Arthur and Umbarth traveled along a popular merchant road that connected the Imperial Capital of Arwintar to E-Rantel. It was popular in that many merchants used it as a general positioning of where they were, rather than as a genuine connection between the two nations of the Baharuth Empire and Re-Estize.
This road was among many relics that were left over when Baharuth and Re-Estize were one-in-the-same. Part of it was paved, but the rest was crumbling rock. Being two centuries old, it was a testament to the previous craftsmanship of humans before the advent of the Demon Gods.
As of late, the number of travelers on this road had dwindled. The conversion of E-Rantel into a new Katze Plains had wider implications than anyone would care to think about. Most of the undead stuck close to the crater of E-Rantel with a few stragglers wandering further than they should have. Arthur put them down as he saw them.
Even then, the land seemed to weep at the loss of life. Grass cracked underfoot. Animals fled the decaying perimeter of the once plentiful fortress city. The skies rained incessantly, and the size of the clouds indicated they were far from empty.
Arthur and Umbarth had dressed appropriately, the former donning his Yggdrasil samurai armor, and the latter wearing his paladin armor. The paladin armor was one of the suits Umbarth used when he wished to fight opponents indirectly, puppeting it with Wild Magic when needed. However, the dragon lord was present beneath the heavy plate.
It was strange, taking on a dragon motif. An enchanted white-gold metal served as the armor's base, and blue-gold trimmings, and white symbols provided decoration to what would have been an eye-sore. On the back was strapped a bronze-colored spear, a golden flag tied on the very end. With how Umbarth was so theatrical, Arthur had no doubt every last piece of his equipment was enchanted.
In contrast, Arthur's armor was less heavy. It was primarily composed of Star-Silver chainmail, lindworm leather, and Asgardian Cloth to preserve mobility. The overlapping plates of his samurai armor were made of Scarletite, for its notable ability to absorb damage more easily than other prismatic ores. The shade of metal was made darker with cosmetics, with whitish-red and black markings painted on here and there. A Chokuto, a single-edged straight sword, was strapped to his side.
All-in-all, they were armed to the teeth, for neither would take any chances. The enchantments on their armor and their natural strength made them the most dangerous creatures on the planet for kilometers around.
Despite this…
The smell continues to grow worse with each step toward E-Rantel. What have these players wrought?
From every direction was a horrific stench. It smelled of the decay of corpses mixed with the scent of burning rubber, a scent not unlike the battlefield of Europe during World War III. Strangely, this road was devoid of bodies for how strong the smell was.
Whether they'd been cleaned up or picked apart by predators he could only guess. It would be better not to think about what happened to the unfortunate victims of E-Rantel.
At least some of the people survived, saved by the efforts of the Chief Warrior Gazef Stronoff and whoever was able to fend off the Black Scripture. The player that was there, if it was a player, must have been formidable indeed to catch such an elite force's attention.
It might not have been an NPC, but it's not unheard of for some to gain autonomy and decide that serving their masters is no longer viable. The NPCs of the Greed Kings were much the same way when Tsaindorcus took over the castle.
He wondered if that was some of the Greed Kings' selfishness shining through one last time. They had been dead for five-hundred years, and still, their influence could be felt throughout the New World. Arthur wondered if the world would ever truly forget their massacres.
Eventually, they did end up passing by one of the villages that were on the outskirts of E-Rantel. It was dilapidated, burnt-out husks of houses and barns serving as the only marker there was once life here. A catastrophe had befallen this place, likely after the city collapsed in on itself. There were no corpses, which meant the people who lived there escaped or turned undead.
It reminded Arthur of the handiwork of the Sunlight Scripture when they were still active. Being on the Argland Council State as long as he had been, he was privy to more information than most people would be. The Dragon Lords proved a paranoid bunch, implanting contacts in every place they could to keep an eye on potential threats.
Not unlike a certain emperor of the sea. I wonder how the Deep Sea Dragon Lord is doing these days, having to deal with the emperor's policies. Knowing her, she's probably encouraging him anyways. Even in the sea, the scum tends to float to the surface.
They did not linger long. The village would have to be rebuilt by Re-Estize if they ever managed to take the area back from the undead. However many mistakes the pair made, however much pain they inflicted knowingly and unknowingly, it was hard to remain unmoved by the obvious signs of suffering present in the world.
Only discipline settled his mind and allowed him to march forwards. And having a conversation partner.
"How despondent has Eporris become since Akiyama's death?" Arthur asked, thinking about his former lover and what Umbarth told him. Though it was long ago, the player ended things amicably and they were fond of each other, at least when he was still on the council.
"She's hollow," Umbarth said, his shoulders sagging. "She can't enjoy anything, doesn't even leave her room. She paints still, but it always ends up being the same damn nightmare she puts on canvas. I-I can't even really describe it, some woman with a half-rotted face that she sees in her dreams."
"That's… odd."
"She even has a name for the damn nightmare! She calls it 'She Who Waits in Dreams'. I don't know how this helps her process the grief, but I manage man, I manage. I would understand tears or anger, but this… this is different."
"I suppose trying to get her out of the house is not a possibility," Arthur suggested, not sure what else to say.
Umbarth sighed. "I tried, once, to take her to her favorite art gallery in the city proper. Didn't last five minutes before she wanted to go home. I took her to the old temples of Dragon Concord where she worked back in the day, to meet with her old followers. She told them life was meaningless and they were all going to die."
"Damn."
"It was like, I understand, but those people loved and respected her! Mortals can comfort themselves in the belief that those they worship have all the answers, but what about when the gods themselves need an answer? When you're a god or a Dragon Lord, rather, there's no higher power you can turn to. You have to figure things out for yourself."
