Outside the Tomb of Nazarick
Momonga observed Linnormr before him. The way he presented himself, the way he spoke, the way that he made his declaration. All of it set his nerves on edge. The only reason he wasn't full-blown panicking was because of his emotional inhibitor.
Albedo and Bukubukuchagama leaned in defensively to him. His guildmates made a protective fortress that no one should be able to pass. A literal army of summons stood between him and his imposter, as well as a plethora of spells to cover most of his weaknesses.
So why did he feel so on edge? Why did he get the sense that despite being among his friends on their home turf, they were not the dangerous ones here? The mental presence of the guild staff was reassuring but did little in the way of truly calming him.
"We have no time for any brand of entertainment you have to offer," Ankoro spat, baring her teeth. "I know who you are, Lindwyrm. Though that makes about as much sense as me calling myself Wolf or my brother Chimera!"
The one who wore Momonga's face tilted his head. "You have done well to preserve your knowledge, Daughter of the Harbinger. You are correct in that my name is not indicative of the whole being, but names rarely are. It was merely… A substitute to help you better understand."
"Not like it matters anyways," Suratan snarled, "We're gonna beat the shit out of you and your lackey there anyways. Make this easier for us and just roll over real quick."
The Weeping King jumped in front of Linnormr. "No! You will not harm Lord Ainz! This was not the plan! None of this is going according to plan! My lord, what is going on here?!"
Despite the shared bloodlust all of his friends shared, Momonga could feel their curiosity win out. The summons grew antsy, waiting for some kind of order. Linnormr watched them all with an amused twinkle in his eye.
Earlier, he called me his "creator". Like an NPC? I never made an NPC outside of the tomb.
Linnormr held out a hand, an emerald flame flashing into existence. It spread into roughly the shape of a projector-size screen. Out of those flames emerged an image; That of Momonga sitting upon the Throne of Kings.
"In every place, in every time, there is only one constant. The King of Nazarick. Regardless of the circumstances, no matter what that king may do, whether he is beloved or hated by all, the result is the same. He is alone."
Momonga sat alone upon the world item in the image, the NPCs bowing before him in a show of fealty. The image quickly shifted to him standing before different groups of people. Humanoids, Demi-humans, Heteromorphs. It did not matter, for whatever species they may be, they all knelt to him the same.
"He is a conqueror. He is a betrayer. He is a philosopher, a diplomat, a warlord, and a hedonist. Among all these roles, he wears a mask to hide away from the true pain of what he experienced. A soul-crushing loneliness left behind by the hole in his heart. Nothing could fill it. Not the love of his devoted creations, not the worship of his fanatical followers, nor all the material riches of that world. For you see, this king was a king of no one."
The image shifted again, showing the Momonga in the image hovering over what he assumed was the New World itself. He was dressed in black armor, and Demiurge flew next to him, listening intently to something he was saying.
It was surreal to see, and many of his friends glanced confusedly at him. He shrugged helplessly, unsure what to make of things so far. For the moment, he was just as lost as they were.
"He embodied all aspects with but a single wish, drawing upon a cauldron of creation with stolen talents. The Sea of Possibilities provided answers, but to questions he did not think to ask. Among these prophecies, he saw visions of ancient foes, forgotten realms, and theoreticals that existed only to torment him. He saw only what had occurred, and what may lie in wait."
A series of images flashed by now. Momonga and Nabe, dressed like adventurers in the city of E-Rantel, just the two of them. Momonga and the NPCs on a large rock, looking down upon a group of lizard-looking people in the middle of a great lake. Shalltear and Momonga dueled one another in perhaps a section of the Forest of Tob that had been leveled.
In one scene, he saw himself summoning the children of Shub Niggurath on a field, stomping upon hundreds of thousands of soldiers. Another showed him facing off against a Lord of Wrath, a woman with a bow on her back watching from afar. A third showed him sitting upon a mountain of rubble, admiring the ruins of a once-sprawling city.
Then came a great battle between Momonga and a platinum-armored warrior, which culminated in a grand finale with a platinum dragon. A second showed the Overlord in a watery palace, tearing the world apart while he battled what looked like a water elemental. The third was of Momonga reaching into a portal of iridescent light, his body covered in glowing cracks.
"His power came at a great price. But along with that came excellent opportunities. What should have remained lost to the void was rejuvenated because of his desperation. A ravenous beast, a mindless animal, cursed to wander forever, was allowed a second chance to regain its purpose."
What came next made his friends gasp in horror. His eyes were transfixed on the scene, unable to look away from the trainwreck that existed there. It seemed like a demented joke, something Linnormr played to get under his skin. Yet, something deep in his bones told him that it could very well be true.
The next image was of him on the Throne of Kings again. However, his body was battered and his robes torn. His bones cracked and a knife stuck into his sternum. His eye sockets were empty, with no source of undead fire at all.
The NPCs in that image were wailing, rushing forward to grab his body and perhaps save him. However, it was obvious by the lack of rings on his fingers what his cause of death was.
Linnormr's fiery eyes ignited. "Your soul was stained black by the fires of longing, Despot. The blood of millions drenched your hands, and the enemies you made and the friends you slew drew you to despair. You could not live with yourself, and so you went hurtling into the Sea of Possibilities to escape your anguish."
"That's a lie!" Touch Me roared, aiming his sword at Linnormr's chest. "You think we'd believe something like that?! Believe anything that you showed us?! You are a deceiver, a monster that tortured others for fun, playing with the lives of others as if they're cheap puppets!"
