Battle of Nazarick
Momonga saw Nidhoggr open his jaws impossibly wide, a green inferno bubbling at the back of his throat. "Scatter!"
Through whatever means his friends could, they split off into small groups. Momonga himself flew straight up into the sky. He got a bird's eye view of the entire battlefield, seeing the titanic dragon breathe a stream of molten, emerald napalm down where the guild had been prior.
A tidal wave of pure heat rolled over the grass plains, scorching the earth to a char. The dirt and grass used to cover Nazarick was blown away, revealing the very top of the guild base.
Nidhoggr's breath was so powerful that it cracked the ground, melting dirt into a glossy sheen-like glass. Jagged shards as tall as trees sprouted up from the force, crystallized fire that burned eternally where it stood.
The architecture of the surface was similarly leveled. It could be repaired with a small fee after the battle, due to Nazarick's natural restoration system, but the fact that the base was harmed at all made his emotional inhibitor work overtime.
A silver lining was that Momonga was relieved to see that Albedo and Pandora's Actor were not caught in the blast. They must have gone directly into the tomb to prepare for battle.
"We're separated for the time being. Everyone assume raid formation, split off into groups of six to seven. Flank this bastard from all angles and don't let up!" Momonga commanded, utilizing a [Message] spell to keep in contact with every member of his guild.
They did as they were told, an old instinct from when the guild would regularly raid farm bosses for resources. It was the same method they used when they raided Nazarick for the first time.
Each group was composed of a tank, a DPS, a healer, a ranged fighter, a utility mage, a summoner, and a field crafter. However, because they only had forty-one players within the guild, this meant that one team would comprise just six players.
Joining Momonga were Touch Me, Bukubukuchagama, Yamaiko, Peroroncino, Ulbert Alain Odle, and Amanomahitotsu. They were teleported to his location, and able to float in the air due to a [Flight] spell.
His group faced Nidhoggr directly, while the other five groups took up positions around the black dragon. Those on the ground were harassed by wendigos, but the summons from before held them at bay, providing much-needed breathing room.
Nidhoggr laughed, a foreboding sound like an avalanche in motion. "A familiar formation, I see. Let us see how the strategies of the forty-one compare to the twenty-seven that took Nazarick."
Circles of runes wrapped around his body, glowing with immense mana. The tree bark that made up parts of his skin bulged with power, ready to burst from the sea of magic at the World Enemy's disposal.
"[Fjarlægðu Meiri Viðnám], [Brenna]."
An intense heat wrapped around Momonga's body, his body encased in an eternal green fire like Nidhoggr's breath. The outlines of his magical protections flared brightly, as did those of his friends. Even through the wards he placed upon himself and his friends, not everything was negated. He grunted in pain.
It was a similar pain to how he imagined being burned by a hot pan on the stove. Peroroncino yelped, the tips of his feathers catching on fire from the heat. Touch Me's armor shone unusually shiny, Bukubukuchagama's slime body melted slightly, and Amanomahitotsu's shell brightened by several shades of red. Ulbert's fur singed and the rose on his shoulder wilted, while Yamaiko's heavy jacket cracked like dry leather.
All around the battlefield, several summons disintegrated to ash. The mana used to sustain them disappeared, forcing the mages to take the loss.
"[Stafabreytir], [Fluglaus], [Styrkja Sjálfan Mig]," Nidhoggr rattled a series of spells off, their names lost upon Momonga. Based on his experiences in Carne, shouldn't the words have been translated?
Whatever power allows auto-translation must not work if the words spoken don't correlate with the New World. Or maybe he has figured out a way around the auto-translation?
Either way, Momonga and his friends plummeted out of the sky, several layers of their protection spells shattering on the way down. Thankfully they weren't high up enough to suffer fall damage.
A curiously empty feeling filled Momonga as well, like a part of himself had been removed as a result of Nidhoggr's spell. He didn't have long to contemplate it since a horde of wendigos set upon them.
Touch Me and Bukubukuchagama flew into action, raising their shields to stop the tide. Ulbert's ethereal hands that resided in his magical bells flew out, grabbing several wendigos and smashing them into smears.
Peroroncino attempted to get back into the air, but his wings refused to lift him. He growled out a curse and aimed his bow upwards, mana arrows flaring into existence.
"[Triple Bursting Shot]!" The thunderbird chanted, firing the arrows he empowered with one of his archer skills. The magical arrows rained down on the wendigos, harmlessly beating against Touch Me and Bukubukuchagama's indomitable defense.
Each arrow he fired, a total of three, split into four identical versions of themselves and struck twelve wendigos with precise blows. Each time a wendigo was struck it exploded with force, eviscerating the deranged beasts into nothing.
The entire horde was eliminated in that one blow, only to be replaced by another horde. One of Nidhoggr's massive claws was raised into the sky, hovering over Momonga's group.
Before it could fall, artillery fire landed down on the black dragon's head. The gargantuan boss shook his head in minor pain, and then another volley of artillery shells landed on the crux between his head and his neck.
"Keep opening fire on his head, Tigris!" Momonga yelled into his messenger. He saw a tunnel of dirt, slowly circling Nidhoggr's body. The top half of Tigris's chitinous shell held three artillery cannons that constantly fired upwards toward vital parts of Nidhoggr's body.
Ra Ra Rasputin and Tabula Smaragdina were right with him, the latter throwing potions that burst with electrical currents and the former pumping lead into weak wendigos with his dual revolvers. To complement the artillery fire, Dynamite aggressively swung her wings, sending swarms of fiery feathers that combusted against Nidhoggr's underbelly.
Ankoro Mocchi Mochi and Beast King Mekongawa, also in that group, worked together to wear away at Nidhoggr's ankles. The familiar length of Gleipnir burned white hot while it strangled the black dragon's legs. Mekongawa bashed in the skulls of many wendigos with arcs of lightning from his gauntlets, and he occasionally tossed out small glass orbs that released lesser pets at his disposal.
Dragons, smaller chimeras, manticores, dire wolves, feral saurians, and more carved a path in the sea of undead horrors. Nearata and Connaisdiam, both in their [Ultimate Dragon] form, breathed a combination of frost and golden flames that swept over their endless tide of enemies. Their bulky bodies provided excellent bastions, as well as markers for the other guildmates to rally against.
Due to lacking the ability to fly currently, another group of Ainz Ooal Gown climbed up Nidhoggr's tail, using the various nooks and crannies to leverage themselves up his mighty length. A monk like Jo-Bro was able to summon several purple astral projections around himself, all of which punched with qi-infused blows to crack Nidhoggr's shell. This left an opening for someone like Ariel, who was able to cast [Yggdrasil's Roots], which further cracked the shell and dug into the open wound.
It was almost too much to take in, reminiscent of the battle against Typhon, another World Enemy who almost destroyed Nazarick back in Yggdrasil. Back then they barely fended him off, diverting his lumbering path away from the guild base and saving themselves.
This time is different. We have the experience, and we can call upon the NPCs!
