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-oOo- Chapter 80 -oOo-
Mighty cliffs rose from the depths of the star-filled void. The major plane, Tartarus, plowed through the dark, shedding waves of chaos. Where the flux split upon the world, sheets of white broke, revealing the shimmering light of Unus Mundus. Above, the empty void had given way to Tartarus’s logic. The sky was a gray haze, an approaching wall of crimson clouds hanging on the horizon.Sylvia floated ten kilometers offshore, gazing down upon the city of Iacchus. Ships sailed upward through the stars, approaching the long harbor. Traffic to and from the metropolis had always been heavy. With the International Exposition of Magic taking place in Aidonopol, it was heavier still.
Her appearance was subtly different.
With every grand mutation came a host of physical changes. Awakening humanized demonic bodies while Transcendence refined an immortal’s appearance according to their ideal. For a lady like Sylvia, who’d always been beautiful and human-looking, the impact was relatively minor.
Yet, she hadn’t been willing to leave her changes to the whims of fate. And she didn’t have to.
For 300 merit points, gamers could buy the character creator feature. This tool didn’t just apply during birth. It could be used ahead of every grand mutation, allowing moderate adjustments to any gamer’s appearance. Sylvia had fiddled with the dials herself, but after a few hours of effort, she’d done the wiser thing. She’d commissioned an artist.
To be more accurate, Emmy had commissioned an artist. Multiple artists, actually. Sylvia’s wife had hired more than one. She wasn’t alone in planning her Transcendence. Emmy, too, had changes she wished to make, the foremost of which was the restoration of her original hair color. Personally, Sylvia was fond of the brown highlights left by Emily’s life, but that was nostalgia speaking. If she took a step back and examined things critically, she agreed with her wife. Esmeralda’s original hair color was more beautiful.
Being a good spouse, she’d discussed this with Emmy, then encouraged the lady to do as she wished.
The result of their planning could be seen now. The silver-haired princess stood a proud 155 centimeters tall. Her face had been tweaked, gifting her with sharper angles. The effect was a bit less cute, but granted her a more elegant and regal presence. When she smiled, her eyes were wide and adorable. When her gaze narrowed, there was a proper atmosphere of danger.
Her hair and her bust were much the same. The lavender-pink undertones of her glossy locks had been lightly touched to better emphasize her pastel pink eyes. Her legs, however, had been refined into the definition of slim and sexy.
Sylvia couldn’t wait to go home and tease her wife. It was a good thing her Starlight Striders had Ingrid-approved designs, because it’d be a crime if she never showed them off.
Her thoughts drifted back to Iacchus as she floated closer.
“When I left this city, I swore I would never return,” she murmured.
When she’d left the Timeless Beryl Wilderness, Sylvia had been a wee little first consolidation witch. The large buildings and the giant, gothic towers had revealed another face of netherworld. Even now, the sparkle of the city lights reminded her of Earth. She wondered, how many years would it be before Viridian City showed the same grandeur?
Her gaze swept the city. There, in the Nychta Ward, was Belkis’s apartment building. Sylvia remembered when they first arrived, landing on the balcony to enter her senior sister’s apartment. On the opposite side of the city, she found the Tomes of Tartarus. Ah, and along the river, the room she’d rented for Gavin and Elroy.
So many nostalgic memories.
…
“Is that the Rechin Sange?” Sylvia said in disbelief.
She cast farsight. Gazing through the water lens, she brought the eighty-meter astral warship into view. The Rechin Sange, confirmed by its plaque, was tied to one of Iacchus’s many piers. The ship was heavily armed and armored, with a thick hull, three cannons, six ballistas, and a pair of flame mortars.
Of course, the quality of those guns left something to be desired.
This warship was the property of Demon King Vilhelm Codrin. When Sylvia had last seen the vessel, it’d been docked at the Fortress of Dawn next to the Aripa. The Aripa was the trade ship she’d taken to Tartarus.
“I wonder if someone I know is in town?” she mused, dismissing her farsight spell.
After a moment’s consideration, Sylvia catalyzed a swirl of fate. Then, with a causal chant, she wove a chain of two hundred and eighteen runes. “■■ ■■.”
A prying eye opened in the depths of the Iacchus, its vision routed through her System. The silver-haired asteri gazed at a redheaded vampire. Iulian Codrin had chiseled features, pale skin, and a dashing uniform. Thirteen years ago, he was their captain for the Young Demon’s Tournament. Sylvia, Elroy, Gavin, and Nessa had been members underneath him.
And, apparently, Iulian was a captain once more. This time of a ship. The redhead was overseeing a bunch of sailors shuffling boxes in a warehouse.
“I should stop by and say hello,” Sylvia said with a smile. Then her expression turned serious, humor falling. “Actually, I could make good use of this. But before we meet, I have a little shopping to do.”
Which meant it was time to put on her guise. Sylvia Swallows was not a girl who should be seen wandering the streets of Tartarus.
She called forth the shadow of her Three-Faced Visage. The tiny, wooden figure rested in her palm. Three masks hung off its head. One had the face of Sylvester Swift. The other showed the countenance of the light elf Frida. The third remained blank. Sylvia allowed the instrument a minute to breathe ether. Then she fed the statue blood-natured mana. The figurine melted into tendrils, its vines wriggling into her veins before settling somewhere in her chest.
She activated Sylvester’s mask. Her features shifted, bones and skin shuffling. The witch grew taller, adding eleven centimeters in half as many seconds. Her light gray hair shortened, losing its lavender-pink tint. The face of Cloud Princess Swallows changed, replaced by that of Sylvester Swift.
Form restored, the gentleman adjusted his top hat, making sure his pinstriped suit sat properly on his taller figure.
“Though I’m obviously a respectable man, I think it’d be better if I avoided customs,” Sylvester joked. “■■■ ■■.”
With the swirl of his cane, the warlock tore open a gate. Voomp. He stepped through, his polished dress shoes landing on scraggy, yellow grass. Tilting back his head, he drew in a deep breath, tasting the primordial ether.
“What a beautiful world,” he said. He gestured, thin wisps of energy whirling around him. “■■, ■, ■, ■■■, ■■■ ■■.”
A chain of anti-divinations rolled over the terrain, obscuring Sylvester’s presence and his recent acts. Then he casually stepped through a second gate.
Voomp.
Sovereign planes, like Tartarus, would place divinations and enchantments along their coast, hoping to catch smugglers and other illegal entrants. No doubt someone had noticed his use of an unauthorized gate to enter. They might even have detected his second gate. Though, that was harder to distinguish as it was perfectly legal to open portals within the plane.
