Edwin M. Griffiths
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The Newt and Demon - Book 5 Chapters 68,69,70
🕑 Added 2024-05-10 11:00:09 +0000 UTCChapter 68
Sure, Buddy
Tresk stalked the halls of the king’s palace, sticking to the shadows to remain out of sight. Alex waddled close behind. This wasn’t a suicide mission, though. They had a way out of things got dicey. She only needed one hit on the critter to be happy. A single slash to apply the Venom effect. That way, if he got away, there was potential for death.
“Looks clear,” Alex said, craning her neck around another corner. A sacred-looking palace guard fled, not bothering to engage the pair.
“Let’s make this clean, Alex,” Tresk grumbled. “Theo has about ten minutes.”
“The city is moving much faster,” Alex said, poking her head around another corner. “No throne in there.”
“Yeah, they were saving some juice for the last stretch. Would’ve been smarter to stay at range and bombard us.”
Tresk cursed under her breath. The city had already covered half the distance to Broken Tusk by the time they arrived. Avoiding fire from the defensive emplacements on the city was hard enough, but finding the king was another problem entirely. Now they had to find the damned throne room? COME ON!
“That’s the wrong way!” King Hanan’s raspy voice called out from behind them. “Come! Quickly!”
“King gonna get himself killed,” Tresk muttered, turning and emerging from the shadows. She nodded at Hanan and fell in line behind him. At least he had a weapon.
“Where the hell is Fenian!?” Tresk shouted into Theo’s mind.
“I don’t know. The city is getting awfully close, Tresk,” Theo said.
“Yap yap yap. I’m on it!”
Tresk felt the doubt flood through her connection with Theo. He wasn’t as good as her at reading minds within the Tara’hek. But one didn’t need a connection like theirs to know that things were grim. The Harbinger Lite had outplayed them, even when they had the upper hand. The marshling wouldn’t blame anyone involved. This was just an unpleasant situation. But nothing solved problems better than poison!
Hanan paused outside of an ornately decorated pair of double doors. He looked back at Tresk, swallowing hard. “He is powerful.”
“We’re not here to kill him immediately,” Tresk said. “We gotta throw him off for just a moment. Just enough time for my backup to get here.”
Hanan nodded, grasping the handle and opening the door. He held his spear at the ready, leading with it as he entered the throne room. Tresk followed suit, holstering her daggers only long enough to crack her knuckles.
“Ah. There you are.” A voice flowed from the throne. A dark figure sat upon it, fifty paces away. It sucked in the light around it, flickering on the spot. “I was wondering when—”
Tresk entered the shadows, emerging next to the creature and driving both daggers home. The creature gasped as she twisted, then vanished again, appearing in the hall. “No time for a monologue! We gotta go!”
“What!?” King Hanan shouted, skittering along the ground. He glanced over his shoulder for only a moment, face stained with fear. “I thought you were gonna kill him!”
The throne room filled with flaming vines that wrapped around the entity, binding it in place.
“Nope! We’re the backup plan. Waiting for the other plan!”
“Oh, gods!” Hanan screamed, kicking hard against the ground as he fled from his own throne room.
All members of the attack party were thrown to the side, tumbling as Qavell itself listed dangerously.
Theo tasted copper in his mouth as Qavell slammed into his barrier. The city tilted forward, towers glancing against the dark bubble of magic to crumble into the ocean below. The ground under his feet gained an indentation, roughly the shape of his bubble. His world was a blur of agony.
“Hold firm, Theo,” Xol’sa said, closing his eyes and channeling some spell.
Theo watched as his barrier was reinforced, only in the parts where Qavell had impacted. Xol’sa was adding his magic to the mix, infusing the Toru’aun spell with extra-planar power. This was the peak of magery. Not the tricks the alchemist had used to achieve his goals, but raw power. He could tell what the mage was doing, and didn’t like the implications. It was a backup plan. If the barrier fell, part of the city would pass through a portal. The effect would be disasterous.
“Hold firm,” Zarali encouraged, passing her healing magic over the alchemist.
A giant frog shot through the air, slamming into the city and exploding in a fountain of goo. “Chaos magic, baby!” Bilgrob shouted. A giant snake followed next.
Before Theo knew it, what few elves from House Wavecrest that had dabbled in magic were reinforcing his barrier. The army had assembled, marching out onto the field to face down an entire floating city. No abilities, potions, or reinforcements would help Theo maintain the bubble. But with everyone coming out to help, the weight felt lighter.