"Sensei Momonga would never allow himself to fall so far. His fortitude to keep our guild's memory alive is proof of that," Garnet viciously agreed. Brisingr the animated sword was in his hand, her gem eye glaring at her guild leader's imposter.
The Weeping King's jaw hung open in horror. "My… My lord? Did you kill yourself? You never told me this? I could have helped you through it all! Just as you saved me, I could've been the one to-"
"Silence."
The Weeping King shut up immediately, his hurt palpable across the clearing. Linnormr didn't even bat an eye at how he shut down his most devoted follower. For a brief moment, Momonga pitied the player.
"Among all of those theoreticals which existed, only this and that first world holds true. The rest plays out as the Sea foretold, but in what capacity shall be revealed in time. Will you bear the stick or the carrot, or shall it be neither?"
The green flame that showed the other version of Momonga dissipated, leaving only Linnormr and the Weeping King standing there. He raised both arms out to either side as if to embrace the guild.
"The souls of millions have sacrificed themselves in your name. Just as you have wielded the sword, you offered the olive branch. Among those millions were some of your kind as well. Shall I list off their names in your honor?"
Everyone's patience was wearing thin. The summons picked up on this, a storm of snarls filling the air from their desire to kill their targets. Momonga's magic was primed to go, ready to unleash its full power.
"I do not know what half-truths or deceptions you say. I do not know if you are that version of me you showed or not, but I do know this. I know I would never resort to the destruction of others to build myself back up. I am not the monster that you have become," Momonga declared with finality.
All of the forty-one began to march forward slowly, spreading out in a semi-circle to prevent forward escape. They did not rush in since the full extent of Linnormr's power was not known. If he could so easily come close to the tomb without setting off the proximity alarms, what else could he be hiding?
As with any potential Player versus Player conflict, one had to take it seriously and without mistakes. That included rushing headfirst into a fight without considering all the sorts of countermeasures that might be placed on the enemy player. It did not bode well that his imposter allowed them to surround him.
"You need only look upon me to understand how quickly events can change. The Weeping King himself is proof of this, clawing to fill that same hole in his heart. His desperation to serve me has more than earned him a seat at my table."
The Weeping King's brightened at the praise but dampened with the realization of everything else he learned. "Lord Ainz… But you are not with this version of the forty-one. What table exists for me to join? You-you lied to me."
Linnormr placed a gentle hand on the Weeping King's shoulder, making him flinch. "You are mistaken, old friend. You will join the forty-one. You will become the fortieth of the chosen souls I need in addition to my own."
It took a moment for that to sink in. The phrase confused the guild enough that they temporarily halted. That was their first mistake.
The emerald green overlord melted, his robes and skeletal structure becoming a goopy mess of steaming tar. Only the flaming emerald eyes of Linnormr remained, seated in the middle of a hazy orb of crackling energy.
That orb soared directly into the Weeping King's chest, alongside all of his emulsified body. The disgusting substance slid into the spell-sword's every orifice: his eyes, his mouth, the space between his ribs, and filled him to the brim with the corrosive slime.
Green flames overlapped red ones. The Weeping King gagged, clutching at his throat as if he was choking. Both of these actions should have been impossible. A puddle of slime built up at his feet, cracks stretching across the ground. The earth rumbled fiercely as whatever happened to the Weeping King spread.
That snapped the guild out of their confusion. Before Momonga could say anything, Yamaiko, and Jo-Bro sailed towards the Weeping King, who pleaded with his hand for help. The duo reared their fists back, slamming with full force directly into his sternum.
CRACK!
The disintegrating player was sent flying backward, out of proximity of the tomb's boundary. He was wailing the whole way in a mixture of betrayal and agony. He landed with a deafening crash near the forest border, forming a sizable crater. Dynamite and Ulbert floated above Momonga with rune circles encasing both of their bodies, ready to release hell on their target.
The tips of Dynamite's feather's glowed, while Ulbert's fur sported an electric current that spoke of his power. A series of runes reached up into the sky, spreading out for meters around and nearly covering the top of the tomb. They spoke with one voice the name of their chosen spells.
"[Petite Catastrophe]!"
"[Triple Maximize Magic: Ground Zero]!"
Where the crater was filled with booming devastation. A sonic boom split all the oxygen in the air, fueling the power that struck down with the force of several hydrogen bombs. The resulting explosion blocked out all either noise, making Momonga's "ears" ring.
The shaking of the ground doubled in intensity. The entire tree line was blown away from the force of the blast, leveling that portion of forest just like it had been in the vision Linnormr showed them.
When the magical energy cleared out, the grass had been reduced to bleached dirt. The crater deepened enough that the bottom was dark. Several chunks of earth had ejected out of the ground and made massive piles all around. Faintly, the smell of burning tar filled the air, making a revolting stench.
The army of summons marched right up to the crater and surrounded it. They stared down into the depths, giving Momonga and his friends a moment to breathe.
"I guess that just goes to show how much of an advantage forty-one players have over two," Touch Me said. His sword and shield were clenched tightly in his hands.
Tigris Euphrates nodded emphatically. "Having the equivalent of two [Petite Catastrophes] launched at once is bound to kill just about anybody. Jo-Bro and Yamaiko did a good job getting those guys out of the way so we didn't suffer friendly damage."
Momonga agreed. In the New World, friendly fire was always enabled, adding additional risks. Friendly fire meant any AOE spells that boasted offensive capabilities had to be used sparingly since one wrong move meant they could accidentally hurt or kill their friends.
Dynamite and Ulbert especially were masters of AOE damage. They boasted incredible firepower, though Ulbert was superior when it came to his "World Catastrophe" build. Dynamite, in comparison, had to rely on metamagics to boost her [Ground Zero] spell to be somewhat close in raw strength to even [Petite Catastrophe].