Arthur tried scratching his beard with his right hand, but this didn't work because of his helmet. "What about some exercise? That might help."
"I did have some limited success with that. The Beastman Kingdom has been harassing my great-granddaughter's country. I took her to a military installation that had enslaved one of the Draconic villages, thought maybe saving the mortals might help her to remember her old purpose." Umbarth elaborated, to which Arthur nodded affirmatively.
From what he remembered of Eporris, she was a truly altruistic dragon lord, a trait rare among her kind. Rescuing innocent civilians was right in her area of expertise since it was how she had established her temple in Dragon Concord. It was no wonder that she was a favorite among the faithful. One of the rare few Dragon Lords who were perhaps loved more than feared, though none could claim she lacked strength.
"What happened?" He asked.
"She did rescue the people, but she was a zombie the entire time. Didn't accept any praise, didn't give any self-righteous speeches to the evils of the beastmen, just fried all of them and took the people back to the capital city."
"It's… a start at least. Did she react in any special way when you returned home?"
"No. Her depression took her back to her room and those same damn paintings. I'd burn them all if I could, but she guards those horrid things jealously. The last time I tried, she nearly tore my eye out. She said they 'soothed her', whatever that means."
They kept walking like that, passing a tree where a man in black robes was hung by the neck from a high branch. A sign was around his neck and read "The dead claimed all but this traitor." A pile of bones was stacked beneath him as a mockery of a headstone.
Seeing this corpse made Arthur remember something he hadn't asked yet. "You tried to resurrect Akiyama? What about the dragon lord that was with him?"
Umbarth shook his head. "Whatever killed them took their souls. Likely the Black Dragon's work, since he's the only bastard I know who can prevent resurrection like that. That and your blade, even though it doesn't take souls."
"If we had a wish-granting world item or Hygieia's Chalice, it might be possible to resurrect them. I have access to neither. It's a damn shame. Akiyama was an ass but he meant well, in the end. He could've done some incredible good with Eporris's guidance."
The player in question was another human player who arrived around the same time as Arthur. Unlike Arthur, he was an immortal who was classified as a Geomancer type. He had a special ability to summon precious metals and jewels out of the earth, becoming rich quickly. He never grew out of his hedonistic stage but did channel it towards sharing opulent wealth with the less fortunate so he had more people to party with. Eporris was a virtuous dragon, but she could not resist the draconic desire for treasure. That, and Akayama possessed a more laid-back and cheerful disposition, which was a trait he had in common with Eporris.
When Arthur broke things off with her, Akiyama swept her off her feet. Despite his childish indulgences, he made Eporris happy, and she did to him in turn. The samurai was happy for both of them, even as he was banished from the Argland Council State.
"Now that I think about it, I wonder if perhaps he was a trust-fund child in the Old World. It would explain his extravagant tastes," Arthur idly wondered. Umbarth stared at him in confusion.
"A what?"
"It's essentially money set aside to a legal entity that holds it until the recipient becomes of age. It's like… the bank holds gold bullion for a person's children until they're older and responsible enough to handle it. It's funds held in trust. A trust fund."
Umbarth nodded in understanding. "Is that a bad thing? Sounds like a good way to secure your children's future."
"It can be, but during my time, only the ultra-rich could afford to do such a thing. This is also not to mention that trust-fund children became spoiled rotten. Akiyama was better than most in that he tried to share his wealth."
"Huh. I'll have to add it to my list then."
Arthur raised an eyebrow. "A list?"
"Yeah! I keep a list of all the new lingo you players have taught me over the years. It made me realize how stuffy the other dragon lords can be, talking like we do. It's become a bit of a hobby of mine."
That was different. Arthur had met player-influenced individuals and how Old-World lingo has evolved over the years. The phrase "level up" had transformed into an alien sentence like "Lair Bellup". He recalled the Platinum Dragon Lord sometimes referred to NPCs as "En Pee Sees" and wrote it as such.
Before he could ask to see it, a flash of golden light filled his vision, and Umbarth held a scroll that he unfurled. He hunched over it slightly to protect the paper from the rain.
"So far, I have… ADHD, bronzie, bad bitch, a bag of dicks, cheese-eating surrender monkey, dinosaur, technautus, gaslight, corporate plower, goat, edgerunner-"
Umbarth continued to list off an impressive amount of slang, some of which even Arthur wasn't aware of. When he looked at the dragon's list himself, he saw everything was sorted alphabetically, with dozens of entries for each letter. It reminded Arthur of the Old Net Wikipedia, only it was for degenerate words.
The juxtaposition between the surroundings which were the definition of despair and the Dragon Lord's silly little list caused Arthur to do a double-take.
A hand was placed on the scroll, pressing it down and away from the dragon lord's eyes. "Enough of your dictionary of degeneracy. We are close to the edge of E-Rantel." He pointed with his other hand. "Look."
True to his word, any semblance of life was gone in this new area they entered. The grass had faded into hard-packed dirt, and shuffling about were a horde of low-level zombies and skeletons. There were stronger undead like Flesh Juggernauts and Bone Serpents lurking about, gathering hordes to their emissions of negative energy.
When the pair were spotted, a whirlpool of shadows formed above them. Multiple eyes popped into existence, glaring balefully down at them. A Caller of Darkness. Arthur had not seen one in quite some time.
Before it could summon a horde to swarm the pair, a kunai of blessed Star Silver was thrown straight through its center, killing it instantly and dispersing the darkness. Those undead that had noticed them anyways were quickly incinerated by Umbarth's holy aura.
The undead stayed well away then, but they huddled close together on the outskirts of Umbarth's power, snarling hungrily for their living flesh. Strangely, there were no death knights around.
