Chapter 76: oh hi who are you
Lower Fire Month, 10th Day, 600 AGG
Usually, they would cremate the corpses of the fallen after a battle before sending war priests to purify any negative energy the land couldn't soak up.
This time however, they were collecting the slain to put into storage. If it had been anybody other than Ka'yilt who made the suggestion, he would have handily ignored them.
Raising the dead was an expensive endeavor after all, and none of the cleric circles capable of facilitating such a ritual were based near Clan Ur.
They required intact bodies anyway, a courtesy neither angels or Mac'tal saw fit to extend.
'What game are the humans playing at now?' As he'd expected, the reinforcements sent from the Draconic Kingdom were worse than useless; they were an active burden on his warriors. Soldiers used to fighting in open regions where they could rely on large, compact formations were painfully unused to the realities of the woodlands. 'Foul experiments desecrating the dead?'
If that were the case, Clan Ur would not stand for such an insult. Better dying in resistance than willingly bend the knee to those who would see their remains enslaved.
"Our stasis containers are out of space, Rajan."
"Open the warehouses and cover the bodies with preservation shrouds."
"We don't have that many, Rajan—"
"Stack them in piles if you must. Just get it done."
"Understood!" The Kshatra raised a hand over his chest and walked away. Enverak repressed a sigh; with the remainder of reinforcements arriving by tomorrow, mountains of tasks weighed upon him.
'Food won't be an issue, thankfully; although this means the druids and clerics can't be relied on in combat. I don't want to spend too much money on imports from other clans…'
Clan Ur still controlled enough land to feed itself, but relying on a standard supply train through infested grounds would be foolish. Ideally the other clans saw fit to deploy a greater proportion of spellcasters, though he wasn't counting on it.
Loud murmurs of unease pricked his ears, the beastmen around him shading their eyes and looking upwards as a harbinger of ill will rapidly descended upon the street opposite to him.
Kshatras and civilians both parted for the wickedly graceful abomination, spikes of dread in the hearts of all who beheld its violent appearance.
And it was towards him the masked abomination was creeping. The Tiger Zoastia steeled his nerves and approached the angel with
"What's this?" He accepted the angel's missive. 'A summons from…'
He wasn't aware the Queen of the humans had been educated in the common script of the Republic. Neither had he expected her to personally come to Ur'lathla. 'I wonder who would translate for her.' A lot of people, probably, if only out of fear for their life.
The masked angel wordlessly stared at him, golden ichor steadily trickling down closed eyeholes while its arms steadily held manifold armaments of war.
"Lead the way," the angel stretched out its four wings that glowed with a purity unbefitting its appearance and grabbed him with suddenly empty hands.
Enverak winced as his hide was pinched, pulled by the angel's grip. It dragged him upwards, skywards, above the cityline and flew without a shred of concern for his comfort.
'I fucking hate flying.'
Paying attention to the view was impossible when he felt like his guts were left behind on the ground. "Urgh…"
The upside was that it didn't take long to reach their destination. Gauntleted hands released him, unceremoniously dropping the tigerman before the main entrance of his clanhold.
"Rajan!" One of the Kshatras on guard duty ran over, helping him to his unsteady feet. "They dare try something so underhanded—!"
"Back to your post," Enverak growled, but not before patting the young warrior's back. "Don't give our guest cause to complain."
"… by your will," they unhappily retreated and permitted the angel inside with him in tow.
"Your letter was impressively vague," he glared at the winged messenger. "Is this how the people you serve enjoy communicating?"
It was an eerie, quiet thing. It did not speak, it did not make a sound; all the angel did was continue to walk down the hallway, carrying itself with a disgusting righteousness.
Regardless of how many died by its swords and hammers and spears and flails, the angel's armor would continue to shine with a pristine purity. Innocence was for it to decide—and the dead were overflowing with sin to the last.
Abhorrent.
A divinity of pride.
But not one exceeding the human sitting in the waiting room reading a book. Nor could it compare to the two lion-helmed angels that stood watch over her, their size belying the oppressive strength they exerted through presence alone.
Dragon Queen Oriculus, lord of the western human realm, put away her tome and leveled a bland gaze at him. He had no clue why they were titled 'Dragon' Queen in the same way her domain was called the 'Draconic' Kingdom when their sole Dragon Lord abandoned them decades ago; although, he also supposed it wasn't really important.
