Battleforged
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Chapter 392 - Battle for Freetown: Part 14
🕑 Added 2024-02-02 03:59:01 +0000 UTC(A/N - A long chapter today! nearly 9,000 words. Maybe it's to make up for mind-lord compelled name-flipping in the previous chapter. Please enjoy!)
“More chocolate, Your Grace?” Asked the anxious looking and painfully earnest youth who couldn’t have been older than fourteen and had already been thrown in a pod even at that tender age. Eric pinged him as a Level 5 Conscript with the Traumatized debuff and he couldn’t help but wince in compassion for the boy who didn’t look nearly as savage and bloodthirsty as was ideal to survive in this brave new world. It was clear that someone had taken pity on the kid and had given him a job, here in the heart of Grim’s sanctum sanctorum.
Eric was presently taking his ease in a leather wingback chair that smelled like old money in a comfortable study lined with teak bookshelves filled with leather-bound volumes that had been made by true, quality book-binders. Nothing like the typical cheap-ass crap from the typical publishing houses whose books would sour and yellow in just a handful of years. These works looked like they’d stand the test of time, whether the material was literature, history, or dealt with the arcane.
“Thank you,” Eric said, taking a polite sip of cacao that was as rich and dark as any tablea drink, with plenty of honey and a shot of espresso to boot.
Eric’s eyes widened with pleasure. “My compliments to the brewmaster!”
The boy bowed, next presenting a silver platter filled with chocolate cookies which Eric happily took all of before the lad made his exit with a final bow to his master, Lord Grim, who Eric and Caliban were ostensibly meeting to go over the terms of their altered bank charter, though in reality it was about far more than that.
The ancient Moorish gentleman turned his gentle brown eyes (cavernous skull!) Caliban’s way. “Does this meet with your approval, Your Grace?”
Caliban’s features remained stoic, flushing only the tiniest bit, yet so many secrets had been revealed in the bank vault that had been the source of so much agony, and the most transcendent of retributions. Besides, it wasn’t like they wouldn’t all forget come morning. Save for Eric, of course.
“Yes, Lord Grim.” The elf bowed his head in genuine respect. “Your eloquent use of law and precedent was flawless. And by the System’s own precedents, taking in precedents I myself hadn’t fully considered the ramifications of… the goblinoid charter now truly is subservient to our own.”
Grim gave a satisfied chuckle, somehow taking a sip of his own rich black brew. “I was a barrister years ago. So far back that there’s no point in boring either of you with such dull history. There once was a time when sovereign law most definitely applied to princes, of which you are both, and you, Prince Caliban, have claimed both your Name and Title along the Path of Rulers on multiple worlds. Ergo, you yourself are a state, and subject to the boons and benefits of Imperial Law. So long as you can claim the necessary capital within three days of being served any legal documents, you and your fellow prince will have supreme claimance over your chartered bank that transcends even that of your nominal faction. In effect, your chartered bank is subject only to the Galactic Emperor who reigns over our little corner of the galaxy. An entity whom I suspect cares less than nothing for insignificant scuffles on backwater planets of which he has access to literal thousands, if not millions, I am quite sure.”
Caliban bowed his head in genuine respect. “Your insights, Lord Grim, are nothing short of commendable. Sensing such resonance without any class at all…”
Grim chuckled softly. “Who says I don’t have a class? Not that such matters here and now, gentlemen. The important thing is that the documents have been signed and sealed and ensorceled in the blood of a Master Necromancer well-steeped in the powers of essence and blood. So long as our Eric recalls this night… this contract will remain intact. For the fires of the Phoenix shall light up even the darkest nights. Is that not right… disciple?”
Eric, nodded. “Quite.” He then turned to the seat he had been using before his break. “I guess it’s that time again.”
Grim said nothing as Eric returned to his own exercise the moment he had finished gulping his delicious espresso-spiked chocolate and devouring his cookies. Within minutes, he was glassy-eyed once more, staring at sights only he could see. Yet Lord Grim took no offense. If anything,he looked pleased, though Caliban frowned, clearly troubled.
“Lord Grim…”
The tall Moor, dressed as any proper 19th century English gentleman, merely adjusted his cravat and gave the tiniest shake of his head. “Patience, Your Grace. You need not fear on your relative’s account. He but taps into ancient arts he was all but made for.” His lips eased into a genuine smile. “Arts he truly was bred for, dare I say it. And how proud I am to see my ancestor’s ancient blood roiling to fiery life in Eric’s veins. Blood so potent that he embraces ancient paths of necromancy, soul-striding not one but multiple revenants that now walk the hallways of our manor.”
