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-oOo- Chapter 81-oOo-
Sylvester gazed at a glass bottle while leaning against the starboard rail of the Peína. Angry black flames raged inside the container, a roiling fury lashing out against the walls of its prison. Though the terrifying fire was as dark as night, it shed an eerie blue illumination.
They were in the diakenon.
Specifically, they were within the intervoid separating the second layer of Tartarus from the third. To most, this was a place of darkness. To him, the diakenon had a majestic beauty. Ethers from the element space along with energies primordial flowed through crystalline spindles forming great pillars. One of these columns was beside him, the mountainous scale dwarfing the small ships. From this pillar extended gargantuan, transparent sheets, the gossamer layers slowly fluttering.
Near the base of the structure was a single brilliant spark. Heaven’s embassy was built into the walls of the colossal cavern. Using his hawk eyes art, Sylvester could see a glimmering geodesic dome along with the buildings, trees, and gardens beneath.
But that was not his focus.
Observe Item. Ding!
A blue window appeared. The only thing that had changed since the last time he’d peered was the value, which had fallen by another one thousand soli.
Equipment: Unstable Hellfire, profaneType: ConsumableWeight: 5.4 dromsValue: 103,000 soli
Characteristics* Attack: 1000 x 5* Penetration: 100, 15% multiplier, 35% DRR* Devouring
Sealed in this bottle is a powerful, profane flame. The unstable fire feasts on an ad hoc alchemical mixture, barely sustained. If not used in the next 2 to 5 days, the fire will die. However, there is also a small chance the flame will erupt, bursting free from its container. The owner of the flame should use caution. The System recommends against placing this item inside the User’s soul.
Once released, Hellfire will scatter over a 3 meter radius. The gluttonous flame will spread voraciously, devouring every ethereal structure in its vicinity, reaching a breadth of 20 to 50 meters before reverting into a normal flame. Any substance touched by the blaze will take continuous ‘hits’ over a 10 second period. Objects with a large amount of blood or wood essence will be consumed at twice the normal rate.
Though stubborn, Hellfire can be stifled or fought. By doing so, the continuous damage can be avoided. The reverse also applies. A single speck of Hellfire will rapidly grow into an inferno. An individual touched by a tiny drop will take: 1%, 2%, 4%, 8%, then 16% of the total damage if the flame’s growth cannot be prevented. Large buildings or titans struck by the flame will likewise be consumed, their greater scale offering little protection.
With a sigh, Sylvester returned the bottle. Gavin hooked the glass container to his belt, patting it excitedly.
“I can’t wait to see this baby burn.”
“The two of you are on the second wave,” Sylvester stated.
The warlock’s gaze turned to the five ships around the Peína. Four were smaller, 20-meter vessels known as furies. Furies were cheap and fast warships. For weapons, they had two light ballistas, and a single heavy ballista used to fire black bolts. Those special javelins were enchanted for greater range, velocity and curvature.
What made the black bolts distinct was Hellfire. Each of the javelins could hold a single bottle. Thus, a pair of furies could rival the Ouranó Fídi in pure destructive force. Of course, one good hit and they’d burst into a blaze of black flame. They were, in short, the ultimate glass cannons of naval warfare.
The Peína and its sister ship were stacks. Stacks were flat-topped streamers with an enclosed cabin. During the assault, the larger ships would transport the main body of troops while providing cover and support. To this end, they were equipped with smoke emitters. The absorbent smog would, hopefully, stifle Heaven’s precise counterfire.
Sylvester had hoped to observe the weapons. Alas, Gavin had gotten to them first.
“Our priority is the soul beacon,” Elroy rumbled. “Our team was issued ten bottles of Hellfire for that purpose.”
Five to six bottles ought to be enough, but for a mission so critical, it was important to have overkill. Sylvester approved.
“After setting the building on fire, we’ll seize control of the west annex,” Gavin added. The goblin flashed a grin, showing rows of pointy teeth. “Whether we survive depends on how fast we move and how long we can stand against the siege.”
“We’ll be heavily outnumbered until the ships roll in,” Sylvester agreed. “But as long as the beacon falls, the risk won’t be too great even if we die.”
Sylvester had donned a new form. Instead of a suit, he wore robes of white and gold. His silver hair had been replaced by black speckled with gray, his eyes a bright blue. Just for fun, Sylvester had picked a fellow with a well-trimmed beard. The look was quite dashing, but he regretted his decision already. Beards were far too scratchy.
This body came from an angelic bureaucrat. One of the handful who lived in Aidonopol. Firestorm had assassinated several angels last night to provide identities to the first wave of invaders. Their disguises wouldn’t hold in the face of serious scrutiny. They didn’t have to. They only had to hold long enough for the group to position themselves near their target.
“The hostages are held by Mador Sod,” Elroy reminded.
“We won’t touch the building until we’ve achieved victory,” Sylvester replied. “It’s fortified and lacks tactical value.”
Gavin laughed. “Then we’ll just have to win.”
Sylvester offered a nod. His head turned.
A pool of ink spread across the wooden deck before rising into an unnaturally tall and slender shape. Black robes wrapped the mysterious figure, her face a void-like pit cast by her hood. Archduchess Wacera had returned. At least, he assumed this was Zhuri Wacera. If some other archdemon had come instead of the dark elf, Sylvester had no way of knowing.
Kenopeplos was so cool.
When he got home, he was going to badger Emmy into making him an awesome set of robes. But not ones as creepy as those. Hmm… maybe a creepy cool? Or a creepy cute? Was it possible to do all three at the same time? Whatever. He’d run the idea past his wife. Emmy would come up with something. It’d definitely be on the cuter side, but Sylvester was fine with that.
So long as the robes weren’t pink, anyway. He wanted the ‘secret, evil organization’ look. So the robes absolutely had to be black. Now, if Emmy wanted to add pink trimming, he was perfectly willing. Marriage was all about compromise.
Besides, he was a princess. It went without saying that his clothes should be princessy.
“Distribute the potions,” Zhuri commanded, her obscured voice a mix of masculine and feminine.
“Of course,” Sylvester accepted with an elegant bow.
Crossing the deck, he delivered two dozen small flasks filled with bubbling white liquid. The first was handed to Archduchess Wacera while the next went to Lord Kókkinos. Lord Kókkinos was a high-ranking officer from Firestorm. Sylvester knew nothing of the man’s bloodline and features. When the great demon had first shown up, he’d done so in his famous black mask and red robes. Since then, he’d swapped into his disguise, a tall and handsome angel.