If done right, the effects could be quite spectacular.
"I wouldn't say we're out of the woods yet," Bellriver said with a grim tone. "[Life Essence]."
Momonga cast the spell himself, as did every other mage within the guild that had access to the spell. They collectively swore when they saw a small but steady pool of health at the bottom of the crater.
Seriously?! How the hell did they survive a blow like that? Was Linnormr's merging with the Weeping King a failsafe against such a thing? Did he plan for us to use such powerful magic right out of the gate?
He watched as some of the Seraphims floated closer to the crater. It appeared as if it was trying to get a closer look. Something within must have caught its eye, likely the barely living body of the Weeping King.
However, as he kept [Life Essence] turned on, he noticed that the health pool was getting bigger. And bigger. And bigger…
"That's not right. That can't be right. How is he healing up already from that?" Blue Planet asked in outrage. "An attack like that should have been enough to one-shot a max-level player!"
There was no denying what they saw before their eyes. Not only was the health pool growing but it was slowly changing color as well. Instead of a vibrant red, it was becoming a dark green.
The Seraphim Angel that was surveying the crater was immediately impaled by a barbed tentacle. The other Seraphims and their demonic counterparts screeched with anger and dove right into the pit. They too were impaled, dragged screaming down, and swiftly killed.
Other summons like the constructs, automatons, golems, and spirits rushed in, trying to attack whatever was down there. Just as the angels and demons were, they were impaled and dragged down. Momonga could see just over the edge a bubbling pit of black essence, rising with each summon being pulled under.
"Call them back now!" Momonga commanded, mentally recalling his undead. "Linnormr and the Weeping King are still alive, they're killing off the frontal assault!"
His friends who had summons scrambled to do as he said. The sea of Yggdrasil creatures parted while they ran back toward Nazarick. Some did not make it anyways, for the pool of tendrils continued to stab and pull in the summons that were too slow.
Of the total amount he and his guildmates brought to this fight, Momonga estimated about twenty-five percent of them were already killed in the initial ambush. There had to be a couple hundred summons out there, lower tier but still competitive enough to cause damage in high quantities against max-level players.
Those who could began launching long-ranged attacks at the crater. Blasts of Ki, divine-tier quality ammunition, tenth-tier spells, explosive potions, anything and everything the guild as a whole could use was being thrown at the crater. The summons that got away rained down elemental storms and magitech weaponry as well, and those that could summon disposable minions sent in hordes at a time to gank the imposter.
That amount of firepower from forty-one specialized or min-maxed players should have been enough to blow Linnormr away. He should've been reduced to atoms at this rate, yet his health bar only regenerated the damage being dealt to him. The rate it grew was a terrifying sight to behold.
Momonga turned to Punitto Moe, whose golden scepter brimmed with holy energy. "We might need to get the other NPCs ready for a fight. Start coordinating with those in the tomb, whatever comes out may need all of us-"
"Nine Heroes of War, who died as they lived."
A dull echo rumbled across the verdant plain. All present froze at hearing the voice. It was a razor-sharp baritone, grating on the ears. That voice was charged with unfathomable might, belying a hidden menagerie of horrors waiting to come into the light.
It was the voice of the apocalypse, an infinite calamity in the making. The being that spoke… was certain death.
A pillar of steaming tar shot out of the pool, towering into the sky. It bent at an angle and came crashing down. More tendrils split off from that pillar, grabbing the fallen remains of trees and covering itself. Another ten percent of the total summons were annihilated in one go.
"Eight Greed Kings, devoured by avarice."
The process repeated for a second pillar, using the trees to cover itself in a rough shape of armor. Momonga noticed that the pillars looked suspiciously like legs, and ended in deadly talons that boiled the dirt.
Their barrage of attacks stopped shortly after, to not waste precious consumables and mana. It was obvious now they were going to need it for what came next.
"Seven Dwarven Mountain Kings, forgotten beneath stone."
Next came a body made of rolling hills, forging a long, serpentine body that could wrap around a mountain. The dirt hardened and cracked, forming a protective shell around the black tar.
"Five Masters of Magic, consumed by their conceit."
Slowly, a body took shape before them. One that was so titanic it made their siege golem, Gargantua, look like a mere child. It was a beast that could rend an entire ecosystem uninhabitable with one swipe of its whip-like tail.
"Four Elemental Lords, siblings of eternal strife."
Wings that blotted out the sun flared out. Their leathery skin was dripping with acidic blood, grown straight from the body. The bark of dead trees reinforced them, though it was likely they could still grant flight.
"Three Soulless Undead, who learned immortality is a lie."
Out of the body slithered a sinuous, tough neck of black slime, darkened rock, and drained tree husks. A row of spines formed along the back of it, forming an obsidian coat of crystalline scales.
"Two Wayward Heroes, brothers that bled together."
On top of the neck grew a tapered head. Horns sprouted and interlocked with each other, making a crest of points that were just as ornamental as they were deadly. On either side of the head, three eyes of emerald hatred opened. They stared down at Nazarick.
"One Sapling of Yggdrasil, who wilted in the darkness. And now… a King of Ruin."
The gargantuan dragon flexed its wings and roared, a sound so deep that the ground split open. From in-between the cracks rose the familiar shapes of the Wendigos. Yet, these were different from the ones reported by Blue Planet.
They were bigger, more muscular, and sported crystalline growths all over their bodies. Some were winged, while others had a lower half like a naga. Some had snakes for hair, and others molded their hands into different weapons. They came in all manner of shapes, sizes, and purposes. And they all growled hungrily at the forty-one.
