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Board & Conquest 85: God Has Spoken
🕑 Added 2025-07-24 08:58:24 +0000 UTC-----
A fiery whirlwind consumed the worms of Hel, paving the path to Pitsfire with their charred corpses.
The burning tornado left a trail of destruction upon hitting the city, smashing walls, sending clay bricks flying into the air, and throwing the undead defenders into a panic. Seeing the smoke fill the sky while the earth melted and crackled into a tapestry of glowing embers was quite the sight. The storm didn’t advance far enough to harm Hel’s Altar, but it left a corridor of fire in its wake straight into the heart of the town.
Moreover, other fires started across the city in areas far away from the dying firestorm and closer to the Altar. The other fires began too closely for it to be natural, which pointed to sabotage.
“It seems my imp ninja contractors earned their keep,” Ishtar noted with a wide grin.
“You’re setting your own city on fire?” Hel protested, as if she cared. The way she clenched her Miracle cards betrayed her unease and frustration. She had banked on her giant maggots to stop the army’s advance, only to have them wiped out in a single combo.
“Too bad,” Wepwawet replied, “the magmorians like it.”
“As will my Champions,” Ishtar declared upon waving at the board. “Begin the advance.”
Emperor Malvolo raised his halberd, leaped atop a black bull with flaming hooves, and delivered an impassioned speech to his troops. “Hear me, oh martial pride of the Zoramesh Empire!” he shouted, his crimson aura flaring around him. “Thanks to your hard labor, our army is about to once again set foot on bloodied Valentinian soil to claim the land that is rightfully ours! Only this city, stolen by the hands of a false idol, stands in our way to glorious conquest! Shall we falter now, under the gaze of the true gods of victory?”
"NO!" The emperor’s troops shouted all at once, electrified by their leader’s words. "ZORAMESH! ZORAMESH!"
“Ours is the dawn of battle! Let the gods be our witnesses, Valentine shall be ours through the thrust of our blades and the strength of our will!” Emperor Malvolo pointed at Pitsfire with his halberd. “So onwards! To glory!”
And so began the Zoramesh Empire’s advance across a path of embers and charred flesh. Malvolo fearlessly rode ahead with his bull-riding cavalry while Jasper and Topaz followed with the infantry.
“He’s a good orator,” Wepwawet commented. Moreover, the demon legions appeared sincerely inspired in his presence.
“That and he has a Leadership III Perk,” Ishtar mused. “I conclude my turn there.”
And she did so with a good tactical position. The Zoramesh Empire would soon storm the crumbling walls of Pitsfire without encountering opposition, while trebuchets continued to bombard Pitsfire. Gargoyles who had taken positions on the hills around the city then began to fly towards it to storm the place in a vast pincer movement. Undead skeletons and zombies immediately tried to plug the gaps in their defenses, but none of them seemed like Champions up to the task.
Did she even field Champions at all? Wepwawet wondered as he focused on Hel. It doesn’t feel that way.
Unlike Watatsumi, whose pride had spurred him to summon a massive wave of Champion reinforcements rather than take a loss, Hel struck Wepwawet as the more calculating and long-term thinker type. He didn’t think she would be willing to commit too many resources for a single Altar’s sake. The fact that she had played purely defensively when it came to her units while relying on long-range Miracles to target enemy Commanders pointed in that direction. Mana was relatively cheap for a goddess with access to a solid civilization and a network of Altars, but Champions didn’t grow on trees. Mortis was also separated from Lavaland by both Timberan and Valentine, so there was no risk of Ishtar invading her heartland.
Wepwawet could almost guess the thoughts crossing her mind. Should she commit more troops than she already had to defend an Altar two countries away from her civilization while the fight was steadily turning against her? Should she accept the loss of her best card or run the risk of losing more Champions, knowing she might regret it when the next Incursion came around? Or should she focus on bleeding out the enemy so that her allies would have an easier time winning in the future?
Watatsumi seemed to sense his ally’s hesitation, and it worried him. “Hel-chan…”
“My turn,” Hel said once Ishtar’s timer reached five minutes. Whatever she drew caused her to scowl in annoyance. “I set a Rank 5 Prophecy and cast the Rank 8 Shadowalker Advent Ritual, which lets me fuse all shadows within my Influence to create a shadowalker monster.”
Darkness gathered in Pitsfire and arose as a colossal, ten-meter-tall shadowy outline of a horned and winged demonic beast. The entity floated towards the crumbling walls to intercept the Zoramesh Empire’s cavalry, flailing black tentacles that sent soldiers flying and snuffed out their lives in an instant. Unafraid, Malvolo simply rode forward and cut a tear in its body with his halberd. The blade carved large gashes across the monster’s shadowy texture and drew a screech from it. The two soon engaged in a fierce duel while the demons engaged the scores of undead tasked with defending the city.