“I should create a quieter version of gate at some point,” Sylvester mused. “It is one thing to use the spell near Aidonopol, where there are many magical guests. Opening a gate in less common locations might well attract unwanted attention. ■■, ■, ■.”
With a lazy chant, the warlock unleashed false trail, anonymous presence, then tangled weave. Satisfied no one would come to snoop quickly, he floated up into the air, rising three score meters above the ground. Then he fell forward. He glided through shortened space with the poise and posture of a gentleman riding on a parade float.
Flux shift was faster than a Lunam Fuga.
Between gravitational propulsion and crunched space, Sylvester could surpass 800 km/h. However, maintaining that velocity was as exhausting as a sprint. A speed of 500 km/h was more reasonable and could be sustained for a long time. The Lunam Fuga, by contrast, reached its peak at 275 km/h. However, Sylvester could ride a broom all day. His mana regeneration outstripped its consumption. So brooms were greatly preferred for long-distance travel.
Of course, there was no rule stopping Sylvester from using flux shift and a broom at the same time. The problem was, he couldn’t fold space fast enough, limiting his effective velocity. Even so, he knew from experience that he could exceed 1000 km/h.
“What I need is a broom designed for flux shift from the start,” he mused.
Why, with such a tool, he might beat Windscourge in a race!
The city approached. A soft drizzle pattered off Sylvester’s top hat as the gentleman settled onto the bustling streets. Crimson clouds loomed overhead, bringing with them wind and petrichor. The scent of wet stone lingered in the air, tinged with the taste of copper.
In no great hurry, he strolled along the road, peering into windows. Here and there, demons picked up the pace, rushing to avoid the rain’s arrival. Others remained sedate, not caring one whit what was to come.
Minutes later, he opened the door to Delver’s Tools and Magical Curios.
B-dring.
A little bell rang when Sylvester entered. The small shop held a mix of magical instruments, most of which were aimed at adventurers and hunters who spelunked Tartarus’s evolving caverns. The owner, a siren named Ophelia, was behind the counter. He knew the woman vaguely. The siren was a member of Belkis’s old coven, the Deep Seekers. Many years ago, this voluptuous xemyalistra had sold to ‘Sylvia’ ‘her’ first realm ring array, Sparkling Starpack.
Nowadays, he used Hidden Hut, a realm ring array he’d wrangled from Yvonne Taubert. Come to think of it, Sylvester would have to replace it after reaching the fifth consolidation.
“Welcome to Delver’s Tools and Magical Curios,” Ophelia greeted with her beautiful voice. “Are you interested in a bit of adventure?”
“Not in the least,” he replied. “After reaching the fourth consolidation, the wilderness has lost its thrill. No, I was simply hoping to purchase some magical supplies and Aidonopol was unpleasantly crowded. Yours was the first store I came across.”
“Oh, I’ve heard the stories,” Ophelia returned with a charming laugh. “I think a third of the witches skipped town for the event. I mostly sell goods for the caverns, but I might have what you want. What are you looking for?”
“Three things,” Sylvester answered. “An elemental source for the elements sky and abyss. They must be of decent quality and hold at least 50 standard units. Then I’d like some space dust. I’m hoping for 150 droms, if you have it.”
“With regards to the elemental source, how many units per drom?” Ophelia asked, looking serious.
“Five or more will do,” the silver-haired man clarified.
What he wanted was to change the element of his ice and lightning palaces. To do so, each palace had to first be closed. Once closed, it could be opened if he sacrificed 1000 experience points and an appropriate elemental source. The process would take 24 hours.
Alternatively, he could simply die and let the palaces rebuild during resurrection. The experience point cost would remain, but the material component could be eschewed. But he wasn’t willing. His phylactery remained in the Cloud Island Wilderness, and he didn’t have one to two weeks to spare. If he waited so long, Heaven might move its prisoners.
“We have several abyss sources. They’re popular with divers,” Ophelia said. “The cheapest that’ll fit your standards sells for 45 thousand.”
“And a sky source?” Sylvester questioned.
“None,” Ophelia answered. “But I do have 80 droms of space dust in the back. Some divers like to have it on hand, in case they need an emergency gate.”
Dust wasn’t expensive. Not by Sylvester’s standard. But it was too heavy to fit in the soul. Thus, it was easily lost. Wealthier adventurers could afford the dust and the risk of leaving it behind. Hunters, who were usually first consolidation demons, could not.
“If you’d like, I can send a runner,” the siren offered. “One of the girls might have a sky source or extra dust to spare. There’s a tavern across the street. We can get a bite to eat while we wait. One pretty girl and a handsome warlock.”
Ophelia shot Sylvester a sly wink.
…
His eye twitched. What was it with witches and warlocks? Either they were as biased as hell or they wanted to bang him. Having lived as a woman for years, the silver-haired man knew the ladies could be just as wild as men, but this was ridiculous. He wasn’t that good-looking.
“I already have a girl, I’m afraid,” he said, placing 105 glints on the table. “This should cover the cost of the dust and abyss source. And please seal the materials in these bottles.”
The gentleman placed his metal briefcase on the countertop. Popping the locks, he handed the xemyalistra two glass cylinders.
“I don’t normally take gold, but I’ll do it for you as an apology for making things awkward,” Ophelia accepted. The siren flashed a genuine smile. “Who’s the lucky lady?”
“My wife,” Sylvester said blandly. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but she’s far more beautiful than you are.”
“If you dared to say otherwise, I’d be sure to send her a message.” The siren laughed, her voice like a song.
Ophelia rose from her seat, heading to the back of the shop, his empty bottles in hand. After a minute, the woman returned with one cylinder full and the other at half. The dust within glimmered with silver and indigo light. Alongside them, the witch set down a pitch-black crystal.
“For you, handsome fellow,” she said with another wink. “And tell your lady to buy you a meal on my behalf.”
“I will.” Sylvester slipped the source and the cylinders into his case. After securing the locks, he tipped his hat in the siren’s direction. “I bid you adieu, madam. Do check out the Exposition. It’s a marvelous event, and it’d be a great shame if you didn’t visit.”
“I’m heading for Aidonopol next month,” Ophelia called after him.
B-dring.
Sylvester stepped out into a downpour. Red rain ran in rivers on his pinstriped suit, the water repelled by Spring Blossom’s skintight barrier. The scent of wet stone had faded, leaving behind ozone and copper. A cold gust blew by, dragging at Sylvester’s suit and his top hat.
The silver-haired man strolled out into the center of the street, then he jumped.
Gravity flipped while space compressed, dragging him upward. His body stretched like taffy. It was a short flight before he was floating above the city, cane in his right hand and briefcase in his left. His eyes swept the skyline. One minute later, he was standing atop the spire of what was once Belkis’s apartment building. The wind howled around him.