"Hey Arthur, you notice that black tar along the ground? That looks familiar to you all?"
Having pointed it out, Arthur looked down and saw that the closer they got to E-Rantel, the more pools of a viscous black substance appeared. It bubbled ominously and released hot steam from the raindrops that fell into it. For a second he contemplated touching it, but this world had long since proven to him that his resistances and immunities weren't absolute, and therefore it was better to always exercise caution when dealing with the unknown.
Unlucky undead that shambled in by accident was immediately dissolved. They didn't get the chance to even try and escape their fate, the corrosive substance acting so quickly. The undead did not bother the samurai, but something about those pools did. He rested his hand on his blade while they walked. His fingers twitched, waiting for an opportunity to draw the blade as he suspected an ambush. Umbarth also kept one hand on his spear the entire time. But no ambush ever came.
Soon enough, they reached the edge of where E-Rantel's outer wall stood. They couldn't continue any further, not because they didn't think that they couldn't walk along the sinkhole's bottom, but because it was filled to the brim with that same substance.
A veritable ocean of tar spread eye-to-eye. It bubbled wickedly like a witch's cauldron, and they could see the bones of various animals and humanoid shapes floating about in the muck.
"Fuck! Where was this when Kennisdat Piarsi scryed this place?! He said it was nothing but dirt!" Umbarth swore, the smell of it slamming into him like a mountain.
Even Arthur couldn't help but cover his nose. "You mean this wasn't here when you compiled that report of E-Rantel's fall? With the amount of fluid here, it looks like it's been collecting here for months."
"Kennisdiat just scryed this place a few days ago. How the hell did this accumulate in such a small amount of time?!"
"I do not know, but this just confirms that the city is lost. I doubt this place can be saved. There's nothing for us here. We should leave."
With his suspicions satisfied, Arthur sighed. The world was changing, indeed. Time to see what Umbarth had in mind for his little "competition". Hopefully, it wouldn't involve singing…
A few hours later…
They ended up setting a camp in a patch of nearby uninfected forest. For the next few days or however long this mission took, they would spend every waking moment together. This of course applied even when they would rest.
It was bare essentials. Some simple wooden furniture and a table for the two of them to sit at. A campfire with a pot of beef stew was blazing close by, so they could warm up and enjoy some food in the meantime.
A bowl was poured for each of them, but only Arthur partook of the simply delicious meal. It was easy to enjoy, despite having to deal with what they just saw. There was plenty for seconds should they decide they were still hungry.
"Are you doing alright, man? I'm surprised you can humor the idea that you're somehow hungry after that. Just thinking of undead usually kills my appetite," Umbarth said while he took off his helmet and wrung out his hair.
"It'll distract us while we handle this competition of yours," Arthur explained, "Besides, a man's gotta eat."
"Right… Anyways, I thought of how to go about solidifying the World Pact. Just something simple and fun, rather than the titanic struggles some of my brethren like to do."
"Oh? What did you have in mind?"
"King's Pawn to E-Four."
Arthur stared blankly at his companion. "You've got to be kidding me. We're in the middle of the forest, and we don't even have a board."
Umbarth gave him a shit-eating grin. "So? We can just play this way. Of course, I can think of something else if it's too complicated for your shaved monkey brain to comprehend. I understand."
"Senile asshole," the player growled under his breath. "Fine. Pawn to E-Five."
The game began in earnest, both falling into a familiar rhythm. Back when they both served on the Council, they would usually play chess between meetings to pass the time. They played so often that in the event they could not get aboard, they would visualize the board in their minds and verbally move the "pieces" to their desired spots.
It was a funny sight to have some poor council member walk in on one of their mental chess games, spouting seemingly nonsensical phrases to one another. However, it was because of how often they played that chess became one of Argland's most popular games.
To this day, it was still one of Arthur's best achievements. Second only to finally disciplining himself and becoming a father.
"If you're willing to make a World Pact, that must mean that the other dragon lords have a plan to deal with the upcoming crisis?"
The dragon lord held up a figure and muttered something under his breath. A strange, shimmering dome of energy enveloped them. Arthur recognized it as the Wild Magic spell [World Isolation Barrier]. Its primary use was to cut them off from the outside world, preventing the ability to teleport outside of its perimeter. In this instance, it would also prevent anyone from eavesdropping on their conversation.
Once the barrier was set up, Umbarth nodded. "Something like that. Tsaindorcus's idea remains the same; we don't attack until we're sure we have a credible target, like a minion of the Black Dragon or the big man himself."
"And if it's only a servant, not the mastermind? Those that serve an evil like that are not so weak. There are certain to be casualties."
"Perhaps," the dragon lord admitted. "We mitigate the loss as much we can. Pawn to F-Four. King's Gambit."
"Accepted. Pawn takes pawn. Give me a moment to get the pieces in my head. It's been a long time since we played like this."
"Take your time."
Once the board was reoriented, Arthur waved his hand. "Sacrifices may be necessary, I understand, but that seems harsh for someone like Tsaindorcus. Surely he has another way to go about it?"
"You know as well as I do that we can't take chances. Our best weapon has always been our magic, and that sadly gets nullified by World Items. Mage to C-Four."
Arthur scratched his beard. "That's assuming that you're fighting another player he swayed to his side. Unlike how you never called that piece Bishops or runners, the Black Dragon learned where he needed to adapt. Queen to H-Four"
"Do not be so certain we can just send out our physically strongest to fight his forces. With the people he has, magic or might are not certain victors in a truly aggressive fight. The only ones who could be were the Emperor and Empress. King to F-One."