After serving the bigwigs, Sylvester distributed flasks to Sir Dinh and the second wave of invaders. Elroy and Gavin were among the latter numbers. He skipped past Moswen and Lord Potami. Both men stood well away from the crowd, the limp husk of a colossal, bipedal elephant between them. The sixteen-meter figure was Drugi Potami’s titan. The husk was armed with a long glaive and clad in thick, brass armor.
Size wasn’t the only thing that made a titan strong. Two horns were added to draw in ether, offsetting a portion of the body’s ki consumption. Additionally, the giant had a second heart purchased from a high-level sacred fox. This integrated trait would help cleanse the titan of curses and other status ailments.
The most intriguing part of the design, in Sylvester’s opinion, was that the husk was a two-seater. Lord Potami would provide the main soul while Moswen rode shotgun, providing magical support. Drugi had even been so kind as to let Sylvester poke at the titan, earning him a delicious pot of merit points.
Once the last flask was delivered, he uncorked one of the two left on his person. Sylvester poured bubbling liquid over his clothes, cane, and body. The brew sank into his flesh, exuding a thin barrier of void and law. With this, he was rendered immune to the embassy’s law-based wards. Well, he was immune to those that applied to his person, anyway. Spells and abilities that passed beyond his immediate presence would be lightly suppressed.
While everyone prepped, the robed figure took a spot on the ship’s bow.
“We all know our roles,” Zhuri Wacera said, her unknowable voice covering the entire ship. “Lord Kókkinos and I will start the battle, striking at the central defense tower. Sir Dinh will invite the second wave a moment after. Magister Swift will sever the embassy’s main ether line, then provide overwatch. The third wave is here. All six ships will advance the second the gate opens.”
Archduchess Wacera turned her hooded head.
“Do not fear the angels,” she said. “Fear the silence. Fear those who quietly accept Heaven’s transgressions. It is our right to demand more. It is our duty to create a better world. We are the fire! We are the flame that burns the rot! We are the light of a new era! Heaven has nailed this world to their misbegotten cross. Hell claims we light the sparks of war. If this putrid world is our destiny, I say: LET IT BURN!”
““LET IT BURN!”” the crowd roared in echo. Thump. Thump. Thump. In unison, the gathered demons stomped their feet or slammed their weapons onto the deck. ““Let it burn. Let it burn.””
“Let fire take the whole of the nether,” the black-robed figure continued, her voice greater than the din. “We will wash this wicked world in fire, wiping the slate clean so it is fit for His creation. The Heavenly Will stands as proof of His greatness. Only He can guide the world into a new era. So we call, oh, Lord Prometheus, grant us true utopia!”
““Grant us true utopia!”” the crowd shouted back.
Sylvester, the Thirteenth Apostle of Fire, listened as the raucous roars transformed into a steady chant. A chant that swept all the surrounding ships, the decks beating like a hundred drums. He couldn’t help but wonder: had any of these lunatics met the jelly doughnut they were worshiping?
A blue-green light sparked. Four mages from Firestorm stepped forward, using their magic to enlarge the whirling gate. Lord Potami had helpfully provided several large realm crystals to supply much of the ether needed for this operation.
Speech finished, Zhuri Wacera melted into nothingness. Voomp. An invisible something passed through the gate. Lord Kókkinos stepped up next. Voomp. Sylvester and Sir Dinh followed shortly after.
Voomp, voomp.
When he emerged, Sylvester was in a small studio apartment. A thin mist clung to the air, a potion fog that kept the wards at bay. Tirza stood to the side, a confused expression on her face. Behind him was a crude arch, the blue-green light of the gate already fading.
It wasn’t a true frame. Instead, it was a mimicry. The actual magic was provided by the talisman Tirza had smuggled in using a special box hidden in her soul. The frame’s purpose was solely to trick the wards. Nothing more. Nothing less.
“Why did I…,” Tirza mumbled. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean to. I don’t understand. Why am I doing this?”
The blonde angel stood in a daze. She wobbled, confused and horrified. Sylvester patted the girl on the shoulder while uploading a new instruction set into her Duat Dream Drop.
“Be a good girl and plant these in the designated locations for us,” he said with a wicked grin. The faux angel dumped a score of talismans into the blonde’s hands.
Tirza blinked twice, then broke out in a broad smile. “Of course. I’m always happy to help.”
The poor girl hurried out of the room. The micro kernel in the dream drop would self-destruct in fifteen minutes, leaving little evidence of how she’d been tampered with. Well, excepting the dream drop itself, which would serve as a fine red herring. Sylvester let out a low chuckle. If he was lucky, Heaven would snatch Viscount Nychta off the street and have a little chat with him.
He glanced around the room. Archduchess Wacera was nowhere to be seen. Between the potion, Kenopeplos, and Anbaht, the woman could travel virtually anywhere in the embassy.
“I need one minute to create my spies,” Sylvester reminded, claiming a chair in the mostly empty room.
Sir Dinh cracked open a window while Lord Kókkinos leaned against a wall. Sylvester started a chant. The first spell he cast was catalyst circle for the advanced element anima. Blood ether flowed from a pendant hanging from his neck, the solidified blood dissolving as the ether was sucked out. Psychic energies joined the flow pulled from elemental dust. The ethers passed through the circle, creating the element of life.
Next came the runes. There were 3,818 in total, spun in multiple chains and sigils. Sylvester was slow and methodical, using 6 seconds and 96 syllables. From the weaves he formed three greater sigils. The first was Caraak, a pure rune of the anima element meaning: ‘The heart beats’. Then, on either side of the knot, he linked the glyph Aljanhat, a compound rune of the flesh aspect meaning, quite simply: ‘wing’.
Th-thump. Th-thump.
A figment came to life. Primordial energies were pulled naturally from the surrounding ether, guided in part by Sylvester himself. He held a small, white-feathered dove. The creature cooed in his hand. Sylvester opened his second bottle, dribbling a bit of potion on the figment’s head. Then he fed the bird twenty experience points.
“Fly, my pretty,” he said, tossing the bird into the air. “Fly!”
