Suffered a month-long cold.
Probably because I was trapped in Skyrim for too long that the cold got to me XD
Anyways, fun fact, I bought a 4 terabyte SD drive to install into my laptop to give me more space... it kinda got me into a video game rut.
On another notes, Rebuilding a Ruined World is next, past 8k words to be honest, so it isn't all bad on me end.
What else, oh, check out me p-a-t-r-e-o-n/i4md347h
Here is your meat, you undead Pirahnas. One day, I will find a way to dominate ya.
Indescribably foul odors pervaded the air.
The walls, floor, and ceiling consisted of some unknown, ossified organic matter, rotten to a sickly black ichor.
Clusters of shrunken heads hung from the roofs by the knotted hair like bundles of garlic braids.
Shelves and cabinets contained bottles and jars of strange plants and body parts of creatures ranging from presumably human eyeballs to fingers and extracted hearts.
Petrified statues of humans wearing what looked like rusted and defaced paladin armors and a few fiendish creatures stood in display, organized in the next room.
The adjacent room had people displayed as lifelike but still trophies and crystal spheres containing the wailing faces of spirits.
In the room where Momonga had decapitated the remaining archhags, beside him sat a row of human heads impaled on spikes. Empty groans left their lips, and their eyeless sockets blinked, unaware they no longer possessed the eyes to see.
Momonga didn't expect this after hijacking the Hag's teleportation via [Lopsided Duel].
He felt as if he had entered a necrophiliac's lair, one with a depraved, artistic fetish for rot and decay.
In the center stood a large cauldron carved with magical, foreign, druidic, or paganic glowing purple symbols, reminiscent of Yggdrasil's runes and sigils.
The strange lime-green, glowing liquid inside caught Momonga's curiosity enough to pay it a second glance, unlike the rest of the atrocities in this chamber, prompting him to appraise the soup's contents.
The exotic ingredients made his non-existent eyebrows rise; the blood of a Demon Lord and other components outside the field of arcane alchemy, rare at the very least, floated in the Archhag's brew.
One of the ingredients was, literally, concentrated hatred for the Undead.
The still-legible labels on some flasks scattered around the cauldron were written in the Yugoloth language. Momonga picked up a flask and read the label, 'hate for undeath,' and was able to read because of his pact with Zariel to understand, read, and speak all languages.
Momonga didn't think emotions and memories could be used as potion ingredients or had any idea how it had been done.
The Hags even threw a Lich's phylactery into the unique brew, pleasantly surprising Momonga with their resourcefulness.
They should be either destroyed or bound to his service.
However, he wasn't sure if forcing a pact was enough to ensure absolute loyalty from them, as he knew hags to be petty, vicious, and manipulative creatures.
[Triplet Magic: Summon Undead Third Tier]
Momonga summoned three Skeleton Mages before him.
"Nariangela."
He called through his bond with his Erinyes.
In a fluorescent circle of briefly bursting fire, Nariangela appeared and knelt before her master.
"My lord." Nariangela raised her head.
She caught sight of two decapitated Hag bodies, one a charred skeleton that reeked of Mt. Celestia.
"I have defeated the Archhags," Momonga explained. "By right of conquest, I shall claim the spoils. Lead my skeletons to search the building of any valuables. Summon the imps and other lesser Devils if you need more helping hands."
Nariangela looked up at her master in undisguised awe, before sharply nodding.
"Yes, my lord."
The Lich and the skeleton mages scattered around the room, pilfering the hoard of the defeated.
Nariangela summoned several imps and relayed the instructions her lord had given them, the imps leading the skeletons into the adjacent chambers.
[Grand Commander! I request to know your location!]
Zariel called to him through their connection.
"I managed to infiltrate the Archhag's hidden lair. I am busy scouring it of their valuables, be it their information or riches. The enemy is currently without their mages and now vulnerable," Momonga answered.
[Excellent work. Report to me your findings. I will arrive with reinforcements once we are finished eradicating these fools.]
"Very well."
Momonga returned to enjoying the process of looting.
He yanked one of the living severed heads from the pike, staring into its eye sockets.
The head was seared black and red with broken, scarred skin, both eyes plucked like fruit, teeth picked until only bleeding gums remained.
"Speak with your mind if you hear me," Momonga cast [Detect Thoughts].
He had always wanted to try this spell, but recent availability had been…limited.
[You… I could hear the screaming of the bitches. Is this another trick?]
"Ah, so they were torturing you with false hope as well. No, I am not an illusion or a hag in disguise. Nor was the debacle staged. What is your name?"
Momonga inquired.
[Paladin… Dwarf… Israac Ironbones… sworn to Torm.]
"Israac, tell me about this fortress. Do not worry about the hags. I have killed one and left the two wishing they were dead."
[...What'd you do with the last two?]
"Their heads are my trophies inside my… Bag of Holding for interrogation. The one I killed is a charred skeleton now."
[Ha… hahaha…]
The deformed head smiled, a disgusting sight, but Momonga had grown used to it by now.
[Hehehehe. Those bitches finally got what's coming to them… what year is it?]
"If we're using the Toril calendar, I'm afraid I don't know, since I'm not a native to that plane." The overlord scratched his bony chin, internally embarrassed that he had forgotten to ask one of his many minions.
[Fuck. I don't know how long those bastards tortured us. This is bollocks. Can't feel through my skin anymore.]
"Why were the Hags torturing you?" Momonga looked up at the clusters of shrunken heads dangling from the ceiling.
Each of the small, shriveled heads at the size of a human palm was still breathing. Or suffocating.
[We thought we could end it.]
Israac sighed in his mind.
[We were fucking arrogant. We had the numbers, the spirits, and the grace of our gods. Morale was high when we invaded Hades to end the Hags' Soul Trade once and for all, so that all creation could breathe easier… what happened was obvious.]
"I've heard of the times Hades was invaded by the forces of good, but not the details."
The information was vague as Zariel wasn't interested in this trivia enough to be detailed.
[Aye. That's not something our gods want others to know. It's utterly demoralizing. I reckon we're nothing but a cautionary tale, now. We were a coalition of paladin orders that banded together called the Purifying Sword. We were too full of ourselves back then, and didn't listen to the conservatives back home… Fuck.]
The head's smile fell.
[...I beg of you. Please. Deliver us onto the arms of our Gods. I can tell what you are from the Hags' final words, undead.]
"Perceptive. Are you going to pontificate about how an undead like I am should be smited to Kelemvor's embrace?" Momonga asked based on the generic information he knew about Paladins from Zariel - unreasonably fanatic in their beliefs and outlooks, especially barbarically hostile against undead and fiends.
[Not after what I went through. I used to, but the Hags took that hate from us, if you believe it. They took every drop of hate for the undead from us to… what I assume was to take you out.]
So they were the source of their esoteric ingredients.
[We've overheard many things over the years from the arrogant pricks, me, my comrades, and the others.]