“And now that your demon emperor is within the city, he has fallen within range of my Influence,” Hel boasted. “I activate the first of my two set Rank 5 Prophecies, Break Enchantment! This removes all buffs and effects on a single target! Then I chain that with my other Rank 5 Prophecy, Spirit Burn, which allows a ghost to possess your emperor and compel him to follow my orders!”
The crimson aura around the demon emperor immediately vanished as Hel’s Miracle stripped all his magical defenses away, though that didn’t appear to slow him down in the slightest. Malvolo, however, failed to notice a ghostly figure immediately materializing behind him and entering his back. He froze midswing, his baleful gaze turning to his allies.
“Now, I will order your Champion to attack his own troops instead of my shadowalker!” Hel boasted.
“Was that your master plan?” Ishtar didn’t look impressed in the slightest. “I trigger my set Rank 3 Prophecy Suggestive Inspiration. This compels one of my Champions to follow an order at the exclusion of everything else, and they receive a buff until they complete the task.”
Her power imbued Malvolo, immediately restoring his crimson aura and freezing him in place.
“Now, darling,” Ishtar whispered, her order carried through telepathy to her Champion. “Would you kindly get back to stomping out that shadow vermin?”
Her Miracle compelled Malvolo to turn his focus back on the shadowalker, his halberd swinging through the air so fast its edge caught fire. It disturbed Wepwawet that Ishtar was willing to outright puppeteer a Champion like this—and that she possessed a Miracle to do that in the first place—but he couldn’t deny its effectiveness.
“It doesn’t matter if your ghost possesses my Champion. It can only influence his mind, while my Miracle compels his body.” Ishtar snorted. “How disappointing. I cannot stand half-measures.”
“Your Miracle will run out before mine, and your fallen soldiers will join my army,” Hel replied coldly.
“Sasuga, Hel-chan!” Watatsumi said in an attempt to console Hel, which fell completely flat.
“Just keep playing,” Hel replied icily, startling her ally. “We need to hold on a little longer.”
Wepwawet could read between the lines. Unlike Watatsumi, she was unwilling to throw everything she had into the fight. He had the strong suspicion that her goal was to bleed them out as much as possible rather than actually keep Pitsfire for herself.
If I knock out Watatsumi, then she will likely fold rather than continue a doomed battle, Wepwawet thought. He checked his side of the board, where things remained at something of a deadlock.
Victoire and Soumis were still engaged in battle with the false long dragon, and while Slimon was making progress at crafting the D.R.Y. weapon, the rest of the troops were exchanging fire with the Champion ships in the water. Sultana Alexandrite and other spellcasters flung fireballs at the elven armada while receiving volleys of giant seeds in return.
Wepwawet would have expected fiery projectiles to be highly effective against such ships, but their thorns and leaves struggled to catch fire. Watatsumi must have empowered them with a Revelation that shielded them from flames. Worse, lightning bolts often erupted from below the waves to strike at his troops—the whale’s doing no doubt. Renarde and Princess Treasure had their hands and tentacles full buffing and healing their allies.
The ground forces weren’t making any progress either. Some of Wepwawet’s troops attempted to cross Insupportable’s frozen bridge, only for the previously camouflaged kraken’s tentacles to emerge from the water, dragging magmorians to their drowning doom, and smashing part of the pathway. The bridge was now broken, with no way to safely repair it.
I still have Reflect Force and Tomb Raider’s Punishment on the board, Wepwawet thought. If that whale’s attack is a spell…
An idea to destroy the Altar crossed Wepwawet’s mind. His attention turned to the strongest of his Champions, who had now regained his senses.
He had a plan, and the perfectly unpredictable soldier to see it through.
—---
Insupportable had become accustomed to the itching-pain disease lately.
He once used to believe that this disease only affected non-dragons, but he had somehow caught it at one point and regretted it ever since. This had to be the result of an anti-dragon pathogen—yes, he knew the word because he was smart—by cunning robbers determined to weaken him enough to take his treasure. It was the only rational explanation Insupportable’s mind could come up with.
Nevertheless, the pain in his scales and flesh paled compared to what he felt on the inside.
Minion Bernard’s loss filled him with an unbearable itching in his heart and soul, the kind that drove him to fury. The dragon couldn’t quite explain it, but he hated it.
