Raynar Dranlaov Nurthbuck, leader of the First Demon Legion of the Favlayn sectors, second son to the Empress of Shadow and first in line for the Shadow Throne—or “Ray” as his fellow party members called him—readied his party for the fight against the sole enemy Champion on this floor.
When they’d discovered a Champion had chosen to fight for Galadsea, Ray’s first reaction was to throw his head back and laugh.
What an utter fool!
Until he’d found out exactly who had done it.
Xavier Collins hadn’t been on Ray’s radar long. In fact, it seemed like only yesterday that he was watching the memory of the man defeating the World Destroyer in a single punch. The things that man had said to the great powers who’d been watching… well, he was an absolute fool to provoke the great powers of the inner sector like that.
Honestly, Ray had expected the man to be dead by now, and he’d thought he’d heard something about Jhanku capturing him—but that must have been merely a rumour.
Because here he was.
Clever, to hide away from your enemies in the Tower of Champions. Not clever enough.
He couldn’t believe the fool had chosen to fight for Galadsea. With all the dumbass choices this Xavier Collins was making, it was a wonder he’d survived this long at all.
Though, he had to admit, the dragonkin was much more powerful than he’d expected. He hadn’t imagined the man would last for more than a few waves, and then only because he might be hiding behind the queen and her entourage.
But the things he’d done… it gave him a flicker of worry for what they were about to do.
Well, he may be able to handle these waves, but that doesn’t mean he can take on ninety-nine parties of A Grades.
Ray looked back at his party, and all the other parties behind them. They’d gathered into the same Empire of Servitude ship. That way, all ninety-nine Champion parties could teleport down to the planet at the exact same time. The Champions had free roam of the ships, able to travel from one to the other, and the A Grade captains were always eager to take their advice—and they’d only become more eager as the fight wore on.
The ninety-nine parties of A Grade Champions would be an absolutely overwhelming force on the planet’s surface. Ray had watched memories of when the Champions all decided to come down to the planet on the first wave. It was a bit of a dangerous gambit, as even as powerful as they were, there was still a chance one of them might die. As it was close to impossible to gain a record on this floor, “rushes” were no longer in vogue. He hadn’t heard of any group of Champions doing that on this floor for at least a million, maybe even two million years.
Usually, the parties would simply wait until the inhabitants of the planet had been bled by the waves.
But the memories he had observed? Gods, there was so much glory in a fight like that!
Ray was feeling antsy. Ready and eager to get down there. Honestly, this is what they should have done in the first place. Ninety-nine parties, not all of them with a full complement of Champions, but even so they added up to three-hundred-and-fifty A Grades.
Three-hundred-and-fifty—three-hundred-and-fifty-one if you included the A Grade captain who would be teleporting down with them—A Grades and a hundred thousand B Grades.
All up against essentially one A Grade, as the other A Grades wouldn’t be fast enough to join the fight.
Ray was still completely baffled by how fast Xavier Collins was moving around the planet. There should have been no way for him to teleport or use portals, and yet he was travelling faster than should have been possible.
Another thing that’s strange about that man. Just add it to the bloody list.
Ray raised an eyebrow at Hahln, the pure-blood dragonkin who’d preached caution—of all things, caution was strange coming from one of their kind—to the other parties. Now that they’d forced his hand and were heading down to the planet, the dragonkin walked up to the front of the gathered Champions, his second—a beautiful, female dragonkin who Ray would have tried to chat up if she wasn’t a part of that particular sect—by his side, and faced everyone. Well, faced was the wrong word, as he never let his eyes fall on any of the gathered Champions, except for his other two party members, and mostly just looked over their heads.
He didn’t speak, either. Ray hadn’t yet heard the man’s voice. Speaking to non-dragonkin was beneath him. Ray sneered, listening as Seaina, his second, spoke for him.
“Do not underestimate our foe.” Seaina raised her chin, and she, at least, locked eyes with those standing in the audience. Even so, her gaze was a cold one. She inclined her head. “That is all.”
“That’s it?” Ray said. “That’s your great peptalk?” He stomped forward. He had half a mind to summon his halberd to his hand and challenge this Hahln to a duel right here, right now. That bastard really thinks he leads us? I could separate his head from his shoulders in a single swing—but maybe I wouldn’t bother.