“This isn’t a plan!” Hanan shouted, following Tresk through the streets of Qavell.
“I have a goose! This is a perfect plan!” Tresk shouted back, cackling as they approached the outer wall of the city.
People were panicking, darting in every direction to find cover. The city forced itself against the barrier, but could not get through. Tresk could feel the entity honing in on her, dashing through the streets with inhuman speed. But her Dreamer’s Core told a different story. While the entity didn’t go against any laws enforced by the core, it whispered information. It was a weak echo of the real deal, barely able to keep its form on the mortal plane.
Buildings crumbled around them as the group ran for the wall. Tresk ran up steps four at a time as Alex flew to the battlements. The barrier buzzed in her ears, grinding against the wall like stone on stone. Theo’s willpower was absolute. So long as he kept his mind focused, the city wouldn’t break through until the spell expired. She knew he was smart enough to infuse it with all his tricks.
“This is a good spot,” Tresk said with a nod. “The barrier might flicker, so be ready to be sent on your ass!”
“Oh, gods!” Hanan shouted, hitting the ground and covering his head.
The entity tore through the city, its darkened form flickering out in every direction as though it was already breaking apart. The Venom might have been working on that, but Tresk wouldn’t risk it. She pulled a potion from the Tara’hek inventory and considered it for a moment.
“Stop the city, Hanan,” Tresk said, popping the top to the Holy infused Potion of Berserk. “We’ll need to chase after him after the first hit, Alex.”
“I’m ready to go!” Alex said, honking like crazy.
“I am the Worldmender! The Worldbreaker!” the thing shouted.
“Sure, buddy.”
Tresk stepped through the shadows after quaffing the potion, aiming her palm-strike carefully. She recalled what happened when Theo tested the potion. The barrier flickered as Tresk, Alex, and Theo all assumed her as a vessel. Her palm made contact in a full-force strike, angled just right. The Worldbreaker flew through the air, the ground cracking under the force of the blow. He ricochetted off of a building and was sent tumbling far into the distance.
“Let’s go, baby!” Tresk said, mounting Alex.
“This is harder than you would think,” Tresk said, Theo speaking through her.
“Honk!” Tresk said, giving pursuit to the tumbling entity.
Fenian cleaned the dirt from under his fingernails. Working on a pirate’s ship was bad enough, but did it have to be so dirty. He looked down at the rags he wore, shaking his head. The first thing he would do after getting his carriage back was to find some decent clothes in Bantein. After that, he would make a trip to Partopour to visit the bathhouses, where young maidens would scrub him clean until he couldn’t smell the stink of pirates any longer.
The three-masted ship had been a worthy steed, though. The winds had changed over the past few days, blowing them on a steady course that made the ship groan. They were approaching the horn south of Broken Tusk, passing by a chain of islands to the south. Even at this distance, Fenian could feel the magic seeping into the air. One had an interesting taste, and he couldn’t recognize it.
“Almost there, my fellow pirates!” Fenian said, slapping one dirty elf on the back. “Then you’ll get that gold I promised you.”
“We better had,” one pirate grumbled. “Or it's your head.”
“Oh, it’s not about the plunder within the alliance, dear pirate. It’s about the plunder we took along the way!”
The pirates grumbled, but knew he was right. They had cut a path across the waves, stealing what they could along the way. It was the only way Fenian could keep them motivated to move so quickly. Pirates were like that, though. Unless they had something shiny to chase, they were hopelessly lost.
A pulse of power rocked the ship back slightly, drawing concerned looks from the pirates. Fenian chuckled. “Oh, it does do that sometimes.”
The ship moved around the corner, providing Fenian with his first look at a barrier. “That’s… interesting,” he said.
The barrier was too big. There shouldn’t have been a mortal alive with the ability to produce it. Khahar might have swung it, but that was a stretch. Even more, there was an entire city slammed against it. Fenian ran his fingers through his tangled hair, ignoring the places where it caught. Theo had made more progress than he expected. There was a battle somewhere. His Herald’s Core was screaming out to join it. But he didn’t have the authority. He needed to see the entity before he could activate the core.
“Damn. This is frustrating. Catch more wind, lads,” Fenian said.
“You know how to work the sails,” a drunken pirate said.