"You were right in that Linnormr was a disingenuous name, Daughter of the Harbinger. Allow me to introduce myself properly. In Yggdrasil, you would have known me as the Devourer of the Nine Worlds. In this realm, I am Nidhoggr, the Black Dragon. I am the end of all things, and I have come for you, godlings."
With his naming, the wendigos let loose their carrion call. They homed in on Nazarick in a black tide, sweeping away everything that was in their way. So began the first battle at Nazarick in the New World.
Meanwhile, in Sprigganson
"How're things going with Tulipa? She hasn't seemed to let go of you ever since all the bullshit that happened to you."
"Ah. Well, she's been taking good care of me. Hasn't let me out of her sight at least. She pretty much had to move her whole tree here just so she could get closer to me."
"Ha ha! When are you going to propose to her, Svend? She lives in your house and shares your bed. Just about everyone is expecting it to happen sooner or later, so why not sooner?"
The boy Svendd blushed at his fellow lumberjack's question. He looked off to the side. "I wanted to make sure everything was calm here before I could ask. I don't want to rush into this and not be ready to provide for her."
His friend laughed. He was a hearty, strong man who was the last of the new workers before E-Rantel fell. He was younger too, just a few years older than Svend, which made getting along with him easier.
They were on break right now, enjoying a light lunch while sitting down at the sawmill. His friend had noticed him and Tulipa the other day spending the evening in the cafeteria, which led to their current conversation.
"If I had any of the ladies back home clinging to me as Tulipa does to you, I never would've left E-Rantel. Hell, I've been thinking about chasing some of those dryads myself."
Svend scoffed playfully. "They usually have to come to you. The last man here who pursued a Dryad first was my grandfather. They can be a flighty bunch, but I'm sure some have taken a liking to you."
"You think so? I guess I hadn't noticed. They dance in your face all pretty-like, but as soon as you look at them, they run away. I understand your folks have been with them forever, so I guess you're just used to it."
"Sort of. My mother tended to spend most of her time in the forest with my father before she died. It's just where home is. I know I said Dryads come to you first to initiate, but it does help to speed things up if you intentionally visit them."
His friend got a thoughtful look on his face. "Huh. I'll keep that in mind then. After my shift is over I think I'll go visit their home grove and speak to one of them. Would you be willing to lead the way?"
"Sure! I'd be more than happy to. It would be nice to visit Pinison again. She's still 'grounded' by Naaru, whatever that means. Our break is almost over too. We better head back to it."
They began to get up, putting away the last of their lunches in the metal containers they brought for the day. As his friend started to trail him to get back to the log loader on the outside of the mill, Svend heard a light thunk from behind him.
He frowned, turning around to look at his friend. "Hey, did you drop your lunchbox?"
Inadvertently, he dropped his own when he saw his friend's corpse. A sharp root made of blackened bark and green crystal shot out of the dirt between his feet. The tip went right through his lower jaw and came out the top, exposing bits of his skull.
A light rumble at his feet warned him of what came next. He immediately jumped back as another root shot out and struck the air where his head had been only moments before. It stank of rot, a familiar stench from a few months ago.
Though his Dryad-Born powers hadn't fully manifested yet, he could still draw upon some of his heritage to feel the change in the earth around it. It was frightening, as he got the vague impression that the ground was… emptying somehow, and a flood of slithering roots was taking over the new space.
His eyes widened in horror while he screamed as loud as he could. "They're back! The damn monsters are back!"
The dirt cracked with violent force, the tips of antlers jutting outwards toward the sky. The familiar white skulls came next, followed by muscular, slimy bodies. Shards of crystals grew out of odd spots in the skin, even on the skulls of some of them.
A hulking abomination loomed over him, looking like it could tear a bear in two with only its hands. The hands and feet were tipped with shining claws like metal. Needle teeth filled rotting gums, viscous blood pooling in between. A sinewy tail smashed the ground behind it, allowing more of its kind to dig themselves out with ease.
The first beast roared at the sky, joined by a distant rumbling from those Svend assumed were still underground. More and more hands shot out of the dirt, as well as a host of other appendages ranging from tentacles to scythes.
Svend searched all around him, hoping to find a spare weapon or tool miraculously lying around. When he did not, he raised a hand, praying that today would be the day his Dryad heritage showed itself and he could summon magic.
His skin barely turned green, a small rune circle flickering pathetically into existence and then fizzling out. At best, he managed only a small spark of mana from his palm. The beast stared down at him hungrily, not impressed.
So Svend chose to do the only thing he could do at that moment. He turned and ran.
As he ran across the settlement, shouting his warning to every worker in earshot, he saw some take action and started spreading the word. They were the lucky ones, as they managed to dodge the roots that shot out. Some were not so lucky, impaled through either the chest or head in a swift strike.
This was true across the entire settlement. A sea of spines stole the lives of lumberjacks, while their Dryad-Born counterparts narrowly escaped with their lives. It wasn't just sharpened roots stabbing people, but crushing the various buildings they needed to run the settlement.
He passed by the greenhouse, overrun by roots that crushed the delicate glass and drained the plants inside of their vitality. The Dryad-Born inside screamed a storm of curses while chanting nature spells. The warehouses were similarly taken, their doors locked tight by walls of roots that squeezed both sides.
"Rally the men! Get as many weapons together as you can!"
"There's too many of them, too many of them!"
"Where are the other Dryad-Born?!"
"Oh Grover, oh Grover not again, not again!"