His surge of confidence cracked when Nidhoggr bellowed with amusement. "I am not bound by Yggdrasil's rules. I am not so easily confused by your strategy to divide my attention."
Nidhoggr stamped his right foot, driving it deep into the earth and summoning an earthquake. Those still on the ground were knocked off their feet. Momonga looked in time to see a string of black spines poking out between the cracks in the dirt, racing towards every group.
Momonga raised his hand. "[Aegis of Athena]!"
Touch Me and Bukubukuchagama raised their shields again, blocking the razor-sharp spines from impaling the group. The green shield Momonga summoned glowed brightly, empowered by the damage done to it and reflecting it at the spines.
Unfortunately, the strength of the spines shoved the shield hard enough that Momonga was pushed back as well. He narrowly avoided a spine that dug under the shield wall. Peroroncino was not so lucky, as one of his wings was stabbed right through. Red gold blood dripped down his illustrious feathers.
All around, something similar happened to his guildmates. He saw the abdomen of Garnet run through with a spine, Brisingr the animated sword fracturing her blade self into shards to parry the spines as best she could.
Punitto Moe had invoked [Domain of Holy Justice], incinerating the spines in a blaze of divine fire. Ancient One was able to dodge the trove of spines sent his way, his skill allowing him to see the attacks ahead of time.
"Suratan! Get your ass over here and throw me!" Punitto Moe yelled. The Sasquatch berserker sprinted over to the battle priest's position, picking up the smaller strategist and tossing him up towards Nidhoggr's back.
Watching Punitto Moe soar through the air was like watching him climb a cliff. Even with Suratan's warrior strength, Punitto Moe only made it as high as Nidhoggr's shoulder. As soon as he touched down, Punitto Moe slammed down with his golden mace at full force.
[Blessing of War: Imbued Warhammer]!"
A beam of light from the heavens blasted down on Nidhoggr's shoulder, fracturing the shell of stone and tree bark. Black tar bubbled ominously beneath the surface. Punitto Moe repeated the blow, digging deep into the black dragon's exposed flesh.
"You are strong, Champion of Mercy, but I am beyond your strength. Your holy fire does nothing against me alone."
Nidhoggr's maw opened wide again, another blast of eternal fire ready to reduce the floral player to soot. Thankfully, more of Tigris Euphrates's artillery shells landed in his mouth, blowing boulder-sized holes in his jaw.
Whether because he was annoyed by the surprise attack or because the explosions rocked his head, the black dragon's open mouth lowered to Tigris Euphrates, blowing a concentrated stream of fire like a laser beam. A trail of detonations followed the beam, chasing Tigris's worm body.
"[Seventh Heaven's Symphony]!"
"[Triple Maximize Magic: Reality Slash]!"
"[Fudo Kensaku], [Kurikara Sword]!"
"[Stardust Guardian: Overdrive Barrage]!"
Whitebrim the Solar Bard summoned an orchestra of instruments that could buff the entire party with a series of tenth-tier buffs, ranging from enhanced speed, agility, magical resistance, and, most importantly, raw damage on their target. The music being played sounded like Mozart's "Fur Elise", only with the power of an opera house to boost its magical notes.
Once buffed, Ulbert Alain Odle raised his hands. Three slashes of reality-bending mana fired out, slicing deeply into the shell of Nidhoggr. Waterfalls of tar dripped out, further corroding the tree bark and stone skin.
Warrior Takemikazuchi ducked and weaved around the legs, utilizing the Takemikazuchi Mark Eight to shatter Nidhoggr's shins. Being an undead World Enemy, the karma level of the black dragon was set to be maxed out in the negatives. However, [Fudo Kensaku] would not slow Nidhoggr down, nor incapacitate him.
By this point, Jo-Bro had reached the middle of Nidhoggr's back. All of his astral projections condensed into one super projection, an overly muscular version of the Saurian Monk that unleashed a flurry of qi blasts that cracked Nidhoggr's shell further.
The Black Dragon roared in frustration, whipping his tail around and flattening an entire section of the Forest of Tob. A massive whirlwind was created from this one attack, sucking up more trees and firing them out like shrapnel.
Tank-like players like Garnet, Bukubukuchagama, Shijuuten Suzaku, Variable Talisman, and Connaisdiam did their best to shield their groups from the trees. They shattered into dry kindling, impaling various wendigos and summons alike.
The sky darkened into a brooding gray, flashes of black lightning wounding the sky. A storm covered the whole battlefield, droplets of acid rain burning away the weaker wendigos caught in the torrential downpour.
Deafening thunder provided a hellish backdrop to the battle, reminding Momonga of Helheim. The scene was complete with the dissolving bodies of the wendigos, the glassed landscape around them, and the rent tree-line of Tob.
"[Veðurstormur]," the black dragon roared, his voice shaking the world itself. The clouds split open, all the way up to the atmosphere. Every player present could see the stars above and the vast blackness of space.
Several stars twinkled brighter than the other, a dazzling array of sparkling gems. Had it been any other situation, it would have been a wonderful sight to sit under and gaze at. What ruined it was that the twinkling stars became larger, eventually crashing down with ferocious explosions that left daunting sinkholes in their impact.
Both the wendigos and the army of summons the guild brought to the fight were obliterated under the might of the World Enemy charged spell. They were eliminated in droves, none spared any sort of mercy in the celestial onslaught.
All of Ainz Ooal Gown's mages summoned their most powerful shields, blocking the meteor storm that crashed down upon their heads. Momonga groaned under the weight, feeling his feet sink into the dirt just trying to protect his friends.
He's speaking in another language, but I recognized the spell he used as [Meteor Strike]. He is using Yggdrasil spells, just in that foreign language.
What that meant to Momonga is that he could extrapolate what the purpose of the other spells was, at least to a degree. He guessed that one spell negated flight abilities entirely, keeping them grounded so they couldn't expose any potential weak spots on Nidhoggr's upper body.
The hollow emptiness Momonga felt earlier he was less sure about, but he suspected it may have something to do with innate resistances. This was because he had equipment and spells active to negate his weakness to fire, only to have the first spell Nidhoggr cast cause a painful burning to his body. Peroroncino's feathers setting ablaze confirmed that.
Those two other spells his enemy cast were less known. Were they protection spells? Did they further strengthen the black dragon in some way? He could only think this through because he and his group were effectively stuck having to block the meteors sailing down on their heads.
Fighting a World Enemy was the last thing he expected to happen today. Nidhoggr was only going down because of the physical damage they were doing to him, and they were having to pelt him with their highest damage spells and skills to bypass the damage threshold he had.
I doubt he used his legendary resistances yet either. He could be waiting to use them for a tenth-tier spell like [Grand Catastrophe], or a skill like [World Break].
If he was a World Enemy, it was what he would've done.
"Your attempts to bring me down are lacking, godlings. Let us see how well you manage to handle this."
Nidhoggr reared up on his serpentine tail, making Jo-Bro tumble off his back onto the ground. Multiple cracks appeared all over the black dragon's body, troves of rock and dried tree bark falling off.