"And unfortunately, one is suffering a living death and the other is missing in action. You have no one but yourselves to fight this battle. Pawn to B-Five. Your move now."
Umbarth rubbed his chin in thought, hesitating. "That's true… All we can do is wage proxy wars in this instance. Minions versus minions, only ours can't be guaranteed a resurrection if the Godhead get their claws on them. It's a curious scenario. Mage takes pawn."
"Then you do need to start building up some larger forces than usual. The standing army of Argland is powerful, more powerful than any other nation on the continent, but it won't be enough against the players and dragon lords that serve our enemy. We have to start scouting. Knight to F-Six."
"We could do what you just did and rebrand ourselves! 'The Dragon Knights of the New World' instead of 'The Dragon Knights of Argland'. Your ignorance is evident, thinking you can just call assassins 'knights' and somehow that will rally the people together."
Arthur silently fumed. It made sense, sadly. Tsaindorcus would not be convinced to act upon any course other than what he had. The people of the continent would not be so easily swayed to join either, no matter how Argland presented itself and its arguments.
Both were so focused on the game that Arthur didn't even really react when his body moved on its own to slay a Barghest that was mid-pounce, lunging from some nearby bushes. It must have been attracted by the smell of food. The blade of wind from his sword made a terrifying whistling while it bisected the beast and sent both halves sailing over them.
A deft crash near the trees signaled the carcass landed. A predator got stuck with them in the dome, so it seemed. Umbarth merely hummed. "Assassin to F-Three.
"Hmph. Queen to H-Six."
"Pawn to D-Three."
"Knight to H-Five."
In his mind, Arthur saw the pieces slowly morph into the armies of both sides, those of Argland and those of the Black Dragon. Each piece moved assured no victory, bringing defeat closer even if they managed to take down a significant figure in their foe's armies.
"Tsaindorcus is making a mistake by not switching his tactics. Does he truly think that he can sidestep the issue of an ally shortage? There aren't enough players or dragon lords in the world to stem that tide."
"Is he? What an interesting assertion, considering who I'm talking to. Tsaindorcus and the Black Dragon share one ideal at least, that it is quality over quantity. We just need more quantity and we win."
Arthur gritted his teeth in frustration. "Think long and hard about that. Think to yourself about what we're going up against. The simple fact is that we don't have the number of dragons and players needed. That you sought me out is proof enough."
Umbarth was quiet, likely thinking of his next counter-argument. "Assassin to H-Four. Those 'Sirs of Ainz Ooal Gown' could be the key. Whether they're together or not, it's evident a large number of players came through this convergence event."
"Queen to G-Five. We are at a crossroads here. Tsaindorcus is not willing to expand a spy network of his own and will not expand his mortal army either. Much like your Bishop at B-Five or your Knight at H-Four, there has to be a sacrifice somewhere."
"Must it happen?" the councilor laughed, "Assassin to F-Five. Time and time again, players proved destructive forces of nature. Those little bodies of yours hold unfathomable power. Our warriors serve mostly as a way to gauge that power, no matter how many of our mortals die."
"...Pawn to C-Six. They may be left out in the open like your mage, but one cannot become so careless as to rely on who we can identify by throwing bodies at them."
Umbarth smiled ruefully. "Which, of course, leaves us just as exposed as your assassin or knight or whatever. Pawn to G-Four."
"Knight to F-Six. When said that way, it makes us seem like we're merely building a shield made of the corpses of our followers. I refuse to be a man that does such a thing."
"If you lose this game, you very well may have to. As part of our agreement, you'll be forced to intervene as an outside force. At least with other players, they can lighten the load. Also, Archer to G-One."
Arthur grunted. "It's a Tower, not Archer. Pawn takes bishop. Working with other players is a crapshoot. There's no guarantee we'd even have the same goals."
"Fighting to preserve the planet would be a good start."
"That line of thinking is exactly why the dragon lords were so caught off guard by the Greed Kings. You got lucky with the Great Six, and Rufus in the Slane Theocracy proves a useful ally to Argland to this day."
Both went quiet, internalizing their conversation and the plan so far. To Arthur, it was doomed to fail if more action wasn't taken to combat the Black Dragon. The Emperor of the Sea was on the right path, but his paranoia and desire to subsume other species under his rule made him difficult to work with.
Though they often overestimate themselves, dragons are far from simple creatures. Can Umbarth truly be content with the way this plan is going?
"Pawn to H-Four," the councilman said after a minute, unperturbed by his losses in the game and the counterarguments the samurai gave.
"Queen to G-Six. Your move, 'Bart'."
"Ah, so now you use my nickname. I'm touched," Umbarth sarcastically remarked. "Rufus is a useful asset to keep in our back pocket, as the saying goes. Pawn to H-Five."
"Rufus is involved with council affairs? If they were strong enough and knew, the Cardinals would flog him. Queen to G-Five."
"Ha! Queen to F-Three. Rufus will do as he pleases, I'm sure, specifically because of how powerful he is. Out of everything to come out of that wretched country, he is the only thing of worth. He moves when he wants how he wants."
"But he will not fight directly unless he is trapped, I'm guessing."
"Much like your queen almost was, yes. Rufus remains bound to his promise to safeguard the Slane Theocracy. His love for Surshana is deep, deeper than any love he may hold for the World Spirit despite his limit breaking."
Arthur stroked his chin in thought. "Queen to G-Eight. Do you know if he remains in contact with the Empress at all?"
"No. I imagine they haven't spoken in some time, not since the defeat of the Demon Gods. Her location would be compromised, and if she were to die, then it truly would be the end of us all. Mage takes pawn."
"Queen to F-Six."
"Knight to C-Three."