With a flutter, the dove vanished out the window. Moments later, it perched on a window sill, peering into the nearby hall. Sylvester nodded at Lord Kókkinos. The demon in an angel suit opened the door, then stepped out.
While Lord Kókkinos walked, the warlock cast the same spell again.
The embassy’s wards blocked most forms of scrying, whether by fate or causality. Prying eye wouldn’t work. Moswen had suggested ‘feathered watchmen’ as a workaround, a spell from the magia’s private library. The thought being that a dove would blend with the local figments. But this introduced another variable. The birds couldn’t link with Sylvester’s mind, as that avenue of communication was blocked. This created an awkward situation where the figments would be forced to fly back to him before sharing their senses.
Unacceptable.
He needed an avenue of communication that was quick and immediate. And he had one, in the form of his new dungeon attunement feature. Heaven knew about dungeon cores, of course. However, their wards didn’t yet target their spiritual transmission. So he tweaked the spell, creating a variation he called: ‘spies of a feather.’
Another dove flew out the window. Then a third. Then a fourth. A dozen spies took the air, scattering to every corner of the embassy. Video streams passed through the warlock’s soul, revealing everything glimpsed by their eyes and heard by their ears. Due to the short distance, he’d quadrupled the individual bandwidth for each unit. Still, the combined deluge was beyond his limits. He’d resolved that issue by dumping three-quarters of the video frames for any birds he wasn’t using at the moment.
Sylvester stood.
“Good luck, Magister Swift,” Sir Dinh offered.
“And to you as well, Sir Dinh,” Sylvester replied.
Disguised in his angel suit, Sylvester slipped out the door before striding down the hall. A man flashed a smile when he passed. The warlock gave a slight nod in his direction before stepping outside.
The embassy interior was brighter than night yet darker than day. There was no sun in the diakenon. Instead, the streetlights shed a brilliant glow. A portion of the light reflected off the geodesic barrier, adding to the force field’s weaker illumination.
The grounds themselves were beautiful. The embassy had put in a lot of effort, filling the territory with gardens and trees. In the parks, birds and small animals frolicked, adding a cheerfulness which couldn’t be found in the Asphodel Meadows. A small smile spread on Sylvester’s lips. Though it wasn’t at all the same, the design reminded him of the Academy butte.
He strolled around the embassy. From time to time, he dropped a small talisman before pressing it into the dirt with his shoe. A process Tirza repeated while traveling a different circuit. Sylvester kept well away from the central defense tower and the chancery as he went. There was no need to tangle with angels that might recognize his face. Instead, he made his way to the entrance tunnel.
Once he was near, Sylvester found a nice bench to relax on.
His first responsibility was to sever the ether artery.
Wards, barriers, and weapons of war were hungry things that chewed through ether in great volumes. The diakenon was a harsh void. It couldn’t provide this precious fuel. Heaven’s only choice was to pipe the energy in from the outside, which meant running a thick channel through the tunnel to Aidonopol.
The main artery was well-shielded. To snap it required a powerful individual like himself. The underlying circle, while heavily redundant, was less defended. For this, he’d planted talismans. When triggered, the gems would evoke the spell grave maw, shredding the wooden nodes beneath.
Even with this two-pronged attack, the embassy’s defenses wouldn’t fall. Heaven had strict rules regarding backup energy supplies, in the form of source crystals and elemental dust. But, with all the energy leeching, the wards would rapidly run short.
Through his doves, Sylvester surveyed the situation.
At the mouth of the tunnel were a pair of einherjar. A man and woman who looked very relaxed, as they should be. The main defensive position in the tunnel was near the center of the path. These guards were only there to dissuade equally bored angels from poking around where they didn’t belong.
Further away, Tirza had been forced to a stop before half her talismans were planted. A friendly angel chatted with the blonde girl. A pity, but not a serious issue. The real star of the show, Lord Kókkinos, approached the central defense tower.
“It won’t be more than a few seconds now,” Sylvester observed.
With events reaching their crux, he projected his staff. Chrome Tempest, in the form of a cane, gained reality. The ether sources within drew gently from the surrounding atmosphere. The pull was slow and steady to avoid revealing his presence.
Using his feathered spies, he took note of all the defensive emplacements. A small chunk of the embassy’s security was in the tunnels, but Hiền Dinh had assured them they wouldn’t abandon their position easily. As well they shouldn’t, because Firestorm would send one hundred chimera through the embassy’s front door. The larger group of guards was positioned in the chancery and the central defense tower. In fact, those groups alone were more than half the einherjar in total. Most of the remainder were positioned around the outer rim of the embassy, manning the lightning cannons.
Though the guards were the core security force, the embassy staff was a major threat. There were no fewer than twenty virtues on the grounds, along with three thrones: Charmeine, Nir, and Gideon. It was Firestorm’s misfortune that Lady Charmeine was in the complex, but their luck was favorable in that two of the five ambassadors were elsewhere on business.
Lord Kókkinos stopped in front of the central defense tower.
The great demon gazed at the barrier, the force field of polygons far weaker than the outer dome. He summoned an axe. It was large and heavy, the head bigger than the man himself. Ki flooded the weapon, aura pouring out to make the axe bigger and bigger. Ethers flooded in, reinforcing ki with the elements: wind, earth, and fire.
He swung. Lord Kókkinos’s mystical art plowed through polygons of force with the sound of shattering glass. Cra-ch-ch-ching! The thunderous blow was heard halfway across the embassy. The geodesic barrier held, its inner layers shuffling quickly. The great demon swung again, his axe a calamity tearing through five facets.
Thanks to his doves, Sylvester caught when every angel in the embassy froze. Shock and confusion reigned, followed shortly by anger, courage, and terror. A second sound rose, the wailing scream eclipsing the thunder.
Wee-oo-wee-oo!
Sylvester felt a shift. Chains of dense wards reacted, enchantments clamping down with greater force. The clear hexagons of the geodesic barrier above turned a milky orange. Security guards leapt to alert, cross-hilted swords flying from their sheaths. Golem cores detached from their belts, magic weaving bodies of ice. The guards were soon joined by an equal number of frost wolf figments.
He was likewise moving. Sylvester raised his cane, dark energy pooling around him.
“Defensive positions!” one of the einherjar roared, his head turning in the warlock’s direction.
Too late. “■■■■■ ■■.”