Underneath the surface more of his natural tar was exposed, hideously bubbling. Each time a bubble popped, a Draconic head slithered out, writhing but unable to fully escape. The lower half of Nidhoggr grew a second pair of legs, giving him an appearance like a traditional western dragon.
More and more bubbles popped, producing enough heads that at a distance, it could be mistaken for Nidhoggr having a fur coat. In each Draconic head was a mouth of jade magma.
Both front paws grew an additional claw and an opposable thumb. Nidhoggr jutted his chest out, dotted with holes from Dynamite's explosive feathers. He reached his right hand in, pulling out a massive, green crystal shaped like a handle.
"It is a pity I do not have my old gauntlet. This facsimile shall have to suffice for now."
Momonga watched as a stream of black tar raced up the crystalline hilt and formed a new shape, hardening into black obsidian darker than night. It had a jagged edge, the teeth of a fearsome beast that only a World Enemy could defeat.
In the black dragon's hands was a sword that dwarfed a skyscraper. He gripped it with both hands, staying on his back legs. His wings spread and his tail stiffened to provide balance, which flattened another section of the Forest of Tob.
When he swung the blade, it produced a loud sonic boom, unleashing a wave of green hell-fire. Momonga stood his ground, as did his friends. Bukubukuchagama blocked his sight and raised both of her divine tier shields, Cupid's Affair and Sigil of Judgement.
"[Walls of Jericho], [Unyielding Bastion]!" she shouted. The ground rumbled as a wall of earth rose to block the wave. With the second skill, the wall hardened into a shiny, diamond-esque substance that not only took the full bow of the attack but redirected it.
The redirection allowed her to deal extra damage against opponents stronger than her. The stronger the opponent, the more damage was reflected.
Nidhoggr blocked the portion of hellfire sent back at him. He hefted his blade, the shape changing to resemble a double-headed ax. He slammed it down where Momonga's party was. They were split up, separating the overlord from his friends.
Before he had time to react, a beam of pure heat struck Momonga in the chest, sending him flying. He gasped from the intense flame, feeling as if a chunk of his health was eaten up from that one blow.
While trying to right himself, he could've sworn he heard something. Maybe it was just the wind, but why did it sound like someone was screaming his… name? It sounded feminine too. Was that Bukubukuchagama calling for him, or one of his other female guildmates? But then again, why did it sound like it was coming from the sky?
Right when he was about to hit the ground, he was caught by a black, heavily armored figure with a battle ax of their own. He looked surprised at the new arrival, especially since he noticed they were still able to fly.
Albedo fretted over him, her voice cracking like she was about to cry. "I'm so sorry, my love! I wanted to come up much sooner than this, but we wanted to make sure we had all our forces ready for this battle. P-please, forgive me!"
As if on cue, a war horn sounded off, as well as the roar of battle cries. Momonga looked past Albedo's arms to see the NPCs spilling out of Nazarick, heading an army of undead naturally spawned by the tomb.
He saw Demiurge summoning a host of powerful demons. Lords of Wrath, Lords of Envy, Lords of Greed, demon princes, abyssal demons, and more to bolster the undead ranks. Gore, in his massive, spider-legged chassis, raised a smith's hammer to herald a legion of automatons he must have built just for this battle.
Cocytus led a squadron of Hanzos and Frost Virgins, creating paths of ice that the army could use to walk over the various craters. Shalltear in her Valkyrie armor flew alongside voracious vampire brides, flying alongside her via [Flight].
Aura and Mare rode on the backs of their two woodland dragons, leading their host of pets that they owned back in the days of Yggdrasil. Keeping up with them on the ground was a pet Fenrir, a six-legged chameleon-iguana hybrid named Itzamna, a Hound of the Wild Hunt, a dragon-horse called a Kirin, a Yggdrasil born Basilisk, and more.
Sebas, in his true dragon body, led a band of dragonborn barbarians. They stampeded into the battlefield, so bloodthirsty that they almost fell off the edge of the ice bridges Cocytus's infantry made.
Pandora's Actor flew by his lonesome, his immaculate officer's outfit bulging while shifting into a variety of shapes. Being able to assume any of the forty-one, he was likely choosing which guildmate he would wish to become for this battle.
Aureole Omega, backed by the Pleiades themselves, flew through the sky, providing aerial support with the help of flight amulets. Individually they were weaker, but with Aureole's spiritual caster levels, she could provide the edge they needed against the swarms of hostile Wendigos left over.
Gargantua itself also rose out of the tomb, bursting out of the dirt just outside the scorched entrance. It rose like a mountain from the sea pushed up by unstable tectonic plates, stomping heavily once it freed itself. While it was still laughably small compared to someone like the World Enemy, it towered over the other NPCs and summons. Wendigos that dug out of the ground to replace their fallen brethren were instantly smashed underfoot by the colossus.
Every single being brought to bear in this fight was in the level seventy to level one-hundred range. There were some lower-level outliers, but they mostly served as utility to help bolster their higher-level brethren.
Nidhoggr's numerous heads across his body opened their jaws wide, spitting blobs of napalm onto the field. It vaguely reminded Momonga of pustules bursting, only the fluid inside was able to melt high-level summons.
"Er, thank you for catching me, Albedo, but we must return to the fight. Quickly now!" He said. Albedo snapped out of her blubbering and nodded. She swooped down to the ground. After quickly depositing her master, the succubus tank roared angrily and zipped toward the Black Dragon.
The sheer number of mobs and summons present on the field nearly drowned the guildmates of Ainz Ooal Gown. Because of how tall heteromorph players were, Momonga could still see the heads of his friends, helping to keep track of them.
Seeing so many dragons fill the sky was a sight to behold, especially as flying demons and undead orbited them. Nidhoggr bellowed, breathing his flames into the sky to burn away the flying threats.
"Is everyone alright so far still? Sound off!"
"Still good here, Momonga."
"All good."
"Wing's busted but I'm fine otherwise."
"Need more ammo."
"Shields are cracking but still holding!"
"When the fuck can I fly again?"
All of his friends replied. He sighed in relief. "Good. Then we must keep up the onslaught. Even with over six legions of players, we are having a hard time. With the NPCs and guild mobs, we stand a better chance. Ulbert, you and Touch Me try to purify the effect that's preventing flight. Then I want you to-"
While finishing his thought, the air above him darkened and stank of rot. He looked up in time to see the claws of Nidhoggr barreling towards him, ready to slice him to ribbons.
"[Land Mines]!" Multiple explosions scarred Nidhoggr's fingers, but they didn't let up. For a being of his immense size, the black dragon moved quickly, grasping Momonga between his thumb and forefinger.
Nidhoggr raised him to eye level, all six of his eyes glaring balefully. Each eye was the size of the clock on the Old World's Big Ben tower. A slit like the void narrowed in all of them. In the grasp of the World Enemy, Momonga was no bigger than a child's toy, squished painfully between his fingers.
"The armies of Nazarick will not kill me in time before I claim you, despot. Your power… is mine."
It was nearly impossible to hear over the din of the battle, but the voices of his friends and the NPCs cried out for him. Unable to turn himself to see, he had to uncomfortably crane his neck to see Albedo and Shalltear zooming towards him, an ax and Lance aimed at Nidhoggr's fingers.