Brruumrruumrruum. Thunder rolled in the crimson clouds above.
“A lovely storm,” Sylvester said. “But it’s time for serious business.”
A blue window popped open. Runeworks Studio had finished booting.
When seeking information, the fastest and most reliable course was divination. Every word spoken and every action taken left an imprint on the world. The threads of causality floated in the ether, gradually decaying like tracks left in the sand. Magic could reveal those imprints, erase them, hide them, or replace them with lies.
Sylvester had several spells in his grimoire that could search a city block. Muttered memories captured rumors on a specific subject, but only those spoken out loud in the last 24 hours. Way back when, Glenda Fischer had used this spell to learn the name of Dumas, the werewolf who had assaulted Riley and Sylvia in Vallen.
A city was much bigger than a single block, but the spell would make a nice foundation. Sylvester placed the base sequence into Runework Studio’s buffer. With the sigils arranged, he modified the magic.
“If I want to do this efficiently, I’ll need a larger range. Which, in turn, will demand greater efficiency,” he muttered to himself as he worked. “Also, one day is too short. I’d prefer to look back a full week. As for additional filtering? I don’t need it. My System client will act as the buffer.”
First, Sylvester increased the integrity of the spell. As it was, muttered memories would fracture if loaded with enough energy to cover the city. Even so, to cast such a monster would require 56,000 mana points. Which was well-beyond his means, great fey or no. Fixing this would require a bit of ingenuity.
He stroked his chin.
Ah. There was an idea. He’d transform the spell into carrier fragments. These fragments would then disperse throughout the city, pinging multiple times. This would allow the efficient recycling of their power. His soul sang, dropping chains of runes onto the interface like a mad hacker typing on a computer. A moment later, he stopped to review his work, tweaking and adjusting the sequences where needed.
“I’ll call you ‘ears of the city,’” Sylvester said, admiring the chain he’d created. “But, you aren’t even close to done. I need to make you reach further back in temporal space.”
Before starting the next set of changes, he ran the spell through a simulator. Runeworks Studio confirmed that it’d cover the full city at a much more acceptable cost of 2500 mana points. The real trick would be adding the missing features while retaining that performance.
Red rivulets poured off the warlock’s top hat as he considered, the storm raging all around him. Muttered memories used pure causality. To capture details seven days back, he’d need to weave in a bit of fate. Not too much, because fate was squirrely. The more Sylvester used, the less reliable the information he’d get.
“Some rune substitutions should do it,” he decided, swapping out a few chains. The length of the spell grew another fifteen percent as he made a series of modifications. “Yes, just a bit of fate to make the threads more real. Oh, and I’ll need a scrubbing feature. Otherwise, I’ll contaminate subsequent castings.”
Seven minutes later, Sylvester had a spell that ran twelve hundred runes long. Ears of the city was functionally similar to muttered memories, except it covered 10 to 25 kilometers of range. Furthermore, the spell would pull from both spoken and written gossip, so long as the words had been present within the last seven days.
Just as importantly, this was a causality divination, which meant it was reliable.
“Time to give it a try.”
Sylvester let Resonant Tear drop from his wrist, the jewel swinging wildly in the wind. Raising his cane, the silver-haired man prepared to cast. Then he paused, a sheepish expression spreading on his face.
“How silly of me, I neglected an important factor.” He laughed. “A spell with this much power will be loud.”
Thankfully, there was an easy solution. With a smirk, Sylvester released a lazy chain of one hundred and ninety-two runes before tackling a greater sigil. “■■■, ■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■ ■ ■■■■■ ■■.”
A giant knot appeared in the sky, taking on a clear shape. Legrame was a compound rune of causality and fate meaning: ‘Thus, I know.’ Huge masses of energy whirled around the golden glyph. Then, pop, realm magic swept over it. The rune was cast into the sky five kilometers away.
The heavens pulsed.
A magnificent spell swept every corner of the city. Most demons couldn’t sense it. A few, who were stronger or more attuned, paused, wondering what had been cast. Causality sang, tracing the hidden threads and echoes. Information flowed back, a deluge of whispers flooding into Sylvester’s ears. The warlock reeled under an onslaught of a million voices.
Most mages would’ve lost important secrets to the torrent. He stored every scrap in his soul, his System whirling as it filtered through the mass.
Several seconds passed while Sylvester sorted through a sea of gossip.
Viscount Malik Nychta hadn’t changed one bit. Belkis was long forgotten, but the dragonling’s sick games went on. From the rumors, Sylvester could extract the current victims of Malik’s ‘hunts’: Ginevra Mancini, Mei Dai, Hoa Ngo, and Vera Holmberg.
Of these, Mei Dai’s name was most prominent. Two years ago, Viscount Nychta had grown weary of Baroness Bai Meng’s pursuit. Being the disgusting, vile creature he was, Malik turned his eyes to Lady Dai, Bai Meng’s long-time friend and companion. Apparently, Malik had kept Mei Dai for months before throwing her aside like trash.
The resulting blowup had been epic.
“Disgusting,” Sylvester spat, lips curled. “But Mei Dai’s fall happened a year and a half ago. She isn’t the girl I’m looking for.”
Viscount Nychta had already moved onto new prey. Three girls remained who could be targets. Ginevra Mancini was an oracle and a devil. Exactly the kind of strong but vulnerable girl Malik liked best. But Ginevra had been missing for months. Either she’d slipped Malik’s net, or she’d been the victim right after Lady Dai. In either case, that left Hoa Ngo and Vera Holmberg.
“I need rumors specific to those girls,” Sylvester decided. His eyes narrowed. “But I can’t neglect Miss Mancini, either. She might well have run away with my prize. ■■■, ■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■ ■ ■■■■■ ■■.”
A second pulse of causality washed over the city. Information poured into his head. Sylvester let the flood flow over him, standing still and steady. When he opened his eyes two minutes later, he saw dark shapes flying up into the storm.
No doubt, they were looking for him.
“Time to depart.”
He stepped off the roof’s edge. As he fell headfirst, floor after floor flashed past him. At the last moment, he completed an easy twirl, space expanding slightly, so his dress shoes landed neatly and gently on the city streets. An ogre shot Sylvester a glance. The warlock offered a smile, tilting his hat.
The giant let out a grunt then continued on his path.
“As I suspected, he’s already done playing with Ginevra and has moved on,” Sylvester concluded, nose wrinkled as he reviewed the information. “Which leaves me with Hoa and Vera, both of whom look all the more likely.”