He saw one group of men gather against the beasts, beating away at them with frantic desperation. They had only a meager selection of tools as their defense, easily breaking against the skin of the beasts. As one man winded up to strike as heavily as he could, an undead grabbed his arm and twisted, ripping it clear off.
That man's peers were doused in a shower of blood. Another man's skull was caved in with bits of gray matter leaking out. One of the monster's claws grew to ludicrous lengths and ran through a man's rib cage, his organs made mincemeat by the wriggling talons.
The warehouse that could have saved the men was overgrown with vicious vines. Spikes lifted still-living men while they were disemboweled. The beasts fed on their guts with sadistic glee.
Svend turned so that he could rush in and drag out the survivors. Even if he died a second time, he'd die a hero rather than a coward.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Several monster heads exploded, the noise making Svend's ears ring. He covered them in pain, watching as the monsters were whipped into a frenzy. Their focus was no longer on the lumberjacks, giving them time to get away.
He sighed with relief when he saw a group of four soldiers Lord Blue Planet sent. They moved with practiced efficiency, taking down several monsters with their ranged weaponry. The beasts howled in challenge, stampeding on all fours to meet the soldiers.
He saw one, dressed in heavy metallic gray armor, take down several before they could take a foot in their direction. Their box-shaped weapons made skulls explode with viscera.
Another soldier hacked away at the vines with their short sword, opening the barn up to let the surviving lumberjacks inside to arm themselves. When a trio of undead tried to follow them inside, the soldier shockingly physically overpowered them, snapping the arm of one and bisecting the second with a single slash of their blade. A third was punched directly in the skull, the soldier getting behind and wrapping their arms around the beast's neck, snapping it in one swift motion.
He was frozen, eyes transfixed on the situation. It wasn't until a soldier came up behind him and tapped his shoulder that he realized what he was doing. The soldier gestured for him to run in the general direction of safety, which he did.
It was a relief to know about the two dozen warriors that were spread out across the settlement. The army of Lord Blue Planet was a sight to behold, a saving grace in the sudden carnage. He kept running, hoping to find safety somewhere.
Large sinkholes opened up in the main roads of the settlements, hordes of the monsters crawling out in a black tide. They reminded him of insects with the way they climbed over each other in jerky, unnatural motions. He had to weave in-between houses and other buildings just to not get swept up.
I need to get to Pops and Dad. I need to make sure they're alright! Where is Tulipa?!
In one of the alleyways between a house and their storage houses, a solid mass slammed into his side, knocking the wind out of him. He was smashed into a wall, cracking it and his back with force.
He wheezed in pain, his neck burning as an indomitable grip lifted him clean off the ground. He dangled helplessly in the air, staring directly into the flaming eyes of one of the monsters.
It took a special kind of glee watching him struggle, tracing his chin with an overly long talon. Its breath reeked of rancid flesh, and the body bubbled with a sheen of tar. Green crystals bulged out of its back, giving it a hunch-back.
"Die… human scum…"
It reared the clawed hand back, ready to behead him. Svend gasped and struggled harder, managing to land a solid kick against its chest. The beast didn't even flinch, making a horrid clicking noise in response. He realized it was laughing at him.
Before it could end his life, a spear flew in from out of his line of sight and stabbed clean through the skull. The eyes flickered, then it crumbled to its knees. He was let go, choking on his breath. A smaller, lighter mass was instantly at his side, cuddling him in a fierce hug.
"Oh Svend I'm so sorry! I'm so glad I got here in time! Oh by Grover are you okay? Do you need healing magic? Did he manage to hurt you anywhere else-"
He stopped her with a peck on the cheek. "I'm fine! You made it just in time. Where are Dad and Pops? Are they safe, are they alright?"
"They're rallying everyone at the townhouse. The entire settlement is under siege!"
"We need to join them then, bolster the people. All the main roads are getting closed off by those sinkholes. Give me a lift?"
"Let's go!"
Tulipa's body, normally humanoid in appearance, enlarged and changed shape, drawing Svend into a protective cocoon within her own body. Her arms flattened and became like wings, and her head narrowed into a snout.
His love had transformed her body into a rough approximation of a Forest Wyvern, taking to the skies and flying over the entirety of the settlement. From his bird's eye view, he could see everything.
It was a complete nightmare.
Off to his left, he saw swarms of the undead horrors brutalizing their cattle. They were eviscerated and devoured within seconds, and the bulls fared no better, only managing to put up a meager resistance before succumbing to the same fate.
Some of the micro-turkeys they were raising exploded into plumes of bloody feathers from the strength of the beasts' strikes. They took a perverse pleasure in toying with the timid animals, batting them around before crushing them into gory smears.
The mated pair of Forest Wyverns in the barn were holding their own, protecting their egg and their handlers with streams of steaming acid. The bulkiness of the wyverns meant they could shield their charges well, even as the abominations clawed viciously at their vibrant scales.
Svend was not as worried, as he knew those wyverns were among the strongest animals in the forest, alongside basilisks. They'd keep some of the handlers safe, he hoped.
Inside the village proper, he could see several buildings were set ablaze, befouling the air and making it difficult to breathe even high up. The tanning houses collapsed, and the workers there were trapped and screaming for help. A small team of six soldiers was assisting them, exhibiting strength to lift entire sections of walls just to save them.
Warehouses storing their weapons and tools were cut off by thick, spiny roots. Many of Lord Blue Planet's soldiers broke the vines, only to end up getting pushed back by the violent extensions. It didn't help that the undead constantly harassed them, their claws leaving dents in their exquisite armor.