Sylvester spun a pattern of four hundred and fifty-two runes, creating the greater glyph: Zirgaf. A pitch-black hand took form. Then it slammed down, giving little warning. Angels hardened their ki, but against the weight of the abyss they had little defense. The dark palm crushed rock, dirt, golems, and angels with ease. Then the fingers curled, the hand collapsing into a black hole. A brown-haired man screamed, close enough that he was caught by the twisting gravity. Vile darkness sucked him in with a sickening c-c-crunch.
“■■■.”
Before the first spell was done, waves of ether crackled around the warlock. Two hundred and fifty-two runes were woven in two-tenths of a second. Jagged, blue sparks crawled up Sylvester’s cane. The bolt brewing was not a product of the lightning element. This scintillating wire came from the advanced element sky.
Ba-raa-raa-aack!
A terrible flash ripped across the grounds, thunder rolling as it went. The barbed line twisted and turned, tearing through multiple targets in a single cast. Still stunned, only a handful of the scattered angels showed proper reactions. Without a hardened defense, his chain lightning punched straight through their hearts, killing a dozen men and women before they could blink.
The einherjar responded with greater efficiency. Three hardened their ki. Two raised a sword or a shield in defense. Sylvester’s bolt smashed into them regardless, the wire scattering into threads before piercing into armor and flesh. Their gullbrynja triggered its emergency defense, sparing their lives.
Those that blocked were lightly injured. Those with a weaker defense were left with more serious wounds.
Sylvester’s gaze swept the area around him. All the angels within fifty meters were cleared. There were a couple of einherjar further away, but they were still too stunned to offer a proper response.
Best to deal with his primary objective first. “■■■■■ ■■.”
A second black hand formed over the great divot torn out by the first fist. Into the hole, abyssal fingers stabbed deep, dirt giving way to the crushing force. The giant hand wrapped around buried channels. Armored pipes strained against the darkness. Then – snap – they splintered.
Ether burbled up through the dirt, the loose energy flooding the embassy’s interior.
“■■■, ■■■, ■■■,” Sylvester continued without pause, unleashing three jagged bolts in rapid succession. Their gleaming light lingered just long enough that the stacked streams looked like a twisting, ragged net. Chain lightning was a powerful spell, but it did have its weakness. Targets had to be selected in advance, an operation made possible thanks to his spies of a feather. The bolt also became just the slightest bit weaker with each target it pierced.
Against a readied foe, that made all the difference in the world. Fifteen fell while twenty were left injured. Fortunately, this included the only einherjar aware of his position, with some of his bolts flying far beyond the line of sight.
Lowering his cane, Sylvester retreated from the tunnels. His faux angel body melted away, white robes transforming into a far more handsome pinstriped suit.
“A man ought to look sharp on the stage,” he joked as he snaked through the woods. “Because this day will be one for the history books.”
With a wild smirk, his forefinger flicked over his thumb. Snap. All around the embassy, talismans triggered. Stone jaws swam through the dirt before clamping down on the wooden channels below. The interconnected circles broke at the nodes of greatest import.
Goodbye, Tirza. I hardly knew you.
Sylvester felt the wards groan as they shifted to their backup power source. Precious energy was leaking from dozens of cracked channels. The efficiency of the system had fallen by half.
As he traveled, he continued to cast. Five barrier frames formed around him. On the outermost layers he placed three elemental wards covering: ice, sky, and lightning. He would’ve liked a ward against light, but Sylvester didn’t know an appropriate spell to stop that aspect. Instead, he tossed in crystalline heart, which would, at least, provide protection against psychic.
Each spared second was a boon. His staff sucked in great gulps of ether, filling to the brim. His palaces drank the air in unison, slowly filling their greater depths. Crimson eyes skimmed past blue windows. A handful of angels were drawing too close for comfort.
“■■■,” Sylvester chanted. Chain lightning sparked, cleaning out the nearby cruft. Even a single cast emptied Chrome Tempest entirely, then drew from his sky palace. He grimaced, then cast again. “■■■. That gullbrynja armor is irritating.”
As every gamer knew, the difference between a one-hit kill and a two-hit kill was night and day.
Battle roared in the distance. Security guards poured out of the chancery, rushing to reinforce the central defense tower. Cylindrical golems hovered in the sky, firing burning beams at Lord Kókkinos. The great demon dodged and guarded, slipping around rays as well as brilliant crescents cast by multiple swords. His great axe hewed again, shattering multiple polygons of force. For half a second, there was a gap revealing the tower’s interior. Then a plane of force filled the hole.
Lord Kókkinos suddenly retreated.
Threats were everywhere. Einherjar were claiming their stations, giving life to the frost wolf golems at their belts. Additional construct golems flew from the annexes, rising in defiance to the embassy’s anti-flight wards. Sylvester himself fell back, space compressing around him as he fled. A casual gesture summoned a glacial scale. Just in time for the plane of ice to intercept a searing beam. To reserve ether, he avoided counter fire, playing cat and mouse in the lightly wooded park.
Lines of ether crawled up all five wings of the Iber Hatz.
Shunk!
Steel flashed. With terrifying slowness, the barrels of the calamity cannons slid off their severed stumps. The tops bounced off the insides of the geodesic barrier. Archduchess Wacera faded into view between the ruined gun, her body stretched and elongated by her legendary robes. The dark elf’s elegant rapier gleamed in the artificial light.
Then she dove. Cree-Boom!
In a single blink, Zhuri Wacera crashed into one of the pipe organ wings. Her rapier sank deep into the siege weapon’s core, dozens of stone spikes growing from the wound. Metal warped under the pressure, then ruptured. The Iber Hatz weapon system exploded, sending metal shards spraying randomly in the barrier. The archduchess flickered again, sending a second wing to its doom shortly after the first.
The central defense tower was now the dark elf’s killing ground.
“Everyone, to me!” Lady Charmeine called, her voice rising above the madness. The raven-haired ophanim floated above the chancery, flanked by eight cylindrical golems. She, too, must’ve been an exception to the wards’ anti-flight provisions. “We must – ”
FOOM! F-foom!
A hardened building erupted in black flame. Through his doves, Sylvester saw demons pouring out of Tirza’s apartment building in a hellish scourge. Glass bottles flew from their hands, shattering on the fortified structure that held the soul beacon.
The worst was yet to come.
BAROOO!