Know what? He deserved his indulgence. Thinking this, Sylvester stepped off the main road before entering a restaurant. The gentleman made a small swirl with his fingers before casting the red water clinging to his suit out the door.
“Welcome!” the aani shopkeeper barked. The dog-headed demon pointed at the containers of meat. “Let me know what you want, I’ll put it together for you.”
Sylvester considered for a moment. “I’ll go with your pane con la milza,” he decided.
A while later, he was seated in the back corner of the restaurant. Rain continued to pour, pattering in the side alley. Sylvester took a bite from his sandwich, the strong flavors of veal lung, spleen, and trachea playing on his tongue.
Even after his modifications, the cost of a large-scale divination was hideous. Sylvester had burned through half his mana just to cast ears of the city twice. Of course, he could’ve saved a great deal of energy if he’d used his newly purchased dust.
But there had been no need. Mana recovered on its own.
Half an hour later, Sylvester licked his fingers clean. “Since I have a pair of suspects, I should check them individually.”
He didn’t move from his seat. Instead, he tapped a lazy rhythm on the table, weaving a string of two hundred and eighteen runes. A prying eye opened in another part of the city, gazing at Vera Holmberg. Vera was a dryad, her most eye-catching feature being her unusual, bright blue hair.
Recently, the lady had attended two parties with Malik Nychta present. Rumors claimed Vera was the viscount's most recent paramour. Despite this, Lady Holmberg had studiously avoided the dragonling. The contradiction was precisely what attracted Sylvester’s interest. Though, it was hard to say whether Vera was a victim. Quite a few ladies were attracted to the vile but handsome man, and some realized his predilections.
“■■■, ■ ■.”
Rune gate was followed by an unfamiliar fifty-four rune weave. A Duat Dream Drop could only be detected with a highly specific spell. One Sylvester happened to know, thanks to Belkis’s trouble a decade prior. Vera jerked, a small bit of magic pinging in her well-lit apartment. Gazing around the room in suspicion, the woman chanted a spell. Sylvester’s video feed faded into static.
He let his prying eye die. Vera Holmberg didn’t have the dream drop.
“Hoa Ngo, let’s see if you’re the lucky girl. ■■ ■■.”
A second eye opened, its gaze partially obscured by white fuzz. Despite the wards, Sylvester saw a dark-haired yakshi hurrying through Iacchus’s streets. Pouring rain broke on a magical shield projected above the woman’s head.
Yakshi were a line of blue-blooded demons most commonly seen in the Fey Federation. According to rumor, Hoa and Malik had met only once. And that one meeting was all it took for the lady to abandon her fiancé and start mooning over the viscount. Yet, none of this matched Hoa’s prior character. Indeed, her fiancé was so convinced, he’d challenged Viscount Nychta to a duel two months past.
Sylvester was curious. Was Hoa Ngo the dragonling’s latest prey, or was she a woman full of rot?
“■■■, ■ ■.”
Unlike Vera, Miss Ngo showed no reaction when the spell was cast. Sylvester let out a sigh.
“I apologize for ever thinking ill of you, milady,” he murmured. “You and your fiancé are the victims of a vicious scheme. Alas, the only compensation I can offer is an express trip to the Timeless Beryl Wilderness. May this small vacation soothe your wounded heart.”
Rising from his seat, Sylvester placed his hat back on his head. The gentleman stepped out of the restaurant, red rain falling in a relentless downpour. He stood there for a long moment, waiting. Waiting until Hoa Ngo opened the door to her apartment.
“■■■ ■■.” Voomp.
The yakshi turned, having just thrown the bolt. Hoa’s eyes went wide, her expression one of shock and horror. Sylvester raised his cane, electricity crackling.
“Who – ”
Bang!
Lightning flashed. Then came stillness. Hoa’s corpse crumbled, her heart pierced clean through. With a flick, he cast ectoplasmic web, capturing the yakshi’s soul. Setting down his briefcase, Sylvester pulled out a lamp caged in black iron.
“Infinite pardons, Miss Ngo,” he said to the dissolving corpse as he sucked in the shadowy soul. “But you have something I want. And trust me when I say, this is for your own good.”
-oOo-
The door creaked open, revealing a richly decorated cabin.
“Get the men in order, Mihaela,” Iulian Codrin commanded, his voice flowing through the gap. “I want to be away from Tartarus as soon as possible. The International Exposition of Magic has brought too much traffic to Iacchus. If we miss our window, we’ll be forced to delay several hours if not a day.”
“Wait!”
A tall, raven-haired vampiress surged past the handsome redhead, her body melting into shadow. Steel rang, Mihaela’s rapier shooting from its sheath. The blade hung in the air, extended toward a petite girl’s throat.
“Who are you and how did you get in here?”
Seated in the cabin was a silver-haired princess, her long glossy tresses glimmering in the dim light. Sylvia gazed back, her pastel pink eyes a fractal universe shimmering with ancient starlight. She wore an elegant black dress, bell sleeves covering her arms with puffy shoulders on either side. A delicate band of black lace wrapped her fragile neck while a witch’s hat rested on her head, a pink bow tied around the base.
Sylvia, in turn, took in the sight of Mihaela Codrin.
The vampiress was a pretty girl in the conventional sense of the word. She had a tall and sharp figure, her hair like night as it spilled down her back. Compared to Marquise Talyssa Stea, Mihaela was quite plain. Her fiery, red-orange irises were nothing when put beside Talyssa’s twin moons.
Not that it was fair to measure ordinary women against the threshold set by Asmodeus’s wives.
“I’m an old – ”
Chink!
The vampiress lunged, her weapon shrouded in darkness. Sylvia’s reaction was just as fast. Ice poured from her palace, a twitch of her fingers releasing runes into the world. The rapier’s blade skittered off a sudden wall of frost.
She let out a heavy sigh, giving Iulian a look. Sylvia’s memory of Mihaela was poor, but she did recall that the vampiress was an idiot. Some things never changed.
“Hold Mihaela,” the redheaded vampire ordered.
“She’s – ”
“Hold,” Iulian said firmly, placing a hand on Mihaela’s shoulder to stop her in her tracks. “Lady Swallows is an old friend.”
The raven-haired vampiress let out a huff before sheathing her sword. “Just because she’s your ‘old friend’ doesn’t mean she can sneak onto our ship.”
“Mihaela,” Iulian groaned. “Please see to the men. I will speak to our guest. Privately.”
“Don’t let your private moment last too long,” Mihaela returned snidely.
The door closed with a thud behind her. Sylvia snapped her fingers. A wave of law magic wrapped the room, ensuring their privacy.
“What a charmer,” she commented dryly. “How did you end up with her as first mate?”