"Bishop to C-Five, your tower is threatened."
"Even in this game of ours, the idea of being a one-man army presents itself. The Empress could be considered suicidal in the way she handles events. I don't exactly blame her with the way her life ended up and what her lineage has become."
"Do you ever think she would decide she needs to… end it all?" Arthur asked tentatively, not sure how else to phrase his question.
He knew very little of the Dragon Empress, only that she was, currently, the most powerful being in the world and she was a recluse that traveled around. She was the mother of Tsaindorcus, but they weren't talking. Arthur never got the chance to meet her, which might've been for the best.
Umbarth took his time to answer his question. "...Draconic pride is both a blessing and a curse. She would never end her own life like that. If she were to die, it would be defending this world and its inhabitants, as Tsaindorcus tries to do. Assassin to D-Five threatens queen."
"Queen to B-Two. Pawn is taken and your tower is threatened. Do you mean in a final 'blaze of glory' type of deal?"
"Mage to D-Six. I couldn't tell you. I only got to meet her once, and that was when Tsaindorcus and her were having words. I-I can't describe what that was like. I think it was the first time I ever saw two members of the royal family so… furious with one another."
That raised Arthur's brow. "I take it the result wasn't pretty?"
"Arthur, for all the power we dragon lords have, both first and second age, it is microscopic compared to what the Empress is capable of. They never threw blows, but just their presence alone was crumbling the room they were in. I was almost smashed to paste standing too close."
"That's saying something, coming from you. Queen takes tower."
"King to E-Two."
"Bishop takes tower. Both of your towers are gone."
"Pawn to E-Five."
Having learned what he did, Arthur recognized that they couldn't rely on the Empress for help either. Maybe, once in a blue moon, she would come out and do something that benefitted them. That was not reliable, with how often she moved around. If she was upset with Tsaindorcus, she might as well have dropped off the surface of the planet.
The Black Dragon was probably laughing at their expense. If he were an eldritch monstrosity that desired the death of all life, then having the New World's primary defender besides Tsaindorcus Vaision out of commission would be the icing on the cake.
No matter how I look at it, recruiting other players is our best bet. Even if I avoid being drafted into this war, who is to say I'm not dragged in kicking and screaming later?
With his family and freedom on the line, Arthur decided it was time to end things. "Knight to A-Six."
"Assassin Takes pawn at G-Seven. Check."
"King to D-Eight."
"Queen to F-Six. Check."
A frown deepened on his face. "Knight to F-Six. For what is worth, Umbarth, I do hope that the dragon lords prevail. Regardless of how it ends, this nightmare must stop so that my children do not face a horrendous future. This world cannot be devoured as my own was."
When he said that, he looked up and saw a strange expression that Umbarth had. It was unlike anything he ever saw the vain dragon make. It was so raw, so visceral that it took a moment to realize what he was seeing was sorrow.
The emotion was so alien to see directed at Arthur that he did a double take. Why would Umbarth look at him that way? Even when they were acquaintances or friends–if one squinted hard enough–the samurai never witnessed the dragon give that look.
Is he… pitying me? Pity, from a dragon? That is absurd, especially over a game like this. He has never been like that, never been one to do that to me. To do so would be beneath him-
The realization crashed down on his head. One of his pawns… It seemed a dragon's cunning knew no bounds.
"Mage to F-Seven. Check-mate. You lose, Arthur Kalman"
Any hope of victory was dashed. A noose seemed to be tightening around his neck, ready to ensnare him in its clutches. He took a deep breath to calm himself and the feeling abated.
"Well played, Dragon Lord. Well played…" he congratulated.
"You as well. You know what must come next, right?"
It would not be a painless process, but it was relatively straightforward enough to complete a World Pact. Umbarth had technically started it by listing out the terms of their agreement earlier and completed the second stage by beating him in their match.
Arthur nodded. "I do. Because it's you, I'm assuming it'll be just as flamboyant as everything else you do?"
Umbarth rubbed the back of his head while chucking, taking off pieces of his armor, and holding out his bare arm. "Actually, I don't want to drag this out any longer than it has to be. Just clasping my forearm while I recite the vows will do."
"… As you will then."
Arthur removed part of his armor as well to prepare. They clasped each other's dominant arm, like a warriors' handshake. The dragon lord's eyes began to glow bright white, and a distinct hum filled the air.
"I, Umbarth Kaldarran, do solemnly swear to honor the promises which I have spoken. By my honor as the Brightness Dragon Lord and as a member of the Council of Argland do I forge this [World Pact]."
Sparks flew between their grip, prompting Arthur to say his piece. "I, Arthur Kalman, do solemnly swear to abide by the terms of our agreement which have been spoken. By my honor as a player of Yggdrasil and chosen of the World Spirit do I accept this pact."
Branches of light forked between their fingers, an intense heat enveloping their arms. The hum grew louder, silencing the wind and animal song in its tone. Pure light shone through their grip, more intense than the sun.
Searing pain racked Arthur's body, forcing him to grit his teeth to bear the pain. Umbarth was no better, using his other hand to steady himself from the agonizing sensation. The hum started to reach a new pitch while the light focused, becoming a pillar that shot straight into the sky.
The [World Isolation Barrier] fluctuated, merging with the beam of light. Both the [World Pact] and the [World Isolation Barrier] were mid-tier spells, but when they interacted, it created a rather spectacular light show. To an outside viewer, it would look like the pair were consumed by a blazing sun.
From where their grips connected, a shape branded itself onto both of them. The shape would not be revealed until they let go after the ritual was completed. The sigil that appeared would be unique to their World Pact.
