there. Despite possessing humanoid arms and hands there was an odd factor about them. The rusted cutlass he wielded in his right hand and the old flintlock pistol in his left seemed to be merged with his hands by a mixture of overgrown bone and twisted flesh.
Hair like seaweed decorated his head and his chin in the form of hair and a beard, which were both equally disgusting and unkempt. A bullet hole ran through his cheek, exposing his mouth which was filled with rotted teeth. His face was discoloured like a drowned man's and his four, grey eyes, like a corpse's, seemed to stare at the legions with a mix of anticipation and glee. "By the name of Davy Jones, get them in my locker!" he called out, a sound that seemed to be more like a gurgle than a proper utterance.
The legend of the Davy Jones' locker was a popular tale of sailors since times immemorial and what better place would there be for the locker than the inventory of YGGDRASIL's finest? 49 more ships exited the gate and began to circle the legions who were paralyzed with fear or enamoured by the display of power. See, the idea for this spell was to only summon a few ships, the maximum capacity being fifty but the items being too expensive to actually do that. However with Pyke's crafting efforts the armada of his oldest life could be summoned.
Much of the Ripper's power concentrated around souls and their acquisition, such as his harpoon, and this skill was very similar, sending out his fleet to collect the souls of all those unwise enough to stay in the designated area. It's damage was terrific, being able to shred through even World Enemies.
And the bombardment would not stop until every last enemy in the area had their souls reeled in by the crew.
The ships resounded with maniacal laughter as the sailors fated to serve on them for eternity relished in the thought of sending more from whence they came. They loaded cannons, aimed harpoons and pointed their weapons. As sense began to return to Carvain and he was about to sound a retreat, the order that sealed his and his army's life was shouted, "Fire at will!"
Thunder, what humans may have at once considered the will of God, seemed like a small spark compared to the destruction that unfolded before them. Canon balls filled to the brim with magical energy impacted the ground and exploded with the force of devilry. The land became unrecognisable within seconds; where once was wilted grass now there was molten rock and the ashes of those who once were human.
Not even paste remained of the legions, the blood evaporating within seconds and the bones becoming dust and ashes upon impact. Molten metal flew in all directions and mixed in with the magma that now covered the land. The ground shook and it seemed as if the walls of E-Rantel in the distance were about to collapse. Fluder, who was forcibly teleported out of the area of bombardment by Jericho, watched with awe, crying as he saw the apex of magic and the true depths of its abyss.
The armies behind the main group covered their eyes as the bright flashes followed by explosions of godlike magnitude scoured the battlefield for more prey. Every shot resulted in a cloud of fire rising to seemingly reach the heavens, as if hell itself could not contain them. Shockwaves hit the main group, Brain, Gazef and Climb only being able to witness it thanks to the protective wards made by the casters of the group; however even their psyches were being strained by the experience.
Every moment the crews weren't firing their cannons they instead were aiming their wretched pistols and rifles at the legionaries whose bodies still retained signs of life. Each shot pierced through their vitals and eviscerated half their body with it. Brains and flesh splattered across their comrades before being evaporated by the incoming artillery.
Soon the bombardment stopped. A spectacle that lasted only twenty or so seconds had felt like an eternity and only Pyke's army and the main group remained unaffected. The mortals, excluding Zesshi, gasped for breath as they realised the show had ended. Despite the massacre, perhaps it could have been called a mercy killing. There was no room for terror or pain in the explosion, only the unavoidable end.
Pyke raised his right hand and made fist, remedying the lack of fear. Where once stood the legionaries there now was a wasteland, but above that wasteland floated light blue figures. Some looked pristine and pure, others resembled monsters and heteromorphs rather than humans. "A-are those…?" Gazef gasped, still struggling for breath.
"Yes. Yes they are." answered Pyke. Soon however the shocked faces of the freed souls became terror as thousands of spirits cried out in pain and out of terror. Yet the battle was not over so simply, for why waste such a wonderful source of energy as souls? They may not have been strong, but perhaps they were equivalent to 100000 souls of level 1 creatures? Perhaps more? Perhaps less? Either way, Pyke was not one to waste resources and this was no different.
Harpoons shot out from the ships, piercing hundreds of spirits as they ran through their incorporeal forms. The chains moved like snakes lashing out at their prey, jumping from one soul to another, until no more chain was left and it was forced to bring back its catch aboard.