“Mihaela is quite competent in her own way, and despite her recent actions, she has mellowed over the years,” Iulian explained. The redheaded vampire put a smile on his chiseled face before making an elegant bow. “Lady Swallows, to witness your beauty once more is a gift for which I am not worthy.”
With a smile of her own, the silver-haired girl rose, offering a small curtsy. “It’s been far too long since we last met.”
Playfully, she extended a hand. Iulian didn’t hesitate to kiss it. Amused, Sylvia returned to her seat.
“Do you mind if I take a chair?” Iulian questioned.
“It’s your cabin,” Sylvia commented blandly. She gestured toward the wooden table in front of her. A soul lamp glowing with dark-green light rested on the surface. “I’m here to collect on a favor owed.”
“For such a figure of loveliness, I am willing to endure any trial,” Iulian accepted, bright red eyes pausing briefly on the lamp. “How fares Elroy?”
“He’s made quite a name for himself,” Sylvia said, lips quirked. “Elroy Awakened a couple of years back. He now heads a security company called Légion Garde & Guet. Gavin is with him, by the way.”
“So that’s where the goblin scampered off to,” Iulian said, shaking his head.
“I see you’re doing quite well for yourself as well,” Sylvia continued. “Captain of the Rechin Sange is not a small matter for a demon of your youth.”
“I’m just a glorified carrier of souls,” he dismissed. “As for Awakening? It’s still a good while off. I did find an oracle to consult with about my past. I’ll meet with her the next time we make port in Iacchus.”
Awakening was a major obstacle even for gamers. Demons, who rarely knew their pasts, had an additional struggle: they didn’t know their mortal desire. This was a resolvable problem, thankfully. By consulting oracles or specialized zoi, they could use divinations or dream magic to recover memories locked in the soul. With these bits and pieces, they could grasp the obstacles buried deep inside their heart.
“And what about you, Lady Swallows?” Iulian questioned.
She offered a mysterious smile. “Let’s just say, I’ve surpassed all expectation.”
He shook his head. “Those are frightening words coming from a lady who joined the Young Demon’s Tournament at the age of one.” The redhead’s expression turned serious. “Whose soul are you asking me to move and why?”
“A yakshi named Hoa Ngo,” Sylvia explained, all business. “Don’t be surprised if she panics after she resurrects. I didn’t bother to explain the situation before I took her life. But I do recommend she moves to another plane immediately.”
Whether she’d listen was another matter entirely. Hoa had a fiancé. She might well risk Viscount Nychta’s attention to meet with him. Still, Sylvia placed five gold coins on the table. These were viginiti with a total value of 100 glint.
“Take your cut and give her whatever remains. There is more than enough money here to start a new life,” Sylvia said.
Iulian scooped up the coins, holding one between his fingers. His bright red eyes gleamed with curiosity. Then the money vanished into his soul.
“She’s in a heap of trouble then?”
“Yes. A fact she is almost certainly aware of,” Sylvia said, recalling Belkis’s ordeal. “Likely, she’ll be grateful. If she isn’t, that’s her own business. Don’t ask about the specifics. For your safety, I won’t share a word more.”
The asteri’s cold gaze made clear the danger.
“Given how closely your favor mirrors my own, I can hardly object,” Iulian accepted. “I’ll see her resurrected in the Timeless Beryl Wilderness.”“Don’t tell anyone I came here,” Sylvia added. “I’ve already covered my tracks, but there are parties who may come to investigate my actions. Should you run afoul with them, be perfectly honest. Nothing you know can harm me and I don’t want you to suffer any harm because we met.”
The redhead’s expression turned grim. “Then I will make clear to Mihaela that she should keep her mouth shut.”
“Thank you,” Sylvia said from her heart. “One day, I’ll give you an incredible gift. But if I shared it with you today, I fear it’d do more harm than good.”
“To bask in your beauty is already enough, Lady Swallow,” Iulian returned with a slight bow. “You owe me nothing.”
“I see you’re still a flatterer after all these years,” she laughed, her pastel pink eyes twinkling. “Since the heavy matter has settled, what’s the news in the Timeless Beryl Wilderness?”
“I suppose you’re interested in the war, not the weather,” Iulian replied, drawing in a deep breath. “That’s quite the long story.”
“Are you needed on deck?” Sylvia asked.
“I can spare a moment, but I’ll have to make it short, starting with the Academy,” Iulian returned. “The whole world was shaken when Lady Vallenfelt pulled her vanishing act. However, in the context of the war, it was more a mystery than a point of strategic interest. Baron Gris’s sudden defection a month later was a much larger blow. With the werewolves’ withdrawal, the Hoga claimed Loge Sombre. The Tisa clan was caught off guard and suffered a serious loss.
“However, it was quickly made obvious that Demon King Vilhelm Codrin knew it was coming. Not only did his forces escape the worst of it, our clan absorbed a large chunk of Loge Sombre’s population, creating the Lup and Blană packs.”
Werewolves serving directly under the Codrin clan? That was bold.
“The Tisa must’ve been furious,” Sylvia commented dryly.
“To say the least. They accused Vilhelm of treason,” Iulian confirmed. “But the Demon King was one step ahead. He’d sent letters to Marquis Padure, claiming that the Tisa clan’s bigotry had forced the werewolves into the arms of the Hoga well before.”
“A dangerous ploy,” she mused.
Her eyes narrowed. Rupert Gris and Vilhelm must’ve started plotting together before Lyam and Pierre set foot in Vallen.
“Indeed, but the Tisa had no chance to flip the narrative. Four months later, the Hoga sued for peace,” Iulian chuckled.
“Thus bringing their military advantage to the negotiating table,” Sylvia concluded. “And Gris leaked this information to Vilhelm as well?”
“He did indeed,” Iulian confirmed. “With the Tisa on the back foot, the Demon King stepped forward as a negotiator. In the end, the pot was split 40, 40, 15, and 5. In exchange for this pittance, the rebels sold their fiefs.”
“Given the circumstances, that’s an excellent result.”
“The clearest winners were the Hoga and the Padure,” Iulian confirmed. “While Vilhelm didn’t gain all he wished, the dream of a sovereign plane remains.”
Planes could be as sovereign, wild, barren, or turbulent. To qualify as a sovereign plane, a world had to have a large and organized population. Major planes could declare themselves sovereign when the number of souls crossed one million. Minor planes had a lower threshold, needing only two hundred and fifty thousand.
To declare a world sovereign was a major event. The plane could be named by its people, while the government would gain legitimacy. Foreign nations would recognize the world as more than a mere colony. This meant titles, deals, and treaties gained meaningful weight.