"Enverak Ur. A pleasure."
The greeting was akin to the hands of a giant pushing his shoulders down, like an unbearable weight he had to acknowledge.
Enverak slowly dropped to a knee and lowered his head. "This one did not expect a visit, Your Majesty."
"Sit with me," he obliged her command, frowning all the while. "I heard you've been quite preoccupied with preparing the eastern campaign, so I chose to allow you some time in the morning."
'Has she really been waiting?' Whether the human lord had or not was irrelevant. Her action served a singular purpose and that was to demonstrate their respective positions in the new hierarchy.
No.
It was to force him to admit who stood above who. Testing his abilities to conduct this sham of diplomacy.
"… get the Queen something to drink."
The warrior on standby nervously gulped and quickly exited the room after giving a hasty bow. "Admirable warriors, your Kshatras."
"Most have seen live combat. Those who haven't are mercilessly trained by the former."
"Rather open with their capabilities, aren't you?"
"My assumption was that Her Majesty preferred openness from her lessers. I apologize if that belief happens to be rooted in baseless rumor."
"Baseless rumor," three pairs of burning eyes bore into him: one teal-green, the other two baleful fire. "I wonder, what else have these 'baseless rumors' consisted of?"
The question had no right answer. Enverak felt trapped, little more than an amusing plaything for the human to toy with. "…"
He could scarcely recall ever being so grateful for an interruption as the Kshatra returned, shakily bringing forth a tray bearing two cups of water.
"Since I'm sitting across from you, why don't you take this opportunity to vent your frustrations?" Queen Oriculus gracefully accepted the cup from his Kshatra. Dammit, why couldn't she have acted more feral as befitting her atrocities? "Or perhaps you're considering challenging me to one of those sanctioned death matches your kind are inclined to partake in?"
"There's no reason for you to accept even if I did."
"I might. You'll never know without trying," he was tortuously aware of the lances in between the armored fingers of the greater angels.
"Your Majesty jests. Not a clan in the Republic would dare violate the terms our High Vizier set for us."
"I'm glad to hear you all are so very conscientious when it comes to authority figures," and now that he was looking, actually looking, he'd never seen magic items of the kind the Queen and angels were wearing. "So, I'll be patient and ask again: why don't you take this opportunity to vent your frustrations?"
Fine. If she was hellbent on knowing, then he may as well oblige her.
"You forced tens of thousands of people who had surrendered to march through Shatterstone," the cup cracked in his grip. "Do you know how many ordinary men and women have suffered because of your decisions? I won't deny that our military deserved their losses—such is the nature of war—but did you have to slaughter our entire leadership? Destabilize the whole of the Republic without understanding what would happen as a result?"
He released his grip, the shards and specks of the ceramic container tinkling into a pile on the table.
"Why couldn't you've just shown them the difference in strength?"
His rage was nothing more than a pointless tantrum. He knew that. Even so… even so…!
'How can you pretend to desire a unified peace when your actions say otherwise?'
Queen Oriculus calmly took a sip from her cup, utterly unperturbed by his outburst. A miniscule part of him grudgingly respected the display: she may have been protected by two winged demigods, but for prey to sit in front of a superior predator without the slightest concern required either insanity or nerves of dragonbone.
"The Beastman Country has treated our kingdom as a free-range hunting ground for generations," for a second, her raven-black hair seemed to absorb every tiny drop of daylight. "And in the last few years, your Council decided to escalate their raids into a full-blown war. Villages, towns, cities fell to the mighty beastman hordes—the residents relegated to become cattle for consumption."
"So spite and vengeance is what drives you," Enverak found his shoulders relaxing; her reaction was more subdued than he'd been anticipating.
"You may believe whatever you like," Queen Oriculus accepted a set of documents from the angel by her side. "Actually, I encourage you to believe that if it makes you feel better."
'Don't fall for her taunts,' he clenched his fists under the table, biting back the urge to snarl at the human's casual barbs, and glanced at the sheets of parchment she had laid out. 'This must be the offer Ka'yilt was preparing for.'