Caliban gazed at the ancient lich in open-mouthed disbelief. “Wait. You’re saying that Aurelia’s children were sired by your ancestor? Forgive me, Lord Grim… just how old are you?”
The man just smiled, refusing to answer. “The ancient roman empire was comprised of many an aspiring general and necromancer. Their legions far more powerful than most could fathom, for reasons that brought so many opposing nations to their knees.” Grim chuckled softly. “They were called the Eternal Legions for good reason, and it wasn’t simply due to recruitment and incorporation of native populations. It was only when religious doctrine demanded the cessation of various practices that the Roman Empire finally began to wane.”
They then heard a far off crash, and a distant curse, Alice’s angry scolding cutting through the quiet.
“Damn it, Eric, watch where you pilot that fucking thing! Morlekai! Your crows are supposed to be keeping his pets from smashing into things!”
Lord Grim steepled his bony fingers, staring at Eric’s painfully still form, though the twitch in Eric’s cheek made it clear that his concentration was cracking.
“It appears that my newest disciple needs to improve his focus if he would soul-ride multiple revenants at once.”
Yet Caliban was gazing at Eric’s glassy-eyed countenance with awed dismay. “Wait… he doesn’t know. Everything your telling me, his ancestral origins, his relation to you… he doesn’t even know!”
“Of course not. When did we ever have the chance to speak of such things? I thought his mother would make that decision before she ascended in a heavenly blaze of glory that could have blown out our world as easily as you blowing out a candle. Regrettably, time is still a precious resource now being stretched to a reality-defying minimum, for this night could end at any moment upon the screams of an innocent child. A night where a city needs to be secured and a fortune reclaimed or the fortunes of all of us within this sanctum sanctorum shall be in peril.”
Grim chuckled softly. “There is no time to ease my newest disciple into truths both glorious and tragic, and no time to train him in disciplines that sent my youngest granddaughter screaming and her brother crumpling in a stunned heap. For gifted as both my descendants are, their ancestral inheritance is but a single drop of that ancient, powerful communion from which all vampires, succubi, and sirens doth descend. Yet the blood of the ancient sire and damn that birthed so many fey races upon our world shared one last communion that came to fruition exactly nineteen winters ago. It was only when the Winter Queen took to Terra’s stage once more that so many dormant descendants awoke to their ancient powers in full, Morlekai and Alice two treasured examples of this house. Their blood sung with power awoken when their ancient dam celebrated darkest union with the father of so many grand disciplines once more. Quickening Mother Earth with the brilliant spark of fey-infused blood magic that has become the source of so many System Acknowledged Heritage arts.”
Caliban gazed at the ancient lich in utter disbelief. “You’re saying that Aurelia’s been planting the seeds of her ascension here for literal millennia. And what... Eric and his sister were the key?” He groaned and rubbed his weary eyes. “Of course they were. After what we saw in the heart of that awful vault… of course they were. Ascending to Gold in a single endless awful night.”
“Eric was. Elonia was but a ploy. One Eric refused to consume, and perhaps that too had been Aurelia’s plan all along. A willing sacrifice of the grandest sort, one made by her own flesh and blood. A sacrifice that only heightened Aurelia’s ascension all the more. A sacrifice that no Silver-tier monster would dream of making, should they taste the wondrous possibilities of Gold after millennia of desperate struggle. Yet an innocent teenager who somehow soared past all of Bronze and Silver, blazing right into Gold in a single night? A boy who has absolutely no comprehension of what he truly surrendered? He alone might make that sacrifice for another. A sacrifice that absolutely no one else in this corner of the galaxy that was hungry enough to strive so far would ever willingly repeat.”
The ancient lich chuckled softly. “And we should be eternally grateful for his innocence. His forbearance. His supreme sacrifice. For he is the only reason why the air we breath isn’t superheated carbonates. For if you could not taste the doom that imperiled us all when two phoenix spread their wings over the skies overhead... Until two became one. And that terrible ordeal will be remembered only as a brilliant flash of northern lights encompassing the entire world.”
“I did,” Caliban whispered, voice harsh and raw. “The fear and terror we all felt, when the portal we had entrusted our lives to, racing for salvation, abruptly snapped shut. And the air tasted of endless possibilities, glory, and fire. A fire that could have consumed us all.”