The skin of the dragon's hands bubbled, releasing dozens of dragon heads that spewed beams of liquid fire. Shalltear was immediately shot down, spiraling with a kaboom in the dirt.
Albedo crossed her arms over her chest, tanking the damage as best she could. Her armor strained, cracking all over twice before she too was forced to land and dodge the beams.
Tendrils of tar snaked out of the joints, crawling all over Momonga's body. He legitimately cried out as a searing pain erupted all over his body, the tendrils drilling directly into his bones. A couple wrapped around the world item in his stomach but did not pull it out.
"Look as you struggle against my strength, worm," Nidhoggr's voice echoed in his head. The mental presence overpowered his own, completely ignoring the immunities he had against mental attacks. His eyes widened in horror at the impossibility.
"It is as I said, I would test the power of the forty-one against the power of forty-one souls. Yet, your soul from the first timeline is my greatest prize. I shall make use of the talents you have stolen from others. I have no use for Draudillion's or Nfirea's for the moment. Let us try… Antilene's."
The tendrils that burrowed into his body hoisted him up, slithering into his clothing. One tendril forced his arm up and pointed it at his group, who raced with player speed to reach him.
He was too high up. With Nidhoggr on his hind legs, Momonga was nearly eye-level with the clouds. It would take a flyer to reach him in time, but all his guildmates were grounded. The heads growing out of the black dragon's skin peppered those who could fly.
The tendrils dug deeper, actually making him grind his teeth in agony. He could feel his body being forced to move against his will, a part of his mind operating automatically to cast a skill of his, a skill that only he as an Overlord should be able to cast.
His voice acted without his will, words spilling off his nonexistent tongue. "[T-the Goal of all-], [The Goal of a-all Life is-], [The Goal of all Life is D-death]!"
A droning hum filled his ears, as well as the ticking of a clock. A familiar set of light-blue runes filled the air, creating a tower of mana that touched the stars. A profound sense of horror filled Momonga as he realized what Nidhoggr intended to do.
No… no but how?! What abilities does he have to force me to use my skills like this!
"You are mistaken, despot. Gaze upon your friends and despair. You paraded yourself as an omnipotent god, a father of all in that other time. Look at you now. You are a king of nothing, a father to no one."
Momonga's jaw was wrenched open by the tendrils, and his head angled further to see all six groups of friends now climbing up the legs of Nidhoggr. Some were helped up by their NPCs, but there wasn't enough time.
Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.
"It is time to die."
"[F-Fallen-
ENOUGH!
Nidhoggr's presence was shoved out of his mind, granting a brief reprieve. Instead, a softer, warmer presence protected him, setting up impenetrable shields that kept the black dragon out. He could feel Nidhoggr's mind batter against him, gaining no ground as he did previously.
A FATHER OF ALL HE IS INDEED. YOU CAME HERE TO TEST YOURSELF AGAINST ALL OF AINZ OOAL GOWN, OR SO YOU SAY. YOU WERE A FOOL TO THINK EVERYONE CAME OUT ALREADY. YOU WILL NOT CLAIM THE ALL-FATHER'S SOUL, PARASITE.
Nidhoggr's genuine surprise bled out over the mental connection. The timely intervention of the guild staff severed the connection fully. The strands that dug into Momonga retreated, disappearing back into the clawed hand that held him.
He dropped into the World Enemy's palm, standing with renewed vigor. The claws created an impromptu cage, preventing Momonga from escaping. All six eyes focused on Momonga. Rather than rage at being thwarted, there was an idle curiosity present in those dead eyes.
"I see. Even your staff gains awareness. Intriguing, but it is something I shall have to ponder another time. I sense many sets of eyes upon this battle, seeking to learn what is happening here. I do not welcome uninvited guests."
Each eye flared intensely, becoming bonfires of lethal heat. "[Andúð Mimir]"
In his eyes there were individual crackles, spaced out evenly one after the other. This continued for a few seconds, the pace of the crackles ramping up until the middle right eye of Nidhoggr burst. A stream of slimy fluid spilled out.
This time, Nidhoggr howled in agony. He stabbed his skyscraper sword into the earth, leaning against the weapon. He seemed caught off guard twice in a row, once by the consciousness of the guild staff, and now by one of his eyes exploding.
"Vedrfolnir! You prideful wretch!" The World Enemy screeched, hurting Momonga's metaphorical ears. "Only you would dare retaliate in such a way! When Ragnarok comes, I will crush everything you held dear. The Six escaped me once, they shall not do so again!"
Around the edges of Nidhoggr's talons, Momonga glanced at a blue light racing around his claws. There was a terrible sound of metal against rock, and then the cage of talons fell away. Hanging off one of the fingers was Nishikienrai.
In his hands were his dual daggers. Amaterasu, which shone with brilliant radiance, and Tsukuyomi, which shone with serene moonlight. They steamed after coming into contact with the undead's fingertips.
"Time to get out of here, boss. I don't want to make a habit of meeting up like this," he said in a quiet, serious voice.
A forest of tendrils rose out of Nidhoggr's hand, attempting to strangle the half-golem ninja. In the time it took to even blink an eye, all the tendrils were cut in half. Nishikienrai was no longer hanging from Nidhoggr's fingers, but instead right in front of Momonga.
He reached out his hand. "Come on!"
Momonga immediately grabbed his arm, and he got a glimpse into what the world looked like from the perspective of the fastest speed possible that a player was capable of.
He recalled how Touch Me had described what it was like to use his higher levels of speed. The world would be put into slow motion, almost coming to a standstill. Even the rain in E-Rantel seemed to stop mid-air to let him pass.
With Nishikienrai, it was a wildly different effect. Momonga's eyes could hardly keep up, the whole world engulfed in a blinding blue light. A cone of wind covered them, a distant roar behind them that he recognized as a procession of sonic booms. The air itself was set on fire by the friction that Nishikienrai put out.
A few seconds passed and they were on the ground. Nidhoggr hefted his sword. He no longer spoke, communicating his fury with animalistic roars instead. It seemed whoever this "Vedrfolnir" was knew how to poke at the black dragon's sore spots.
Aura and Mare's Woodland Dragons slammed against Nidhoggr's arm, tearing into the tar flesh relentlessly. They had to quickly disengage though when the tar began to burn them, but they managed to wound his arm enough that he couldn't slam his sword down again.
All of the forty-one were back together again, Momonga surrounded by a shield of his friends. The surging pride he felt at how well they handled themselves was stifled by his emotional inhibitor.
Albedo and Shalltear managed to fly up to Nidhoggr's eyes, avoiding the blasts of fire from his miniature heads. Utilizing [Einhenjar], three max-level beings worked to blind the World Enemy.
Cocytus and his Frost Virgins made it to the feet of Nidhoggr, freezing his skin and breaking off impressive chunks. Soon after, they were joined by Demiurge and his demons. They were especially effective here, their flame-based attacks igniting the exposed tar as if it were ordinary gasoline.