To have one's soul wounded was to feel pain the likes of which even the devil shuddered from, as your very essence was damaged and the feeling reverberated through every fragment of your existence. Typically souls immediately left the body and went to another plain, whether to reincarnate or be judged, but none could escape the Terror and its armada, thus they were bound to this plain as long as the spell persisted.
The crews laughed and sang merry tunes as they competed with each other to see who could catch the most to bring home.
"From the depths we came to repay our shame!
For his demise were we to blame!
We cut his line and now we serve for all time!
They beg for mercy and so did we,
But no end can we foresee!
Oh what fools we were to mess with the Ripper!
Who knew he'd be so bitter?!
From the dead he once came!
Oh how brutally did he maim!
He was spat out from the abyss!
Upon his return his harpoon did not miss!
Oh what fools we were to mess with the Ripper!
Who knew that in the face of death he'd just snicker?!
Our one respite is to take your lives!
And make sure no one survives!
You landlubbers better say your goodbyes!
To Davy Jones' locker we go, all aboard!
For there is no stopping our mighty horde!"
They sung this merry tune as they tossed soul after soul into the seemingly bottomless bottom decks of the ships. Death would be no solace in this cursed place and the souls of the once proud soldiers cried out as they met their destiny. The brutal and almost mechanical efficiency of the crews however soon brought an eerie silence to the battlefield. With their job done the ships returned to their gate, which slammed behind them like the thunderous clap of an angry giant.
What remained was an utterly ruined landscape where not a shred of life was left. It was a smouldering ruin of a place that already wasn't a suitable habitat for the living. Smoke rose from the massive craters as the molten rock cooled and no wind blew, seemingly even the elements avoided this monster-made hell. Perhaps if Gods did indeed overlook this massacre then they were as stunned as those who witnessed it. However not all those who viewed it were cordially invited to the show…
ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ
Elves made good scouts. That was a statement most would confirm, even those in the Theocracy, albeit with some reluctance. Their eyesight was sharper than a human's. Their hearing was superior to a human's. Not to mention that their natural acumen with the bow was often higher.
Talents were an interesting concept in the New World. There existed those who possessed talents that made them great warriors, artisans or even traders. No country would not use such precious resources and even the Elf King, as poor a monarch as he was, had to conform to that norm. His children possessed a particularly high chance to have a talent and he always sought any sort of strength in his offspring. That strength was not enough still and he needed a way to acquire more strong females to achieve his goal.
Thus the order of elven assassins was created. They responded to nobody but the king and were mostly his offspring with unique concealment talents. Of course they still weren't loyal to him, hardly anybody in the Elven Kingdom was, but life wasn't something they would just throw away and so they had to obey him. Typically their tasks consisted of kidnapping or searching for strong women. Some targets, such as the notorious Blue Rose, were highly sought after, but even the strongest of their agents were only mithril or orichalcum.
This time Illygoden was the one to be given a task. It was an… odd one. The most combat any of the assassins ever undertook was an occasional fight with a scripture member, but other than that they left the human realms alone if no strong women were known to be there. A battlefield is usually a good place to find such specimens, but wars between humans rarely involved worthwhile females. To be tasked to observe a war was a weird request, but hardly an unwelcome one.
The horrid actions of the assassins often weighed on their minds, to doom women to the same fate their matters suffered. Illygoden was no different and so he, for once, set out on his mission with a smile. Perhaps he could even partake of the local cuisine? Elves were, after all, able to move freely through Re-Estize and E-Rantel was near the place he was supposed to be.
It was quite a ways away, but his talent, which decreased the amount of sleep needed to less than an hour and made blending in at night much easier, made the trip much more tolerable. He sped through the wooded areas of the Theocracy before stealing a horse and making it to E-Rantel in less than a week.
Now the time of battle had come and he was comfortably positioned several hundred metres away, observing the area with a magic item given to him by the elven king. It was a long tube with glass on each end that let him see very far. One side of the war didn't look very impressive and his bets were on the guys in full plate. Frankly, he didn't see a reason to be here. The stand off felt odd, but it was still just human men killing human men.
He rubbed his chin where something vaguely resembling a beard was taking shape, since bothering to steal a razor in enemy territory was the height of stupidity. Something was off about this situation. In front stood a group of people, several of which caused chills to run down his spine. It even seemed like the small elven one looked directly at him and waved! It must have been a fluke… He took a deep breath as per his training and focused on the scene once more.