As quickly as it began, the ritual finished. Arthur and Umbarth collapsed to their knees, letting go of each other. The residual Wild Magic arced around them like lightning, dissipating peacefully after a moment.
Their bodies steamed from the intense energy that had flowed into them, such was the power of Wild Magic. It was like a world item but an entire magic system, which meant that to dabble in it was no small affair.
Arthur glanced down at his forearm. He saw a winged sword upon him, branded into his skin. The flesh surrounding it was angry red and tender. He could not be hugging his children for a few days with this.
On Umbarth's forearm, he saw a similar tattoo, but a crown floated above the blade to signify him as the creator of the World Pact.
"Am I to assume that the Council has similar tattoos branded upon them as well?" the player asked, wincing while he stood back up.
"They do. I got their consent before I left so they were expecting to receive one sometime today depending on how our chess game ended. The ones they got didn't hurt though, the lucky sons of bitches."
Whenever a True Dragon Lord invoked a [World Pact], anyone who was involved, either directly between recipients or those impacted by the terms, would receive a branding somewhere on their body. Those who did not directly participate in the ritual got a faded tattoo that was less powerful, acting more as an alarm that they broke the agreement than anything else.
So far, no one had been able to escape a World Pact without dire consequences. This was true for both direct and indirect recipients. No equivalent existed within the Yggdrasil Tier Magic system, so those dragon lords born after Tier Magic became widespread had to invent their ways to honor agreements.
The very souls of those involved with a World Pact were marked as well, so those with Wild Magic could easily tell who was chained down by such a deal. Until the World Pact was complete or a clever way was invented to escape it, everyone was bound to their part in the most primordial of Wild Magics.
"To think I would ever be forced to bind myself in such a way," Arthur grumbled, "so long as my family is kept safe, I will bear this burden. What happens now?"
"Now you will return to your little island and get your family ready to leave. I know it's not ideal, but moving your wife and children to the Argland Council State will be the best course to ensure their safety."
"I suppose it'll be a good change of scenery for the kids. And here I had been planning to take them to the port just earlier today. I never expected that my plans could change so quickly."
Umbarth laid a hand upon his shoulder. "I wouldn't think too much about it. For what it's worth, I think it'll be great to have you back! You've got a bit stuffy yourself but I'd much rather have you to talk to than any of the other council members!"
"Gee, thanks," Arthur snarked. Although, he did feel a small bit of camaraderie at hearing that from the dragon lord. Diana and Damien would be a bit upset that they didn't get to go to port. Keyleth's glare would not be a welcome sight to come home to.
They'll come around after a bit of convincing. The island will still be there when we return. It'll be like… a vacation. That's what I'll tell Keyleth and the children. Yes… they'll come around. Keyleth is older than me, and the kids are mature for their age, so they'll see it has to be this way. One has to accept the things one cannot change.
For now, he needed to gather them up. It was going to be an uncomfortable conversation when he came back home.
Capital of the Argland Council State
Tsaindorcus Vaision was present within the Hall of Memories, the only place large enough besides the Capital Building that could hold his true form. He came here often to reflect on his kind's history.
The Platinum Dragon Lord was not to be disturbed at times like these. During the long days filled with democratic meetings with the other representatives, this was his one respite. It was humbling to stand here before the accomplishments of his ancestors and meditate.
That is all it seems I can do these days when I am not guarding the treasures of the Greed Kings. To think that one such as I, a guardian of the world, must be relegated to my current post.
He sighed, his chest rising mightily. His Draconic strength always displayed itself in subtle ways, from the flexing of his muscles to the sharpness of his vision. To be a dragon was to be a part of the Lord species who once dominated the world. Under normal circumstances, they had no equals.
At least they didn't, once upon a time. The tablets he stared at were a reminder that even dragons were not invincible.
Within the Hall of Memories was a collection of enchanted tablets that held the history of entire families of the remaining True Dragon Lords. They were family trees, connected by the blood of the current patriarch of the family. So long as a member of the family remained alive, the blood glowed hot with Draconic pride.
Countless tablets were lining those walls, some so small they could be held in the hands of a scribe, while others reached up to the ceiling. Only a dragon of Tsaindorcus's size could see the full size of those family histories without needing to crane his neck.
Each tablet was made of different types of material that were pleasing to the family patriarch. Some were made of volcanic glass or polished granite, while others were constructed of precious metals. Tsaindorcus's family tablet was fashioned of a special platinum, the same enchanted version that made up his armor.
As for the Hall of Memories, it was constructed after the classical architecture of a human civilization that called itself "Greek". He read about them in the memoirs of the Greed Kings, who included examples of what their buildings looked like. He thought their architecture was so beautiful to the eye that when Argland was being built, he requested the architects use the style as much as they could, providing the examples he had. Ironically enough, the thought that he was being a hypocrite in implementing such architecture never even crossed his mind.
The result of the Argland Council State was well worth the trouble. His fellow council members agreed, and a certain sort of pleasure filled him in making something so exquisite out of the destruction of the Greed Kings. It was a victory in itself.
A Parthenon was an excellent choice to house our tablets. And yet… So many have gone dark. Entire lineages lost to the ravages of time, their only mark upon the world remembered by these tablets.
The five dragon councilors of Argland still had steady family lines. The Dragon Alliance's bloodlines were in shambles, but some of their numbers were still going steady. Other family bloodlines were not so fortunate, their blood faded with the death of their entire clans.
The Primordial Dragon Lord's family, systematically hunted down by the servants of the Black Dragon. Their head patriarch was slain by the Godhead and his corpse was defiled in their sick experiments.