Insupportable had never felt anything like this with his previous chiefs of staff. Their losses had been regrettable—good servants took time to train into proper footlickers—yet easy to replace. Wereling Bernard’s death, though? It felt as if he had lost a part of his hoard to thieves with no way to get it back.
The mere thought filled the dragon with a terrible resolve as he forced himself awake. Jolts of electricity continued to course through his body, and many of his scales were charred around the point where the lightning somehow struck him, but anger was the best antidote to itchy pain. His claws sank into coral, and his eyes snapped open with murder on his mind.
His mood only worsened when he rose to his feet and gazed at the clouds above just in time to see a smaller copy of that overweight wyrm in the sky fight that sorry excuse of a dragon, Soumis. The former was trying to steal Princess Victoire in a flagrant princessnapping attempt; the height of degeneracy!
Someone would pay for this.
“Insupportable,” Minion Wepwawet contacted him through the ancient dragon-given art of telepathy. “Insupportable, do you hear me?”
“Go away, you failure of a minion!” Insupportable growled back upon extending his wings. “I allow you to serve me so you could spoil me, and you have failed! You have failed! Even the silent treatment is too good a punishment for you!”
Minion Wepwawet marked a short pause out of contrition upon realizing the magnitude of his incompetence, before asking his dragon master a strange question. “You truly cared for Bernard in that shriveled heart of yours, am I wrong?”
“What the–” Insupportable choked. “O-of course I care, he was my property! He was like a coin in my hoard to me!”
Well… maybe he did care about his minion a bit more than any single coin, in a perfectly rational, economical sense. Wereling Bernard simply happened to be the best clawclipper, attendant, and servant he ever had.
All those excuses somehow sounded empty in Insupportable’s mind, but thinking about it only worsened the itch in his heart.
“I see… I might have misjudged you,” Minion Wepwawet replied in contrition. “Do you want to see Bernard return from the dead?”
“Of course!”
“Then follow my lead.” Insupportable opened his mouth to complain that he took orders from no one, but Godling Wepwawet’s voice grew quiet and more imperious. “I mean it, Insupportable. I can only bring him back if you do exactly as I say.”
He didn’t raise his tone nor shout at Insupportable the way he usually did, but something about his words sank into the dragon’s heart. His pride demanded that he argue back, yet… yet the fear of not getting his chief of staff back if he didn’t listen gnawed at him. The itching in his heart only grew stronger and wormed its way up to his throat.
“I…” Insupportable choked, every word causing him pain. “I… I accept.”
The itching lessened, though it did not vanish. Godling Wepwawet marked a short pause before speaking up again. “Then take flight towards the Altar. Tomb Raider’s Punishment.”
Magic swirled around Insupportable, and his back suddenly grew heavier. An enormous metal spike materialized on his spine in the space between his wings, alongside straps attaching it to Insupportable’s powerful chest.
“What is this cumbersome harness?!” Insupportable protested.
“A lightning rod,” Godling Wepwawet replied. “A trap for thunder.”
Insupportable seethed at the additional weight, but silently followed through with his minion’s plan. He took flight above the coral barrier and immediately made a beeline towards the statue of that overweight dragon.
He flew so fast the wind whistled in his wake, the flap of his wings sending wereowls and frail bird-riding elves out of his way. No one had the strength to stop him, and he soon prepared to rain ice upon that blasphemous statue.
But then lightning struck.
An enormous, nearly imperceptible shape shifted through the waters beyond the coral barrier, and a blinding stream of electricity burst out of it in a blinding flash of light.
Insupportable barely had time to glance at the mighty lightning bolt rushing in his direction, when his minion’s voice echoed in his head. “Reflect Force!”
His vision went white to the tune of thunder.
—------
It all happened in an instant.
As Wepwawet predicted, the whale Champion’s lightning attack was indeed a spell-like effect and thus vulnerable to his Reflect Force. The lightning rod trap he had created and put on Insupportable allowed him to guide the flow of it, then use the Reflect effect from his second Miracle to redirect it in the direction he wanted.
The result?
A cataclysmic bolt of lightning struck Insupportable, harmlessly slid off him, and ended up reflected straight at Watatsumi’s Altar; blowing up its face and shattering it to pieces.
The dragon god could only choke in horror at the sight of his own image being blown up by one of his own Champions, one who had been empowered by his own Providence on top of it.
“Bakana!” Watatsumi thundered in disbelief. “Arienai!”
Watatsumi’s Altar has been destroyed.
Watatsumi has lost the battle!