The group seemed to consist of both humans and elves. "Wait a second!" he called out to himself, "Isn't that the king's fucking daughter!?" Indeed, there was one elven female that the king would just not shut up about! Supposedly the entire assassin order would not be able to take her on in a fight and her defining trait was her black and white heterochromatic appearance. For years they tried to find her and it was all for nought… Until he came to this random human battle!
The two dressed as casters seemed to do something and out of a weird magical portal stepped out an army that could very well have come out of the pages of a heroic epic or terrifying horror. Demons, undead and angels observed the enemy army with the calmness of one looking at insects. "What the hell?!" he called out to himself as he stuffed another fresh bun into his mouth, "Shouldn't those things be killing each other?!" After ruffling in his bag for a bit he pulled out a bottle of wine and took a sip straight out of it. Hey, it was his assignment and he would be the one to dictate how it should be done.
He let out a satisfied sigh, good vintage, especially for humans. Who knew that Black Lagoon office would have wine in addition to whatever else they offered? Man was he glad he stopped by there on his first day in E-Rantel. He shook his head once more and slapped himself across the cheek, "Back to work! Although… If they can control that maybe they could take him?"
The three divisions consisted of legendary monsters, but the Elf King was a monster beyond such a menial term as "legendary." He shook his head once more, "No way." However his mind would soon be changed as the human with dark skin unleashed magic beyond mortal comprehension.
As expected of such magic the experience was intense, very intense. He had to stop using the magic item to observe the area or his retinas would have been burnt into a crisp that resembled the imperial soldiers. Illygoden saw his king fight in the past and at that time he felt like an unstoppable force, an immovable mountain or even a God. However after watching this? It felt as if he found his place in the world and that was as far away from the guy who can cast this spell as possible; or as close if he managed to get on friendly terms.
Once the show was over and the frightening view of the harvest of souls ended, the ground shaking one last time as the gate closed, he finally took a deep breath. No amount of training could have prepared him for that. Still, perhaps there was a silver lining for it? Perhaps for the first time in his long life did he see a light on the horizon for the elven people. He nodded to himself, "He can do it." With those words he set back out to E-Rantel. It seems that this mission would include diplomacy as well…
ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ
Raymond should have been dust by now and would have been if not for the fact that Pyke saw killing the Re-Estize army via simply the shockwaves as a ridiculous mistake to make and made his councillors put up a magical barrier to protect them, a barrier that luckily enough included Raymond and Haila.
If the cardinal ever needed a reminder that he was dealing with a creature that could kill the Gods as if they were mere humans fighting against a Dragon Lord then here it was. Apocalyptic fire rained down from the heavens as if the punishment of the divine was to wipe out humanity. Even in death did the imperials not find solace as soon they were captured and dragged to Gods know where the hell the fleet came from.
As he averted his eyes from the overwhelming explosions he gazed upon Zesshi. Her awed expression was similar to the others from the mortal plane that watched the massacre, but in her eyes he saw something different. Satisfaction. Pride. For years she protected humanity and upon witnessing the largest and most unholy slaughter of all she looked upon it with the maniacal glee of a fanatic.
Was he wrong about her? Were the elves and half-elves like her monsters after all? He felt a tug on his coat and remembered that Haila was clutching on to him for dear life, too afraid to even look in the direction of the battle. No, he definitely wasn't wrong, Zesshi was just being herself. Soon enough the slaughter ended, albeit Raymond wouldn't have been surprised to learn that time was actually slowed down to prolong the slaughter. At this point anything was possible.
The ripper sighed, seemingly satisfied with the destruction he brought upon the land. For a second the monster curiously eyed his arm, creating a fist and tensing it slightly. The action was so brief that one could dismiss it as a daydream or something created by the recently acquired trauma, but the action didn't escape Raymond's keen eye and he did not have a good feeling about,
Finally the cohort turned to him and Haila, sending Gazef and a blonde boy away, presumably to inform the Queen of how the battle turned out and most likely to also assist those soldiers who couldn't manage the despair and passed out. Zesshi's eyes widened upon seeing him, but Pyke was quicker on the draw, "Cardinal of Earth, Raymond Zarg Lauransan. Came to beg for mercy?" The weapons of everyone besides Zesshi were drawn in an instant, but their stances were relaxed.