"Others?"
[Anyone that tried to screw the Hags over is here. That ain't just us from the holy side of things. Sometimes, Devils, demons, Yugoloths, even a few undead wizards got beef with the bitches. A few phylacteries are in this place, if you get my meaning.]
"Oh hoh."
Momonga found this information valuable. He could get a few more Lich servants and plunder their secrets for himself.
[Take me as a slave or… eat my soul if that's what it takes to listen… by the way, you sound awfully human for an Undead. I've met some zombies that still had that spark of life in them, but they're rare, especially for an undead wizard that didn't sound like a smartass.]
"I'll take that as a compliment. However, I have no use for your soul except the information you provide. I want the treasures of this lair."
[Might as well find a way to take the lair yourself. From what I've heard, this hellhole can teleport. I heard the hags shouting at each other one day when the place got attacked by a pack of Styx Dragon.]
"Ohhhh." Momonga now wanted to claim this entire place.
However, this macabre lair definitely needed a major renovation. He should get some Devils to get to work on this, they ought to have competent designers or architects. Maybe a bit of wishing to really transform it closer to home.
"Tell me about the others here."
Momonga listened to the head telepathically prattle about the coalition.
Israac was from The Order of the Radiant Heart, a paladin order stationed in Baldur's Gate and Amn, dedicated to Tyr, Helm, and Torm.
A coalition of more than five paladin orders plus some freelancers banded together to raid Hades, many races ranging from Elves to humans to even living, mechanical golems called the Warforged.
They were led by a Chosen of Tyr, a man of zealous conviction to destroy all evil, whose passion was so infectious it even affected some of the angels from heaven, convincing Devas and Angels into the war to assist him.
A few golden dragons had joined as well.
But they had all failed when the Hags retaliated with the help of their newest crafted Altraloth, the one called Anthraxus, along with an army of Yugoloths, accompanied by other opportunistic fiendish warbands.
Momonga listened to his story as he entered the lower levels.
Israac assumed that their treasure was stored on the lower floors. Their lair was built atop the shell of an undead Dragon Turtle, and they renovated the inside as any half-creative magician would do.
Momonga was in one of such rooms right now.
They've converted the turtle's stomach into a massive cauldron room, necrotizing stomach acid filling the cauldron.
A massive iron cauldron towering three or four times over Momonga stood in the centre of the room. Its shine made it evident that the material was magical, adorned with the previously seen magic symbols. The stomach organ was distorted into the shape of a wrinkled faucet, dripping stomach acid and water from the River Styx into the strange soup concoction, wailing souls of the damned flowing inside the pot.
Skull lanterns dangled from the ceiling in infernal chains, each blazing a sinister blue glow.
Fey-crafted enchanting tables were on one side of the room with rotten twig-baskets scattered around it, each containing various ingredients from metal ores and ingots to other organic alchemical components.
There was even a forge here, bellows and a magical furnace built into the wall of the dragon turtle's bowels.
"I think this is their workshop." Momonga muttered to himself as he perused the enchanting table, dragging his skeletal fingers across its surface.
The enchanting table was carved from an unknown black wood with a strange, wicked magical symbol glowing in red dark purple inscribed in the center - a pentagonal wooden table standing on legs.
Preserved human legs, one at each of the five angles.
This was nothing like the complex, enchanting tools of the wizards, working based on Hag magic, no focal crystal to focus and channel the Arts into the object.
The magic of the Hags seemed to defy the boundaries of common sense while retaining some semblance of limitations set by Mystra.
Two items laid on the enchanting table, a black book and a black blade.
Momonga gently grabbed the blade and appraised it.
It was a beautifully black, shining longsword, an immaculate golden filigree of two-fingers width striking down the middle of the symmetrical blade. The pommel was curved with pristine horns erected from both sides, the metal reflecting a fine, lustrous sheen.
"The Sword of Kas?" Momonga announced the weapon's name.
[The Sword of Kas? The bloody Sword of Kas!?]
Israac roared at the name.
Momonga knew that the weapon was related to Vecna, a legendary sword used by Vecna's traitorous general that created both the infamous Hand and Eye of Vecna, although the legend was a bit exaggerated.
It didn't have the ability to permanently maim Liches, unfortunately, but it was still a powerful weapon by what he could see.
The sword fed on blood, using the blood to whet its edges sharper while feeding strength to the wielder, deals extra damage to undead specifically, and it seemed to have been recently been tampered with by the Archhags as various glowing oils sat next to its initial resting place. From what he could see the blade could deal extra psychic damage and more.
The Archhags were really desperate to kill him after learning that he had slain an army effortlessly.
[Are you telling me that the bitches got the Sword of Kas in their wrinkled hands?!] Israac roared with disbelief in Momonga's head.
"How did they manage to get this sword?" The skeletal mage was very interested in how they acquired this weapon if it had been so legendary in these planes.
[...Blood…]
Momonga hummed as the sword called to him.
Yggdrasil had lore on talking weapons, but only NPCs had them. It was possible to artificially give the sword a voice by wasting data space, though, but this sword was genuine.
[I hunger… for blood…]
This weapon wasn't without its downsides. Within the blade was a malicious sentience that would dominate the wielder if not fed periodically while trying to get the wielder to hunt for Vecna and slay him once and for all.
"There is no blood in me. If you think you can dominate me, try it."
Responding to his dare, his sword hand rattled as a dark influence tried to seep into Momonga through the hilt.
Momonga felt nothing.
[...You…]
"From now on, I am your master."
[Wait…]
Momonga didn't listen as he stuffed the sword into his inventory.
[Is that really the Sword of Kas?!]
"Why are you so worked up over this sword?" Momonga asked.
[That sword is a bloody omen! Wherever Vecna and whatever Necromancers involved with him or his artifacts appear, this thing follows him like a bloody hellhound! And the same goes in reverse sometimes!]
Momonga hadn't known that.
"They must've really hated me," Momonga chuckled as he had slightly underestimated the Archhags. Not that it mattered now.
[They were panicking about some undead before you showed up, but I didn't expect them to bring the Sword of Fucking Kas! FUCK! Who in the nine hells are you?!]
Momonga chuckled at this head's colorful language.
"Someone trying to carve out a place for himself in this universe. Anyways, please be quiet for now. I need to ask for directions."
Momonga set Israac's head on the enchanting table as he took out his Infinity Haversack. He retrieved the first Archhag's head from the bag.
The crone's eyes widened when she saw him.
"Answer honestly if you don't want to be thrown to the River Styx. Where do you keep your treasures?"
"Hmmmmmmm…"
Laezel stared at the face.
"Hmmmmm." Tavlana rubbed her chin, also staring at the face.
"What are you weirdos 'hmmmmm'ing about? Wait, did you find Momonga's puppet handsome? Well, if you want a piece of something nice, have a gander at me."