Sebas zipped around the body, firing blasts of qi strong enough to leave craters, decimating entire swaths of the miniature heads. The Pleiades landed beside him, digging deeper into the body with their combined firepower. Lupusregina's holy magic and Aureole's spiritual casting did wonders burning away the putrid corruption.
All the while, Gargantua trudged up to the black dragon. Nidhoggr had reverted to a four-legged stance, swatting away the numerous summons and NPCs that attacked him. A bonus of being a stone construct was that the emerald flames did little to harm the massive golem.
Rearing an indestructible fist back, Gargantua smashed with a might that could crack a mountain in half. The lower half of Nidhoggr's chest completely caved in, ribs breaking the skin.
In the now exposed cavity beat a heart made of green crystal. Veins of black tar webbed across its surface, crude blood vessels to carry the terrifying substance.
Momonga's eyes lit up with familiar excitement. "There! A new weak spot! All together, strike at his heart!"
His friends jubilantly cheered, rushing with him to catch up to Gargantua. It would be time to end this battle, once and for all.
Battle of Sprigganson
Svend desperately tried to call upon his mana. He strained so hard that veins popped up on his arms. For his efforts, tree bark crawled up a few centimeters higher on his arm than usual, only to retract almost immediately.
"Seriously?! Can't I catch a break just for this?!" Svend growled. Tulipa rubbed his shoulder in comfort.
"Can't always have a heroic moment," his father commented grimly. "Pops, any luck with that [Message] spell?"
"Nobody's answering on the other end! All I'm getting is just silence. Which means either Naaru is too busy or he is…"
His grandfather let the thought hang. No one currently wanted to give voice to the idea that their beloved Dryads may have fallen. Tulipa's eyes were already moist with traces of amber.
Down on the ground, the barrier of blessed oaks kept expanding to let more survivors into the safety zone. The warriors of Blue Planet continued to massacre a path forward, giving the people a chance to escape with their lives.
Svend couldn't help but feel sorry for their E-Rantel refugees. They barely survived the destruction of their home city, finally escaping to Re-Estize and then making their way to Sprigganson with the help of their relatives.
They ended up trading one hell for another with this battle. He had no idea why the undead chose to return, but the fact they did when they were overburdened couldn't be a coincidence.
Actually, could it be that the undead had a vendetta against lord Blue Planet, and his people were just the collateral?
It would make sense. Our deaths would be revenge for daring to stand against them at all. My revival and saving the other Dryad-Born and Dryads would've just been salt in the wound.
A grim outlook to be sure. They could hold steady for now, but they could not last forever. The sheer volume of horned undead showed that eventually, they may be overrun.
"Watch out, Svend!" Tulipa cried. She jumped behind him, a shield of tree branches from her body growing over his head. Leaves were knocked loose when something heavy smashed against the shield, making Tulipa stumble into him.
Being on the roof and losing his balance was a horrible combination. His grandfather and father yelled, scrambling to grab him. He kept sliding, reaching for roof shingles to grab. He managed to grab onto the roof gutter, dangling in the air.
While Svend's father and grandfather worked to hoist the young Dryad-Born back up, Tulipa was left to deal with the wretched horror that knocked her lover down. It paced back and forth in front of her, snarling viciously.
It was bulky, overly muscled to the point of nearly bursting the skin. The antlers it had were shorter, interspaced with wriggling tentacles for hair. The skull was reminiscent of a cave bear, lopsided with two eyes on one side and a single eye on the other.
The ulna bone flicked out to release a built-in club that it could swing around. A pair of rotten wings flapped, helping to keep balance on the roof. Each step it took shook the entire townhouse, which impeded Pops and Svend's father's efforts to get him to safety.
Tulipa lifted her shield, growling back. "I'll send you back to the dirt where you belong!"
She charged the beast, which met her in the middle with a resounding whack of its ulna club. Her shield splintered from the force but held. She shoved it back, a spear growing out of her arm that she threw with fatal precision.
Her spear struck the beast in the shoulder, though it hardly slowed it down. Its other arm morphed into a serrated whip, lashing out with a resounding crack. It tore strips of bark from Tulipa's legs, spraying precious amber. The Dryad yelped but grew another spear. This one punctured the beast's stomach and whistled clean through.
Bits of the spine flew out the back, the undead collapsing. It whipped again, managing to wrap its serrated edge around Tulipa's throat and yanking her down as well. It attempted to drag her close to its nipping jaws, only for the tentacle to be served by an ax.
THUNK!
With a hellish trill, the undead yanked its whip hand back. Corrosive blood spurted out of the stump, and it was summarily kicked away by Pops.
Svend had been successfully helped up, handed a spare ax by his uncle. He guided Tulipa to her feet and held her close, inspecting her for any other wounds. Meanwhile, his grandfather's arms were almost entirely coated in bark, brimming with potent flames.
"Hands off. [Scorching Ray]!" he growled, blasting a stream of fiery rage. The skin of the beast lit up instantly, and the horrible stench made Svend gag. The flying creature screeched a shrill noise, a sound like a mixture of a bull elk, and wolf.
It rolled all around the roof, trying to put out the fire and subsequently lighting patches of the townhouse ablaze. The unnatural, jerky movements reminded Svend of how an insect looked after it was stepped on.
Nonetheless, the beast did not relent. Despite being set on fire, it trembled with tremendous determination. Arm shaking, the whip transformed into a mace, which swung directly at Pops's neck.
His uncle Arne tackled the undead, his skin steaming from the contact. Part of his work clothes caught on fire, and he managed to shove both of them off the roof.
"No!" his father yelled. All four of them rushed to the side, watching his uncle and the beast plummet to the ground. Thankfully it was under his uncle, so it cushioned his fall. A Dryad-Born maintaining the wall stopped what he was doing to finish off the creature. He quickly put out Uncle Arne's clothes and got to work healing him.
They breathed a collective sigh of relief. "Pops, Dad, what are we going to do now? [Message] isn't working. The roof is not safe if some of those things are flying around. We won't have the mana to last all day!"
His Pops wheezed in frustration. "I know my boy, I know. I must think… We need a new holding ground, a place where we could be safe, where we can regroup to defend ourselves."
Svend's mind raced as he tried to think of anywhere else that could be considered "safe". They were regaining some ground, but the Dryad-Born would get mana sickness from overexerting themselves, provided they didn't just run out of mana first.
The wall of oaks was steadily losing its magical properties, with less mana to fuel them. Holes were slowly dug out by the ravenous undead that tried to claw their way in.
More armed lumberjacks filed in, the soldiers of Lord Blue Planet leading them to safety. This in turn helped to replace the exhausted druids that maintained the wall. Some died on the way, their corpses dragged into the feeding frenzy of the undead. There was nothing left behind.
A resounding crack filled the air. Near the border wall, the unhelmeted soldier from earlier that guarded the way was ambushed by three of the undead. Two went for her legs and the third rushed for her throat. She smacked the third away with the butt of her box weapon, leaving a sizable dent in its skull.