Pyke suddenly frowned, which caused Raymond's heart to skip a beat, "And to bring a slave with you? Not a wise decision." The pressure grew, but the cardinal spoke up before it could crush him. Everyone in front of him looked as if they were ready to unleash the armada once more and so he had to choose his words carefully. However, sometimes the right words are simply the truth.
He looked at the stunned girl, who just learned her treasured saviour should have been her worst enemy, and spoke up with a hint of pride in his voice, "She is not my slave, she's my companion. She ran from Kami Miyako and stumbled upon me. I've escorted her ever since. You can consider me an apostate by my colleagues' standards."
The ripper chuckled, "Good one." He nodded towards the cardinal and blade flashed in front of him, stopping inches away from his neck. The reason for his head still being attached to his body was the elven girl that now was in front of him.
"He's telling the truth! He saved me! I won't let you kill him!" If any man was to look at this scene they would laugh. A former zealot being defended from a godslayer by a girl. The man in the trench coat pulled back his blade and was about to swing again, until Pyke put a hand on his shoulder and looked towards a beauty in a long, sky-blue dress.
"Lillith, are they lying?" The temptress squinted slightly and then let out a deep sigh that was so charming it would make thousands of men beg her to let them help with whatever problem she had, "Unfortunately not father. It seems one of the cardinals had some semblance of intelligence."
Before the conversation could continue Zesshi launched forward and slapped the cardinal, startling Haila and causing her to jump away. Presuming the man's jaw was broken, if not entirely obliterated, Amal'Thazad took the initiative and silently healed the man. "Raymond you dumbass! What the hell are you doing here!? Who is she?! Why did you lie to me for so long?! Oh I swear when fath-, I mean, Pyke, lets me go to the Theocracy! Oh the things I will do!"
Her verbal stampede would have continued, but a few words from the redheaded youth standing next to Pyke shut her down with trivial ease, "Zesshi, relax. This one used to be nice to you, right? Let him talk, maybe he did actually have a change of heart." Zesshi, to Raymond's utter disbelief, actually pouted and silently crossed her arms, sending an accusatory glare in his direction.
Pyke nodded towards him, "Speak or I'll let Zesshi have you." The cardinal didn't need more encouragement. This situation, as expected, was rather volatile.
Raymond sighed, finally being able to get a word in, "I told you how Haila became my companion, as for my reason to be here… I wanted to tell Zesshi about the plans of the others." Pyke raised an eyebrow and nodded at him, prompting him to continue, "They want to ally with the Elf King. The condition is… that they'll give you to him."
A malevolent force exploded in front of him, forcing him to his knees and Haila flat on her stomach. In an instant however it was dispelled as a small girl with long, blue hair, seemingly unaffected by the bloodlust coming from Zesshi, walked up and hugged her. The pressure subsided and Zesshi stroked the girl's hair, causing her to giggle.
"And why are you telling us this?" Pyke asked. Such plans didn't matter to him as he would have learned of them one way or another, but it was still out of character for a cardinal to betray his country on a whim.
"I served in the Black, with Zesshi. I couldn't just let them sell out my comrade, now could I? And… I've had a change of heart. The Gods, for better or for worse, are dead." He glanced at Haila, "Some beliefs can die with them."
"Ha! Haha! Hahahahaha!" Pyke laughed, long and hard, making the cardinal look at him with confusion written all over his face. It seemed that the souls of the recently departed laughed with him, creating a symphony that one could only describe as "unholy." Raymond wasn't sure how to take this reaction and cast a silent prayer to the Gods… Just in case. "To think that a cardinal, a slaver and a killer, would have more decency than my crew! Hahahahahaha! Fine! Fine! What is it you want then? You've betrayed your country, so what now?"
Raymond thought for a second and spoke up, "You'll be king now, correct? The message has reached all the nearby countries already and I presume it's true?." Pyke nodded. "Then war is unavoidable between our countries and I can't reform it from the inside…" He sighed, coming to an unfortunate but realistic conclusion, "In that case all I can hope for is that you'll be a just ruler for my people."
"Giving up already? Smart choice. I presume you'll be our man on the inside?" Pyke asked. The war with the Theocracy probably wouldn't come soon, but having an inside agent that can actually make changes within the country would be quite a boon, even if doppelgangers could do the same thing.