Astarion guffawed.
They returned to their camp by the sandy shores.
Laezel, Shadowheart, Tavlana, and Dirge were staring at 'Momon's' face underneath the helmet.
Without Momonga piloting this thing, it just stood around, obeying Astarion's every command better than a regular zombie at will.
"...Doesn't this look like that one cambion from that…" Tavlana asked.
"There are way too many cambions in that nautiloid with identical features, Tav, but… I can feel the familiarity," Shadowheart added, inspecting the facial features.
"But I swear that this thing is the same guy Laezel beheaded. Laezel, tell me he looks like that guy?" Tavlana asked.
"This istik's color has decayed to a sickly pale. The eyes are hollow, lifeless. His horns seemed to be snapped off."
Laezel touched the neck section of 'Momon' to see if her suspicions were correct. She decapitated the fiery fiend and took his sword for herself.
"There is a scar around his neck."
Laezel traced the scar until her finger circled back to its starting point.
"...Don't tell me."
Laezel grabbed 'Momon's' head.
"Whoa, easy there. I suggest-" Gale was cut off when Laezel lifted the head.
Off the body, revealing the cross-section.
Laezel gasped as she dropped the head, only for the head to hover above its severed neck.
"...A dullahan?" Gale surmised with surprise. "Your necromancer friend can command a Dullahan?"
"Aren't Dullahans rare?" Tavlana asked.
"Oh, yes. Sometimes rarer than Death Knights, but look at it, so… autonomous like a golem, so lifelike, yet it did not have any of an undead's violent tendencies. Problem is, most of the time a horse accompanies the Dullahan. There are some mentions of spectral skulls it could use to attack its victims but I don't see any."
The brown-haired wizard circled around the Dullahan with growing curiosity.
"You think you can raise one?" Shadowheart asked.
"Maybe with a bit of study, but necromancy isn't a field Mystra is particularly supportive of at the moment," Gale admitted.
"That doesn't matter. I am completely sure that this creature was once the hellspawn I slew. How did the necromancer come across his corpse?" Laezel asked.
Her question sparked further questions.
How did Momonga come across the cambion?
"What business did Momonga say he was on again?" Tavlana asked Astarion.
"Um, well. He didn't tell me, but it sounded serious," Astarion smiled weakly.
"...Did he go to the Nine Hells or something?" Shadowheart assumed.
The possibility was very strong. He did confess that he was a necromancer, and necromancers were usually tied to the Demons and/or the Devils, unafraid of making deals with dark forces for personal power.
"Well, if that's true, no wonder why Momonga was so worried. Oh dear, he's making a deal with a Devil. What if we're the sacrifices?" Astarion realized something dreadful.
"The possibility is concerning, but if he wanted to sacrifice us to the Devil, he could've done so easily with this puppet," Dirge added as his reptilian eyes stared into 'Momon's' lifeless eyes.
"I admit, you have me concerned, but I will throw my perspective that if he intended us harm, he wouldn't have tried to help us with the parasites. He attempted to remove the poor man's tadpole with powerful magic," Wyll added.
"Oh, that's a relief. Well, let's hope that he'll explain things to us once he gets back. We've already got a schedule, darlings, Kagha's secret pen pal is awaiting us in that swamp where the Hag is for starters."
Astarion lockpicked Kagha's chest and uncovered a note marking a dead drop location within a swamp that contained a Hag, said Nettie, a Green Hag of the swamp.
Not only did they have to rescue Halsin and help Wyll with dealing with a rogue fiery devil, but also uncover the secret behind Kagha's actions.
"Right. We should rest while we can for the long journey ahead of us," Gale agreed followed by the rest.
Tavlana slept in a futon by the campfire, hemlock padding with a blanket of tanned beast leather for protection.
Slumber didn't arrive to her as thoughts of the present disturbed her focus for sleep, the wriggling of the tadpole in her mind a constant reminder of her goals.
Gathered together was a motley group of various origins, tied together as if by fate with more possibly awaiting them on the road ahead.
What awaited tomorrow, she could not say, but the first day of their long journey had ended.
Tomorrow awaits.
A dark portal yawned as the portal breached a hidden sanctum only known to three.
Editta stepped through the portal, waddling on her hunchback form as she looked left and right, nervous as she turned around awkwardly step by step.
The undead that defeated her coven stepped through the portal as he gazed upon her, followed by his Erinyes servant.
"W-Welcome to our treasury, Master Suzuki."
Editta forced a smile as she lowered her head in a sycophantic rhythm.
The body she was attached to wasn't hers.
Her head was attached to Melivisa's body.
Suzuki Satoru, Momonga as his alias, looked at his reward.
He arrived at the pocket Demiplane that the Hags kept adjacent to their base at all times, their hidden treasure vault.
Gold, platinum, silver, a glittering, shining sea of treasure laid before his eyes, gems, magical items and more mixed with the wealth of a great coven that helped run the Soul Trade within Hades for countless years.
The demiplane was a cavern lit by magical, bulbous, tumor-like growths growing from stone emitting an unsettling blue from the ceiling and walls of the cavern.
The amount of gold in this place was estimated to be billions, minus the other treasures mixed in.
Standing before the treasure, however, were the guardians the Night Archhags placed.
No treasure vault was without their guardians.
"You. You're alone? None of your vile sisters stand with you?"
Death Knights guard this vault, armored undead paladins standing in motionless vigil without rest, water, or food for countless years as their penance.
The greatest of the champions that once invaded Hades only to fall, defeated and disgraced by the evil they wished to slay.
Each Death Knight wore a rusted, blackened version of the shining heavy armor they wore, corrupted heavy breast plate, gauntlets and vambraces modified with spikes and magical, malicious runes carved into the metal, the metal of their greaves torn and replaced with infernal iron metal quenched in the waters of the River Styx within the Hag's cauldron.
Basically, the Hags crafted blasphemous versions of their paladin armor as a mockery of their current state.
Two bone dragon revenants stood amongst them, from amongst the dragons that joined the failed crusade. The rest were reduced to parts or thrown into the Archhags' rotten soup meals. They look no different than the dracoliches within the Cult of the Dragons.
The one who spoke was a paladin that kept their armor, armor that rusted and decayed from shining celestial steel to dull, encrusted grey and brown with a touch of dark magic, the symbol of Tyr on his breastplate splattered by bloodstains.
He wore no helmet unlike the rest of his comrades, his rotten, brown-grey flesh a mockery of his handsome features, his black hair long hair dirty and disheveled like that of an unkempt savage. Momonga could imagine that he must be a handsome man in life, one of those ikemen types, heroic like Touch Me but more masculine and younger.
"Prelate Aldric Valthorne of the Radiant Heart, is it?"
Aldric Valthorne, former Chosen of Tyr, a Prelate of the Order of the Radiant Heart.
The man who did not learn from Zariel's example and led his forces to damnation.