"In the end, the strong take everything, and the weak can only curse their fate," she slid the contract over to him. "In the same way your kind treated mine as livestock, so now do we dictate the terms of conquest. From the dawn of time until the present day, that truth has remained unchanged."
"I—"
"Be glad you received as much mercy as you did, Rajan."
"… I understand, Your Majesty," the Queen seemed to tower above him, a powerful pressure bending him to her will. On his domain, no less.
Now, will you accept, or do you somehow think your clan is better off without?"
Was it really his anymore?
Enverak could feel his pride withering to a husk by the second. Unlike the soldiers Queen Oriculus one-sidedly dumped on them, here was a deal he found himself freely accepting.
'It's for the sake of the clan,' it was an admission of complete loss. What could be more shameful than pleading to the people responsible for his problems to begin with?
But any other course of action was folly.
"I accept on behalf of Clan Ur," Enverak gritted his teeth. Even if the offer came with a hidden agenda, he'd be insane to pass it up. "You have yourself an accord, Your Majesty."
He had little desire to ask how she planned to uphold her end of the contract; resurrections on the scale Queen Oriculus was offering through her champion belonged in the realm of delirium. The price being offered made it seem as if material components were a triviality.
"Excellent. Sign here."
"Is there a point to this farce?"
"It helps both parties understand the expectations they each bear," she bluntly answered. "My Prime Minister should be working with your High Vizier and a number of other Rajans on drafting a comprehensive Accord."
"One-sidedly, I'm sure."
"Perhaps," Queen Oriculus stamped the contract with a seal that disappeared into the Bag of Holding one of her angel attendants held. "You'll get a chance to decide that when it's finished. I leave you to your duties, Rajan."
"Why?" He kept his eyes down, unwilling to give her the satisfaction of seeing his anguish. "If it was merely to sign a document, you could've sent a representative instead of coming in person."
"Mutual distaste aside, I don't dislike individuals who put their subjects first," wood scraped against wood as she pushed the chair in. The small act made him want to chuckle, strangely enough. "Your willingness to lead from the front is admirable."
Was she mocking him? "This much is expected from any Rajan. Even the most depraved among us take to the field when necessary."
" 'Depraved,' " Queen Oriculus bitterly smiled. "That's certainly one way to put it."
"Some indulge in excesses. Not all of us are Clan Kroh'or."
"Humanoids aren't an efficient food source, is that it?" The tigerman grimaced. Humans, elves, dwarves were luxuries he had partaken of when he was younger, but ranching them was a waste of resources and potential. They served the Republic better as slaves. "They take years to put on any significant mass, and even then there's not much compared to cattle. And you would speak of being different despite having sold human meat in—Hah… no matter. The country must produce quite the bounty to support a population like Ur'lathla's."
"Nuks, Aurochs, various kinds of boars," Enverak understood the dangers of angering her, but for the leader of the enemy to be within claws' reach yet remain untouchable was infuriating. "Even without our druids, the ground is fertile and willing to bear fruit."
"I see. Would you show me around, Rajan?"
'I'd rather be declawed.'
"I would be… honored, Your Majesty," he rose, waiting for her to take the lead before stupidly realizing his error. "Ahem, excuse me."
In ordinary circumstances, he would assign guards to look after visitors of high stature and keep gawkers from crowding around them. Here, Enverak doubted any person, sane or otherwise, would put their life at risk to approach the Queen.
Her two attendants—three if he counted the masked one that decided to tag along—hovered by her side, serenity ready to shift to brutality at the drop of a tail.
"The city's rather energetic," she idly remarked. "Clan Ur and its allies recently fought off a wave of Mac'tal if I'm not mistaken."
"It's as you say; we're now sorting out a push westwards to reclaim our lands. Since a number of other clans control territory past the regions Clan Ur lost, the whole cooperative effort is proving smoother than expected."
Human soldiers being the exception, he silently said to himself. Though truth be told, they were improving…
"Your progress is commendable considering what I've heard of the spiders," Queen Oriculus's praise caused his chest to puff slightly, imparting a warm pride that wiped away the fatigue of the last several days. "I'm aware that the soldiers of my kingdom have yet to acclimate themselves to your methods of war. How do they fare, Rajan?"