The apartment building burst, a sixteen-meter titan rising from the rubble. Lord Potami’s great, gray trunk stood high, sounding out in a powerful trumpet. The bipedal elephant shifted, brushing aside the broken fragments of the building. Drugi’s yellow-green basilisk eyes turned, stopping on the gathered angels.
He moved.
“■■■, ■■■, ■■■!”
Sylvester spat his spells the second he realized Lord Potami’s intent. Three strings of lightning shot from his cane, a swirling group of serpents that swept across the embassy. With a nasty zig, they whipped through the two cylindrical golems chasing the warlock. Streams of lightning tore through metal plates, obliterating their insides before zagging back toward the chancery. Here, the jagged bolts split, piercing in from multiple angles.
Barriers snapped up around Lady Charmeine, deflecting two bolts. The third wire targeted ambassador Nir first while a deflected bolt flashed toward his face. Somehow, the thin man slipped around the lightning while swatting aside the other stream of electricity with his gladius. Gideon, the final ambassador, raised the display of skill a full level, directly snatching one of the scintillating wires with his bare hand.
Lightning squirmed in the man’s palm. With a twist and squeeze, Gideon crushed the bolt. Sylvester’s chain lightning dissolved into sparks.
Not everyone was so lucky. Though weakened, the other two bolts tore through the crowd damaging construct golems and a few virtues. The worst part of his attack, however, wasn’t the destruction. It was the distraction.
BOOM!
With a great leap, Lord Potami flew from the apartment building to crash into the chancery. Black flame exploded all around the colossal elephant. Barooo! With a second trumpet, Drugi charged, smashing through damaged walls with sheer momentum. Hellfire swirled around him, gathering into a horrifying hurricane centered on Lord Potami’s giant glaive.
“Kill that mage!” Lady Charmeine screeched, gesturing in the warlock’s direction. “Nir, Gideon, help me – ”
Woomph.
Drugi swung. The polearm smashed through the burning building, unleashing a deadly spray of black fire. Death rained down on the gathered angels. The hungry fire feasted on flesh, ki, magic, and the dirt beneath. One hundred voices screamed, flailing as they desperately fled the blaze.
Lady Charmeine beat her wings, rising higher. A brilliant beam shot from her caduceus staff, searing the elephant’s side. Nir moved so fast he seemed to vanish before plunging his gladius into Drugi’s knee. The ambassador flashed back when the titan exploded with fire.
“Gide – ”
Nir’s call cut short, his quick movements slowing as he gazed up in horror. The third throne, Gideon, remained still in the sky. Blood burbled from his lips, a slim and elegant blade thrust straight through his heart. From the emptiness behind, a dark figure emerged. Then, with a contemptuous slash, Archduchess Wacera ripped her sword free by slicing Gideon in half.
Sylvester had his own troubles.
Three virtues split off the host rushing in his direction. Sylvester fell back, elongating the gap, so his ether would have a chance to recover. In Heaven’s caste system, virtues were Awakened angels of the third or fourth consolidation. This class could be subdivided into malakim and tarshishim, with the latter being the stronger of the two.
The group pursuing Sylvester had two malakim and one tarshishim. He wasn’t too worried about the former. They were poorly equipped members of the staff. The golden-haired tarshishim was an einherjar commander. He’d be much more dangerous.
Sylvester rounded the corner of the Mador Sod annex.
“■-■-!”
Time slowed as the mirrored lake sutra took effect. Magma surge rolled off the warlock’s tongue. Ten frost wolf golems and two guards startled at the silver-haired gentleman’s appearance. Then the ground erupted.
Boom!
A spray of shrapnel tore through the group, shattering three wolves even as it sent an einherjar tumbling through the sky. A geyser of lava followed. More distant enemies, clipped by the shattered stone, were drenched in molten liquid. The frost wolves directly evaporated, the two elements canceling.
Three golems were left, along with a single wounded angel. With the mental acceleration brought by his transformation realm art, Sylvester had plenty of time to contemplate his next action.
“-■, -■-■!”
Ethers of wind, water, and ice poured from his staff and his palace. With his left hand, he spun coils of runes, sending a quartet of buzzsaws screaming forward. In the same moment, Sylvester turned, completing a sudden pivot. A glacial scale and an aqua shell formed around him.
Bang!
The second the malakim mage rushed around the building, he opened fire. Lightning flashed. The lance splintered on Sylvester’s ward before smashing into his glacial scale. A cross-hilted sword shimmered. In nearly the same moment, the tarshishim warrior swung, sending a crescent of light in the warlock’s direction.
Sylvester sidestepped, space stretching to his right. He wasn’t fast enough. Splush! The brilliant beam tore through his aqua shell, reducing it to nothing. W-w-whoo-whoosh. With a raging scream, four scythes flew past the gentleman, stirring his short silver hair. The patrol behind him was nothing but a pair of corpses and a pile of evanescing ice.
“■■■!”
A blue bolt sparked. The tarshishim planted his feet. Ki spread from his shield, creating a bubble to protect the group. Lightning struck. The barbed wire smashed through the golden-haired warrior’s ki, fraying into thick threads. Sky element wards were next, reducing the cords into thinner filaments.
These remnants crashed into a hardened defense. Though reduced, the sheer power behind Sylvester’s spell carried through. The scattered sparks pierced flesh and armor alike. Both malakim staggered. The tarshishim barely felt the blow.
Then the scythes hit. Screaming wind tore through a weakened wall of ki. The golden-haired warrior lunged, his gleaming blade cutting a buzzsaw in half. The remaining three scythes swept in from wider angles. Cra-chink! The mage managed a glacial scale at the last instant, sending the scythe ricocheting into the distance. The malakim warrior wasn’t so lucky. One blade went high. The other went low. With his shield, he blocked the first, then – splut – the second sliced through his leg after bouncing off the ground.
That’s when Elroy struck.
From the roof of the Mador Sod annex, a giant white wolf plunged. Elroy’s front paws landed on top of the malakim warrior, slamming the man straight into the ground. The werewolf continued his rush, jaws spread wide. Crunch. Elroy bit down, capturing the mage between ki-laced teeth.
Sylvester opened the distance, space stretching behind him. The golden-haired tarshishim chased, gaining with every step. A brilliant crescent flashed. The warlock’s fingers flicked, a chain of runes spinning a shield of ice. Shink! Searing light ripped right through Sylvester’s glacial scale, granting him a bare instant to sidestep.