Maybe I would just cut off those damned wings.
Ray, his dragon-scale armour gleaming in the glow of the ship lights, turned to face the gathered Champions.
Seaina eyed his armour with disdain. Or maybe she was just eyeing him with disdain.
Could be both.
“We have waited far, far, too long to move on Galadsea. Patience is important in war, but so is action. This Xavier Collins isn’t a match for any of us, let alone all of us.” He raised his fist. “Today, we show this upstart what real power is.”
In the corner of his eye, he couldn’t help but see Hahln smirking. It was the first time he’d seen anything but a cold, stony expression on the man’s face.
What the hell’s he smiling about? Ray wondered.
The thought had come to mind that, as a dragonkin, he might be in league with Xavier Collins. Perhaps that was why he’d preached caution in the first place—he didn’t want one of his kind to die. But of all the Champions on that floor, it was likely Hahln that wanted the “imposter” dragonkin dead the most.
Ray checked the timer counting down until the next wave—the wave they would be on. Only ten more seconds. He tried to think of something important to say in those ten seconds, something his mother might say, but the words didn’t come to him.
And really, why did he want to stand in front of these Champions and give a damned speech, like this was some kind of monumental moment? They weren’t fighting a true enemy—those of Galadsea weren’t really a threat to them.
They were going down there to fight one man. Even if he was a man who’d managed to take control of a few A Grade captains along the way and had those damned drones of his.
How could they possibly lose against one man?
There was a bounty on Xavier Collins head, too, he reminded himself. Maybe if I was the one who took his head, I’d be able to claim that bounty…
Mother would be proud of that, wouldn’t she? Proud enough to retire her throne, and finally bestow the crown to me?
The countdown reached zero. The System teleported them down to the planet. Ray blinked under the rays of sunlight. The instant they’d materialised, screaming sounded around them. Civilians everywhere were fleeing the sudden arrival of yet another Empire of Servitude wave.
Ray didn’t blame them. If he were in their shoes, he’d be running to. He hadn’t even bothered summoning his halberd yet—it would be at least a minute until Xavier Collins reached them. Besides, he didn’t want to have anything to do with slaughtering innocents.
Just because he was a demonkin, didn’t mean he was heartless.
That was one of the things he liked about this floor the least—that they were clearly not fighting for a just cause. Not that Ray had a pure heart.
He most certainly did not have a pure heart.
But that didn’t mean he was some kind of monster.
The Empire of Servitude’s soldiers, however, were monsters. Even if they were monsters by contract. They moved swiftly, killing anyone in their path who didn’t surrender fast enough. Hell, they even killed plenty who did surrender.
He’d been watching the planet ever since this floor had started and he’d discovered the first thousand waves had been defeated before they’d even reached the surface. Watching Xavier fight. Watching him do everything in his power to save the people down there.
That insane dragonkin may be an outright fool, but there was something about Xavier Collins that Ray couldn’t help but respect. He seemed to actually care about the people who lived on this planet.
Ray clenched a fist as he watched the soldiers slaughter the poor wretches in droves. Something inside him stirred. If this were the First Demon Legion he commanded, he would have ordered them to stop. Any who didn’t listen to his order fast enough would have lost a limb. Any who refused his order would have lost a head. The First Demon Legion weren’t contracted slaves. They were loyalists, like most citizens under the Shadow Throne. And though the Shadow Throne had always been ruled by a demonkin, not every citizen was demonkin—not even everyone inside the legions were. They were taken from all corners of the Favlayn sectors.
But the Empire of Servitude were not the First Demon Legion. These soldiers were not his to command. Even if they would listen to him, it wasn’t his place.
There was a part of him that wished he’d chosen to fight for Galadsea. A fool part that he tried not to listen to. It was the people of Galadsea who’d summoned the Champions here in the first place, he knew.
The System had turned on them.
But the choice had already been made—he could not simply switch sides. That was not how the Tower of Champions worked.