He shuddered once, gazing at Eric’s twitching form. “We owe him absolutely everything… and I won’t remember a word of this conversation when next I wake up. Does he understand what we’re saying now? Will he recall anything when this night ends?”
Grim shrugged. “Uncertain.” His smile grew. “Yet certainly his subconscious does and will. Which is the only gift I dare to give him, this cloaked night allowing me to stretch so many oaths in ways only allowed because I but surrender knowledge that should have already been his to claim. Besides. A tormented psyche is a wonderful way for any budding necromancer to develop focus, discipline, and absolute dedication to their craft. Sadly, the birch sticks my old master used to whip me with are a relic of the ancient past, and will do absolutely nothing to this boy’s bulletproof hide. Thus the truth itself is but a tool that I, his sworn master, must employ to test and temper his focus.” He gave a satisfied smile. “Which is well within my rights by the bonds of our contract to deliver.”
“I see.” Caliban solemnly dipped his head. “I suspect I’m not the only party who underestimated just how aware you are of the politics that have shaped this world’s ascension.”
“Indeed. Were it otherwise, me and mine would already cease to be.” Grim’s benign smile hardened. “Which is why not a word will be uttered of these things, after this endless night. So that no seer, sage, or spy will harken ancient secrets that would imperil so many of us. Secrets they foolishly thought no ancient pile of bones would glean from the cry of restless souls and the whispers in the wind.”
Eric’s left eye began to twitch. Something else crashed further in the manor.
“Morlekai!”
“Shut the fuck up, Alice! He’s Soul-riding a Level 55 Revenant! What the hell am I going to do, tackle him?”
Caliban’s eyes twinkled as he took another sip of his brew. “You truly are a wicked wonder, Lord Grim.”
This earned a surprisingly melodious chuckle. “I believe I shall take that as a compliment!” His bemused smile turned to hard-eyed focus once more. “Ah. I believe my disciple is finally getting the hang of soul-riding all three revenants. Now let’s up the anty a bit more, shall we?”
To his credit, Eric’s glassy-eyed stare didn’t waver, and if he was shivering just a tiny bit, that could have been from the massive block of ice Lord Grim had insisted he sit on. Besides, it had been a long night.
With no signs of ending any time soon.
*** **
Congratulations! You have learned the Soul Riding Skill!
Soul Riding Skill level modified by ½ of Spirit Mastery Level!
Crimson Symbiote Synergism now in effect!
Soul Riding further modified by ½ of Blood Mastery level.
Temporary Health drain in effect! You are suffering a temporary 1900 drain to your health pool!
Eric allowed the oddly diffuse messages to wash over and through him. All 100 shards of himself plodding through the ruins of Freetown. Just an extension of the buildings he slowly trudged past. The wintry breeze blowing through the wide boulevards and cramped alleyways of the spirit he almost was, little more than an extension of the city itself, that he was drifting through.
“Easy meat, Rich.”
“Fuck, no. That thing’s a walker. Run!”
He paid no attention to the pair of pinch-faced desperate men with no class at all… strengthened only by their bitterness, desperation, and fear. Just one pair of dozens of voices that sharpened in sudden panic before fading back into the buildings from which the came.
Buildings that were little more than an extension of himself.
Himself and a hundred others, whose minds, at that moment, were one with his own.
“Who the hell’s that kid? He looks stoned out of his mind. How’d he even survive this long out here?”
“Who cares, man. Just collar him and let’s get the fuck out of here.”
Yet he wasn’t burdened with a hundred disparate conversations, bindings between the living and the dead becoming a cacophonous imprisoning nightmare.
No.
Far from it.
There was only the cavernous silence echoing with focused intention as strong as the border between life and death itself.
A gestalt awareness that was just an extension of the city itself.
“You okay, kid? Out here in this cold dark city all alone? Shit, you don’t even have a shirt to your name. You need someone to take care of you?”
And when the amorphous whole sensed a threat to the tiniest extension of itself, it was nothing to resolve the issue with the gentlest of gestures.
The nighttime breeze was now blowing past a groaning man slumped over the cratered brick wall he had slammed into, blood trickling from the back of his head. The heat and coppery tang were tiny notes in the glorious symphony that was the nighttime city alive in all its tragic glory.
“Fuck, man, that stoned asshole just took out Miguel!”
“Put down the shocker, Jim. Just help me pick up Miguel and let’s go. That boy’s giving off serious ‘don’t fuck with me’ vibes.”
“Only thing he’ll be giving off is a whimper once I taser his ass and put a collar around his fucking neck!”