“-■-!” Sylvester snapped back.
Stone teeth ripped from the earth. Like a mighty jaw, they closed. In nigh the same instant, Sylvester added a lightning lance to the mix, both spells burning pure mana. Faced by the sudden retort, the tarshishim warrior ducked. Lightning glanced off his shield. His sword gleamed. With a sweeping spin, the golden-haired man carved through all five of grave maw’s teeth.
Sylvester’s eyes gleamed. The rapid chain of spells had served their purpose, nailing the fourth consolidation angel in place.
“■■!”
Boom!
Once more, the earth erupted. An explosion of shrapnel took the tarshishim off guard. The blond man tumbled in the air, his ki thickening to resist the spray of lava that followed shortly behind.
Shoo, shunk!
In the battle beyond, the warlock’s three surviving scythes wreaked havoc. While Sylvester fought the golden-haired tarshishim, the malakim mage escaped Elroy’s jaw using void slip. His reprieve was short-lived. Crack! Shunk! Two scythes slashed in. One was parried by the desperate man’s staff. The second cut through his waist, tearing a hunk out of the mage’s chest.
The buzzsaws weren’t done. The parried scythe was out of position, but the other two relentlessly swept toward the malakim warrior. With skillful movements, he blocked both, standing on a leg made from his aura.
Which left him completely defenseless when a dark-skinned goblin emerged from his shadow. Gavin punched. The goblin’s arm swelled as he swung, transforming into a pile of muscle as thick as a tree’s trunk. The fist blasted the angel in the back, sending him flying straight toward Elroy. The white wolf blurred into his half human form, catching the pitch with his massive war hammer. Crack! The warrior’s trajectory reversed, his body flashing across the sky before smacking into the Mador Sod annex like a wet sack.
Meanwhile, the tarshishim landed.
The golden-haired warrior flicked his ki, the sudden shift throwing globs of incandescent lava off his body. Sylvester’s fist clenched. Five stone teeth tore through the dirt, a mighty jaw snapping closed. The einherjar commander jumped, flipping through the air like an Olympic gymnast.
C-clang!
A triplet of wind scythes finished their circuit. With a spin, the tarshishim evaded one. The other two struck armor, carving out shallow bits of metal and meat. A cross-hilted sword gleamed, the blade shining as though it were a strip of sunlight. Still in the midst of his acrobatics, the angel swung.
“■■- – ”
Sylvester’s left hand blurred while he was chanting, forming a solid plane of ice. The searing crescent of light burned right through, catching the warlock across the neck. Spring Blossom’s barrier cracked and shuddered, yet held. The impulse of the blow made Sylvester stagger.
Landing neatly on the grass, the tarshishim gathered sunlight another time. Crack! Only for the bones in his right arm to suddenly snap, splinters shooting through his flesh. The angel jerked, his crescent beam flying wide.
“– ■-■- – ”
Sylvester didn’t miss his chance. With a slight interrupt, he returned a lightning lance. The bolt slipped past the tarshishim’s sky ward without a care in the world. Rather than block with his shield, the golden-haired man leaned. Electricity burned a black sear across his face.
Clung!
The tarshishim’s shield rose as he twisted, intercepting Elroy’s giant hammer instead. The werewolf’s weapon pressed in with the force of a mountain, the angel’s shield ringing like a gong. Momentum drove the angel to his knees, his right leg creaking when Gavin’s curse played sudden havoc.
With a grunt, the tarshishim threw Elroy back.
“– ■ ■■!”
Only to be smashed into a meat patty when Sylvester’s black hand slapped down.
A quiet fell on their surroundings but not the battlefield itself. Th-th-thud! The warlock’s gaze turned up to see Hellfire spill over the geodesic barrier. The bolts had struck the translucent polygons near the corners, ensuring that their black fire would cover more than one surface. The embassy’s enchantments reacted instantly, casting aside the flaming fields of force while shuffling the inner layer outward.
The third wave had arrived.
The embassy was quick to turn its cannons from Archduchess Wacera to the latest threat. The guns barked, sending brilliant columns into the dark. Of the eight towers, only four were left. The rest had been crushed by Lord Kókkinos. Unfortunately, the great demon’s rampage had stalled out. Instead, he fought defensively while surrounded by a dozen einherjar, one virtue, and four cylindrical golems.
The fight near the chancery was more favorable. Archduchess Wacera had yet to dispose of either throne, but she’d been whittling away at the angelic numbers. Of the dozen or so virtues, only five were left, and many of the construct golems had been crushed.
Nearby, Lord Potami remained a raging force of nature. His black flames were used sparingly now, his reserves of energy heavily consumed. His titanic husk was covered in wounds, a few piercing well past his gray hide.
Ironically, the biggest problem was the weaker members of the staff. Though more than half were dead, they were numerous and scattered. Their attacks couldn’t do anything to the titan, but the dark elf was forced to evade swarms of attacks.
Sylvester’s gaze turned to his companions. “A most excellent ambush.”
“We’re glad to be of service,” Gavin said with a toothy grin.
Elroy approached, his half-wolf form shrinking into a swarthy human shape. “Where shall we fight next?”
“We need to deal with the cannons,” he decided. “Otherwise, they’ll turn our ships into tinder. Guard me. I’m going to break this stalemate and flip things in our favor.”
Elroy offered a firm nod, his gaze sweeping the area warily. With a vicious smile, Gavin dissolved into shadow. The goblin loved his boots.
Sylvester’s mind turned inward. Eyes closed, he felt for the wards’ magic and intent. He could sense the strain in the air. The main ether pipe had been cut, leaving the embassy’s weapons and protections to choke. The circle beneath was cut in multiple locations, creating losses, bad flows, and nasty eddies. Hellfire burned not only on the outer barrier, but inside the embassy as well. The dark flames feasted on every form of ether, including the law-based enchantments.
The system was at its limit. With the right push, it might break.
“Light’s brilliance fades into dullness.”
Space ether gushed from the bottles at Sylvester’s waist. The energy passed through his great galaxy core, transmuting the single element into the advanced form law. Runes fell from his lips, forming the greater sigil Shalquaq. His edict took form, echoing across the embassy.
Suddenly, every light aspect attack weakened. The wards shifted in response. The greater enchantments strove to grind Sylvester’s law into dust. Normally, his edict would’ve been erased in a handful of seconds. Right now, the spell would last half a minute instead.