The other two undead were working to chew off the armor of her legs, but their needle teeth did little damage. Instead, they cut their forearms, acidic blood drizzling out and corroding the armor.
When enough of the armor melted away, they went to work trying to bite the soldier's legs off. They were promptly stopped by their heads exploding, the woman's comrades saving her in the nick of time.
Unfortunately, some of the acid burned not just through the armor, but directly to the exposed flesh. The woman soldier could not walk, so her fellow warriors dragged her into the safety of their barricade.
Svend watched the horde scramble over themselves trying to reach the wounded soldier, but the combination of head explosions, hurled axes and swords, and blasts of fire kept them at bay.
I can see the last of the soldiers marching into our safe zone. I guess they got the last of the people to us, but there's so, so few of us left.
There were numerous casualties among the native Sprigganson inhabitants. Though enough undead were slain to reclaim some streets and buildings, the surviving E-Rantel citizens were almost shoulder-to-shoulder within the safe zone.
As far as the eye could see was a sea of black. The amalgamations raced toward them in an endless swarm. They spilled out from the trees, crawled out of the rocks, and slipped out of the shadows every which way. They were effectively surrounded.
"The grove of the Demon Tree!" His grandfather shouted. "I remember now that we could make it to the grove of the Demon Tree. Lord Blue Planet purified the land there, purging it of corruption!"
"You're sure it'll hold these wendigos back?" His father asked. His face tightened with pain, the bark on his arms beginning to bleed.
"I'm certain of it! But we need to carve a path towards the forest, we need to be able to make it without the people dying!"
"How the hell do we manage that?! Look around, there are not nearly enough people to fight with us. The dryads are cut off from us, the druids are exhausted, and the men are losing hope. Lord Blue Planet's warriors are bound to be getting tired as well!"
It wasn't so much they were getting tired, but that whatever made their box weapons function was stopping. He could distinctly hear sharp clicking noises. The warriors were quick to throw them away, pulling out their short swords.
Among all of the chaos, among the bloodshed and cries for help, there was a distinct sound like a… bell being rung? It sounded harmless too, like the sort of tiny bell one might ring to signal for dinner. What made it different was that it cut through the din of battle like a stone splitting the water's surface.
Such pure notes rippled across the battlefield, calming the people to mere whimpers. The undead halted in their tracks. They whirled around, trying to find the source of the bell. That melody rang a total of three more times before fading into nothing.
The silence was absolute. No one moved, for every fiber in their being told them that bell heralded the arrival of something grand, something magnificent.
Svend and Tulipa shared a bewildered glance, the sun feeling unnaturally hot and bright. It felt like it was getting a bit too bright. Why did the sun seem to be setting already?
"Hey, Arthur! Those dryads were right! There is a group of people being attacked by those undead too! [World Purification]!"
Within a radius of two hundred meters, every undead instantly set ablaze. They didn't get the chance to scream as they disintegrated into ashes. Some of the undead still crawling out of the crowd and coming out of the forest retreated, trying to escape the blaze of holy flames that scorched them.
The effect only lasted a few moments. A figure donned in majestic armor landed on the roof, a fine spear resting on their shoulder.
He saluted them with two fingers. "Yoooo! Sorry, we're late. My partner and I just barely got here. We had to go help out your friends first since they were worse off. Now, fellas!"
From the Forest line came a chorus of feminine war cries. The undead were pincered in a surprise attack from behind. Dryad warriors armed with their spears and in hardened bark plates viciously cut down the undead filtering in from the forest.
It wasn't just from the forest either. The dryads must have been inspired by the method the undead used to ambush Sprigganson, for they spiraled out of the ground at blistering speeds to cut down their foes.
Grand Oak Naaru stood on an elevated platform above the chaos. The tree roots of several trees lifted him so he could survey the carnage. Nature's Revival, the spear of Grover Sprigganson, aimed at several groups of the undead.
"[Nature's Rejuvenation]," the dryad patriarch thundered. A cliff of thorny roots rose from the dirt, wrapping dozens of abominations in a constricting net. They were dragged underground while being strangled, and compressed into fleshy balls that later liquified.
On the other side of the settlement, a man in strange armor of overlapping plates and a demonic helmet stepped out. His poise was regal, a hand resting on the hilt of a curved sword at his waste.
Anytime he passed by an undead, a blast of wind would shoot out, slicing the creature to pieces. When a horde of them tried to descend onto the stoic warrior, several triangular blades like throwable arrowheads impaled them in their hearts.
Each blow from the warrior took out several monsters. He moved with an elegance that spoke of a lifetime of honed discipline and swordsmanship. Even when the undead burrowed out of the dirt to grab his ankles, their wrists were cut in the blink of an eye and their skulls smashed.
And suddenly the other mysterious warrior was on the roof, having closed the distance faster than Svend could comprehend. Svend stumbled backward, Tulipa catching him before he could fall off the roof again.
The bright warrior waved to his comrade. "Hey, Arthur! Instincts were right on point as usual. You always were the goat at this sort of thing!"
"Not now, Umbarth," the one called Arthur gruffly spoke. "The Forest of Tob is besieged by the agents of the Black Dragon. Tsaindorcus will want to hear about this."
"Yeah, you're right. Though I think first we need to get these guys out of here. Can't use teleportation 'cause then I'd bring these freak shows with us, and I'd lose more health. Don't want me dying on you now right?"
"We'll carve a path out of here then. One of you, do you happen to have a haven to go to? The dryads' grove is overrun, so don't be counting on that."
"There is a grove deep within the forest. It is blessed ground, able to keep out these undead!" Pops iterated to their mysterious saviors.
Arthur nodded. "Then that's where we're heading. Umbarth, do you have the strength to provide some purifying Wild Magic?"
"Pfft, of course I do! [World Purification] is a lower-quality spell. I spam that as you guys do with your Tier Magic, and I should still be kicking."
Svend's jaw dropped at how casually these two warriors conversed with one another. When he glanced around at the oak borders of their safety zone, the undead warily stalked. They dared not approach, likely fearing they'd be set on fire again by the powerful magic of the shining warrior.
Wild Magic… I feel like I've heard that term before, but where?
"Alright, listen up mortals! Your leader is going to guide all of you to some special grove that's safe. Stick close behind us while we lead the way!" The one called Umbarth called, capturing everyone's attention.
His hands crackled with arcs of energy, different from lightning. He raised both of them high into the air. "[Divine Stabilization]."
What was unleashed was a stream of power that split off into multiple beams. Every person was struck by a beam of light. Svend half-expected the beam to burn a hole in his chest, but instead, he felt a comforting warmth right over his heart. When he looked down, there was a faint glow that shimmered over his body.
"I've done my part. Arthur, old pal, want to clear out some infestation?"
Arthur nodded, hopping down from the roof and walking up to a section of the oak barrier that would lead directly to one of the settlement gates.
His hand rested on his sword and he took a stance. His knees bent and his waist slightly twisted to the side, a move that showed he was prepared to strike. Unlike his companion's display of magic, true lightning coursed all around the man's blade.
Eyes shining with peculiar power, Arthur took a deep breath in, and then slowly exhaled. "[Lightning Blade]!"