Fenian grumbled, adjusting the angle of the sails and letting more line out in the rigging. The ship lurched forward under their feet, sending a few pirates tumbling to the ground. If he squinted enough, he could almost see a fight happening beyond the city. It was hard to see through the shadowy barrier, though. The magic that rolled off of the combatants was hard to discern. A mixture of Tero’gal’s flavor with something else he couldn’t place. A white shape moved up from the fray, hovering in the air and shooting a ball of fire downward. Then he spotted it and a system message appeared.
[Herald’s Duty]
Unknown entity sighted!
You have laid eyes on an entity that isn’t registered with the system. This entity violates several laws under the protection of the Herald. It will remain highlighted in your vision until it is eliminated.
The restrictions on your Herald’s Core have been removed. You are free to act in your capacity as this world’s Herald to eliminate the enemy.
“Oh, finally,” Fenian groaned. “Just pull into the port. I’ll meet you there.”
“Where are you going?” a pirate asked.
Fenian stepped over the boat’s edge, hovering and keeping pace with it. “Oh, where else? To slay a god.”
Fenian stopped moving alongside the boat, watching as it sailed off into the distance. Once it was far enough away, he jumped. The force of the action sent the water of the ocean fanning out in all directions, revealing the seafloor below. In an instant, both swords were, slashing in a wide arc to slam against the Worldbreaker’s defenses. The Herald hovered there, winking at Tresk and Alex. The marshling and goose were battered, but they would live.
“Let me take it from here, sweet marshling,” Fenian said, blowing her a kiss.
“My hero,” Tresk groaned. Alex honked, diving to avoid the coming battle.
“Now, let’s see,” Fenian said, looking at his twin rapiers. The Worldbreaker was still sailing into the distance, about to slam into the mountain range along the coast. “Small sword is good. Big sword is better!”
Fenian swiped Uz’Xulven’s sword through the air. The path it traced was made manifest as a massive blade, larger than the city of Qavell. It slashed through the air, slicing through the Worldbreaker and digging into the mountain. The entire thing fell into the ocean in one great heap, creating waves higher than the walls at Broken Tusk.
“And more for good measure,” Fenian chuckled to himself, pushing off against nothing and diving in for a thrust.
The Worldbreaker dove to the side, the strike narrowly missing. The ocean removed itself from the strike, leaving behind a molten fissure the size of a city.
“Slippery little bastard,” Fenian laughed.
Theo trembled under the weight of the city, sweat pouring down his face. He couldn’t see Fenian’s battle with the entity, only the arcing strikes from his sword. The creature had violated the rules that disallowed otherworldly entities from messing with the mortal plane. That had unlocked Fenian’s core, allowing him to go all-out. Each strike was powerful enough to level entire mountain ranges, tearing up the ranges east of Gronro-Dir and those further north.
Without warning, the pressure brought by Qavell ceased. Chunks of rocks exploded from the foundation, sailing into the ocean below as the city fell. Theo couldn’t hold the barrier any longer. He fell to his knees, watching as the city slammed into the ocean. As expected, the wave came shortly after.
Theo held onto consciousness as several potions were shoved into his mouth.
“Here she comes!” Ziz shouted, frantic to reinforce the weak points in the wall.
The wave slammed against the barrier, knocking it over in an instant. Seawater washed up onto the beach, knocking everyone gathered over. But the wall had done its job. Most of the energy in the wave had been dispersed, resulting in a gentle roll over the beach. The alchemist fell onto his back, allowing the warm water to soak him through. His guardians held his head up, ensuring he wouldn’t drown in what little water washed over him. When the wash settled down, Ziz didn’t hesitate to start the bridge. Even with Fenian fighting, sending more mountains into the sea, he got to work.
“Rest, brother,” Zarali said, cradling Theo’s head.
“You haven’t called me that in forever.”
“Not by blood, maybe,” Zarali said, her glowing eyes lingering on the battle in the distance. “But a brother all the same.”
“What am I?” Tresk said, falling from Alex’s back as she fell to the ground. “Chopped liver?!”
The connection formed by the Holy Berserk Potion had faded. Theo was left feeling drained from both the barrier he maintained and the connection, but they were getting better at sharing a body. It was like multitasking on steroids. He drew steady breaths, comfortable knowing that Fenian was taking care of things.
“Did you get him, Tresk?” Theo asked.
“Stabbed him a few times,” Tresk said, pushing herself to a seated position. “I knew Fenian was near, and that I had to get the bad dude away from the city. Did the only thing I could think of.”