"Do I have any other choice? It seems like they've all gone mad! Yvon! Berenice! Julius especially!" Raymond called out. Cardinals were never known for their rationality, but for their faith and yet even Raymond acknowledged that they were taking it too far.
Pyke shook his head, "Perhaps you've just opened your eyes." He looked out over the still smouldering horizon before turning to Zesshi, "But this is no place to talk. I shall host you in my city, where you and Zesshi can discuss things. Not to mention that your friend seems to have been through a lot."
A gate opened up and Pyke handed them two invitations, "Follow me."
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The Gods did have a base once upon a time and it was still located below Kami Miyako, but it paled in comparison with the place he currently was. This so-called Swimming City was magnificent and Zesshi's suite was equally so. They sat on opposite sides of the bar and Zesshi was sipping on some brown liquid, while he had a glass of something called rum.
Frankly, this drink alone could cause a monarch to sell out their kingdom. However he wasn't here for the drinks. "I'm sorry I lied to you. I'm sorry I didn't let you go out of the treasury more. I'm sorry my predecessors and I made you hate one half of yourself. I'm sorry. For everything." He bowed his head low until it hit the polished table.
"Happy?" he asked, and Zesshi seemed to be in thought for a minute. She thought about how Winston, seeing how upset she was at the time, grabbed her hand and walked with her through the gate and to her room. A slight blush appeared on her face and she tried to hide it with her glass.
"Yes, but not because of you. A sorry isn't going to fix centuries, Raymond. My entire life I was made to be a weapon, but all it took was for the Gods to be killed for me to actually start enjoying my life. To be honest I don't even know if what I was doing before could count as living!" She shook her head, "Whatever. I won't forgive you, but I won't kill you either, how's that sound?"
A weak smile appeared on Raymond's face, "It's the best I could hope for."
The girl finished off her drink and stretched, "Well, now I'm irritated so I'm gonna go train with my little sis." she said, as if her having a sibling was the most normal thing in the world.
Raymond nearly choked on his drink and the usually pleasant burning sensation of alcohol spread to his lungs, "You have a sister?!" he asked, in utter disbelief. Given the Elf King's… tendencies, Zesshi probably had thousands of half-brother and half-sisters, but a full fledged sister? The Theocracy would not have let someone like that slip through their hand.
Zesshi tilted her head, as if his question was utterly nonsensical, before she seemed to be enlightened, "Ah yea, you wouldn't know. It's Lily." Seeing that he still didn't understand, she elaborated "The small girl with the blue hair. Unlike in the Theocracy, here I can actually have friends and be understood by the rulers."
Raymond's eyes displayed naught but confusion once more, "That girl is a ruler?" he asked, prompting Zesshi to shake her head in utter disbelief at his ignorance.
"You really have a lot to learn. Want to watch our fight? She's the best swordswoman I've ever seen." she said, her voice already showing her anticipation.
"Sure. Is she stronger than you?" Zesshi nodded, "But you can't… You know…" Raymond said, referencing Zesshi's peculiar life goal, which earned him a kick in the shin, which thankfully didn't shatter into tiny pieces from the force.
"She is a child, Raymond! I assure you that the men of this city are also ridiculously strong! Now follow me and stop being a weird old man!" They left the suite and began to meander through the corridors until Raymond noticed a peculiar sight.
"A human maid?" he asked, surprised by the idea that humans would inhabit such a place, one which seemingly no one knew about on the surface.
"Rescued slaves from the Eight Fingers. Don't walk up to them, they're really scared of human men and Vacuus can be very protective of them. Same as with the elf ones, but those mostly hang around my room. One time Lillius, who looks human, tried to hit on one only to get a transdimensional slash across his chest."
They walked a bit further before Raymond remembered a very important thing, "Any idea where Haila is? Is she okay?" He had been a bit preoccupied with his reunion and when Haila was dragged off somewhere by a maid he didn't even notice.
Zesshi thought for a bit, "Knowing the councillors then Valodan, Winston or Cirina are defending her from Lillius' flirting and Lillith is beating our resident assassin with a cylindrical object for being a creep. She'll be fine, Pyke wouldn't allow her to be hurt and no one here would risk displeasing him."
After a while they made it to the training arena, which was far more impressive than that of the empire. It was massive, tastefully decorated with various carvings, possessed cushioned seats and, most importantly, seemed to be very resistant to damage; at least that was judging by how the stray shot from the one Raymond now knew as Winston didn't leave a scratch on the wall.