"Poorly," words flowed from his mouth, not dissimilar to a babbling brook. "Worse than helpless. The average human fighter of your kingdom is a liability."
She hummed, seemingly unsurprised. "Is that all?"
"There… those who survived the defensive battles are somewhat useful. They can at least survive a few『Energy Missiles』, fight on after a few Swordstalker wounds."
"What part do they play in the tactics of your commanders?"
"Your Majesty's rangers shadow the roles of ours, the fighters we position as vanguards to accompany our roaming units, and… ah…"
'Why do I suddenly feel so comfortable around her?' The effect of a skill. It couldn't be anything else, especially taking into account how he barely tolerated her existence until just recently. 'Is it even something I can counter? If she's the designated lord of an entire nation, and we fall under her authority, then doesn't that mean there's nothing to be done?'
The possibility was frightening. Slowly, he and his and every other beastman would be gradually stripped of any resistance they harbored against her until they too became willing, slavish subjects—
"My question, Rajan."
Enverak's spine shuddered; chilled by Queen Oriculus's frosty tone. "Apologies, Your Majesty. My mind was elsewhere."
"Then ensure it does not wander while I am speaking to you. Roaming units, you mentioned."
"Ye…Yes. I understand," The tigerman took a few nerve-wracking seconds to recollect his scattered wits. She wanted to know more about the purpose of small, mobile squads. Right.
"Lords are always targeted first. As one yourself, you must understand the strength a competent leader can inspire in their followers," Enverak began to warm up to the topic. "In any battle, our main priority is to kill commanders—"
"Who's killing who?"
Hallowed silence shrouded the street.
Six white wings, the resplendence of which were unmatched in the animate and not, stretched and formed a blinding, feathery expanse.
Enverak faintly realized this was his first time seeing the Goddess. He had beheld her servants, heard stories of her deeds, but before the champion herself, he found all his bravado shriveling up into a whimpering husk.
"Nobody's killing anybody," the tigerman could hardly register the Queen's voice, his body frozen in fear. He was prey trembling underneath a predator: one who dimmed the existence of the other angels merely by standing in their vicinity. "Rajan Ur was merely entertaining me with a hypothetical."
"That's good! Is he alright?" Enverak flinched as the Goddess pointed at him. His vision narrowed, focusing entirely on the implement of slaughter directed his way. "He looks kinda sick, Drau."
"Rajan Ur here is fine," Queen Oriculus glanced towards him with a raised eyebrow. "A little shocked to see you here, but fine."
"Shocked… I don't get it, but I didn't know you were visiting here today!" Eneverak was all but forgotten as the two women embraced each other.
'What the hells…' The tigerman would've never dreamed that the two were friendly to this degree. 'When? How? There's no conceivable way they had this concord for any longer than a few months.'
"Mhm," the hug appeared awfully… intimate for friends. "Likewise. Are you staying long?"
"I gotta go after casting the resurrections," the Goddess released Queen Oriculus who took the chance to pat her cheek. "Wanna come with?"
"There's a few more things I want to observe here and in Kalstorgh. You might need to leave without me, dear."
So it was like that.
If any doubts regarding the nature of the relationship between the two women still remained, they were now silenced. 'Were we truly vanquished for so mundane a reason?'
A fairy tale for the humans, a cautionary fable for the beastmen.
'Father would have wept tears of blood.'
In a small corner of his mind, Enverak wondered how his Rajanum were doing.
"Do you remember what you said before we headed out for Kruurat?" Queen Oriculus squeezed the Goddess's hand. " 'I should at least look them in the eyes when I kill them?' "
"But when I said that, you got mad…"
"Are you going to get angry?" Queen Oriculus teasingly grabbed her partner's nose. "I can send an aide in my place if you'd prefer that."
"No no, it's fine! Just worried," the blonde angel winced. "This is how you felt back then, huh?"
"I'm not trying to hold anything over you. I was being serious; if it bothers you, I'll have a replacement flown here."
"It's okay, Drau!" The Goddess brightly smiled then frowned. "But I'm leaving more angels with you!"
"Fine by me. More Gatekeepers?" Was that the designation for the lance and shield wielding demigods?
"Plus an Empyrean!" a mass of light slowly began to detach itself from the star-filled orb lazily floating above the Goddess's shoulder. "Made another this morning."