“Smart, Tresk,” Theo said, letting out another shaking breath. She left out how she knew. Her Dreamer’s Core sang when it detected Fenian nearby. Better to leave stuff like that out.
“Leave the rest to us,” Aarok said, stepping into view with Alise by his side. “We’ll scour the city and save those that need it.”
“Don’t kill Hanan,” Tresk said. “He’s a big baby.”
Chapter 69
Hardly a King
If Fenian had fought the entity over Broken Tusk, there would have been nothing left. Theo had mostly recovered from the ordeal, and was helping Ziz work on the bridge. If Tresk hadn’t sent the creature flying into the distance, keeping it away from both Qavell and Broken Tusk, the alchemist’s story might have ended there.
Qavell had fallen within a thousand feet of the harbor. It now tilted to one side in the surf, surrounded by the crumbling mountain and swirling ocean. Whatever dark core magic had sent the city flying had faded, leaving behind dark stains on the exposed foundation. Even from the incomplete bridge, Theo could see people on the walls. They waved down, shouting things that were too distant to hear.
Tresk and Alex had flown over, using their inventory to distribute supplies. She updated the administration interface for once, keeping Alise appraised of the situation. The Qavelli people had been without food for some time. Despite outward appearances, this plan wasn’t thought out well enough. The kingdom relied on farms that sprawled outside the walls of their city, resulting in an immediate shortage when the undead were a problem. Her people now starved, finding relief in the Southlands Alliance. A group they once thought of as their enemies.
“Ya dropped it further than I expected,” Ziz said, scratching his head. He withdrew another section of bridge from his inventory, setting it into place with the one before. Next he would need to drive more pylons, which once again relied on this inventory power. “Gonna be harder to reach them.”
“What are we going to do with them?” Theo asked, sighing. Saving the people of Qavell was hard enough. Now what?
“Oh, who cares? We’ll figure it out,” Ziz said. “We always do!”
At least the administrators were on top of things. Once Alise could get to the city, she would start negotiations. King Hanan was at their mercy, and the Southlands Alliance intended to provide that mercy. The options on the table were fair. The king could join the alliance, or accept a position as a vassal state. Both provided some measure of independence and would include the washing away of Karasan’s sins. Early reports revealed Hanan was in the dark concerning his father’s plans.
Dusk faded into night, but no one stopped working. Greater Stamina Potions were passed around, fueling the work. Citizens set artifice lamps along the bridge, lighting the way as Ziz and his ever-expanding gang of workers set piece after piece of the bridge. At midnight the ramp was completed, providing access to the city proper. With a tired mind, Theo stepped foot into the ruined city with his administrative retinue.
Alise, Gwyn, Gael, and Theo stepped through a gate, gazing upon the crumbled buildings and smoke rising in the distance. A man, part-elven by Theo’s estimation, approached with a spear in hand. He had long brown hair that looked as though he hadn’t cared for it in weeks. His clothes were plain, and tattered.
“Are you the one we have to thank for this?” the man asked, looking up at Theo with a forced smile. There was pain behind that smile. Not the pain of a man who had been beaten down himself, but one that had watched his people suffer.
“Archduke Theo Spencer,” Theo said, nodding to his companions. “Gaeleithia Wavecrest, Alise Plumm, and Gwynestarea Whisperstream. I see you’re not dead, King Hanan.”
“Hardly a king,” Hanan grumbled, kicking a stone like a frustrated child.
“We’re uninterested in your personal problems,” Theo said, gesturing to the soldiers and citizens coming to distribute aid and help with those trapped in ruined buildings. The battle Fenian fought raged on in the distance, but had never drawn too close as to threaten the city. “We’re here to help.”
Theo bit back the other things he wanted to say for now. He wanted every piece of the Worldbreaker destroyed within the city. But now was the time for healing. Hanan looked too shaken to consider those things.
“Let’s find somewhere private to speak,” Hanan said, rubbing his face and leaving streaks of dirt behind. “My head isn’t in order.”
Theo nodded and Rowan assumed his assigned post as guardian to the king. Sarisa remained with the alchemist as they moved through the city. People looked out from their homes, fear on their faces. That would pass. Two guards stepped aside as Hanan gestured to a guard tower that hadn’t collapsed. They saluted, stepping to the side and allowing the group entrance to the tower. Hanan made his way to a table in the center, draining the contents of several mugs before wheeling around.
“This has been horrible, archduke. Absolutely dreadful.”