Ray glanced at the sky. He wasn’t the only one. While the one-hundred-thousand B Grade soldiers of this wave had moved out, wreaking destruction wherever they went, the ninety-nine parties of Champions, along with the wave’s A Grade captain, awaited Xavier Collins’s imminent arrival.
Ray didn’t imagine he would be able to see the dragonkin. He possessed quite a powerful concealment, something that only the combined powers of the ships above had been able to pierce.
Control: [He’s above. North. Coming your way fast.]
Ray finally summoned his halberd to his hand, his grip tightening and loosening around the shaft as his eyes darted this way and that, his spiritual sense spreading outward in what was no doubt a feeble attempt to see the man.
The screams started a split-second later. One of the A Grades to his left had half his head missing. He still lived, but it was safe to say he wouldn’t for long.
The A Grade warrior stared, wide-eyed, as a large wound suddenly gaped in his chest—as though an invisible weapon had been plunged straight through him.
Control: [He’s creating drones. Hundreds. Thousands.]
There were several voices coming through the Communication Stone channel, trying to pinpoint the original Xavier Collins’s location, but it kept shifting and moving too fast. He seemed to slip in and out of existence on a whim.
Ray resisted the urge to swing out wildly with his halberd. He wasn’t some fool child, and this wasn’t his first time on a battlefield. He had more wits than wild swings.
Another man screamed, this time to his right. But he didn’t die from a wound that came from nowhere—his fellow party member had cast a spell on him, setting his entire body aflame. The other A Grades in the area began attacking the one who’d cast the spell, even though he’d clearly been mind-controlled by the enemy.
More screams followed, and suddenly ethereal, transparent beasts were among them.
Ray’s spiritual sense was lighting up with energy all across the area, but it was near impossible to tell where that energy was coming from. Almost every single one of the A Grades was now casting a spell. Lightning struck empty areas. Spikes of ice shot this way and that. Waves of energy destroyed entire buildings.
Having this many A Grades in one place, fighting seemingly invisible enemies, without any true leadership…
Ray should have seen this coming. Should have seen the chaos of the situation. It was clear as day now. He’d been watching Xavier Collins for many, many waves. Studying his every move. And yet he’d come down here without a real plan. Even with Hahln, that insane pureblood dragonkin, preaching caution to the other Champion parties, Ray hadn’t seen it.
Three-hundred-and-fifty A Grades, plus the A Grade captain, against a single enemy. One man who, if the stories were true, wasn’t even A Grade himself. It didn’t matter what Xavier Collins had been able to achieve. It didn’t matter how powerful he was for his grade.
He wouldn’t be able to withstand the onslaught of this many A Grades.
Why bother preparing for such a fight? So he could turn invisible and didn’t need to worry about cooldowns. So he could mind-control some the weaker A Grade captains. So he could make drones…
That didn’t make him truly powerful, that just made him someone with a lot of tricks that had gotten him further than should have been possible.
And yet…
Already, a dozen of those three-hundred-and-fifty A Grade Champions lay dead on the ground. The A Grade wave captain was also dead, their head cleanly separated from their shoulders.
Impossible. This is all impossible. He shouldn’t be this strong. He shouldn’t be stronger than us!
Each one of them had enough power to take out an entire planet! Though none of them could unleash such powerful spells in such close quarters, as they would risk hurting their fellow Champions. They needed to make some distance between them and their enemy. Then focus fire.
They needed discipline. Control. A leader.
Ray would have to step up and be that leader—and he would do it gladly.
Raynar Dranlaov Nurthbuck: [Micallni, cancel the Portal Lock and the Teleport Lock. We’re hindering ourselves. Champions—all of you—I’m taking control. If you want to survive this, follow my orders. We can get through this—]
Ray cut off mid-sentence as four agonising screams ripped through the air. Except… no, they weren’t screams, they were roars. Roars so loud they seemed to make everyone in the area freeze. There was something primal about them. Something that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.
What new horror is this?
It wasn’t coming from Xavier or his drones.
It was coming from the pureblood dragonkin party. They were huddled together at the centre of the ninety-nine Champion parties—all those who still lived. Their hands were clasped together, wings spread wide, heads thrown back in that devastatingly loud roar.
They all glowed black. And then, they… combined.