"I was hardly going to go out of my way to stick my head into danger," the Queen good-naturedly huffed. "With everything said, I don't want to keep you from your responsibilities any longer. Will you come by tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow, let's see…" She squinted at a small notebook pulled from the void. "Ooooh yikes… I'll try to wrap up super fast!"
"… don't make mistakes in haste. Baharuth's Emperor and his delegation ought to be arriving within the next week or so."
The luminous blob solidified and grew until it towered above even himself, a threefold cataclysm sharing one body, one will, countless arrays of devastation. "I won't; got a notebook and all to keep me on track. Other Gatekeepers are gonna fly in by today, aaaaand…"
She hugged Queen Oriculus again, tightly and lovingly. "Stay safe, please?"
"You too. Don't get lost."
"Ueeeh…" The Goddess's shoulders comically slumped forward as she half-heartedly waved at him. "And um, see you too, I guess."
"Safe travels, Lady Goddess," Enverak immediately knelt, holding his right fist over his heart. Her wings flapped, louder at first and then quieter the further she disappeared into the city. 'Incredible.'
Wait, what was he getting all comfortable for?
Lowering his guard because of her demeanor when he knew of the slaughters she perpetuated… he had to remember the Goddess was calamity given physical form, first and foremost.
Damn her smiles, damn the way she spoke with Queen Oriculus, damn the way she tried to express that sickening politeness—Enverak understood the moment he made a mistake, she, the Seventh-generation Sword Saint, would be the person to claim his head.
"Honestly, I worry about her sometimes…" Queen Oriculus mumbled, gaze fixated in the direction the Goddess had been flying towards. She shook her head with a small smile before turning to address the tigerman. "Continue if you would, Rajan."
What should've been a short 'tour' became a full, albeit surface-level, rundown of the whole city. Layout, infrastructure, administration—Enverak despondently wondered if another wave of Mac'tal would be preferable to this.
"Most of our golems are being assessed outside, so the storage compartments here currently don't contain anything," he caught Sabea wandering out the side of his eye. He hadn't seen the foreign monk much since the day they arrived in Ur'lathla. Enverak considered calling out to them, but he had a troublesome guest to guide—
"Great-grandfather?"
For a split second, the indefatigable conqueror of their home sounded vulnerable.
Fragile.
Like a candle flame nearly snuffed out—but not. Someone pathetically protecting the fading remnants of an impossible hope.
Queen Oriculus's arm seemed to unconsciously reach out for Sabea before she blinked and quickly pulled it back.
"No, that's ridiculous," she mumbled, one hand over her mouth and the other crossed underneath her chest, eyes narrowed in contemplation. "Why would he be here of all places? It doesn't make sense."
For a split second, Enverak pitied the Queen. Rulers shouldn't ever look so lost.
'Should we continue? It'll probably end up being a waste of time if she's distracted.'
"Your Majesty—"
"The golems," Queen Oriculus clenched her jaw and tightened the line of her mouth. "Yes, go on. I believe I don't have to clarify the need for discretion."
"Of course," he wasn't suicidal. "They're being tested in the staging grounds as we speak."
At least he could also get some work done?
"You let a few escape again, Giulia…" Marith clicked his tongue as he watched the Theocracy's army dispose of the dead and bind the survivors. "They're going to be a thorn in our side now that they know we're here."
"It was too many people in the first place!" The blonde pouted. "No way we could've held them in place for long enough."
"Tch."
She wasn't wrong. Four squads might have been sufficient if the elves had only just entered the village, but the reality was that the settlement was heavily fortified by the time the Scripture and army launched their joint attack.
'That's not an excuse, even if she's a relatively new member.'
"Relax, Brauger," Zarel slapped his back. "We got most of the elf cunts including that druid. The important thing isn't wiping out their elites; it's helping the army advance on the capital."
"I'm well aware. But those who ran away will return to the battlefield stronger than they were today," an elite was worth squads of ordinary soldiers. "Not to mention the experience and information the runaways received from this battle…"
Overcoming challenges, treading the precipice of life and death—that was how people grew stronger. Those elves who had escaped from the clutches of a combat oriented Scripture would surely grow to become credible threats in the future.