However before Zesshi could cry out to him it seemed that the test he had been conducting had reached its end, teleporting away. A frown appeared on her face, but the girl didn't have time to sulk as a blue blur quickly knocked her to the centre of the arena. The girl that now stood next to Raymond grimaced slightly, "Zeeeeshi! I told you not to let not your guard down in the arena!"
The match that followed could have been called apocalyptic and if he was a writer then surely it would have inspired many epics… That is, if he could have seen what was happening. This was the equivalent of a painter erratically creating a masterpiece with each stroke of a brush. Impressive? Certainly. Decipherable? In no world.
Soon the match seemed to be decided and Zesshi was sent flying into the wall. An undead walked up to the beaten half-elf and seemed to heal her, which was unbelievable for Raymond as undead were supposed to be killed by just trying to cast divine magic!
Unfortunately for him, he did not get a chance to ponder this odd bit of magecraft as the girl that was sparring with Zesshi pointed at him, "Dad wants to meet with you later today! And I better not catch you being mean to anyone before then!" After this announcement she blocked a strike for Zesshi with trivial ease and retaliated with a force that Raymond could compare to the cannons from earlier that day. Her warning was stirn and the cardinal, thoroughly exhausted by the viewing experience, decided to head back to his room.
He muttered to himself, "Perhaps another glass wouldn't hurt?"
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Haila found herself in… odd surroundings. Currently she was following an elven maid through the corridors of a place that was beyond imagination. It was very pretty, of that she was sure. Apparently the king of this place, of whom she was terrified, decided to treat her to some proper food. "The Theocracy doesn't know how to make proper food, let alone for a slave, and Raymond's field craft isn't very good." said Zesshi, which prompted the dark skinned man to encourage her to go eat at the dining hall.
By her standards Raymond's field craft was really good, but she was too scared to say no to the man in front of her. Her feelings about him were rather conflicted. On one hand he just removed 70000 imperials, who considered her people slaves, from the very plane of existence. On the other hand, he just removed 70000 people from existence! Not to mention he was really scary…
She dwelt on these thoughts and mindlessly followed the maid, until she arrived in a huge hall, a long table in the middle. Two men were sitting opposite of each other and arguing. One had an impressive physique and looked youthful. His horns however alerted her to his inhuman nature. The other participant in the dispute was a massive man with claws that scraped against the beautiful table. The maid looked at this behaviour and grimaced, evidently not appreciating such carelessness.
"Gal, I swear, I don't why you want to go help that dragon! What's he gonna do for us anyway? I'm not Jericho, but even I can see that the only thing he'd be useful for is materials!" said the horned one. His build was impressive, however the man sitting in front of him made him seem like a little brother, and perhaps he was?
"Do we not need information on the indigenous dragon population? His father is a Dragon Lord as well! Aren't frost dragons supposed to be stupid, rash and impulsive? That one didn't even try to attack us! He will surely be useful! Exceptions like that are rare and valuable!" answered the other.
"You just feel pity for him because his father beats him. His fault for being weak. It's the fucking mountains! Kill or be killed. By the depths, it's not even his father we have to worry 'bout, but the damn frost giants! You think that he could take one in a fight?! No way! So he's either gonna die or starve before we get there."
"Wouldn't you feel bad if our father beat you? And that beating he will receive will make us lose valuable information! As for the frost giants? If he's so stupid as to not just run away then he really wasn't worthwhile."
"Father can do whatever he wants. Besides, he ain't no dragon so obviously he is not gonna act like one. Well, whatever. Worst comes to worst we'll just ask Mal or someone to resurrect him."
She eyed the spat curiously before a hand appeared on her shoulder. She turned to see a girl dressed appropriately for a trip to the mountains, having on her a heavy scarf and a coat. She signed something, but unfortunately Hail was not proficient in sign language, "I'm sorry, I don't know what you're saying."
The girl shook her head, seemingly disappointed, but quickly became chipper once more, grabbing Haila's hand and pulling her over to a table a ways away from the arguing pair. Her self appointed guide glanced at them briefly and made a motion similar to someone sighing deeply, but no sound of such a thing reached Haila's ears.