The undead prowled the streets of the settlement, rushing separated groups of lumberjacks that were lucky enough to not fall to the initial attack of vines, yet unlucky enough to not have a Dryad-Born or a soldier near them. Left alone, their deaths were a guarantee, only having been delayed a few seconds compared to those who were impaled by the rotten roots from the ground.
The sawmill was destroyed, reduced to kindling by an emerald-green fire. All around the settlement, flesh, and wood burned.
The only building that seemed safe was the townhouse where Pops lived. His grandfather was on the roof of the building alongside his father and uncle. Their arms were covered in tree bark, blasting bolts of holy and nature magic. All around the townhouse and the buildings closest to it, a perimeter had been hastily built.
Most of Spirgganson's Dryad-Born were growing defensive oaks to act as walls. Surviving lumberjacks were ushered inside while the undead charged toward them. Gaps in the wall allowed six soldiers to put the extended part of their box weapons through, exploding the heads of the monsters that got too close.
The borders of the settlement itself were being torn down by a sea of monsters. More filtered in from the forest edge, replacing the ones that were killed or injured. There was no shortage of them in sight.
They're everywhere… They're not just coming out of the ground, but out of the forest too. Oh no, Tulipa's family!
She wouldn't be able to hear him with the wind in their ears. They took a sharp dive towards the townhouse, more roots firing out of the ground or being thrown by the undead that saw them. Tulipa weaved around them, firing back sharpened branches from her mouth.
Some hit their mark, but unlike the one that choked Svend, these did not go down so easily. Even as the branches tore off whole limbs, this only enraged the wendigos who attempted to follow them over the wall.
The creatures were powerful. Where lesser animals would go down after taking such grievous wounds, these kept going with unnatural fervor. They were relentless, unyielding. The only reason they hadn't broken through the wall the settlement's druids erected was that the nature magic imbued into it repelled the creatures. Their skin steamed from the slightest touch.
Both landed on the roof, Svend being deposited out of Tulipa's body while she reverted to her usual shape.
"Svend! You made it back to the house safely. You too Tulipa! Did you see what was happening around the settlement?" Pops asked, conjuring a storm cloud that launched bolts of lightning at the monstrosities.
"The entire village is being swarmed! When did you manage to set up a defense?"
His father shot a fireball that soared over the wall and slammed a monster in the chest, burning a fist-sized hole that did little to slow it down. It finally went down when several more fireballs burned their way into its chest and disintegrated its heart.
"You were busy working so I guess you forgot it was the monthly meeting," his father reminded grimly, "All our managers were in the house giving reports when this fucking mess started. Your uncle Arne saw them first and warned us just in time."
Uncle Arne chucked an ax at one of the beasts that made it over the wall despite the severe burning it got. The edge split its skull wide open, weakening it enough that it could be stabbed to death by the others.
Each time a monster died, it would dissolve into a puddle of sludge that drained into the ground. It was a strange sight, but if it meant they didn't reform right afterward, Svend would consider it a win in his book.
"Has Grand Oak Naaru or any of my people managed to get in contact with you? If we can get a [Message] through, we might be able to ask for help," Tulipa suggested, throwing spears she made out of her body.
Pops shook his head. "I'm afraid not. They caught us off guard too quickly. If you can buy me time, I'll use the [Message] spell that Lord Blue Planet told me about. I should be able to let them know what's going on, provided they're not being attacked themselves."
Svend believed that would be the case. Wouldn't the dryads have come by now if they sensed the attack? Tulipa mentioned her "sight" was blocked, which was why she was caught off guard as well. It could very well be the same for the other Dryads back in the grove.
Currently, their home housed several hundred more people than usual. This was due to some of their workers reaching out to Re-Estize and taking on portions of the survivors from E-Rantel. Mostly family, close friends, and spouses they left behind when they came to work.
How many would die before they managed to get help from the Dryads? The soldiers of Lord Blue Planet helped immensely, but their unusual strength and weapons would only go so far.
"Pops, what about Blue Planet?" Tulipa threw another spear, decapitating another beast that pounced on one of the Dryad-Born.
"Lord Blue Planet assured me they were keeping close tabs on our home! We have their soldiers here with us to help stem the tide, but with the sheer amount of these Wendigos here, they may be overwhelmed soon."
As if to prove him wrong, one of the soldiers down on the ground screamed with rage. Svend was taken aback since he could've sworn that the scream sounded like a woman's. The soldier tore open the gap in the wall further and pushed themselves right into the crowd.
He cried out, thinking they may have been pulled through initially. He could see over the wall where the soldier fell through and thus could see for himself that this wasn't the case at all.
The soldier was standing firmly on both feet, unleashing a brutal kick that sent one of the beasts flying into others. They held their box weapon in one hand and used their sword in the other, carving their way through the crowd and creating a path forward.
With each hack of their sword was another head lopped off. Each blast of the box weapon meant an undead lost a limb, or was blown to pieces. One of the beasts jumped on the soldier's back, forcing them to their knees while others dog piled on.
To his astonishment, a gauntlet punched a hole through one of the monsters, and the soldier shoved their way through the tight ball. Their helmet was torn off, revealing a blond woman underneath.
You mean to tell me one woman is capable of so much damage?!
The woman soldier was cackling madly, lost in her bloodlust. Where she once used her sword with refined practice she now beat the animals like she had a club instead. When the box weapon stopped exploding, she grabbed it by the extended part and started beating them to death with it.
The other soldiers cheered her on, able to climb out of the hole in the wall and clear a sizable chunk of the horned undead. Svend's jaw hung open, as did everyone else's who stood on the roof.
In going berserk, they freed up one of the roads, which surviving lumberjacks and E-Rantel citizens used to make it to the townhouse. Other soldiers made their way there too, picking off the ghoulish predators that got too close.