But he wasn’t done. “■■■■ ■■ ■■■■■ ■.”
Five hundred runes gathered in front of him, creating an unpolished spell he called stricken law. Into this cup he poured a flood of ether. The space dust in his bottles drained to nothing, the energy transmuted into the element void. Still, it wasn’t enough. Sylvester added pure mana to the mix to achieve the greatest possible strength.
Then he spoke. When the words left his lips, he passed into them his understanding. Comprehension became an invisible spear aimed directly at the wards’ weakness.
“Your rules have no power here!”
Magic pulsed. The world cracked. Sylvester felt the ground beneath the embassy buck, the foundation of the enchantments suffering a sudden, brutal backlash. All at once, the wards collapsed. The proscription against flight was gone. The subtle suppression was removed along with the various augmentations to the angels.
Most importantly, the interdiction on realm magic was removed.
A vile smile spread on his lips. The warlock reached out, darkness pouring from his abyss palace. “■■■, ■■■■■ ■■.”
His fist squeezed. Far off on his left, a giant black hand mimicked his motion. Abyssal force crushed a mighty tower, stone walls crumbling under the grinding, gravitational force. Somehow the structure still stood. A problem easily solved. Sylvester cast the spells again.
“■■■, ■■■■■ ■■.”
Rune gate was followed by black hand. Another palm appeared without warning or notice. The fist grasped the tower. This time, the weakened barrier crumpled, squeezing the tower’s top, the lightning cannon, and all the defenders into mush.
Skimming the blue screens to ensure no one had approached, Sylvester allowed four seconds to restore his ether. Then he did it again. And again. And again. Tower after tower was ground into dust. Heaven’s brave defenders held until the last, the streams of lightning piercing the diakenon until the final gun was squashed.
During this time, Firestorm’s fleet had been reduced from six to four.
With nothing left to stop it, Hellfire kept falling. Thud. Th-thud. Black bolts pounded into the barrier above. Force magic unraveled quickly. With the wards broken, the inner layer failed to shuffle, and new walls were never forged.
Gaps opened. The Peína’s guns sounded. A terrible stream struck close to the chancery, reducing a virtue to ash.
Then came the chimera. At the lead were one hundred gull-winged serpents. The beasts slipped through the openings, spewing poison at any angel they could find. It wasn’t much. It didn’t have to be. Heaven was already on the back foot. A new source of pressure was enough to cause a stumble.
Sylvester added insult to injury. “-■-■-■, -■-■-■.”
Lightning sparked. This time, his spells didn’t stretch out from his person. Instead, they appeared suddenly at the angels’ backs. Jagged wires whipped through the crowds, slaughtering a score. The sudden intervention sent fissures through the embassy’s forces.
As the angelic ranks fell into chaos, Lord Potami surged. The titan slammed his glaive into a building, then filled the structure with blazing Hellfire. Screaming staff poured out from inside, only to be crushed beneath an elephant’s foot.
“■■■, ■■■■■ ■■!” Sylvester continued.
A black hand blinked into existence at Ambassador Nir’s back. The fist slammed shut. Before it could, the Transcendent angel dove for safety. Except, his action was the opposite of safe. With a beautifully timed swipe, the Archduchess Wacera swept Nir’s head from his shoulders. Then, with a brutal kick, she sent his still living torso into the whirling pit of darkness.
Just like that, it was over. The battle continued, but the results were now a foregone conclusion. Lady Charmeine’s expression fell. She knew it. Everyone knew it. Two thrones weren’t a match for an archdemon. It was only the virtues, the golems, and the other adds that kept them in the fight.
And now they’d been whittled to near nothing. Worse, Firestorm’s last wave was closing in. Soon it’d be the demons who outnumbered the angels.
“For thousands of years, our nations have stood at peace,” Lady Charmeine spoke as she flew higher. The ambassador’s voice filled the embassy. “What do you hope to gain from this endeavor except ruin?”
“Your peace is an illusion,” Zhuri sneered in retort. The dark elf floated into the sky, ten meters away from the raven-haired ophanim. “And we are the unwelcome light that burns through your lies. Lady Charmeine, your nation is a sin. A blasphemy. For too long has Heaven stifled His Great Work. The Heavenly Will was not meant to bow before your Choir. You fight for a false peace. We would rather see the netherworld burn.”
“A false peace?” Lady Charmeine questioned, her voice rising. “There is no such thing as a false peace! In the last thousand years, how many battles have been fought to stop Hell’s colonial efforts? How many ships have been lost between our people? Zeus is dead. Odin is gone. Yggdrasil has fallen. When the Silent Age dawned, we committed ourselves to a new Heaven. A better, kinder Heaven.
“The peace we have is real!” the raven-haired ambassador expounded. “That doesn’t mean we’ll always agree. Nor does it mean that we’ll never fight. Peace means we keep our squabbles small and we try to settle our differences without violence. And we have succeeded. We have peace, a real peace, not just for Heaven, but for Hell and the Fey Federation! Attacking this embassy won’t make things better. It will empower the factions that hope for war. The people in Heaven who dream of unification no matter the cost!”
It was a beautiful speech. Sylvester found himself agreeing. The thing was… cultists weren’t known for their reasonable desires nor for their concern for the future.
“The darker the night, the brighter the fire,” Zhuri Wacera returned. “You speak of peace, but we long for retribution!” Her rapier faded into mist. A long staff took form in replacement. “Let this embassy be our message. Let our actions be our voice. Heaven’s blasphemy will not stand. If that means the netherworld must burn, then… LET IT BURN!”
The archduchess held her new weapon aloft. A magical blade grew from the top, forming a scythe. Sylvester felt a chill run down his spine. Even from where he stood, he could see the hue of the soul element in the weapon’s magic. There was only one reason to make a weapon that used soul.
“You’ve gone mad,” Lady Charmeine breathed in horror. The ophanim floated back. “You’ve gone completely mad. Heaven will never let this stand.”
“And how many of our brothers and sisters were executed by your Inquisition?” the archduchess scoffed, her mysterious voice reverberating throughout the embassy. “We, too, will not let that stand. Rejoice, ambassador. When the Will is freed from Heaven’s treachery, your sacrifice will be remembered.”