They sat down together and the girl gave her a piece of… paper? It didn't feel like paper but seemed to look like it, maybe it was canvas? Either way it didn't matter. She glanced down at it and once again found herself in an odd situation, "Um, miss?" Her new companion looked up from the menu and tilted her head, "I c-can't read this." Haila said, somewhat anxiously.
The mysterious girl tapped her head slightly, as if showing how silly she had been, and her hand disappeared into a void, receding from it in a matter of seconds and now having a pair of ornate glasses. She handed them to her. Haila briefly hesitated, but before she could object the beautiful girl frowned, making Haila put them on in an attempt to appease her. The up until now unintelligible symbols became crystal clear, which didn't help.
She looked at the words and tried to understand them, 'Blackened abyss bass with French fries and grilled vegetables? What is any of this!? What's a coke?!' Her distress evidently showed on her face as the girl put her hands to her head in a gesture of exhaustion, annoyance and hopelessness. She waved to the elven maid that was standing a bit away as to give them some semblance of privacy.
The maid quickly approached and the girl first pointed to herself and several items on the list, the maid noting it all down with blinding speed. Then her companion pointed to her and several items on the menu. I suppose the only option was to rely on her judgement here?
Either the chefs were prepared beforehand or they worked with unnatural speed as after just a few minutes the maid returned, pushing a cart on which were their courses. She began putting it all on the table and naming it, "As a side we have fried Jotunheim kraken and a Karkinos cake. For Lady Cirina there is the grilled leviathan and Caesar salad, made with authentic Caesar. For our honoured guest we have a Triton surf and turf, alongside some fries. "She began pouring drinks, "For both we have Aphrodite's blood. Please enjoy." The maid bowed low and left.
Haila gulped slightly at the mention of blood, but the food in front of her looked divine. She took one of the supposed kraken rings from the middle and immediately pulled her hand back, "Ouch! Hot!" she said. She used her fork this time and… It was as good as it looked. Just the right amount of crunch with a taste she could not describe.
Cirina, as she turned out to be named, was calmly eating, as if she got to dine better than the Gods everyday, which she did. Haila began digging into her food with an energy few would expect of a girl seemingly as delicate as her. Unwittingly she took a sip of the supposed blood, but it turned out to taste like berries, possessing a pleasant sweetness that didn't stick to her throat.
Soon enough they were done with their meal and Cirina gave her a thumbs up to which Haila could only nod. "Will anything ever be as good as this?" The girl opposite of her didn't respond, instead staring at a door Haila presumed to lead to the kitchen. Out of it stepped out the maid, carrying yet another tray. Haila licked her lips in anticipation, dessert did sound nice. Soon enough in front of her was a spoon, tucked into what seemed to be a mountain of colourful spheres that melted into each other. On top of it were colourful sprinkles and some sort of syrup.
She put one spoonful into her mouth, trusting that this was going to be just as good as the last meal. Her expectations were met and then some. The dessert was cold and each sphere seemed to have a different taste. A tear rolled down her cheek as she thought of how her life has turned around ever since her escape. Cirina on the other hand seemed to be an endless vacuum, consuming the veritable mountain of food at record speed. It was both impressive and worrying.
After putting her spoon down and wiping her mouth with a handkerchief she briefly thought about her saviour, "I wonder what Raymond is doing…"
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"So I'm supposed to just make sure that as few slaves as possible die, while waiting who knows how long for you to get involved?" Raymond asked, an expression of utter disbelief on his face. It was a simple course of action, way too simple in fact. He expected a grand conspiracy with unfathomable variables, but instead he got a logical order.
"Yes. There are many things to do before that. Do you want me to massacre every human and then call it a day without managing the lands?" Raymond shook his head, "Then don't get yourself killed and I'll come around eventually. You believed in your Gods and they certainly weren't in a hurry to answer prayers. I'll take my time, but I'm a man of my word. Now go and rest. We'll send you back to the Theocracy tomorrow."
The two shook hands, something Raymond would not have believed just a few days ago, and the Cardinal went to his room in order to further explore the private bar. Pyke sighed and teleported to the arena, where Jericho and Amal'Thazad waited. The demonologist was the first one to speak up, "So father, what is the matter?"
Pyke thought for a brief second, "In the past world I was at the limit of strength. So are the guardians. However, now I feel… stronger. Quite a bit stronger… Even in the Old World this would have been impossible with World Items, never mind without. The Shitty Devs put a cap on me, like everyone else, and they wouldn't allow me to extend it further. This is beyond strange."