"Forget it. We'll deal with them when the day comes," one of General Obinie's strategists was approaching them. "Strategist Penin, is there something you need?"
"Sirs and Ma'am, the General wishes to see you all," the light-haired man respectfully greeted the three. "It has to do with your Scripture's operations moving forward, so he hopes to personally inform those involved."
"Um, we're busy keeping watch here. Can't he wait until this village is cleaned out?"
"Your Vice-Captain has given his approval," Penin laid Giulia's concerns to rest. "The Holocaust Scripture can rest assured; we can take over from here."
"We'll leave it to you then!" Marith frowned at her abrupt change in attitude. He didn't think his scolding had been that harsh. "C'mon, what are you guys waiting for?"
"Wait, if the entire Scripture is being called in, then what about our counter-ops?"
Penin replied, unflappable. "The General insists the importance of this topic warrants lowering our guard for a few minutes."
"Let's get going," Zarel nodded to the strategist. "Sooner we hear what the General's got to say, the sooner we can get back to business."
Marith hesitantly allowed himself to be pushed towards the direction of HQ.
"You know, I can't shake the feeling this is gonna be annoying," Giulia mused as they passed by an encircled group of resigned elves. "The Sunlight Scripture gets all the easy missions."
"Messing around in the Hills isn't 'easy.' You've heard the stories of their champions and warbands."
"I'd prefer dealing with some demis on the plains over worrying about being pincushioned every waking second. Can't drop your guard; the damn plants'll poke holes in you."
"Uhhh… yeah, fair point. Demihumans don't develop the kinda druids you see here," Giulia picked her nose and flicked a booger at Zarel. It didn't land. "They still go for more though, sometimes."
"Bloodsport rings shell crazy amounts of gold for them. Demihumans are usually suited for melee—spectators love a good melee."
"I wanna visit the Grand Arena!" Giulia huffed, arms crossed under her armored chest. "Watching demis get beat up is the kind of stress relief I need."
"What's wrong with the ones back home?"
"Only rich weirdos go to those!" Another line of to-be slaves entered the trio's view. "These guys all getting sold off?"
"Straight to the markets. Well, army's got to shuffle them to the rear and wait for the supply line to ship them to a city…"
"Ever thought about buying a few to keep house while you're out on missions?"
"Meh. Feels like a waste if my place is small to start with. I'd rather handle everything myself than go through the bother of training slaves."
"Yeah, we're barely home anyway, right?" Giulia directed their attention to a group of soldiers scratching their head over an elf bleeding out on the ground. "Do you think the soldiers have their pay docked every time an elf offs themselves?"
"We're almost there," Marith cut into their idle conversation. He bore no love for the elves, but seeing a whole village being prepared to be sold off into slavery disturbed even him.
The regiment of guards parted way to allow the trio access to the command tents. Marith saw a couple other squads arrive out of the corner of his eyes and wondered again what could be so important to call in the entire Scripture.
"Vice-Captain," he caught Schoen's attention. "What's going on?"
"Wait for everybody to show up first."
Marith nodded, stepping towards the corner of the tent beside Zarel and Giulia. They waited a tad longer for the squads who'd been stationed further away.
As for the General… Valerian Ein Obinie was nowhere in sight. The adept's eye twitched in annoyance. Of course he respected the fifty-odd years old commander, but shouldn't they understand the consequences of keeping the Scripture off the field?
Thankfully, they didn't have to wait long. General Obinie entered through the other side of the tent—followed by a woman with short-blonde hair and a lithe build partially concealed by the cloak she was wearing. 'Haven't seen her around before.'
"At ease," Marith and his comrades relaxed. "I understand the time we're wasting here, so I'll be quick: some days ago, the Grand Marshal informed me that we need to move up the invasion's timetable."
Grumbling broke out among the Holocaust Scripture's ranks. The vast majority of them were already completely spent when it came to mana; rushing the invasion was asking the impossible.
"To that end, a member of the Black Scripture has been deployed to assist us," General Obinie stepped to the side, gesturing towards the newcomer. " 'Windstride' will be taking part in your operations from here on out."
The graying commander handed Schoen a shimmering mithril bracelet. "With all that said, her participation comes along with a few restrictions. Do not let her leave more than three hundred meters from your location, Vice-Captain."