“That’s one way to put it,” Rowan muttered, climbing up the stairs to check the second floor. The circular tower was bare, but one could never be too careful.
Theo sighed. “What do you know about your father’s plan?”
“Nothing!” Hanan shouted, hysterical. “He vanished without a word. Only when that thing approached me did I learn he was dead. I was told nothing. I know nothing.”
“This isn’t an interrogation. We know where Karasan went and why. We know how and why he died. The man fighting against the… creature was the one to slay him.”
Hanan paused for a moment and Theo judged his response. The king tensed up for a moment before slamming his fist on the table. “I wish to meet this man and slap him across the face. My father’s life was mine to take.”
Sarisa laughed, quickly clapping a hand over her mouth.
“Not the response I was expecting,” Theo muttered, running his fingers through his hair. “I guess we can work with that.”
“The Dreamer promised my people would be unharmed, but it didn’t mention all that,” Hanan said, gesturing vaguely out into the city.
“There’s more,” Theo said, taking a seat. He drank another Greater Stamina Potion, his eyes flaring brighter after the potion. “We’re going to make you an offer. You can take your time to look it over. Our concern right now is stabilizing the city. She’s going to roll over if we don’t put some supports around her.”
Hanan swallowed hard. “You’re going to execute me, aren’t you?”
“What? No. Calm down,” Theo said, shaking his head. “I don’t have the details. But you can join the Southlands Alliance or become a vassal of the Southlands Alliance.”
“Oh. Really?”
“Yeah, really.” Theo couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re not prepared to be a king, are you?”
“I’m barely a king!” Hanan shouted. “Whatever your offer contains… I need guidance. Someone needs to teach me how to lead.”
“You and me both, buddy.”
The sounds of Fenian fighting in the distance calmed down after a while. There was a commission outside, so Theo went to check it out. The elven trader descended from the sky, carried on unseeable winds of magic. He landed, flipped his hair to one side and sighed dramatically.
“My dear alchemist!” Fenian shouted, bounding over and wrapping the alchemist in an embrace. “Oh, it’s been far too long! Decades!”
“A few weeks,” Theo corrected, groaning under the strength of the elf.
“Not so! I was trapped in Balkor’s realm for a while. And… Oh. Hello, Prince Hanan. Sorry I killed your dad.”
Hanan had poked his head out of the tower, looking upon Fenian with shock on his face. “You’re the elf we exiled! You’re the one who killed the Merchant Chairs!”
Fenian acted bashful, grinding his foot into the ground and twirling his hair. “Guilty! Although that was to draw your father out. So I could murder him in the heavens.”
“I need another drink,” Hanan groaned.
Fenian produced a bottle of clear liquid from his inventory and held it out for the king to take. Hanan took it and drained half the bottle, stumbling back and nodding.
“That’ll do,” Hanan said, his cheeks going rosy. “Thank you, elf. The city is in your debt.”
“The world is,” Fenian corrected. “You may erect my statues in bronze, but I prefer gold.”
“Did you kill it?” Theo asked.
“No. But I drove him off. We’ll talk about this in private. Business for the thrones, you know.”
“Of course,” Theo said, grabbing Fenian by the arm. “Tresk, you coming?”
“Straight to the throne?” Tresk asked, speaking into Theo’s mind.
“Yep,” Theo said, allowing his Tero’gal Dreampassage ability to slip them between the cracks of reality. He passed over the Bridge and aimed directly for the Dreamer’s Throne beneath the earth.
“Ah. Look at that,” Fenian said, sighing. “You moved the throne.”
Tresk appeared behind them, giggling. “Yep! Where is yours?”
“I’m not telling you,” Fenian said, folding his arms. “A man has to have his secrets.”
“Still in the pocket dimension,” Tresk said, nodding. “Amateur.”
“I didn’t see you defeating that monstrosity!” Fenian said.
Theo couldn’t tell if the elf was wounded from the statement. The smile that always tugged on the corners of his mouth had tightened slightly. They traded jabs and that smile got wider, revealing his playful intentions.
“Three thrones down,” Theo said, looking through the darkness of the fragment of the Dreamer’s realm. The marble throne sat alone, but it also rested somewhere in Tresk’s soul.
“One to go,” Fenian said, clapping a hand on Theo’s back. “Does your realm have a bath?”
“Yeah,” Theo said, shifting his mind slightly to relocate them to the village in Tero’gal. Various archways were up, meaning there were other gods here.