The Catastrophe Dragon Lord's family, a member of the Dragon Alliance. His clan fell to infighting after their patriarch's failed resurrection. His experiments to try and replicate a Player's "respawning" came to naught. There were rumors that his death was not as complete as it seemed.
The Red Eyes Dragon Lord's family, driven to madness by their vampiric bloodlust. Their patriarch devoured his kin, forced to be put down by his mate to try and save their remaining hatchlings. She succumbed and killed herself out of horror at what she did.
The Storm Dragon Lord's family, who prided themselves on their mastery of divine-type lightning over others that practiced the same art. Only their patriarch remained after the genocide of the Greed Kings. Ironically, he was killed by a former council member with the power that he prided himself on so much.
The Northern Winds Dragon Lord's family, infamous for their callous hearts and cruelty. Their icy attitudes gained them no love from the other dragon lords, and so they were left alone to face the wrath of the last Titan Lord. The greatest fury came about from the gentlest of giants after all.
All of these families were practitioners of Wild Magic, a dwindling art in the modern age. There was hope that it would come back into prominence before he was born but by the time he became an adult, Tier Magic was overtaking everything.
Every one hundred years, a new set of players would arrive to cause trouble. The first batch that arrived six hundred years ago proved credible allies, but only one had no concept of a lifespan, so the others withered away after a mortal life.
The players that caused the most issues were the Greed Kings, who favored humanoids and cut a swath of destruction across the continent. Though many of the First Age Dragon Lords could prove their equal or, dare he say, their superior, there were not enough of them left to mount a campaign against them.
It did not help either that they were being helped by an outside force, one that gave them inside knowledge of their inner workings. A traitor to their kind that rebelled against the World Spirit and sought to expand Yggdrasil's influence.
Tahksis, my sister… Mother has grown so disappointed in both of us. You change your name and strike bargains with beings we scarcely understand in the name of your vendetta. How much longer must you roar into the void? How long until the void itself completely consumes you?
She was often on his mind lately as well. The last he heard of her, she was slumbering away in an undisclosed location after allowing her son to be killed. Every time he thought there was a chance that he could sway her back to their kind's side, a new level of depravity was displayed by his sister.
In a way, Tsaindorcus was thankful that his mother took on a life as a hermit, intervening in the events of the world in her way. The same could not be said of his father, who bordered on the precipice between life and death. When he and his mother last spoke to each other, she turned away from him.
His claws clenched hard enough on the stone floor that he left deep grooves in the immaculate marble. She understood why he acted as he did, for to act too rashly was to invite the machinations of the Black Dragon into his life. However, where they bared teeth was that she felt he was too inactive.
There was no need to build armies, no need to send out spies on unsuspecting populations just because of paranoia. When he last faced the Black Dragon, it was during the time of the Demon Gods with his allies, the Thirteen Heroes.
Truthfully, there were more than thirteen among them. Mortal memories tended to be short and prone to prejudice. Only those who bore a humanoid shape were truly remembered by the survivors of that war. Even among their number, the taint of discrimination was rampant, especially against the ones who proved their most powerful champions.
When that betrayal came from the Black Knight and the Dragon God was born, Tsaindorcus was forced to unveil himself in his true form. He had betrayed the trust of his friends as well, hiding who he truly was to infiltrate their group. Though he was weaker then, he was still a dragon lord, and a son of the emperor no less.
With his breath, he was able to drive away the Dragon God. Though Wild Magic usually did not affect World Items, his breath was a different matter. It was one of the last gifts bestowed upon dragon kind by the World Spirit before it became indifferent to their pleas. A beam of pure disintegration, to undo the existence of any who faced its full might.
He struck a terrible blow against the Dragon God that day, tearing a hole in his essence. It did not kill him, but the wound was grievous enough that he was forced to retreat through the shadows. As per usual, scrying efforts proved fruitless in trying to track down anyone who was fully immersed in the veil of the Black Dragon.
"I wonder what might have been if I had finished my task. Would I have saved my species from suffering, or would the players have been a far worse alternative? What a guardian of the world am I, that I do not know where to plant my shield to safeguard it..."
There was no answer. He felt that he was beginning to lose himself in old memories and scathing regrets. It was time to get some fresh air.
Before he could leave, he felt a slight tingle on his chest, directly where his heart was. He looked down to see a faded, black shape take form. It resembled a winged sword, which could only mean that the Brightness Dragon Lord was successful, as he often was.
Arthur Kalman… An honorable man but responsible for the Storm Dragon Lord's death. Though he was in the right to defend himself, politics forced me to banish him from Argland for the safety of the other Council Members. Ultimately, he will prove a worthy tool, and it is far better to fight with a lion on your side than against one.
Because the Parthenon was large enough to accommodate his size, he had no problems just turning around and leaving. The pillars that held up the room were spacious enough that he could easily slip out.
Spreading out his gigantic wings, he buffetted the ground until he achieved take-off. In doing so he scared the daylights out of a curator of the Hall of Memories. A twinge of amusement filled him while he flew over the magnificent sights of the city.
The Hall of Memories was situated on a mountain that had been leveled. The Capital Building was there as well and is where the different representatives of the humanoid and demi-human species gathered to make decisions on important legislation. It was a domed building, the bronze doorway flanked by hand-carved pillars and large enough to accommodate the dragon councilors in their full forms.
Gleaming marble stretched as far as the eye could see, statues of heroes of all species dotting the different public squares where markets were held and trade was conducted. It was a breezy day, so many of the citizens were out doing their shopping.
Some areas were more elevated than others, requiring at least one set of stairs to reach another area of the city. This was because while the mountaintop had been leveled, the city itself was built along its side and into the forest that surrounded it.