Though it was true that the hot-blooded youth he once had been would have been lit with fire’s fury upon catching sight of any slavers… a spike of pride and ego that would have been so easy for the monstrous Squid-brain psyche tearing through so many minds that night to focus on and obliterate, such was not the case now.
Just a few casual movements and the snarls and threats and name-calling of a trio of CFA Slavers separated from their platoon ended as skulls smacked the pavement with such force that they became one with the city in the most visceral sense. Acts carried out as dispassionately as if gravity alone had tripped them, the folly of physics, as opposed to social acumen, spelling their doom.
Certainly, there was no hot passion for anyone or anything to latch on to. No blazing locus of ego and pride that all Contenders and so many Classers ultimately were and needed to be… driven to brave peril and hardship to ascend for the sake of their own glory. Such a blazing locus of passions would be effortless for any corrupted Bronze tier Mind Lord that had made Freetown its home to latch onto and destroy, the minute anyone dared to approach its nest.
Yet there was no Contender to be found anywhere near the financial district. All that blew through the city streets now were the cool northern winds and the memories of a hundred different streets and allies all coalescing into one. Slowly and steadily, and without a single trace of ego, a hundred pairs of eyes looked upwards at their target.
A massive imposing edifice of blood-tinged granite hiding a belly of blackened soul steel filled with priceless treasures. It was a monstrous edifice that soared high above every other building within the city. A pyramid to the glories of predatory capitalism, debtor’s prisons, and the financial devastation of all who gazed upon it. So great and potent were the vile, twisted magics of blood, bone, and soul steel that a tiny shiver of dismay coursing through a hundred dispassionate pairs of eyes thought it a glorious masterwork of hypocrisy that a certain faction would dare to claim it was opposed to necromancy when it practiced one of the most diabolical sorts imaginable.
It was a temple to greed and corruption that existed only to turn metaphoric chains of debt into actual chains of soul steel. Profiting off the destruction of entire families, clans, and races… before claiming all their souls for the ultimate sacrifice in blackened steel and profit.
The heart of Freetown’s Financial district.
A near indestructible vault of vice and torment howling in ethereal winds that a hundred risen souls couldn’t help but hear echoing through them all. Bars being used to lock away an absolute fortune in gold in the depths of that vile pyramid that no force on Earth would have a hope of breaking through.
Not unless they could tear through imperial class dreadnought starships… or they had a Terran necromancer’s gifts.
And for that reason alone, Earth’s heritage arts and the Terrans who dared to master them were to be purged at all costs. An edict of Malice and Greed that radiated through the entire temple and each of its granite blocks, fused and cemented together with the blood and bones of countless debtors who had come before. It was a twisted horror of capitalism gone wrong and warped necromantic arts that jolted the memory of Eric free of his trance, he who had almost faded completely away as a spiritual observer bouncing between a hundred shells, just an echo of the city he passed through.
Awakening just the tiniest sliver of rage.
Of ego.
Reminding him of who he was.
What he was.
And why he was here.
“I sense you, vile abomination!” Roared a gurgling voice, now resonating through an entire city’s worth of risen walkers, so reminiscent of abyssal horrors swimming through eldritch seas… or perhaps the seas of the mind as the skulls of Eric’s closest revenants and the crimson blood worms sprouting from each of their eyes began exploding, one by one.
You have lost 3 revenants! You have suffered a temporary 57 health point PSIONIC DEBUFF that cannot be healed (without a full System reset!)
Bronze-tier Mind Lord (designated: Squid-Brain) Senses your (diffuse presence!)
Eric strove to lose himself in the hive mind of revenants and crimson tendrils covered with blinking eyes that allowed him to fuse Mixed Unit Tactics with the Soul-Riding skill his ancient mentor had so recently taught him, having not only endured Kevin’s nightmare lessons involving sprouting blood tentacles… lessons which he now knew as both the victim and consumer of that former contender... he had actually gone so far as to make them his own. Though his blood magic eyeball stalks would only affect the Revenants already bound to his will via multiple perks. He would never infect them upon the living.
Of course, there was a price for what Eric dared, having to sacrifice a temporary portion of his health for each revenant he planted a crimson eye-stalk upon. And when those revenants were destroyed, he felt their pain as his own health pool diminished. A pool that would stay diminished, until he was next able to sleep. Worse, his jolt of awareness was now sufficient for the Mind Lord in question to sense him. A monster that played to all of Eric’s weaknesses, just as a certain malicious mastermind had no doubt intended all along.