“My boy!” Uz’Xulven shouted from near the cottage. “He’s finally back, guys!”
Fenian smiled and waved. “I’ll have a bath, first,” he said, smelling himself and recoiling. “And some clothes if you have them… You! Spirit! Could you show me to the bath?”
Fenian marched off with a random spirit. Theo guessed that’s where the bath was, but he didn’t know. Alex waddled behind the alchemist and Tresk and they made their way to the cottage. It was a miracle the marshling wasn’t wounded during her fight. When the door to the building opened, they were met with a wall of sound. Conversation rolled through all gods assembled, retelling the events that had happened on the mortal plane.
“And she just like… Bam!” Benton shouted.
Uz’Xulven laughed. “Did you see what Fenian did to that creature?”
“Did you see what he did to the landscape?” Glantheir asked, scoffing. “Theo needs to draw some new maps of the continent.”
Theo, Tresk, and Alex entered the room, silencing the group in an instant. They found chairs, grabbing tea and sweets.
“How bad was it?” Theo asked around a mouthful of cookies. “The continent.”
“It used to be a single landmass,” Khahar said, grinning across the table. “It is now ten islands.”
“At least ten!” Spit countered. “Oh what fun.”
“I’m glad you guys enjoyed the show,” Tresk said, flexing her muscles. No matter how strong she got, she still had little stick arms. That didn’t stop the gods from clapping and cheering for her. She flexed, pointing at Khahar. “Which way to the gunshow, buddy?”
“Your Potion of Berserk is art, Theo,” Drogramath said, wiping a tear from his eye.
“How many effects did you stack on that barrier spell, Theo?” Uz’Xulven asked. “I was watching and then… poof! Couldn’t see a damned thing.”
The praise came in turgid waves, stopped only by a god stuffing their face with Benton’s cooking. Khahar signaled that the holders of thrones, present and future, should go for a walk. Theo nodded, exiting the building with the group before sending them to some far-flung place in Tero’gal. They stood on a ledge near the top of a mountain, looking over misty greenery below.
“You know where the Throne of the Dreamwalker is, right Theo?” Khahar asked.
“Yep. With the space elves.”
Khahar paused for a long moment. “Sorry I didn’t tell you about the other Dreamer.”
“Is he dead?” Tresk asked.
Khahar didn’t answer that. He stood, looking down at the sprawling landscape. The silence that set in over the group was a comfortable one. Theo had cleared the board of all his enemies, and gained an ally in the process. Emperor Kuzan might be a problem in the future, but Tarantham was far enough that he wasn’t worried. This would go down as a moment of rebuilding. A time where the world would come together. Once they realized what the next step was, after Theo gained his throne, things would move quickly. The inhabitants of this plant, no matter how powerful, would come to terms with their mortality.
“I can’t even feel the throne here,” Khahar said, breathing in the crisp air. “For once, something is outside of my grasp. And it bothers me.”
“Don’t be such a baby,” Theo said, falling back into his thoughts.
Tero’gal was special. Theo remembered something mentioned to him before. There existed two gods who had taken the Tara’hek. How he hadn’t met them before was baffling. Because anyone who climbed the ladder to gain more power with the Tara’hek had a massive advantage. Once he claimed the Throne of the Dreamwalker, they would gain more power than anyone could imagine.
“What is the dreamer supposed to do?” Tresk asked, scratching her head.
“They forestall problems related to the Herald. The Dreamwalker’s job is similar, helping the Arbiter.”
“Neat!” Tresk said. “I’m mostly interested in giving people nightmares.”
“As should be expected.”
The group gazed over the realm for some time without saying a word. All that needed to be said had been said. What was left was a road marked by hard work and a grand plan. Theo hoped his part of the plan would turn out alright. But with friends and allies by his side, he didn’t doubt their chances of success.
Chapter 70
Epilogue
Theo Spencer,
44th Day, Season of Fire,
873rd Year of Balkor’s Betrayal
We’re gonna need to rename the next era, guys. 873 years of Balkor’s stain has been too long. I’m writing this message in my private realm, sitting next to a Throne of Power. Is that the right way to capitalize it? I really don’t know.
Why are these journal entries so hard to start?
There were quite a few things that we accomplished, but the only thing I can think about is the giant city sitting outside of my town. Going back to Broken Tusk means looking at an eyesore and wondering when it’ll tip over. Hanan’s defeat (if I can call it that) was our biggest accomplishment in recent memory. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t taken twists and turns along the way.