"Quite the limitation," Marith side-eyed the cattish woman. She was of delicate build, but even a glimpse was enough to make him shiver. This person was dangerous. "Yet not the Third Seat, General?" I would've thought he'd be the one sent if the situation called for intervention from our heroes."
"Heroes, hm…? This is who the Executive Council selected. I'm afraid I'm not privy to their reasoning, but she will be of use, yes?"
"Absolutely," Schoen equipped the bracelet, appraising it with a keen eye. "We could use a hero on the frontlines, unstable as they may be. I assume she's a dangerous element considering the purpose of this item?"
"Hardly!" General Obinie's reassurance sounded slightly forced. "It's more for her sake than yours, to be truthful."
"What happens if she wanders outside the radius?"
"She'll die."
'Oh.'
The General's blunt, cold response startled Marith. Even Schoen appeared taken aback. Just what had the hero done to warrant this kind of treatment? "Any questions?"
"No Sir!"
The Holocaust Scripture replied and saluted in unison. General Obinie kindly smiled in satisfaction as he waved for them to leave. "Thank you for your time. Please carry on with your duties, champions of Humanity."
"Well," Zarel was the first to speak after they were some distance from the command center. "Work's going to suck for a while."
Giulia kicked the grass.
"It's always sucked."
'No live Mac'tal?' Isoleiryx considered the warehouse stocked with spoils torn from and out of the vermin. 'Their cabal of spellcasters should be back in order. They must be rushing to complete transportation golems to replace the loss of the waygates.'
He, as the one responsible, already knew this. Gutting the Archive's more complex artifacts clearly wreaked havoc on their day to day operations.
"Short on stock, Shopkeeper?" Isoleiryx waved to the Archive clerk on standby. Just by being mildly polite, people could easily gain access to resources and information.
"Clan Ur's bought everything up," the Orthrous on staff lazily motioned his head at the empty shelves and displays where completed items would usually be sitting. "Can't blame them; they're going to want every little bit they can get their paws on."
"Indeed…"
'It's around that time again.'
Residual mana surged outwards, originating from the west, with an intensity such that he could sense it from over a thousand kilometers away.
'Eleventh-Tier Magic,' Isoleiryx turned his head in the direction of the Draconic Kingdom's capital. After their bloody jaunt in the streets of Kruurat, the Player had taken it upon themselves to weave the cursed magic twice a day, everyday without fail. 'Probably of the summoning variety.'
Truthfully, it could be any number of things—the filth distorted the fundamental roots of the World to a nigh unrecognizable form—but summons seemed the most likely. It was, after all, the crux of this particular Player's power.
So what kind of monster could tier magic closest to the origin create? Or perhaps was it a question of 'quantity' instead of 'quality…' no, a combination of both? 'The strongest I've seen are weaker than myself. That implies she's leaning towards quantity.'
That being said, the quality of her mass created summons still heavily outclassed anything the native residents of this world had the ability to produce.
"Err, is there anything I can do to help you?"
"Unfortunately not if nothing's here. Although, it's good business is doing so well, right?"
"Heh. One way of looking at it," he stooped under the header and stepped outside the subsidiary. Building a relationship took time anyhow. "Come back when all this crap is over!"
Unlikely. He had important tasks awaiting him after this reconnaissance trip; staying in this backwater corner for so long meant he had to neglect some other developments. The Player was important, yes, but he had to look into the future beyond their eventual confrontation as well.
'I think I've seen most of what they have to offer,' the ones
On the other side of the street, Enverak was leading a quartet of various angels and—his offspring who had stopped in her tracks and was now staring at him.
'Checking on the state of her new acquisitions,' Isoleiryx felt a miniscule shred of approval for his progeny that was promptly snuffed out by disdain. 'Hmm… it seems she can feel something's off. Her senses are dull if it's only that much.'
Brisk strides took him past Enverak Ur's little group. None of the angels bothered turning his way, another confirmation of the limitations to their sight.
To his dismay, he was accosted by a bothersome Rajan the second Enverak and his audience were out of view. "Traveler! How dost thou fare?"
"Rajan Nadhkrt," he faked a chuckle, stifling the impulse to stitch her maw shut. "I've told you: nobody speaks that way from where I come."