Within an instant, his thin blade was yanked from its sheath. A wave of storming power sliced outwards, cutting down the oak wall and all the undead that were behind it. Bolts of lightning would surge out of each undead cut down, jumping to a new target and incinerating them. For each of them killed, an additional bolt was added, creating a lake of devastation across the entire Settlement.
It didn't just stop there, as that wave of power continued to slice through still-standing buildings, cut off the entire outer perimeter wall, and chopped down the first few trees of Tob before it dissipated quickly.
Umbarth quickly grabbed Svend's grandfather by the collar of his robes, jumping down to join Arthur. Pops yelped with surprise and was then promptly set down. Svend, his father, and his uncle had to rely on Tulipa for a quick way down from the roof.
"Lead the way! I can still sense more of those ugly bastards beneath the soil! My magic should protect you, but don't get swarmed, okay?" Umbarth said to Pops, patting him on the shoulder.
Svend and Tulipa stared at one another, having trouble comprehending the sudden change of events. So it was thus that their legs moved on instinct when Pops started shepherding the people they needed to go.
The nightmare was not over, as more undead continued to claw their way from the ground, but now Svend held hope in his heart that they wouldn't die. They just had to make it to the blessed grove and they'd be home free.
Battle of Carne
Tsuare's breath grew heavy as she watched the new arrivals tear through her ranks. The flower-headed one was especially vicious, picking up zombies and shredding them to ribbons with elongated claws.
The malevolent intelligence of these beings couldn't be underestimated. Each time they attacked, they struck with deadly purpose. The variety of sizes they displayed meant a single one on the larger side could easily take down a group of several undead and be unphased.
A flesh juggernaut attempted to crack the skull of one of the new undead. It resembled a skinless bear, the muscles pitch-black and tendons a lighter, ashy gray. Flesh juggernauts on their own were only slightly less powerful than traditional death knights.
Though they could use weapons, they preferred to use their swollen hands as makeshift clubs. Tsuare suspected it could easily take down an entire adventurer's party. Their bloated mass made them excellent gluttons for pain.
Its head was removed in one strike by the new arrival. The beast quickly feasted on the flesh juggernaut's corpse, its skinless muscles bubbling while it exploded in size. Its fellow brethren joined in, gaining a similar effect.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Viscera stained the trampled grass. The undead with an exposed skull collapsed into a twitching pile. Tsaure looked up at the remains of the wall to see the mercenaries the Sunlight Scripture hired. They had regrouped and were picking off the new undead that was carving a path through Tsuare's army.
The Archangel Flames were shot out of the sky by black darts. Some were slaughtered mid-air by the new undead, who displayed the ability to grow wings if they did not already have a pair.
These can't be my lord's, not unless He wishes to wipe the slate clean! Is that… is that what's happening?
Instinct told her this was highly unlikely the Weeping King's doing. She couldn't put it past her master, but the entire scenario felt… off. First, the Death Lords lost access to their shadow magic, and now this new breed of horned undead was ravaging her army.
The mages that powered the magical barrier were carried off Carne's wall. Their lives were forfeit in the claws of the winged skull beast, their clothes ripped and blood gushing out from the deep wounds.
Tsaure sighed raggedly, recognizing her opportunity. "Move up! Into the village proper! Defeat those who resist, spare the citizens!"
Her forces strove to obey her orders, provided they weren't struggling with the more vicious predators at the army's rear. Regardless of their ultimate goal, Tsuare knew the village would fall, one way or another. She'd much prefer to keep the casualties to a minimum.
She raised Heatstriker with a rallying cry. "Your defenses are broken! We will do whatever is necessary to claim Carne-"
A man rushed out at her from the hole in the wall. He wielded a spear and was dressed in typical village garb. Patches covered holes in his uniform, wearing a simple shirt and pants beneath a heavy leather jerkin.
Beyond the spear in his hands, he looked like an ordinary farmer, getting ready to go out and till the fields. He would've spent the day planting new seeds and feeding the animals. In a way, he reminded her of her father.
His spear thrust out with wobbly aim, intended for her heart. The Death Lords that surrounded her reacted and slew the man without hesitation. His body fell to bits, blood spraying out from each piece.
Doused in the blood of that villager, Tsuare hardly blinked. Successfully brokering peace with some villages had its equal share of wanton violence in others. Blood covering her was hardly new.
Still, something felt different about this situation. She brushed aside the feeling and climbed over the rubble to get into the village. The moment she set foot within Carne, another villager rushed her. Without stopping her momentum, she cut the man down as easily as he would the wheat in his field.
Fireballs from the Sunlight Scripture mages rushed her way, quickly blocked by the Death Lords that followed her in. They did their best to shield her from the Archangel Flames hovering above, leaving her to deal with the hostile villagers.
"Get the hell out of Carne you undead bitch!" A woman screamed at her, startling Tsuare. A sharpened hoe was in her hands, swinging towards Tsuare's armor-less chest. That nameless woman's face was contorted into such hatred, teeth bared and spittle flying.
Her hair splayed in the wind, eyes wide with fear and malice. It was wildly feral, but this was rather familiar. She had seen such a look on the faces of several others she fought in the past. What made this difference was this woman was Tsuare's age, bearing a striking resemblance from the nameless's blond hair down to her vibrant blue eyes.
Among all the villagers she'd met and all the warriors she fought in her quest for vengeance, this girl before her could have been anyone. She could have served any purpose beyond being a farmhand or someone's daughter. It very well could have been Tsuare herself at another time.
Heatstriker relieved the girl of her head, blond locks of hair singed from the blade's intense heat. Eyes transfixed, she watched as her opponent's head rolled across the dirt freely. A peculiar shiver ran down her spine, her stomach turning in knots.
Nonetheless, Tsuareninya Veryon kept walking. Shaken in her foundation of belief but convinced her faith in the Weeping King would see her through, it was all she could do.
"The undead aren't welcome here!"
SLICE!
"Call off your guards now!"
SLICE!
"Bastard child you are! Murderer!"
SLICE!
"You're no savior! You're a filthy fucking bandit is what you are!"
SLICE!
With each villager she cut down, bile rose in the back of her throat. Sweat dotted her brow with the knowledge that those she was killing were not actual warriors, but civilians. They did know the consequences of battle, did not understand the depth to which combatants must go to destroy their enemies.
They were innocents, and the thought that she had to kill them to achieve her goals nearly made her puke.
Deeper and deeper into the village she went, striking down those who came at her in self-defense. Her distress steadily grew as a combination of Sunlight Scripture and villagers came to stop her rampage. Parts of her body were steeped in crimson, warm and sticky from the lives she stole.
The Death Lords did their part to protect her, crushing their adversaries into the dirt without remorse. Their eyes tracked Tsuare's every move, hyper-aware of her in a way they hadn't been previously.
While trekking to find where Carne's leaders may be hiding, Tsaure got an impromptu tour of the village. It was advanced, having houses made of carved stone and wood. The paths were slowly becoming paved, transitioning from dirt to cobblestone. It was impressive how well-built the village was, evidenced by the proactive attitude of Carne's residents.