Momonga stepped forward.
The Death Knights and the undead gold dragons were placed here, heavily cursed, not because they were obedient, but they would kill the Hags on sight.
They would murder any sister that would dare to enter the treasure plane alone, a unique security system designed to prevent theft and self-sabotage from within the coven.
They were stubborn and hell-bent to butcher the Archhags, even if they knew the hags couldn't be killed.
It would take the power of the three sisters to immobilize them if they needed to take something from the hoard.
That was what Editta confessed after signing the contract with the blood of her tongue. Momonga added another penance for attempting to fool him for using Melivisa's body and being to take the brunt of the infernal contract.
"My name is Suzuki Satoru. Assuming you have the patience to at least hear my name and offer. I heard you still have quite the personality to maintain your ego and sword to slay the hags despite the years."
"It has been so long since a new voice spoke my name… and it has to be from some fleshless wretch," Aldric spoke with spite and a tinge of madness.
Aldric was standing with his sword stabbed into the ground, hands holding the bottom of his blade's pommel.
Each of the Death Knight raised their weapons, magical weapons enchanted by the hags, ranging from battleaxes to greatswords and pikes.
One of the Death Knights was female, Momonga could tell, flowing hair of faded gold, and she was riding the back of an undead dragon as the dragon roared at him.
"I see I've overestimated your mental fortitude. Are you going to try to destroy me in the name of your 'justice' or whatever excuse you can conjure from the ashes of your failures?" Momonga asked Aldric.
Aldric lifted his sword.
Editta confessed that it was a twisted Holy Avenger, corrupted into the Unholy Revenger, a dark weapon forged from melting the paladin's greatest weapon and reforging it, the holy nature warped with malice.
The coven poured a lot of effort into making something that would surpass the Holy Avenger weapons, creating an artifact of evil.
The original holy avenger looked like a shining white longsword with an angel-winged pommel.
This version was black, wings skeletal and jagged, the once-smooth blade blackened like onyx dripping with an aura of malice, the angelic safety and comfort it once had was gone.
"It is our duty to destroy evil! All evil must be erased!"
Aldric snapped with a feral growl, spouting cliche lines, more to keep himself together than to state his actions.
Momonga stared at the Unholy Revenger, the aura of its malice seeping into the wielder and the undead around him.
"So this is how you fell to corruption. You're too desperate to kill your way back to redemption to avoid facing the consequences of your mistakes."
The Unholy Revenger contained the wailing lament of those that fell due to Aldric's reckless zeal.
The voices within cursed Aldric for his failures—a chorus that had long since broken his sanity.
The other Death Knights looked robotically hollow.
Editta said that the man had dominated his comrades against their will.
"I will endure your words no more! Freedom is within our grasp, and after we destroy you, we will purge the vile Hags from Hades and then the Devils! The Demons!"
The Death Knight captain was ranting about how he would right all wrongs in the universe.
It was a lie.
Momonga could see that it was to compensate and undo his mistakes, fueled by centuries of maddening guilt.
"By Ao, you are too far gone."
Momonga drew the Sword of Kas from his inventory—its black edge glinting in the arcane blue firelight.
"My lord," Nariangela unsheathed her infernal iron longsword, ready to fight for him.
"Let me take care of this. Keep an eye on the Hag," Momonga stepped forward.
Aldric's fiery eyes blinked in confusion, seeing what he knew was a Lich challenging him with a sword in close combat.
[Blood…]
Kas muttered.
"Quiet."
Momonga wrung as much as he could when he agreed to bring Zariel victory in Pazunia. Zariel didn't expect his request for fighting techniques and experiences of the greatest warriors of the Nine Hells. She wasn't mad, she was delighted that he wanted to walk the warrior's path in the first place, gaining her respect.
"You, a wizard, are challenging me, a paladin? With a sword?" Aldric asked, not even his madness could deter his shock.
"Are you going to belittle me for challenging you to a sword duel?" Momonga dared.
Aldric scowled, then raised his blade in silence—left hand high, stance steady.
"I am Aldric Valthorne, Prelate of the Radiant Heart! Chosen of Tyr! Champion of the Purifying Sword coalition!"
"Hahahahaha! I have fought paladins before, but never received a declaration so genuinely formal! Very well." Momonga found the spark to roleplay, "Suzuki Satoru. Last surviving member of Ainz Ooal Gown, former guildmaster. The man who will bring you death's mercy."
Momonga went with the flow, answering the duel.
This was his first proper duel with a warrior. He always wanted to test his skills in close combat. What better than a Death Knight that was once a Chosen of a Greater God?
Well, Tyr was once a Greater God, but he demoted himself after a certain tragedy, giving his power to Torm.
"I will remember your name, Suzuki Satoru, as I send you to Kelemvor! For Tyr!"
Despite the madness, he did not bring his undead comrades alongside him, choosing a one-on-one honorable match. His madness still addled his brain to the point where he forgot that he must destroy a Lich's phylactery to completely destroy him, though it might be because of the Unholy Revenger.
The Unholy Revenger was strong, powerful enough to send the slain into Hades as Soul Larvae, Fiends included. The sisters agreed to empower Aldric to the point where he could destroy any of them if they turn traitor, but not without placing him under their magical shackles.
The two challengers walked towards each other, their pace accelerating, their swords raised then swung.
Magical metal collided in an volatile sonic explosion of an ungodly contest of might that forced Nariangela and Editta to hold their ears.
The clash blasted dust and coins into the air. Aldric staggered—teeth gritted—as Momonga drove him back, strength overwhelming metal.
"Your bones hold more might than it appears!"
"Show me the prowess of a former Chosen, Aldric."
"I am his Chosen still! Tyr still stands with me!"
Momonga endured Aldric's retaliating assault.
The fallen paladin's form was stalwart and aggressive. His motions were graceful, his blade cut through the air, still bearing the teachings of his order despite his corruption destabilizing some parts of his form.
It was a highly aggressive version of Tyr's school of combat, feral compared to the lawful clean strokes.
The Sword of Kas rang his fingers from every clashing reception as he stood firm, unbudging from his position, the treasures rattling from every ringing clash of their blades.
Momonga saw a chance, parried a decapitating sweep over his head, and swung a diagonal downward slash, but the knight pirouetted one-hundred-and-eighty degrees with his sword held over his shoulder. Momonga was surprised when his weapon grounded sparks against the slant-held blade as Aldric leveraged his stance and swung with both hands.
With a battlecry that drowned the cavern and the momentum he generated in his spin, he slammed his blade into the skeleton's waist.
[Staggering Smite]
The energy channeled into the smite crashed into the Lich.
But he didn't even faze the undead.
"As expected of a former Chosen."
Aldric jumped back as he readied his sword.
"What sorcery is this, you blight?!"
"Hahahaha. No sorcery. Just the difference in power."