Light shone upon the board and Watatsumi was immediately expelled from it, to Hel’s horror. The dragon god’s Altar disappeared, and Insupportable’s presence within its range immediately transformed it into a copy of Wepwawet.
This immediately had a snowball effect on the battlefield. The whale and kraken became visible in the water upon losing their camouflage and Providence boost, while the fake long dragon fighting Victoire unfortunately shifted back into an elf in midair. Wepwawet and his Champion both winced when the poor mortal ended up falling to his doom and crashing into the coral below.
Moreover, Watatsumi’s sudden departure immediately threw his navy into chaos and caused their bombardment to weaken; a fatal opportunity which allowed Slimon to throw samples of his D.R.Y. weapon into the flooded canyon. Mushrooms and fungi immediately began to rapidly grow by absorbing the water.
“Good work, Wepwawet,” Ishtar congratulated. “Now it’s two-on-one.”
“This battle is not over,” Hel protested. “Not by a long shot.”
“It is,” Wepwawet replied before glaring at his enemy. Now was his chance to end this pointless battle. “Hel.”
“What?”
“We will spare yours and Watatsumi’s troops if you surrender now.”
His words echoed across the board, startling both his foe and ally. Wepwawet swiftly followed his declaration by pointing at the canyon around his new Altar. The D.R.Y. was causing the water level to steadily shrink, dragging down the whale, the kraken, and the ships into the moat’s depths. Their projectiles soon failed to reach Wepwawet’s troops, who enjoyed the benefit of the high ground.
“Watatsumi’s troops are stranded in a shrinking moat and will soon end up at the bottom of a canyon where my troops can simply bombard them from above,” Wepwawet said flatly. “My frost dragon has frozen the rest. Once my troops kill or capture them, I will reinforce Ishtar’s army and destroy your Altar if they haven’t destroyed it on their own already.”
“You think I care?” Hel replied. “My army feeds on its own success. Every death today is my gain.”
“And what do you think your ally will think when he hears you had a chance to save his Champions from death and refused to take it?” Wepwawet snorted. “And if you prove selfish enough to throw them under the bus this way, then I swear on Ra’s secret name that I will marshal all of my forces and allies, find my way to Mortis, and destroy your Idol.”
He leaned on to better glare at Hel.
“And unlike Epona, I will succeed.”
Hel’s jaw clenched. “You’re bluffing.”
“Do you truly wish to find out?”
Hel opened her mouth, but no words escaped her throat. She could see it in Wepwawet’s eyes that he was utterly serious.
If she made it a fight to the death, then it would be to the death.
“I would rather continue the fight and finish them off,” Ishtar said. Of course she would, Malvolo, Jasper, and demon guards were tearing apart her shadowalker while the rest of her troops were storming Pitsfire. She had the advantage. “You know they’ll attack us again.”
“Maybe, maybe not, but senseless slaughter is just that: senseless.” Wepwawet shrugged his shoulders. “And if Hel agrees to surrender, you will ask your troops to stand down.”
Ishtar scoffed. “And why would I do that?”
“Because otherwise our deal is off, and your army will be stuck between a magmorian rock and a hard Valentine place.”
His threat took Ishtar completely aback. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“I will, because I am done. I am done with your childish disputes and short-sighted stupidity. We owe it to our followers not to waste their lives for nothing.” Wepwawet shook his head upon recalling Sun Wukong’s words. “We’re gods. We should be better than this.”
And if Ishtar was stupid enough to renege on their deal for the sake of bleeding Hel’s forces a little more, then there was no way she would have honored their bargain in the first place. With her army trapped between Lavaland’s capital and Valentinian territory, she had no choice other than to go along with his wishes.
Wepwawet drew a card, his five minute timer beginning. He glanced at the two flaggerbasted goddesses and then revealed his newest Miracle: the Divine Avatar.
“It’s my turn, Hel, so if you don’t take the deal now, then I will cast this and spend every bit of mana I’ve left to annihilate you.” Wepwawet glared at her, ignoring Ishtar’s silence. “So choose.”
His words rang with the softness of an executioner’s axe cutting through flesh. Hel glanced at the board, watching Watatsumi’s Champions slowly vanishing into the depths of a canyon that would soon turn into their grave, and her own troops now being surrounded in Pitsfire. Even she realized the situation was now hopeless.
“I…” Hel gritted her teeth so loudly that the entire board creaked in response. “I… give up.”
-------
Comments
George R
Awesome chapter
Jordan Belmont
I love this it seems Zeus, Odin, and his experience with his father and uncles strife has harden him to truly be the god his ppl need him to be I love it