“Will there still be enough souls left after the split?” Sylvia questioned.
“We’ll have to attract migrants,” Iulian admitted. “Fortunately, the extraction of souls has spurred a great deal of business. Vilhelm believes that within two centuries, the Timeless Beryl Wilderness will grasp the future he envisioned.”
Sylvia offered a polite nod. Thanks to Lucifer’s theft of souls from Origin, the Cloud Island Wilderness would cross that line in less than a decade.
“What happened to the starlight witches?” she asked after a moment.
“Most remain fine denizens,” he answered. “Vilhelm made sure to collect as many as he could when the rebels sold their fiefs. However, quite a few are still missing. Ascertaining which ones, however, has proven difficult as nobody knows who left with the Academy.”
The petite girl let out a heavy sigh. “Terrible things happen in war.”
“If you wish, I can use my limited authority to look for them,” the redheaded vampire offered.
“On behalf of Lady Vallenfelt, thank you,” Sylvia said, bowing her head. “But I won’t ask you to do this for free. I’ll have someone from our domain contact the Demon King. We’ll provide a list of the witches who migrated and funds to locate those who are missing.”
“That’ll make things a great deal easier,” Iulian accepted. The redheaded vampire smiled. “Now, can you reveal the mystery of the Academy?”
“Not yet,” she said with a grin. “Oh, and you won’t have to return the witches either. The Baroness wishes only for their freedom.”
“I’ll see it done,” he said, rising from his seat. “It has been good to hear from you again.”
“And you as well, Iulian,” Sylvia returned, offering a small curtsy. “I’ll say hello to Elroy and Gavin for you.”
The witch raised a hand, drawing a circle in the air. Blue-green light sparked, cutting a swirling hole in the world. Then – voomp – she was gone.
-oOo-
A blonde angel, Tirza, walked through a long, gray corridor. Ether-light lamps were placed in torch sockets along the walls, the floor polished stone. After a minute of travel, the tunnel opened up into a broad chamber. On the floor was a sefirot. Two wooden desks overlooked the path forward, with four security guards seated behind them. To the right was a side room for the soldiers. On the left were archway cubbies in which sat heavy, cylindrical golems with tapered sides and rounded tops.
Meira, a brown-haired woman, stood as she approached.
“Who won the battlemage tournament?” Meira asked, flashing a friendly smile.
The brunette guard wore chain armor with a white tabard and a golden breastplate over the top. On the brunette’s left side was sheathed a straight sword with a cross hilt while on her right hung an armored, crystal orb.
Meira was einherjar. The einherjar were Heaven’s official military. Diplomats like Lady Charmeine might be skilled combatants, but they weren’t consistently trained and equipped. Nor were they expected to fight, unless there was a serious emergency.
“We did!” Tirza said cheerfully. “It was a close thing, but Kala pulled it off at the last moment with a lightning lance followed by a glacial spike.”
“I wish I’d seen it.” Meira let out a low whistle. She gestured. “You know the drill. Step inside the circle.”
The blonde angel walked forward. A circle engraved in the stone above and beneath lit with ether. Motes of magic danced over Tirza’s body as the enchantments completed their scan.
“Kala came to me after the battle,” Tirza continued. “She wanted a visa so she could remain in Tartarus for another year.”
“Ugh,” Meira sounded in disgust, nose scrunched. “Why would anyone want to live with those filthy demons?”
“Aidonopol is a beautiful city, Meira,” Tirza said sternly. “Yes, demons are a little violent, but they’re people too. Most of them – ”
Meira raised a hand, her expression sharp. “What are those and do you have permission to carry them into the embassy?”
Tirza flushed with embarrassment. She placed a set of flasks on the officer’s desk.
“Potions of mana sense,” she explained. “Noah from Mador Sod asked if I could get them a few for research purposes. I think… I filed things right?”
“Dov, check the cabinet,” Meira ordered.
Another guard, armed with the same sword and orb combination, groaned. After a moment, he snagged a slip, then handed it to Meira before returning to his seat. The brown-haired woman checked the paper carefully.
“It looks like everything is in order,” Meira accepted. The brunette relaxed. “Demons aren’t just a little violent, Tirza. They’re dangerous. Weren’t you telling me just a few days ago how Azazel and Asmodeus toppled the Obsidian Tower? You should move into the embassy. It’s safer.”
“I live on the opposite side of Ektasi, Meira,” Tirza said in exasperation, reclaiming her potions. “I was perfectly safe. And a diplomat needs to spend time with the people. If you don’t understand them, how can you help them?”
“If you want to help, you should convince Kala to come back to Heaven,” Meira returned.
“I’ll help Kala find a place that suits her heart,” Tirza replied. The blonde angel smiled. “I’ll see you later, Meira.”
“Lunch?”
“Of course,” Tirza said happily.
The blonde angel turned, then froze in midstep.
In a very different room, three men observed the holographic video. Moswen walked around the illusion, taking note of all the details. While the original video was limited to Tirza’s perspective, the simulation Sylvester showed revealed everything the angel had seen or sensed.
“As you suspected,” Hiền Dinh hissed. “Their sensors failed to detect the Duat Dream Drop.”
“It would be a surprise if they had protection against something so rare and specific,” Sylvester drawled. “What do you think?”
“The front door is not our interest,” Sir Dinh replied.
“We’ll review the rest of the video later,” Sylvester replied. “First, I want to take a good look at Heaven’s einherjar. If I’m not mistaken, that’s a figment golem hanging off Meira’s belt.”
“Class III/Low,” Moswen confirmed. “All the guards are wearing a puppeteer’s wreath to assist their control. Most likely, each golem is attuned to the owner’s imprint with a predefined chain of command.”
“Which will make them nigh impossible to hack,” Sylvester concluded. “The heavier golems near the walls are Class V/Mid constructs. They can’t have too many of them, but the ones they do have are going to be a problem.”
“They likely have a security repository with additional figment golems as well,” Moswen concurred.
By slaving its wargolems to a central intellect, the Obsidian Tower had saved a ton of money on manpower. Furthermore, their system had lent Loke Breggen unquestionable authority and control. But, as Sylvester had proven, that made for a fragile structure.
The embassy wasn’t nearly as vulnerable.
“The swords are ljósmeðr,” Sir Dinh added. “When supplied with mana, they can be enhanced with the light aspect. This can be made more intense, providing each soldier with a ranged attack.”
Light was a complex aspect born from the elements: lightning, void, and psychic. While less powerful and penetrative than the metal element, light could cut or burn through a variety of magical structures. Furthermore, any beams cast by the swords would be very fast.