Momonga shifted his stance so he could strike lower. The martial techniques of the Blood War were designed to aggressively slay monsters more than men and defeat the unpredictability of the Tanar'ri hordes.
He wanted to test how he could adapt it against a lawful champion of justice.
"If you want, I could allow you to hurt me. But I wouldn't want to insult your status as Tyr's Chosen."
[Haste]
The fallen paladin boosted his speed.
[Booming Blade]
Sonic energy sheathed the Unholy Revenger.
"Do not look down on me!"
His celerity doubled, his sword arm moved so fast he could cleave five or more Bearded Devils in twain in two seconds.
[Thunderous Smite]
When Momonga parried, the twice-overlapping thunderous explosion of his strike reached a volume that his ears never experienced.
It was cacophonous, deafening, but unfortunately for Aldric, Momonga was Undead.
Momonga's reaction slashed through Aldric's spaulder when he strode forward, the two exchanging positions as the Sword of Kas bit through his bone and skin.
He could've taken Aldric's arm off if he didn't turn his left away from the slashing blow at the last second.
Aldric inhaled despite not needing breath as Momonga shifted to the offensive.
Aldric could see Tyr standing behind Momonga, his God watching him.
When he saw Tyr's disappointed gaze, a divine judgment that reignited his fading resolve twofold.
However, it was nothing more than an illusion conjured by the Hags.
Momonga knew since Editta confessed everything due to the pact written by Nariangela. It was their malicious prank on a foolish soul so desperate to become one with the gods, pouring oil into the fires of madness.
Momonga swung hard and heavy, using Zariel's aggressive fighting style to overwhelm the opponent before they could adapt, the fallen paladin's grip loosening from every blow, the best method against uncertainty was to abuse its fragility.
Hard, unpracticed swings hammered against Aldric's corrupted blade.
Kas screamed through the steel-on-steel clash, the air vibrating with its fury.
The Sword of Kas raged within Momonga's hands for abusing it so carelessly. Despite being infused with martial knowledge and skills of Zariel's experience in the Blood War, Momonga couldn't cheat the need for practice to fully master those skills.
Momonga lunged forward, swerving his sword around Aldric's neck in an attempt to slice off Aldric's head from the back, and pulled.
Aldric lifted his sword over his shoulder and blocked Momonga's sword from behind by the tip, two legendary cursed blades grinding screaming sparks.
Momonga grabbed his sword-hand and, to Aldric's surprise, bashed his skull into his face when he least expected it.
The force of the impact shook the air and the surroundings, coins and gems lifted and flipped through the air as Aldric tumbled back disgracefully, laying on his side. He hissed as he touched his nape, feeling the smoking scar the Sword of Kas managed slide into his neck from that brief flight.
[You're failing us again?]
Aldric winced as the whispers grew louder.
In a blurred moment, he briefly saw the ghosts of his comrades surrounding the two of them, distorted phantasms judging him with their condemning gaze.
[Murderer.]
[Will I die for nothing again?]
[Are you going to lose to evil again, Aldric?!]
The psychic backlash of the wound left by Momonga's sword unraveled his already fragile mind.
Momonga could see Aldric's glowing eyes dilating, signs of a panic attack. The fallen undead was hyperventilating despite not needing breath, eyes darting around at figures that were not there, another hallucinatory episode perhaps.
His worsening condition made Momonga sigh with disappointment.
Aldric roared another battlecry as picked himself up and charged while he still had the effect of [Haste].
Aldric's sword aimed at his shoulder, his legs, his wrist, using their height difference and superior experience to pick apart the skeleton's guard in his finding a way through his defenses.
Momonga analyzed and copied Aldric's stance and posture while parrying his sword, diverting every focused, chaotic strike. Despite Aldric's skill, Momonga felt as if he was fighting a… robot crumbling apart with every attack. His stance and sword strikes felt more and more brittle, cracks riddling a once-flawless statue widening in each second.
He was sad that he couldn't face a legend at his best. The way Aldric tried to exploit or force an opening was admirable in their first exchange, using feints and footwork to catch him off guard.
Aldric tried to trick Momonga with his vertical slash by raising his sword high only to swing for his right, skeletal calf by twisting his upper torso. Next was positioning his sword over his shoulder for a diagonal slash, only to seamlessly pirouette into a reverse, forward thrust at Momonga's red orb.
Momonga could let Aldric learn that the World Class Item in his ribs wasn't a weakness, but a indestructible accessory. However, he deflected it aside as his torso turned to let the thrust fly past ribs, refusing to let Aldric get a score over him.
Aldric realized he overextended and tried to retreat, but Momonga moved forward, hooking his foot behind Aldric's left ankle and swung.
The Sword of Kas tore through the rusted metal and gusset, slicing through rotten flesh and bone, the pain magnifying from the psychic damage.
He could've chopped Aldric in half, but wanted to keep this duel going as long as he could to improve himself.
In addition, Aldric's [Haste] wore off, unable to stop Momonga's assault.
Kas bit through his spaulders, tore off his shoulder, severed several rib bones, and struck his right knee in his retreat.
Aldric was on his last lifeline as he fell on his knees, desperately trying to defend.
His god looked away as if ashamed.
"No!"
Momonga noticed.
"Nariangela!"
Nariangela took out a crown, a tiara gifted by Momonga to block psychic damage, and donned it atop her head.
Editta squawked as she protected herself with her Hag magic.
[Bewailing Dirge of the Fallen]
Normal Death Knights had the ability to throw a [Hellfire Orb, a devastating version of the [Fireball] spell at the ninth level in comparison.
However, Aldric was made by Archhags, modified to slay even Balors and Pit Fiends.
The song of a Death Knight was not as infamous as their might.
It derived from the most terrible crime a Death Knight committed in life, a dark deed that would haunt them in unlife spoken through song.
With the magic of the Archhags, Aldric weaponized his grief into a powerful, mind-shredding song that could even make the Archhags suffer.
It was a skill that drew strength from Aldric's spiritual agony and despair, and he screamed it all at Momonga in the face.
His ultimate skill was an augmented version of the [Psychic Scream] spell, a ninth level spell.
Momonga's mind might be protected, but honestly, hearing Aldric's 'song' was a unique experience that he did not wish to hear again. Running a nail against a chalkboard was an ant compared to this agonizing elephant trampling on his nonexistent eardrums.
So he stabbed Aldric through the mouth as the Sword of Kas pierced through the back of Aldric's head.
Aldric gagged on the sword, his eyes looking at the gleaming black blade then at the red lights glowing in the skeleton's eye sockets.
He gurgled a scream as tried to take the skeleton's skull, but Momonga grabbed his sword arm with his other hand and pulled it to the side.
He ripped out his sword, raised it, and cleanly hacked off Aldric's hand by the wrist as Aldric cried, the black, corrupted blade of malice still held in the skeleton's hand before he casually discarded it to the floor.