First, I’ll talk about the gods. Oh, the gods… Imagine being locked in a world of shadows for untold millennia. You’re hanging out, enjoying the inky blackness of your world, and out of nowhere this cat guy just comes along and changes the rules. Zaul doesn’t seem happy about Khahar ascending to the Throne of the Arbiter. But I have to wonder about that. Yuri would have taken the guy out by now. Which means the shadow guy has some more tricks up his sleeve.
A strange thing that happened was the reincarnation of a piece of Balkor’s soul, into some rotten old vessel. The Demonic Pantheon needs a good purge, including the original piece of his soul that lords over that domain. Or maybe Balkor is part of some bigger plot. That wouldn’t surprise me.
Turns out that Glantheir is the number one god. Who would’ve known? He helped me rescue Sulvan from the moon. We left Uharis’s ass on the moon so he could stew. I’ll be honest with you, diary. I don’t care if he ever comes back. He’s an asshole and I don’t like him. There. I said it. But Glantheir helped me get the old paladin sorted into a new life of helping people. He’ll serve his penance by healing a bunch of people and making the lives of everyone around better.
Spoilers: I’m pretty certain Sulvan is gonna play an important part with the Wanderer. You know, that guy who used to be Balkor 50,000 years ago. Glantheir is playing it coy, but there’s a fighting spirit buried somewhere under that flowing mane. His hair is great, though.
Speaking of (writing of?) the big bad king of the undead, we sorted the undead problem out. Turns out the dude responsible was Balkor (I said that, didn’t I?) and he was just some sad boy wandering the land. Now I have to worry about King Emo rising up and causing more undead related problems. Hopefully the elves in Tarantham pitch in when the time comes. Or King Emo takes his attitude underground and I don’t have to fix the problem. If I could send him to the moon, I would. Let the moon people deal with it.
Zaul’s involvement in godly politics is big. My new cores are massive. But the biggest thing that happened was when Tresk ascended the Throne of the Dreamer. We’ve been planning on this happening for a while and it's finally here. In a classic Tresk move, she used it to perv on people in their sleep. Unsurprising, but the power of the position seems endless. After I get my own shiny throne, I’m heading off into space. Well, the void. I’ll find Xol’sa’s people and steal some magical stones which will do something to the world.
Place your bets on what that might be, but my money is on holding the place together while we remake it.
I might figure out seasons for Tero’gal. Looking down the barrel of ascending my throne, I realize I might not make it a year in this world. Oops.
The only person left in the world that is giving me pause is Kuzan. Emperor Kuzan leads the people of Tarantham. He’s pretty brutal, but I won’t deny that his methods work. The constant wars on the continent keep the people from getting too strong, which prevents issues of ascension. Of course he excludes himself from this cycle, and has likely gathered quite a lot of power. But that power comes with drawbacks. Yuri was barely able to keep it together a week without going and meditating for a thousand years.
But that road is behind me. What does the future hold?
Well, the Southlands Alliance has an entire continent to clean up. Is it still a continent if it has been cut into many small pieces? I hope so. We need to get transport working for the entire place, ensuring that people can spread as quickly as possible. Why bother if the world is going to reset? You might ask that question, but people need purpose. When the world ‘ends’ they’re not going away. They’re coming with me. They can remain in the heavens with me, or get beamed back down when we get the mortal system sorted out. I’m guessing we’ll have some problems with existing cores, so those will get tossed away. But skills remain, don’t they? Buried in the soul and embedded in a person’s consciousness.
Oh, yeah. Time dilation. The void is unforgiving about that kind of stuff. I feel it every time I pass through. So when I take the plunge to find those pesky space elves, I’m sure some wacky stuff is going to happen. Wooooah! time loop hijinks? Maybe. Nah.
But maybe?
I’m certain I can view Earth if I wanted to, given enough power. Once I can finally grill the Harbinger on what his game plan is, I’ll have a better idea on that affair.
Of course! Right when I was waxing on all poetic, my attention is drawn elsewhere. Khahar is here and he wants to play a game of poker. High-stakes stuff, you know. The winner gets to eat all of Benton’s cookies. He grows this plant that tastes like chocolate. You couldn’t tell the difference if you tried!
As always, mysterious reader, I hope you’ve enjoyed these ramblings. Maybe this will make more sense when the other shoe drops. Maybe not.