With that said, the dark elf vanished. Lady Charmeine chanted, her free hand flicking through a chain of seals. Crack! A scythe struck from the nothingness, the pale blade shattering the ophanim’s shield. Archduchess Wacera’s hazy form appeared beside the throne.
“■■■!” Ambassador Charmeine spat.
Spears of light shot at the archdemon in a scatter. Laughing, Zhuri faded out of existence. Her mysterious voice lingered even after she vanished. Rather than stay and fight, Lady Charmeine fled for the diakenon. Two syllables added a new barrier even as her gesture magic finished a catalyst circle that hovered behind her.
Crack!
Zhuri appeared again at the ambassador’s right. A single blow shattered Lady Charmeine’s barrier. As she faded into the void, the dark elf tossed out a potion. Indigo fog poured from the flask, filling a space two hundred meters in every direction.
“How many of our people have trembled in fear?” the archdemon mocked from the emptiness. “Heaven has never shied when destroying the souls of sinners.”
“■■■ ■■■!” the ophanim cried.
To Lady Charmeine’s horror, a gate failed to open. The raven-haired woman beat her wings, trying to flee the territory, but space itself stretched, preventing all forms of retreat.
“What sin have I committed against your people?”“The sin of looking the other way,” Zhuri sneered, emerging at the ambassador’s right.
Shunk!
The ophanim gasped. The blade of Archduchess Wacera’s scythe punched through her gut, the pale edge emerging from the other side. Before she could say another word, the dark elf yanked.
Souls were neither here nor there. Bodies were as much a container for the soul as they were an antenna receiving it. In this sense, Zhuri’s scythe was a fisherman’s hook. When pulled, she dragged the soul not just from Lady Charmeine’s body, but from the depths of Unus Mundus.
The ophanim’s empty husk fell. Archduchess Wacera held her weapon high. A bulbous soul wiggled on the blade like some hideous fruit.
“Oh great Prometheus,” the dark elf intoned. “LET THIS WICKED WORLD BURN.”
A terrible, vile light of red and purple crawled up the rod. Lady Charmeine’s soul burned. Sylvester watched with sick fascination as the outer membranes crumbled, soul essence leaking into the surroundings. As the layers peeled back, seven inky black nuclei were revealed. Their membranes bubbled up as though afflicted with a cancerous tumor before fading.
The world seemed to shudder. Sylvester felt the Heavenly Will’s many eyes turn in their direction.
““LET IT BURN!””
Without fear or hesitation, the demons of Firestorm shared their leader’s roar.
Sylvester turned from the sight. “Let’s go,” he said bitterly. “I want to check out the Mador Sod annex before Firestorm turns everything to ash.”
-oOo-
Einherjar Soldier Species: Celestial, PrincipalityLv: 450Hp/Mp: 1,633 / 596Atk/Def: 406, 133 pierce / 161, 5% DR (ki: 221, 15% DR)Celerity: 246%, awareness 170%
Einherjar CaptainSpecies: Celestial, PowerLv: 600Hp/Mp: 2,523 / 960Atk/Def: 541, 143 pierce / 181, 5% DR (ki: 261, 15% DR)Celerity: 298%, awareness 191%
Einherjar CommanderSpecies: Celestial, VirtueLv: 1225Hp/Mp: 5,932 / 2,208Atk/Def: 1207, 330 pierce / 350, 5% DR (ki: 515, 15% DR)Celerity: 448%, awareness 260%
Frost Wolf GolemSpecies: Figment GolemLv: 400Hp/Mp: 1,500 / 1,100Atk/Def: 400, 100 pierce / 125Celerity: 265%Dominion: 140
Abilities: Frost Fang, Frost Breath, Rapid Regeneration
Lord Potami – Titan Body (C-VIII/Mid)Species: Great TitanLv: 2011Hp/Mp: 49,492 / 3,840Atk/Def: 6296, 540 pierce / 759, 10% DR (ki: 1268, 25% DR)Celerity: 240%
Traits:Golden Elephant Core, Thick Hide II, Eyes of the Basilisk, Magic Resistant Hide I, Will of Fire, Life Force II, Monstrous Strength II, Profane Flame; (Horns, Ether Arteries, Sacred Heart, Titan [50% SR])
Titan Bodies
Titans are large creatures whose mass is 100 times greater than that of an ordinary demon. For human-shaped beasts, this means a titan stands 10+ meters tall. Phantasmal beasts are rarely titans. Chimeric warbeasts can reach the size of titans. Nether beasts and immortal beasts are usually titans. By military parlance, constructs and creatures of titanic size whose Class is VI or lower are called behemoths. This is to avoid confusion in battle when someone cries: “Titan!”
‘Titan body’, however, is a specific term. It refers to titanic husks occupied by an immortal’s soul. Because a titan body scales in strength with the soul riding it, a well-made titan is often the single most powerful unit on the battlefield, bar none.
Creating a simple, enlarged titan body requires moderate investment. Such titans will be physically tougher than the base body, while having greater striking power. In exchange, the titan will have lower relative speed. Relative speed only. A 16-meter titan will have roughly 8 times the stride length while possessing half the celerity, meaning that the body’s running speed is actually 4 times greater.
However, such bodies come with major obstacles. To start, they put a heavy burden on the soul, causing faster exhaustion in both mental and physical terms. Furthermore, the psyche cannot track a large body of flesh as effectively, making titans more vulnerable to curses and status effects of all kinds.
Titan bodies dominated the Age of Blood. During the Age of Magic, specialized spells left simple titans defunct. Even now, modern titan bodies are much smaller than those from the Ancient Era, generally running from 5 meters to 20 meters in height, as opposed to the greater than 100-meter titans mentioned in ancient myths.
Modern titan bodies aren’t weaker, however. To address the problem of magic, husks are modified, adding artificial organs. Forging techniques are also used, transforming the bones and skin into more powerful instruments. Generally, this results in 3 to 9 additional traits, with a similar tier bonus of +15% to +45% added. Because magic is a titan’s bane, several of the traits will be dedicated to anti-curse properties.
Cheaper titan bodies do exist and have been deployed with mixed results.
While titan bodies favor warriors, magical titans have been created. These, however, require the implantation of organs that scale magical power with size. Such traits are much rarer. Magical titan bodies tend to be smaller as well. Indeed, many are 3 to 5 meters in height, making the title ‘titan’ questionable at its root.