Nariangela thought her lord would use the knowledge he received from his bargain with Zariel against the annoying paladins and so on, not utilize it for personal use, and to great effect at that. What her lord did increased her respect for him.
Editta was silently cursing within, unable to do anything to harm her new master. Her life was now tied with his, not that she could retaliate anyways. If he was destroyed, she would suffer, if he died, she would die, simple at that.
Although the Hag was entertained by the duel at least.
Aldric fell on his knees, hissing as the spark of his unliving life force flickered.
The wounds left by the Sword of Kas smoked, the chemical reaction of its effective edge against the Undead revealing the damage.
"I… I can't… No, I can't lose!"
Aldric rose to his feet, refusing to lose and ready to charge at his foe.
He shuddered when the Sword of Kas pierced through his chest.
His soul weapon, the weapon bound to the Death Knight, was not with him, leaving him greatly weakened.
Whatever little unliving blood was inside, the Sword of Kas drank regardless and gave more strength to Momonga.
Momonga waited, drinking his strength every second, until Aldric lost the strength to stand as he fell to his knees.
"I… I can't… I must…"
Ignited green tears streamed down Aldric's eyes as Momonga yanked out his sword.
The visions of his former comrades and his God… they faded away as if they were nothing more than a mirage.
"My comrades… I…"
"You have fought well. Shame I couldn't fight you at your best."
Momonga stood over Aldric.
Now, what to do with him? He already had a Death Knight subordinate, Haruman.
He could've dominated Aldric the moment they made eye contact, but he didn't want to waste his domination slots.
Should he kill him?
No, he could always do it later. That, and Aldric might come back like all Death Knights do if their soul wasn't destroyed or imprisoned.
He had a sneaking suspicion that the Sword of Domiel would just send his soul to Tyr behind his back if he used it, and it might bite him in the ass.
"Those familiar faces you've seen are nothing more than illusions. Your God, your fallen allies, lies to torture you. Not all of your comrades are destroyed in soul though. Some of their spirits can be saved, though you do not have much time. Are you listening to me?"
Aldric slowly looked up at the skeleton that bested him.
"...Suzuki Satoru… End this."
He begged for Kelemvor's embrace.
"So you can run away from your mistakes a second time?" Momonga scoffed. "Admit it, you wanted to be deceived. All of those years trapped in this demiplane, what drove you is the hope of redemption, that not all is lost. That there is still meaning in your crusade. Because if you confront the truth, you would've killed yourself rather than face the reality of your situation."
Momonga knew because he was also forced to deal with soul-breaking depression, the first was witnessing his mother's death at a young age.
"If you want to die, do it with the resolve to face your God and receive judgement. The worst that can happen is that you'll be Tyr's Death Knight wandering Toril until you can redeem yourself. You've wasted so many years in this place, even dominated your companions into your slaves when they went against you. Are you going to run away again, Aldric Valthorne of Tyr?"
Momonga wanted to see if he could score some loyalty points from Aldric.
That, and he wanted to curry some favors from the once Greater God of Mount Celestia after his stunt last time.
What better way than to redeem a once-prominent paladin? Better if he could send the fallen here into Mount Celestia. He could just throw them to Lunia where the residents could take care of them for him as he still had things to do.
Why bother keeping their souls when he was in the River Styx where unlimited souls flowed within the amnesiac waters?
Aldric stared at Momonga in contemplative silence.
He turned to look at his corrupted sword, the Unholy Revenger, held by his severed hand - once his companion, a gift from the Gods to slay evil, now an evil mockery of all he stood for.
It was his reflection, what he had become.
"...I don't know."
Aldric looked at the ground.
"...I wanted to be worthy of Tyr's recognition. I wanted to prove to the world that the justice and teachings of my god would reach every sphere, every world. To let evil be was not why I joined the Radiant Heart, not why I fought so hard to earn Tyr's gaze."
"I understand your question as to why Evil is allowed to exist, but it is sometimes more important to understand why things are the way they are. Good is not omnipotent, for believing that good can be… flawed is not an idea many would acknowledge. Many would kill me for saying this truth, but you are a prime example of that flaw. Evil can take on many forms, it does not care if it has to wear the guise of light or darkness. Look at our positions, Aldric. I am undead, and despite your hatred for what I am, I have done you a greater service than any servant of justice could," Momonga pointed out.
"I have done what no Paladin or other force of good could do, breaching this realm after defeating the Archhags. Unholy I may be, but I would've planned and done things better than 'charge forward and smite everything you see' when invading Hades. Tell me, Aldric. What do you want to do now?"
Aldric looked behind him.
His comrades, their bodies decayed with undeath, looked back at him despite being dominated.
His remaining hand dug fingers into the hard rock, cracking through the stone.
"...You did not fight with your all. Were you using me to improve yourself?" Aldric asked.
"Correct."
Aldric closed his remaining eye, the glowing light fading for a moment before it glowed again.
He rose to his feet and met Momonga's gaze.
Momonga watched Aldric walking towards his severed hand, picking it up, and reattaching his severed hand.
He twisted his reconnected wrist, fingers gripping the sword tighter.
"...Tyr is waiting for me."
Aldric turned to Momonga.
"Those that are still left… you said they can still be saved?" Aldric asked.
"The hags… made sure they remained alive. It is not a good sight."
"I see. What did you do with the Archhag sisters?"
"Killed one, enslaved the second, and I am keeping the third one's living head in my bag of holding."
"Hahahaha. What an absurd Lich. Are you really a Lich, Suzuki Satoru? Wearing your Phylactery for all to see is not something any lich would do," He pointed at Momonga's red orb in his chest.
"Who knows?" Momonga decided to leave it vague.
"...What do I have to do for you to save them? Can you save them?" Aldric asked.
"I can throw what's left of them to Mount Celestia through a [Gate] portal. If the Archons there have sense, they know what to do with them."
"That is the most ridiculous solution I've ever heard used to save the damned. But… it is honest. It might work… it might work," Aldric nodded to himself.
"I would request you to serve me, but… I don't think you would serve me as you serve Tyr even if it is under a Devil's contract," Momonga surmised.
He preferred someone that could work with him best willingly, with maximum compatibility.
Haruman was a special case unlike this one.
"You spoke true. My faith and devotion are reserved for Tyr and him alone."
"Then I will take every material possession you have on you. The same goes for the rest of them."
He gestured to Aldric's undead comrades.
"Your greed rivals that of Mammon's. Hahaha. Before we begin, I must right a wrong."
He turned towards his undead comrades.
With a simple nod, he released his domination, life returning to their glowing eyes as they shifted, all gazing at Aldric.
"...General Aldric…" The other Female Death Knight spoke.
Her hair was black, her face was rotted but she would've looked like a beautiful warrior maiden in life. Her armor was debased and dyed in the color of evil, mostly dark colors with a touch of fey from the hags like the withered shrunken heads dangling from their hips.