Though, without a proper mystic art, the ranged strikes would lose half their power.
Heaven favored the ‘holy aspect’, and for good reason. The light was complex and hard to counter. Light’s psychic attribute cut through other magics, including wards meant to block it. Furthermore, there were bloodline keys that’d grant celestials access to the light aspect as their natural magic.
Better yet, light aspect attacks were effective titan killers. By striking at the mind and the spirit, ljósmeðr could bypass a living creature’s size resistance.
“I see,” Sylvester accepted. “And what about their armor?”
“Gullbrynja,” the salaman answered, his tongue slithering through sharp teeth. “It’s suitable for Awakened warriors and provides a slight increase to the density of ki. There is also an emergency barrier, to ensure even a great demon cannot kill them in one strike. Do not look down on Heaven’s einherjar. All these warriors are in the manifestation realm at the least.”
When Sylvester fought demons, most were poorly trained, lazy, or rusty. This was a handpicked elite. Whether it was skill, discipline, or equipment, the einherjar would outperform a ragged demonic force thrice their number.
“How many soldiers will Firestorm bring with them?” he questioned.
“We will wash over them like an ocean of fire,” Hiền Dinh said with confidence. “If you can provide a safe way in.”
“I think we’ve examined enough here for now,” Moswen interjected. “We should review the rest of the record.”
“Of course,” Sylvester accepted.
The illusion continued its playback. Soon the blonde angel stepped out of the tunnel and into the embassy beyond. Impelled by the Duat Dream Drop, Tirza veered off course. Once she was well out of sight, she popped the cork of a potion and drank.
Sylvester could feel the magic flowing through the angel’s body.
Even with the potion, Tirza’s senses were dull. The sky was covered in shimmering polygons beyond which was pure black, the diakenon’s ethereal beauty invisible to Tirza’s limited eyes. Wards hummed in the background, filled with whispered intent. Overall, the embassy was dazzling. There were trees, gardens, and streetlamps. The buildings were white marble with exquisite artistry and architecture.
Sylvester paid close attention to the defense. Along the outer walls were eight towers, each sporting a long, needle-like shape. They were lightning cannons, all aimed at the intervoid. In addition to the chancery, the embassy had several annexes. These buildings held gate chambers, the resurrection pool, residences, and the headquarters of Mador Sod – Heaven’s department of spies. It was there that the kidnapped members of the Bluelight would be kept.
At the center of it all was a great turret. Three massive pillars rose well above any building in the embassy. Each barrel was fifty meters long, with a huge, multifaceted crystal at the turret’s peak. Lower, and near the ground, were five wings extending from the tower. Each wing had ten tubes like those from a pipe organ.
“Our intelligence was wrong,” Sir Dinh hissed. “There are three calamity cannons, not two.”
“The guns fire straight into the spatial reflector,” Moswen added. “The beams can target any enemy inside or outside the embassy with the smallest of adjustments.”
“The good news is, they put all their eggs in one basket,” Sylvester observed. “We can take out the primary weapons in one strike.”
“There’s a second shield around the central turret,” Hiền Dinh warned.
And the entire embassy was warded against realm magic. Sylvester couldn’t just rune gate half a dozen black hands inside. A pity, because he now had an abyss palace. His ice palace would soon be replaced by sky as well, thanks to Moswen’s assistance.
“I see it,” Sylvester confirmed. “How strong are those shields? Can we break them?”
To obtain their recording, they’d used Tirza and a Duat Dream Drop. Dream drops were refined from the soul of a nightmare butterfly and could contain a will of sorts. Sylvester had replaced the psychic imprint with a System microkernel, leaving enough data space for an hour of video. The warlock was rather proud of his scheme, as it’d leave Heaven with little to work with even if Tirza was caught.
“The outer shield won’t fall to cannons. Not without many ships and many shots,” Sir Dinh hissed. “Hellfire will work, but we will need dozens of bottles. Heaven knows our weapons well. Their geodesic barrier will eject the burning fragments. There is a second, inner barrier. Those walls of force will quickly fill any gap.”
Sylvester nodded along. Hiền Dinh was a true expert when it came to Heaven’s warriors and Heaven’s weapon systems.
“The lesser barrier guarding the guns will be weaker,” the salaman continued. His lips turned up in a sly smile. “If we convince those who command Firestorm, they will tear right through it.”
“In which case, the lightning cannons might be a bigger problem because they’re dispersed,” Sylvester mused. He closed his eyes, feeling the thrum of energy in the embassy. “We should cut the ether channels. They’ll be an easier target.”
The purple-skinned magia nodded. “We can use Tirza to map out the underlying circle. Breaking the channels won’t stop the wards or the weapons immediately, but it’ll certainly weaken Heaven’s defense.”
“One question,” Sylvester added. “How are we going to get the Hellfire?”
“Lord Potami will supply the profane flame,” Moswen stated. “But whatever we brew will last for no longer than a week. And we must allow my lord two days to recover, if we wish his direct support.”
“You can brew Hellfire?” Sylvester asked, his crimson eyes gleaming. “I’d like to watch, if that’s permitted.”
“I will be happy to teach the process myself,” the magia said with a bow. “All my knowledge is your knowledge, Magister Swift. If there is something you wish to learn, all you have to do is ask.”
“These plans are worth nothing if we can’t get a team of saboteurs through the wards,” Hiền Dinh reminded.
“Sir Dinh is correct,” Moswen agreed. “We can review the intelligence later. Right now, we need a way in.”
“Agreed.”
The silver-haired gentleman continued the recording. Tirza strolled through the embassy. Rather than watch, Sylvester closed his eyes, trying to feel the ebb and the flow of the magic through the angel’s limited senses. Law magic was present everywhere in the embassy. It was just a matter of teasing out the intent.
There were many intents.
Dozens of wards were stacked atop one another. Some were designed to detect spies, infiltrators, and bad actors. He felt them pass over Tirza, treating her as a friendly party fascinated by the embassy’s magic. Others were designed to block divination and other forms of snooping within the territory. There were even wards that dampened the combat power of anyone who wasn’t a member of the security office while amplifying the strength of the same.
It’d take days to unscramble the mess.
For now, Sylvester focused on the wards targeting realm magic. The intentions behind the enchantment were complex, akin to reading a multipage EULA. But after a few minutes, he captured the core of it.
“Gates can only be opened from the embassy out,” Sylvester concluded. “And they must be opened starting from an authorized frame.”
“Tirza cannot approach the gatehouse,” Sir Dinh warned. “She has no reason to be there.”
“We won’t need her to,” Moswen said. “If we can find the exact wording, we can falsify a frame and use that.”