"Pooey. Nobody has a sense of humor either, huh?"
"I'm sure they would have much to learn from you, Rajan," why bother him? Weren't she and her peers waiting for the Player to toss them some scraps? Damn it all.
"You won't keep me company?" She widened her eyes in a sickening appeal to his empathy. "I heard you've been pretty busy in the shack since day one. Not very monk-like, I have to say. At least not like the ones around these parts."
"It's my duty," a hint of genuine bitterness crept past his facade before he quickly clamped down on it. "And again, I am not from these parts."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I'm the last person who'd give you a hard time about that anyway," the cougarwoman froze. Isoleiryx followed her line of sight, momentarily tensing upon seeing the Player. He knew she was visiting, but not this soon. "Oh. Wow."
The Dragon Lord relaxed his posture even while he prepared the teleport away the instant the filth displayed any hostility. Luckily—or was it unluckily?—he needn't have bothered.
"Hail, Lady Yuriko!" Ka'yilt Nadhkrt cheerfully approached the Player. Their ability to intimidate others worked strangely—those already receptive to her presence grew more so, while those who weren't found themselves at a loss for words. It couldn't be an effect tied to karma values though… he estimated most of the beastmen fell around the same range. "None of us imagined the good Queen would follow up on her word so quickly!"
"Hm? Uh, hi?" The cougarwoman lord's overly-familiar behavior caught the Player off her feet. "Sorry, you said follow up on… what?"
"Resurrections, yes? No idea how you're planning on doing so many without staying for months, but welp—you're here, eh?"
'Different personalities cope with her existence in different ways,' Isoleiryx noticed Ka'yilt's fingers were trembling; they were nowhere near as unaffected as they pretended. 'Doesn't seem to be anything aside from what their senses are passively picking up.'
"Whaaaa?" The Player crossed her arms and frowned, her gaze staying on him for a brief moment before skipping along. She couldn't pierce greater disguises then, the Dragon Lord noted. "Who told you that?"
"Was I misinformed?" Ka'yilt murmured to herself before raising her voice again. "It seems the Queen you serve hasn't gotten around to making formal offers."
"Drau did mention it… I… think?" Isoleiryx sneered, simultaneously relishing in and scorning the Player's confusion. What kind of fool couldn't even keep their daily responsibilities straight? "I mean, I guess I am here…"
"Uh, right! Please follow me," the beastman shot a curious eye at him. "Is this a whole private thingy, or do you need spellcasters boosting a ritual… orrr like, do you need anything?"
"Not really. There's whatever payment you and Drau talked about, if you talked about it."
"No material components? Ah, whatever!" Ka'yilt tapped the side of her thigh, beckoning over a Kshatra who presented the Player with multiple Bags of Holding. "Fifty Chamkila and some other things you might find useful."
"Bones?" The winged filth scrunched her brows together while she dug around one of the bags.
"Dragonbone," Ka'yilt proudly chuffed. "Carved out a young dragon, but it's still worth quite a bit."
"Dragon-stuff is always expensive, you know? Dunno what a Chamkila is though…" She scratched her neck. "So the corpses and everything are where we're going?"
"Yup," their group entered a warehouse with shrouded heaps of intact bodies and miscellaneous body parts laid across the floor. "Played it about as safe as we could, but fighting always turns out that way, you get?"
"Mmn… Could you move them into one big pile?"
This was an ideal time to probe the Player's capabilities face to face. He decided she was distracted and relaxed enough for a few carefully worded questions from a harmless third-party to produce some useful answers.
"Lady Yuriko, pardon the interruption," Ka'yilt rolled her eyes, one foot impatiently tapping against the floor. Impertinent thing, he doubted the cougarwoman's time was as valuable as she thought.
The Player tilted her head, guard completely down in spite of being surrounded by beastmen who stood literal heads and shoulders and more above her.
How very… naive. What did Vaision see that caused him to leave her be?
Dragon Lord and Player stared each other in the eye.
"Do you need something?"
AN: Another quick note - you all can also find me at Discord . gg / 8966UupbPp which is run by Edgythewriter who is the author of Re:He Who is Beyond Sin alongside a number of other fun crossovers!