From the sound of it, she seemed close with the Fallen Paladin.
"Today is a strange day," Aldric smiled.
"After unknown years of torture and slavery, we have been freed. Not by a group of adventurers, celestials, or any force of good. An undead, a Lich of all things, invaded the Hags' fortress and breached this treasure realm. We have been trapped and cursed for so many years, many of us have fallen, those that remained became the playthings of the witches that cursed us with these unsightly forms. We dove into the domain of evil for glory and paid the price for my greed. Today, I will take the first step in righting my wrongs. And will continue to do so until the Tyr deems me worthy. Or my soul is destroyed."
Aldric posed his sword in a perfectly vertical alignment, held close to his face.
"Tyr, I lay bare my sins. Judge me not for my failings, but for the hope that I still carry. I do not care if my voice could not reach your ears, for it has become tainted and unworthy."
Momonga was amused by the prayer. He wanted to hear more.
"A man of undeath stands before me to take me to your arms. If a man of no faith must strike me down, let him be your hand, O Even-Handed."
Tyr was also called the blind god, with a mythology similar to the norse variant.
Instead of his Norse counterpart losing his hand to Fenrir, this one lost it to an outer evil called Kazef, the Chaos Hound, an eldritch horror of the Outer Realm despite it looking like a fearsome undead hound.
The chaos hound was most famous for biting Tyr's hand off, leaving Tyr permanently one-handed.
"I do not seek mercy. Only judgment. And truth."
Momonga waited until Tyr was finished with his prayers.
Not like his prayers would reach Tyr, anyways.
Or so he thought.
The fallen… no, a burst of light erupted from the redeemed paladin, blinding Momonga's eyes.
Editta and Nariangela covered their eyes, the hag screeching in pain as she backed away like a vampire to sunlight.
The light made Momonga's bones tingle.
A presence entered this area, a powerful presence that exuded the same wavelength as the Sword of Domiel, the ambience of Mount Celestia.
Momonga lowered his hand, only to widen his nonexistent eyes.
He could not believe it.
A divine avatar of what he believed was Tyr was hovering above the redeemed paladin.
It was a miracle from legend given form - Tyr's divine avatar radiated Mount Celestia's light which pierced even the darkness of the Lower Planes, but Momonga couldn't understand how the light of Mercuria could reach the Lower Planes.
"Could it be?"
Momonga figured it out.
The Sword of Domiel.
He was holding a weapon of Mercuria, the essence of Mercuria itself.
But he didn't think that the Gods could use that sword as a conduit to extend their reach into the darkness, even though it was sitting inside his inventory.
Not only that, this was a Demiplane, one made by the Hags no less.
Unless his killing Trerm weakened their magical securities enough for the Gods to breach this treasure plane.
His [Life Esesnce] and [Mana Essence] detected a massive jump, Aldric's HP recovered and received a massive boost, skipping a considerable number of levels.
Aldric's spell slots increased and reached the ninth level, a Paladin could now smite him at the ninth level.
Momonga tested his immunities with his Lich servants.
A seventh level spell could bypass his limited immunities.
Meaning, Aldric obtained the power to hurt him.
Momonga couldn't help but be nervous and excited.
Angels and jobs that serve the divine had always been his bane throughout YGGDRASIL.
He had victories and defeats, refusing to lose against his natural enemies in PvP.
He could cast a buff or ward himself against holy magic, but…
The exhilaration he was feeling, his bones shivering in the presence of a divine energy powerful enough to trigger his undead vulnerabilities, was enough to make him want to engage this Paladin.
He needed to experience pain.
Momonga was a cautious Player with a paranoia cultivated from being in a shitty environment where the slightest carelessness could get him killed.
He was not the best Player, his build was meant for roleplay, for fun.
But the addition of being a warlock opened new possibilities.
He wanted to evolve from being a gamer that had never experienced much physical suffering to a warrior, someone that could stand against monsters and men like the heroes of legend.
Which was why he respected Aldric, even though they had just met, for enduring the mental and physical anguish that would break Momonga if he were in his shoes.
This was his way of showing that respect.
"Guildmaster Suzuki Satoru. Tyr speaks to me, Tyr asks me to relay his words through mine."
Aldric smiled with his rotten lips.
No, his decayed flesh was returning to life.
His handsome features were returning in the holy light, burning away the rot with life, as if time was rewinding.
It was the face of a heroic champion, a handsome, charismatic black-haired man with a chiseled face.
It could've been a face that Touch Me would've had if he chose a human Avatar instead of a Heteromorph.
"Your crimes against Mount Celestia are already forgiven. He thanks you for saving his champion with redemption, Archwarlock of Zariel. We pray for your victory against the darkness trying to wear you. Do not be afraid to seek the light when the darkness overwhelms."
Aldric returned to his stance he used when they first fought.
The Unholy Redeemer was transformed.
It had six angelic wings as the pommel, the sword shining a brilliant platinum-like sheen, an elaborate golden filigree entwined across the flat of the blade, intricate and smooth. On each side of the pommel was the symbol of Tyr etched on it.
The crimson light in Momonga's sockets sharpened.
Aldric was no longer a Death Knight.
His ability to detect Undead no longer registered this man as one, which was absurd.
Normally, something like this couldn't happen in YGGDRASIL, at least to YGGDRASIL Players.
NPCs could, maybe during an event under the shitty devs' choreographed storylines.
Should he still use The Sword of Kas? The sword could also work against the living by draining and drawing strength from their blood.
Should he resort to the infernal weapon he commissioned from Zariel, meant for paladins and angels?
"Burn the image into your memory. Former Guildmaster of Ainz Ooal Gown, remember me!"
Momonga held his sword horizontally and intercepted the Aldric's strike.
The radiant impact of Aldric's [Radiant Smite] crashed down on him, an extremely rare ninth-level smite splashed against Momonga's weapon.
Momonga clicked his tongue when he felt irritated.
The Smite didn't land on him directly, but it irritated the skin of his bones, which was called the periosteum.
If it was a clean, direct hit, it would absolutely hurt him.
Momonga found this exciting.
[Tyr's Eternal Vigil]
Momonga was on alert at a skill he had never heard of before.
[Celestial Haste]
This one Momonga heard about, it was a Divine version of [Haste, one that did not exhaust the affected when it wore out, but it lasted half as long as [Haste].
Both were inferior to his [Greater Haste, though.
But that did not stop Aldric from increasing the pressure on Momonga as he casted [Radiant Smite] after smite, a rigid yet relentless assault that rivaled Zariel's zeal in her crusade against the Abyss.
He blocked Aldric's upward diagonal slash, but before he could divert it in his parry, Aldric bashed his head into Momonga's red orb.
What surprised Momonga was that Aldric could smite with his skull, unleashing divine power into what Aldric assumed as his phylactery.