Sylvester broke out in a wicked grin. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“We need to review the spells used by the security circle,” Moswen agreed. “If we can reverse engineer the detection mechanism, we can create a box or a container Tirza can keep in her soul. Through this method, we can use her to smuggle in anything we want.”
“We’ll have to work fast. I don’t like the thought of leaving those prisoners in Heaven’s hands for weeks,” Sylvester warned. “Sooner or later, they will ship the kidnapped demons off plane.”
“If Tirza is to assemble a false frame, it must be simple,” Moswen added. “And she will need a safe space to build it.”
“It seems our angel will be moving into the embassy after all,” Hiền Dinh laughed. “I’ll have a few men ransack her apartment. If they paint ‘Never forget the Blood Crusade’ onto her walls, she’ll have plenty of reason to change her living space.”
“Which won’t bother us at all,” Sylvester added. “Tirza’s work requires her to leave the embassy often, which will give us easy access to her person.”
“Let’s finish our review of the security situation with Sir Dinh,” Moswen said, stroking his thin white beard. “Afterward, we can crawl over the wards independently. We’ll share our conclusions at the end of the day to avoid contaminating our thoughts.”
-oOo-
Military Equipment of Heaven
LjósmeðrAttack Power: 125%Penetration: 100
A standardized weapon issued to all the einherjar. Though most commonly a sword, Ljósmeðr can take multiple forms including those of spears, hammers, or knives. Ljósmeðr are usually used by those in the principality and power castes, though more powerful versions of the weapons exist.
Holysword: Consume 100mp to add 100 attack power for the next minute. All attacks gain a weak light aspect nature: +5% DRR and +30 AP. Against living creatures, attacks have an additional 25% SRR. Holysword applies to all compatible arts used in conjunction with the weapon. Additionally, while holysword is active, the ljósmeðr can cut spells and abilities, dealing an additional 15% damage to all magical barriers.
Sunlight: By consuming 100mp, the wielder can make a single 600 power light aspect attack. This strike has +100 penetration along with +10% DRR and 100% SRR against living creatures. Sunlight cuts through spells even more effectively than holysword, dealing an additional 30% damage to all magical barriers. If the physical blade or a compatible art strikes the foe as well, base attack power is added to the blow. Sunlight has a range of 50 meters.
GullbrynjaDefense: 100DR: 5% / +5%Mp Drain: 15 / hour
The standardized armor worn by the einherjar. Like the ljósmeðr, this armor is suitable for Class III and Class IV warriors. Fundamentally, this is a martial armor relying heavily on ki consumption. However, it contains a magical formula to summon an emergency barrier when needed. The Damage Reduction boost of this armor applies to all ki-armor arts as well as to guards and parries.
Emergency Guard: When the wearer is subject to any single attack dealing more than 30% of their max Hp, the guard triggers in response. For the next second, a defensive barrier will be erected. This grants 35% Damage Reduction (multiplies with other DR) and +250 Hp. Furthermore, the wearer’s defense will be applied a second time, reducing the potency of the attack.
Iber Hatz
The Iber Hatz is the primary anti-personnel weapon of Heaven, with two wings required on all of Heaven’s warships. They are the source of the iconic winged silhouette. Each Iber Hatz sports ten pipes with 2 long, 3 medium, and 5 short. Each pipe can fire bolts at a rate of 60/minute, or 600 bolts/minute in total if all barrels are used.
In practice, the Iber Hatz is only fired in bursts using the pipes needed for a specific engagement, as each wing can consume 70,000 ether/minute, matching the maximum output of 2 to 3 heavy lightning cannons. High density ether emplacements may allow full operation of multiple wings, though this is uncommon.
Iber Hatz makes use of the specialized God’s Eye targeting system. Without this, it’s impossible to relay the targeting instructions to the individual bolts.
Unlike a ballista, the standard bolts require no enchantment. For this reason, bolt costs range from 20 to 80 soli depending on their size. When a common projectile is fired from the Iber Hatz, it has enormous curvature, allowing a full 180 degree reversal in a mere 500 ms. The pipes can be loaded with two enchanted bolt types: the ‘light lance’ and ‘burst lance’. Heaven only issues specialized bolts for the medium and long pipes.
Short Pipe:- Attack: 450; 50 Ap- Range: 2 km (1.5km effective), 500 m/s
Medium Pipe:- Attack: 900; 50 Ap- Range: 4 km (3.0km effective), 700 m/s
Long Pipe:- Attack: 1350; 50 Ap- Range: 6 km (4.5km effective), 900 m/s
Ranges are increased by 25% in the starry void.
Calamity CannonAttack: 8,000 to 25,000Penetration: 300; 300% to 800% multiplier; 15% DRR; 20% to 40% SRRRange: 10 km to 20km; 5 km/s
Based on the spell skyrending beam, calamity cannons have been around since the Golden Age. However, they weren’t standard for high-end warships and core defensive emplacements until the third great war, Ragnarok. Compared to lightning cannons, calamity cannons are far more expensive. However, they show superiority in terms of range, power, velocity, and penetration.
Calamity cannons are an effective deterrent against archdemons and titans. However, they rarely score kills on arch-level beings, as individuals can dodge out of the beam before experiencing the full effect.
While all the major powers have calamity cannons, Heaven has perfected the weapon. Their guns have greater range and attack power along with a moderately improved ether consumption. Heaven uses spatial reflectors in conjunction with their cannons to further improve the weapon’s responsiveness.
Geodesic Barrier:Hp: 10,000 to 100,000Def: 700SR: 65% to 80%Breakout: 1% to 5%
A force aspect barrier made of hexagons, pentagons, and other polygonal shapes as needed. Heaven first developed its famous geodesic barrier to defend against Hellfire. Ordinary barriers fall quickly to the black flame. The geodesic barrier solves the problem by ejecting the burning surfaces. To prevent gaps, the defensive system has two layers with an inner and outer barrier.
Spatial Reflector:
A technology used in many of Heaven’s advanced weapon systems. A spatial reflector is a multifaceted crystal of the space element. Energy attacks are fired into the crystal, emerging at a different point as needed. It’s important to note that spatial reflectors only work for the attuned weapon systems entering from a predetermined facet. Therefore, they cannot reflect enemy attacks.
Depending on the design, a reflector allows accurate redirection over an angle of 90 to 330 degrees. Variance depends on position and architecture. Thus far, only Heaven has shown the ability to produce high-quality reflectors capable of accurate shots. Hell continues to experiment with reflector designs on special ships, hoping to resolve the issue. The Fey Federation has shown no signs of pursuit, preferring its long-range saethbysg armaments and its superior lightning cannons.