Amal'Thazad put his hand to his chin, "I would have said the restriction has been simply lifted, however that would mean our citizens would have levelled up by now… Hmm."
The trio stood there, silently thinking of possibilities, until Pyke came up with an experiment, "Jericho, Amal'Thazad and I will lower all our divination shields and then cast your strongest divination spell on us both. Maybe that'll tell us somethin'."
They did as planned and Jericho began casting a Super Tier spell, one of the few divination ones that existed in the game, "[Stare Into The Abyss]!" he called out. This spell revealed everything about the target in the game, but made the user extremely vulnerable to attacks from those it was used upon, thus it was rarely used, as a counter spell could almost one shot someone afterwards.
However now there was no such threat and Jericho eyed his creator curiously, "It is hard to describe father… But it's as if a barrier was lifted from you and it remains on my brother. I would say this is because of the souls and the Wild Magic ritual that got us here interacting together, yet Keno has such a barrier… This seems peculiar, specific even."
He scratched the back of his neck, "My only guess is that to break the barrier you need to reach Level 100 and be affected by Wild Magic. It would explain why the Greed Kings didn't become strong enough to control this world. They weren't at peak strength when they arrived and so they couldn't break through the barrier."
"What of the Dragon Lords then? If they gain levels based on age and can break through the barrier then their power could be monstrous, yet the Greed Kings slaughtered them like cattle." said Amal'Thazad, the disdain for the mentioned creatures dripping from his tongue like venom from a snake's fangs.
"Maybe it's something about their draconic blood? They have Wild Magic from the beginning so they are immune to it and technically not affected. We can't be sure. Anyway, it seems that the souls father collected from the battle were enough, which means we probably can also break through our limits if we consume enough souls. Shame that the ones from YGGDRASIL lost their power for the most part…"
"I'm sure there will be plenty of wars in the future. The beastmen and the Theocracy are both souls just waiting for the harvest. These imperial knights were on average perhaps level 8 or 9, most likely the souls of the ent father killed contributed the most so far. As for the more important matter, what strength do you seem to now possess, father?" asked Amal'Thazad.
Pyke closed his eyes and tried to feel his own strength, "Increase agility and strength, that's for sure. Besides that?" He stuck his hand towards the ceiling and a circle of runes much like the one for a Super Tier spell appeared, except this one was much more complex and seemed to have an oppressive aura even for the two casters.
"Is that?!" yelled Jericho, his eyes practically falling out of his head.
"Tier 12?!" finished Amal'Thazad, mirroring the expression of his twin.
The runes receded as the spell was cancelled, "Interesting. That spell was going to superimpose something called the [Abyss] on the local reality… I guess I'd get access to the other spells and skills when in it. I won't do it here, the city is already too different from the surface."
"Father, you truly are supreme. I doubt we'll need that much firepower, but perhaps there does exist something out there that can challenge us… Even then I doubt they expect something like this!" said Jericho, applauding. Pyke was already the strongest out of everyone in the city and if the new tier of magic was as potent as Jericho guessed it'd be then he could most likely take on everyone in the city at once.
His brother however had a much more analytical mind, "What was supposed to be the coverage area? How long would it last?" He scribbled into his tome at a blinding speed, replicating the runes from the circle onto the pages.
"It's hard to explain such an instinctual thing… I suppose we should have you get some souls and unlock this for yourself. Still… Why do I have a sense of déjà vu?" Pyke asked himself. Becoming stronger should have been an alien feeling for years now, but this felt… right. His power was already overwhelming, but he had a hunch that he'd need to prioritise getting souls for the councillors as well. He shrugged, for now there were more important things, such as running his new kingdom.
Somewhere on the surface however, a chorus of incomprehensible voices cried out in unison…
(AN: It took a bit, but here we are. The climactic battle came and went. I hope it wasn't too disappointing. It's hard to make a fight engaging when one side is completely massacred, but I tried my best. As always, the next chapter will be an intermission and perhaps I will reveal some things… or we'll have a giggle at a Dragon Lord's expense? Who knows?! Well, I do. And you will, in a few days. Anyway, my memory eludes me, but I haven't recommended [Karma Weaver] by 100LemonKeyPie, have I? Well, go read it I suppose. As always, more to come and I hope you've enjoyed the story.)