A trail of blood dripped off Tsuare, her mind slightly foggy. Some of the Death Lords broke off from her protection entourage, ravaging the stone houses and tearing apart fighters hiding out within.
A chorus of screams filled the air, as well as the sickening crunches of metal on bone. Rotten flesh sizzled from the magic spells of the mages who tried to protect their charges, but they too were cut down.
Her boots crunched on the rocks knocked loose by the undead that piled into Carne, fighting in full against the village's defenders. That meant the villagers fighting her thinned, though not eliminating the possibility of her facing off against more.
These people… they should be rejoicing that I'm here to save them. I'm here to save them from the clutches of the Sunlight Scripture. I'm here to save them. I'm here to save them…
A house off to the right exploded with green fire, and the silhouette of the skull undead lingered in the unnatural flames. The scent of sickly sweet rot plugged her nose. A sheen of ice seemed to replace her skin as a thousand voices whispered in her ear.
She perked up slightly when that happened, thinking her master had come to survey the extent of the battle. She turned in the direction of where she got the feeling, mouth open to greet the one who charged her with this conquest.
What she saw instead slowed time to a crawl. The breath in her lungs was stolen from her. She nearly dropped Heatstriker from the shock of adrenaline and icy-cold fear that coursed through her veins.
In her haze, she hadn't even realized she made it to what she assumed was Carne's center. It was a small, open plaza, with various pathways branching off to lead to the different districts that were cropping up within the village.
At its center, she saw a statue of her master. It was the Weeping King in His scholarly robes, certainly, though the statue showed He wore a strange mask and gauntlets. There were two other statues of men carved alongside Him, but they mattered little to the image of her god.
Save for those two aspects, his outfit was largely what He commanded to be carved out of. The large spines jutting from the shoulders, the flowing regality of his cloth, it was the very same!
That one statue was an anchor for her current reality. Everything going around her had largely faded into the background, replaced by a constant ringing in her ear. The last few months slammed her at that moment.
She stared down at her hands, seeing how completely drenched in blood they were. The armor she wore was battered and worn, not at all like the prestigious state they typically had. Even after a battle, they could be easily wiped off all the blood that accumulated.
Now? They barely exceeded leather gloves in their present state. Whatever purpose they had, an ordinary warrior could barely tell. Their glory faded.
Something round pelted her exposed head. She hissed in pain, and the Death Lords hissed alongside her. They growled hungrily in the direction of her attacker, and Tsuare gasped seeing a little girl standing there.
She was dressed in simple woolen clothing, her reddish-brown hair done up in pigtails. There was an adorably fierce expression on her face, even as she trembled in the face of the hulking undead.
"Y-you hurt my friends! Sirs of Ainz are gonna be so mad at you! Sis and Enfi will tell them! I-I'll do my best to s-stop you!"
That small child reared her hand back as far as she could, throwing another round object her way. The Death Lord closest to her barely reacted, easily blocking what the girl threw with its shield.
When it clattered to the ground, Tsuareninya saw it was a simple stone. The young girl hefted more out of her pockets, tossing as quickly as her arms allowed. Her defiance amused the Death Lords, and the one that defended her took a step forward.
"No!" She uttered sharply, stopping the beast in its tracks. "She's too young to understand why we do this! You do not hurt her, she's too young. She's too young…"
Another rock hit her chest, slightly aggravating her wounds. The Death Lords studied her with a curiosity that unnerved her but otherwise did as she commanded. All around them, the fires of conquest burned, eating away at the hard work of Carne over an indeterminable period.
Tsuare covered her mouth, trying and failing to reconcile what she was doing here. She was supposed to be saving these people, and now even their youngest was coming out to fight her.
What have I done?
An ominous stomping snapped her out of her self-pity. She saw out of the corner of her eye the looming shape of one of the new undead that joined the fight. Unlike its skull-headed brethren, this one had a head like a meaty, grotesque flower. It stood between Tsaure and the young girl, making the latter yelp in horror when she saw it.
The beast trilled in disinterest towards Tsuare and her elite guard. The petals of its mouth shifted, exposing rows of needle teeth and lashing tentacles. It focused its attention on the little girl, deciding she was the easier target.
"Not you either! I already said to leave the girl alone! We do not harm the civilians unless it is in self-defense!" Tsuare spat.
To her complete bafflement, the beast ignored her. Its left arm transformed into a fearsome war scythe. Each sluggish thud of its feet signaled a perverse sense of leisure, the way the creature stalked towards the little girl.
"I said that's enough! Leave her be! She is not the enemy here!" Tsuare tried again, her heart trying to break out of her ribcage. Again, the beast did not obey.
The distinct smell of urine filled the air, and the clattering of pebbles against the ground echoed oddly loud against the backdrop of battle. The little girl's knees buckled, collapsing promptly to her knees.
This time Tsuare didn't bother with an order. She began to rush the undead creature regardless of what might transpire next, only to be held back by an unbreakable grip on her shoulders.
Glancing back revealed the culprits to be the Death Lords themselves, restraining her from intervening. "W-what is the meaning of this? It's going to kill her! It won't listen to me like you and others do, why won't it listen?! I need to save her, keep her safe!"
Those Death Lords, unrelenting in their bloodlust, uncompromising in their carnage, unwilling to spare mercy, were content to finally stand back and watch. A molten fury unlike anything Tsuare ever felt only exacerbated her hysteria, and she struggled with all her might against them.
"No no no! This wasn't supposed to happen! I was supposed to liberate them! I was supposed to bring them to safety, bring them to a better life! Let me go, please!"
Now like the monstrosity that was seeking to end a little girl's life, even the Death Lords rejected her plea. Her voice cracked along with what remained of her armor. In a final bit of desperation, she swung Heatstriker back at the hands that held her.
"Damn you! Damn you and Him! I won't let this happen to her!" she screeched. Heatstriker fell short of its target, another Death Lord grabbing the blade and holding it even as its fingers steamed from the intense heat.
As such, Tsuare was forced to watch helplessly as the flower-headed undead towered over the little girl, openly crying for her sister and "Enfi" now. It raised its monstrous scythe above. The cavern for a mouth dripped with foul secretions.
Tsuare reached out with her other hand, tears dripping down her face. Her self-doubt came to a boil. In a temporary derangement, she saw someone else, someone her mind imposed onto the little girl.
"Cecilia!"
Then the beast dropped its scythe down.
Hello dear readers,
Apologies for the VERY late update to the finale. I started up an official summer internship and suffered a small bit of burnout, but I am back now. I officially started working on Part 3, to conclude this epic finale. I hope you guys are enjoying the way I have things set up and how the fight is going this far, for next chapter no battle is without it's casualties.
As always, I'd like to thank my beta team on the Library of Ashurbanipal server, which you can find the link to in my profile. You can also send me an email or DM if you guys want to ever chat with me. I'd also like to thank you, my dear readers, for sticking with me as long as you have. Without you guys, I would have never been able to make it this far.
Until you find the other eight!