"Hahahahahaha!" Momonga cackled when Aldric bounced back, crying in agony as Momonga swiped Aldric's neck, nicking his artery.
Oh, he relished the look on the paladin's face, the shock when finding out that he hit his head on a World Class Item, an unbreakable, indestructible thing.
Blood flew from the artery like crimson worms, eerily floating through the air before being sucked into the Sword of Kas.
[Blood!]
Kas wanted more as Momonga felt strength pouring into his marrow.
Aldric's eyes glowed white.
Momonga was about to charge in, but stopped when he felt the gaze of something far greater than Aldric gazing at him, something… beyond the reach of mortals.
"To think that orb is a powerful decoration!" He looked shocked as his eyes were focused on Momonga's red orb.
"What are those items on you? Everything you have is something only the Gods should have!"
He was reading his item descriptions.
[Anti-Information Magic Wall]
"You can block Tyr's gaze?!" Aldric shouted. "You're so powerful already, why crave for more, Suzuki Satoru?!"
Aldric had seen too much, Momonga underestimated this Chosen.
"Someone like you should know better."
Momonga rushed and slammed his blade against Aldric
Their swords grounded friction, cursed versus holy, dark versus light, Aldric glaring into his opponent's red lights.
"Strength is what dictates how the world functions; personal power and the intelligence to maximize it! If I can have it, I will take it!"
"I've read the contract etched into your soul, Suzuki Satoru! I know what you wear, everything from the rings on your fingers to the Orb in your chest! Someone like you shouldn't consort with the Nine Hells!"
"And you think consorting with the Heavens is better? The welcome I received in Mercuria is enough! They aren't above negotiations with what I am, and you of all people should know better with how your kind treat the undead!"
"With your power and resources, I know you can reclaim your humanity! Why stay cursed?!" Aldric pointed out.
The struggle between them was evenly matched, the emotional tension between them flared without warning.
It was so intense that his emotional dampener activated again and again.
Momonga was putting in effort to push him back, riled that Aldric knew more than he should've.
"I can't."
Aldric was stunned.
It was enough for Momonga to twist his sword until the sharp, curved horns of its pommel was in position as Momonga jerked his blade up, scraping Aldric's fingers and hooking onto the hilt of his holy weapon until Momonga wrenched it out of Aldric's hands.
Aldric raised his hand as The Sword of Kas dug into his shoulder blade, holding the black blade and its pommel as it steadily drank his blood, pumping his strength into the skeleton.
"I respect your tenacity and fortitude to endure centuries of torture, Aldric."
Momonga dug deeper, he could've divided him in diagonal two, but Aldric was strong.
Momonga pushed forward, digging the upward-curved horn of his sword's pommel into his shoulder as he pulled back, drawing so much blood from Aldric's hands and shoulder.
"But that doesn't mean you have the right to dictate how I live. Not even Ao has that right."
Aldric grit his teeth as Momonga's sword was about to reach his neck.
But Aldric blocked it.
By summoning his weapon back into his hand.
"I thought paladins wouldn't resort to cheating! Don't tell me you're finally learning a lesson here?!"
Momonga was taunting him, but he was confused.
Aldric's strength was rising.
Momonga was empowered by his weapon, so he could tell something was wrong.
No matter how much strength Momonga exerted, his sword could not reach Aldric's neck.
"Maybe I do not have the right to lecture."
Momonga widened his eyes when a hammer appeared.
It was a golden warhammer reminiscent of the hammer used as Tyr's symbol and it was large.
Momonga quickly moved and blocked the Warhammer, barely stopping the weapon, the Sword of Kas vibrated in his skeletal hands.
[Radiant Smite]
Momonga widened his eyes when Tyr struck his ribcage.
It was a biting pain, a scorching pain.
"It would be unfortunate if I didn't show you everything!"
Momonga glared down at Aldric.
This wasn't a duel between warriors anymore, but a PvP.
[Thundering Smite]
Momonga grunted as Aldric used the blast of sound to knock himself back instead, widening the distance between them,
He was probably one of the only rare few that endured Ninth-level Smites.
"You are a formidable warrior. Through unholy means, you have the skills of a fighter, but you fight true despite that! However, this is my advice. You already have the sense for combat. Fight, Suzuki Satoru, sharpen your blade with experience!"
Aldric roared as a golden aura erupted from him, all of the divine power he could muster from Tyr.
"I am become the Avatar of the Maimed God! The more damage I receive, the stronger I become!" Aldric announced.
The summoned hammer of Tyr flew into his other hand, Aldric dual-wielding warhammer and sword hand-to-hand as the spectral avatar of Tyr hovered over Aldric, making him seem several times larger than before.
"Suzuki Satoru! It is your turn to demonstrate your power! I want to see the power that will devastate the Abyss!"
So he wanted to see what he could do?
Momonga scoffed at him for giving him the green light to punish him for using his God's powers that way.
Aldric roared as he charged at Momonga with the power to take on Demon Lords, Altraloths, and Archdevils head-on.
[Eldritch Blast]
It happened so fast.
It was one of the most powerful and reliable cantrips, the weapon of Warlocks.
How many one could fire depended on the strength of the caster and the power given by their patron.
However, Momonga was powerful enough to slay Demon Lords and wipe out armies by himself.
His spell shattered the Avatar of Tyr and obliterated Tyr's champion.
After the first bolt destroyed the auric avatar of Tyr, Aldric managed to block the second projectile before it knocked the blade out of his hands and destroyed his arms.
The third obliterated the armor Tyr restored for him and destroyed the enchantments.
The rest tore him into finely grounded bits and powder as if he was struck by a [Disintegrate] spell.
Momonga fired more than ten shots with a single cast.
Aldric's sword landed before him in that moment of speechless silence.
Editta and Nariangela stared at Momonga overwhelmed by the sudden peripeteia as he held the destroyed paladin's sword and yanked it from the ground, the rest of the Death Knights watched Momonga inspect the blade carefully.
"You should've been careful of what you wished for."
Momonga chuckled.
"It's a shame. I had… fun."
It was probably his first PvP with someone he could call a friend in this reality, kinda like him meeting Touch Me for the first time, but with their roles reversed.
However, thinking about it, it was time to move on.
Zariel would be here, so he had to be quick.
As for the rest of Aldric's undead entourage, he looked at them, seeing their shocked faces when Momonga obliterated their leader so casually with a single cantrip.
"Now then…" Momonga noticed that Aldric's remains burned in a holy fire.
The spirit of Aldric appeared before him.
The spectre looked at his companions. He waved them a final goodbye before he turned to Momonga.
He smiled as he closed his eyes, vanishing from this demiplane, answering Tyr's call to Mount Celestia.
Momonga wondered what peace would be like for souls like him.
Faithless like him have no place in the afterlife.
Souls without a God to turn to were otherwise destined for the Wall of Souls.
Momonga would not end up like them, all the more reason to keep surviving in this reality.