They moved as one cohesive group, operating as efficiently as any of the settlement's machines used to cut wood. In his mind, Svend knew these soldiers had seen worse combat than this.
Lord Grover, I don't know if you can hear this, but your teacher knows some terrifying people.
For now, they had to hold the line and hope his grandfather would be able to reach Naaru and coordinate a strike back at their invaders. Their survival was on the line, after all.
The Battle of Carne Village
Tsuare was startled to see the death lords stumble only seconds into the battle. The shadows that covered their bodies shimmered, becoming translucent. While her army of undead swarmed past them, the death lords looked bewildered.
This was a fatal mistake, as bolts of holy light burned their armor. Even through the immense protection, holy magic still hurts undead as powerful as death lords. This also gave the Sunlight Scripture time to start enhancing those strange mercenaries they hired.
She grit her teeth, sprinting with [Agility Boost]. She nearly tripped when the head of a zombie next to her exploded, dousing her helmet in rotted gore. The same thing happened to a skeleton, crumbling to pieces before it could string its bow.
What on earth?!
The source of the explosions came from the mercenaries' exotic weapons, which flashed with light and destroyed the heads of her soldiers.
BANG!
A projectile smashed into her helmet, cracking it. She was laid flat out on her back, her vision blurry and ears ringing. The taste of iron filled her mouth, nearly choking her. A second projectile cracked her right leg armor, and a third slammed into her abdomen, winding her.
Shadows covered her, shielding her against the other projectiles that flew out of the box weapons. A death lord hovered protectively, using its titanic shield to create a bulwark. Tsuare rose slowly, almost puking from the intense pain.
Hand cannons… every single mercenary has a hand cannon… Aren't those meant to be used by nobles?
But she was certain. Having survived the blows, she recognized those weapons as being hand cannons, albeit of a different design. A weapon master told her about them once, even showing off one he looted from a corrupt noble in his younger years.
The ammunition pinged against the death lord's shield. Tsuare groaned, resting against the safe side while she caught her breath. She took off her helmet, gauging the damage for herself.
If she was careful, her beloved armor could withstand one, maybe two more shots from the hand cannons. With [Agility Boost], she should've had the speed to dodge a projectile. That she couldn't alarmed her.
She peeked around the side of the shield, seeing Archangel Flames barrage her undead army with holy fire. Some took flight, zipping around the battlefield and engaging from the sky.
All around her, the bodies of the undead stunk up the battlefield. Larger units like the flesh juggernauts shielded their brethren, providing the protection needed to advance without dying.
It was just enough for her death lords to make it to the wall, where they engaged with the mercenaries. Being smaller, the mercenaries could kite around the legendary undead with ease, but their bulky armor made it difficult to be completely swift. One death lord managed to graze a mercenary, sending them flying. They slammed into Carne's wall, cracking the stone and falling with a sickening crunch.
This enraged the mercenaries, who kept pelting the death lord with firepower. A second mercenary was cut down, sliced in two at the waist. The death lord roared with jubilation, but before it could kill another, one of the mercenaries climbed up its back and began stabbing into the exposed sections of the armor.
The death lord bellowed, dropping its shield to try and grab the mercenary. Thick, black blood ran down its armor, staining the grass onyx. Other mercenaries rushed at the legs, their armor bulging as they exerted enough force to stop the death lord in its advance.
Tsuare took that time to rush forward herself. Her death lord protected her with its shield, blocking the fireballs, bolts of lightning, boulders of earth, and shards of ice thrown her way.
She thrust with all her might at one of the mercenaries attacking the death lord's legs. Heatstriker was parried by a mercenary in her blind spot. Their short sword glowed white hot but did not melt. The mercenary swung with lightning-fast reflexes, Tsuare not even having the time to parry.
Her chest plate shattered, shards of it digging into her bosom. She gasped, slicing with Heatstriker at an awkward angle. She barely scratched the helmet of the mercenary, their glowing eyes glaring hatefully at her.
The mercenary forced her back. The death lord being attacked by three mercenaries would have to make do without her for now.
Their sword didn't melt to Heatstriker. They hit me with enough force to completely break my chest plate, and they have inhuman reflexes. Where did the Sunlight Scripture find these mercenaries?!
Being so close to the wall meant the Scripture mages couldn't fire down on her safely. They were too focused on the other death lords and approaching hordes of undead that edged ever closer.
She tried to keep their dominant arm close to the wall to impede their swings, but they simply switched to their other arm and kept fighting. All her attention was focused on trying to stay alive, parrying the blows she could.
All twelve death lords were present for this battle. One was protecting her, one was dealing with the mercenaries trying to knock the death lord down, and the other ten were slowly leading their contingents towards Carne's wall.
Her death lord finally beheaded the mercenary attacking her, tufts of blond hair falling out of the mercenary's helmet. However, the three mercenaries attacking their death lord finally knocked it down, all three rushing toward the head and cutting into the exposed neck.
"No!" Tsuare yelled, sprinting and blindsiding a mercenary. Her sword went clean through the stomach, between a space in the plate. The mercenary screeched inhumanly from the sudden pain.
Before she could finish it off, they elbowed her where her nose was. It broke with a wet crack through the helmet, damaging her equipment further. She tumbled down, Heatstriker sliding out to fall with her.
"Sir! That girl at the bottom of the wall is the commander! She's been wounded!"
"Finish her quickly so we can scatter these damn things!"
Staring up at the sky, she could see a mage leaning over the side of the wall, his palm crackling with lightning. She rolled out of the way as quickly as she could, getting back to her feet in time for her death lord to block the blast.