The Capital Building was the direct center of the city, the stairs leading up to it connected directly to the main streets that reached out to the city borders. One main road led to the port of the city since the Capital of Argland was situated close to the sea. This was to better accommodate the aquatic demi-humans that made their home there.
Where the port was, a smaller circular wall encapsulated all the ships that came in from the sea. An open gate allowed them access in and out. A miniature market was set up along the stone docks, where fishermen and merchants could sell their wares fresh off the sea without needing to haul their cargo to the various surface markets.
At each corner where the outer walls connected, bell-topped towers manned by guards kept a watchful eye on everything beyond their borders. Ballista turrets were handled by teams of five guards, one of them a mage with access to offensive elemental magic.
There were a variety of recreational areas that the citizenry could take advantage of. Some that were notable were the bathhouse, open-air amphitheater, gladiatorial arena (for recreational fights, of course.), art gallery, auction house, and parks situated on either side of the leveled mountaintop.
Tsaindorcus recalled that Arthur's human father had been something known as a "civil engineer", information he learned from the Brightness Dragon Lord during their many talks. From what he understood of the position, they were individuals who specialized in the foundational work of building a city.
Some of that knowledge trickled down enough that he understood the basics of plumbing. He had tried to replicate "electricity", but the architects found it more trouble than it was worth. Instead, magical lanterns were used as a cost-efficient substitute.
A world without magic would be a hellish existence, forced to endure more labor than what we can accomplish here. And yet, the technology they developed was most intriguing indeed.
Though he could not speak to it himself since it was before his time, the dragons had made sufficient advancements of their own. Much of that knowledge was lost in the death throes of Terminus, and the survivors of the First Age were tight-lipped about the extent to which magic and technology were melded.
It made Tsaindorcus suspicious, but if even his mother would not tell them about their prowess in the matter, there was little he could do. He knew Tahksis made it a contention between her and their mother.
Looking down, he could see some of the automatic carriages were picking up their passengers. Children were taken to their schoolyards. Workers picked up to head to their jobs, with some of these carriages being their place of work as food stalls.
Over the gladiatorial arena, he saw a repurposed orb of scrying, which projected an image out and enlarged it so that those who could not afford to attend the event in person were able to still watch.
Some avian demihumans tended to the trees that were planted in between the arches on the main walkways, providing a spot of color amongst all the white marble making up the city. It truly was a successful experiment being able to bring so many species together and have them work together.
I wonder if, perhaps, that is because the human population is only around ten percent of our total numbers. Yet the nation that both Re-Estize and Baharuth split from was a nation of varied races as well. A pity it could not survive the Advent of the Demon Gods.
If he recalled correctly, in the general vicinity of where the modern-day Katze Plains are was once located the capital of that super nation. It was even the birthplace of one of the Thirteen Heroes, a skilled young assassin that sadly passed away during the conflict. It had been razed to the ground after the defeat of the Demon God King.
Around this time Tsaindorcus noticed that he was approaching the sea, instinct propelling his wings while deep in thought. He had no desire to anger the World Serpent, so he immediately landed on an empty platform close to one of the docked ships.
The sea lizardman captain of said ship saluted him. "Hail Councilman Tsaindorcus! I see you noticed the winds were favorable and decided to sail with them as well! That or you couldn't wait to sample today's catch."
A deep rumble boomed from his chest, a dragon's version of a light chuckle. "Do not mind me, captain. I am merely reminiscing on days long since passed. Your voyage went well, I take it?"
"Aye! The haul was especially excellent today because we caught a hunter shark! I did not think one would venture from the deep, but the lads and I got it!"
The captain's men cheered as a crane raised a massive body, nearly ten meters in length from the bowels of the ship. Tsaindorcus's eye ridges creased slightly, a humanoid gesture he picked up long ago.
"You are right to wonder about such a thing, captain. Hunter sharks are seldom seen in shallow waters. Where did you catch this?"
"Nowhere close to the World Serpent if that's what you're wondering, councilman. My men and I may like adventure, but we prefer our lives! It's probable this one is old and came up to the surface to die peacefully in the warm rays of the sun."
Tsaindorcus hummed while he watched the sailors begin to carve up the body. A Hunter shark's body was covered in thick, serrated scales that required special knives to carve up. Those same scales covered even the eyes, rendering the bulky predator completely blind.
They typically hunted in deeper water to make use of echolocation, where darkness shrouded everything in eternal twilight. If one were to make its way to the surface, that meant either one of two things.
The first was that it had gotten old and thus its air bladder was over-inflating. This would cause it to float to the surface of the water whether it wanted to or not. Given how shiny the scales were and the high quality of the teeth, he doubted that this Hunter shark was old.
The second was the more worrying of the two, for it meant that sudden, unnatural earthquakes near the sea floor shoved the creature up from its natural habitat. It would be disoriented and thus easy prey for the significantly larger Megalodon to consume. Earthquakes were not a common occurrence, since the Deep Sea Dragon Lord took special care to use her Wild Magic to soothe the tectonic lines.
That would only mean one thing to him if his wet nurse's Wild Magic failed to stop an earthquake from breaking out.
He is preparing to move? And so suddenly too? Why would he be so careless when it can take months to prepare his next movement? The watchdog of the oceans is no fool, unless…
Current events in the world kept him awake at night. With what Kennisdat Piarsi had scryed as of late, there was plenty of cause for concern. Jormungandr noticed something that evaded his gaze, forcing him to prepare to move.
Despite being able to freely enjoy the day beforehand and allow the sun to warm his scales, a deep chill shook him to his bones. The Brightness Dragon Lord and Arthur Kalman would need to return at once, to meet with him and the other councilors.
It was time to start preparing for Ragnarok.