Having severely wounded the mercenary from earlier gave the downed death lord the time needed to knock off the other two mercenaries. It got back up with a snarl, raising its tower shield and ramming into the side of the wall like a battering ram.
The wall cracked but held, stubbornly strong for something made by peasants. Tsuare growled with frustration. "Help your brother! Knock down the wall, so that we can get this battle over with!"
The death lord did as it was told, raising its shield and cracking its segment of the wall right next to the other death lord. Again, the wall held but the cracks grew wider from the force. A few of the Slane Theocracy mages fell, screaming. They landed with a dull thud and were promptly crushed underfoot by the heavy undead.
"One more!" Tsaure screamed, her voice nasally from the broken nose. The two death lords raised their shields at once and slammed with tremendous power. The ground shook with their exertion, the cries of alarm of the guards on the wall versus the haunting moans of the undead mixing into a hellish tune.
BOOM!
Stones from the wall flew inward as shrapnel, the wounded screams of those struck inside the village clear as day. That entire section of wall collapsed on itself in a landslide, taking the gate down with it.
It was just in time for the rest of the death lords to successfully make it to the wall, their contingents of undead shambling through the new weakness in Carne's defenses.
Before they could get in deep, a barrier of light blazed into existence, incinerating the undead that were passing through. Those that survived shuffled backward, intent to escape the holy mana that blocked their way.
On the parts of the wall still standing, mages were channeling spells that kept the undead out, and with the cluster of monstrosities right there at what was effectively a chokepoint, the angelic summons were able to pick off the weaker undead with ease.
Larger, stronger undead besides the death lords did their best to shield their weaker brethren. The death lords created a canopy out of their tower shields, providing the most coverage.
"Those mages must be taken out. Can one of you teleport onto the top of the wall and finish them off, as you did in the other villages?" Tsuare asked, crouching behind her death lord for cover amidst the storm of bright lights.
Again, the armor of the death lords flickered but did not otherwise dissolve into shadow. His Majesty's entourage appeared enraged by this but otherwise held the line. Tsuare wiped her upper lip of blood while she thought quickly about how to proceed.
Only the ones making the barrier need to die.
She saw the ethereal forms of her army's spirits and hovering ghouls. "You there! Scale the wall and take out the mages! The skeletons will cover you. The rest of you, use whatever means you can to defend them with your lives!"
Skeleton archers strung their bows and began firing with inhuman speed. Other undead picked up the rocks at their feet and started hurling them at the flying angels. Some spat globs of bile or shot shards of bone at blistering speeds.
With that cover, the faster, more delicate spirits raced up the wall and passed through the bodies of the mages powering the wall. They stumbled but otherwise held, the outlines of magical protections clear in the daylight.
Tsaure swore. "Servants of His Majesty, please! I do not know what stops you from using your shadow magic, but you must keep trying! You are this army's spearhead! I have never met more reliable, fearsome creatures than you. We do not have any other backup!"
The death lords seemed taken aback by her near-hysterical declaration. It was hard to tell because of the lack of facial muscles, but they studied her closely, perhaps wondering what to make of her now.
She wondered if perhaps she lowered herself in their eyes. They were undead after all. They cared little for weakness, just like the god they followed.
The undead she commanded were still being picked off by the angelic summons. The mercenaries were nowhere to be seen, thankfully, but that just meant they could be inside the village. They broke the wall but were stuck. When she looked back at the army of undead, they were slowly decreasing in number.
There weren't many to begin with. He told me that this village should have been an easy conquest with the death lords, but their power fades. What now? What now?!
An answer came in the form of a far-distanced cracking. The entire world seemed to shift, making many undead fall to their feet. The entire wall of Carne cracked along the perimeter.
Tsuare glanced bewildered at her surroundings, wondering why it felt like the ground had shifted two meters to the right. When she looked back at her army again, she saw entire portions suddenly disappear, falling into fissures that suddenly opened.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The tree line where the army came out of sundered itself, the trees cracking as a ginormous hole carved itself into existence. It was somewhat difficult to see over the dust clouds that rose, but Tsuare swore she saw… creatures claw out of the hole.
Their skulls were exposed, with antlers like a deer growing out of either side. Their skin was as black as tar, green crystal growing in odd formations all across their bodies. Each one of the creatures had deadly appendages, ranging from scythes to hammers to axes made out of black tar.
They were undead too, based on the flaming red eyes they had, but Tsaure sensed something different about these. Unlike the ones she commanded, which were slow and needed precise instructions, these were intelligent.
Malice glinted in those eyes of theirs as if they just found fresh prey to torture and kill. One disproportionately large one with a fleshy flower for a head reared back its head and roared.
Its kind joined in, a shrill, halting sound that no natural animal should make. They began to march forward, swinging their shapeshifted weapons and smashing the lesser undead out of the way.
Tsuareninya Veryon, leader of the Knights of the Weeping King, who until this point had conquered many villagers in her master's name, felt genuine fear at the approaching army. She gulped, a bead of sweat from her forehead mixing with the blood of her broken nose.
My lord, what terribleness have you made?
Hello dear readers,
Here we are with the first part of the finale! There is a lot at stake here, narratively speaking! It seems AOG has their work cut out for them for sure. Not all is as it seems, so stay tuned as we get through the rest of the finale and then the epilogue, which will provide useful hints about what may come next.
As always, I'd like to thank my beta team for all their help on the Library of Ashurbanipal server, where you can find me and many other talented writers. I'd like to thank my readers as well for sticking with me as long as they have. without you guys, I never would have made it this far.
Until you collect the other eight!