Unified Perception check (Spiritual Energy & Magic ) - Critical Success!
You have suffered the loss of 4 additional revenant. 76 additional health point PSIONIC DEBUFF is now in effect!
To his horrified dismay, four more of his revenants collapsed.
For his legions were sworn to him eternally, of their own will. And of the 93 eyestalk-linked shards of himself that still remained, it was as much an evolution of Mix Unit Tactics as any true fusion of mind and soul. Yet it was enough.
Enough for Eric to lose himself in the minds of his revenants once more, now just an extension of the city, as he had been less than a minute ago. Even as a furious Bronze-tier abomination roared his hate for the one who would dare to challenge him.
“You have already lost, you pathetic piece of vile excrement! Your allies’ greatest treasures have been captured! Your closest-kept secrets revealed! Before this night has ended, all you hold dear will crumble to dust! You and all those who dared to pay you tribute will fall eternally to the sands of time. Their minds and souls now forever mine!”
And how bitterly the Eric that had once been would have hated just how smugly that abomination spoke, secured in the heart of a near indestructible fortress, seemingly invulnerable to all but Eric’s highest art. An art that Eric could only use at melee range, which would immediately ping him to his foe. A foe that had hid so well when he and his mother had ascended together. But now that it was just Eric, his foe was content to claim his prizes in full.
Yet it was at that moment, sensing just how massive and weighty was the burden of the rust-colored granite temple taking up an entire block, crushed by a despair so acute it nearly consumed him, that Eric understood just how futile his desperate gambit had been.
That wasn’t a small, odd-looking building that his arts might have a chance of shifting. It wasn’t even the medium-sized tower he had dared to take on in a magically saturated rift, not that long ago. This was a gigantic pyramid of inconceivable mass. A brooding edifice that radiated and was cloaked by such power that it hadn’t even registered in his mind, that the financial district was dominated by a massive Egyptian-style temple, until that very night. He felt a chill just thinking about it. Not even his mother had seemed to acknowledge the horror of it when they had strode Freetown like titans, earlier that night.
It was as if the entire structure had been warded by Malice’s twisted cards of fate, even if that monster’s touch upon Terra’s surface was limited, it had been enough to cloud even his mother’s eyes, and that was a truly disturbing revelation.
It was all Eric could do not to choke out a sob amidst the revenants both cloaking and scattering his psyche. For there was no way in hell that any mortal magic or force below Silver could hope to move that temple. One reinforced by twisted magics resonating with a branch of necromancy so foul that Eric refused to touch it, even if he could learn tainted Goblin arts. And those vile arts both reinforced its physical structure and its cloak of deception, and warded the entire structure from arcane magic as well as any Bronze-tier spell caster could.
Unified Perception Check (Enhanced by Rank 31 Spirit Mastery) – Critical Success! Not is all as it seems.
Yet before Eric could crash to his knees in despair, or flee for his sister’s territory, finally acknowledging that the deck had been so badly stacked against them that they had never had a chance in hell in this world… he was struck by a revelation so weighty that it almost rivaled the massive temple itself. Because there was nothing more that those spirits now trapped in steel, blood-stained granite blocks, and bone powder cement, wished to do than flee their eternal torment.
It was a weight, an impossible spiritual weight, that would do anything to break free.
“Anything to break free!” Eric whispered in sudden revelation.
An insight that might prove the key to everything…
An awareness that nearly spelled his end.
You have saved versus Catastrophic Injury!
“You think to hide from me? I found you, you putrescent piece of shit!”
A jolt of terror that nearly became his end, Eric’s furious spirit hounded by agony as he sensed grievous wounds that his painfully pathetic Sylvan mind had absolutely no counter for… save being diffused through the dozens of revenants now beside him. He had suffered injuries that would have been crippling, did the echo of his psyche not remain intact.
The pain was immediate and near overwhelming. And it would have given away his location utterly and instantly, had the entire temple not already been infested by a howling cauldron of suffering and agony in realms psionic and spiritual both.
A cacophony of white noise the vile Mind Lord even now trying to destroy him had had to contend with from the very start. It had made the temple near impenetrable and immune to the magic of any pure arcanist, but it clearly had serious drawbacks. A creature would have to be a masochist or sadist of inconceivable depths to have made its nest in a massive temple where the very brick and mortars were rich with such suffering.
It was only because Eric’s agony was now resonating so perfectly with his environment that allowed him to escape abyssal tendrils now flailing for his mind, as eldritch words of his own slipped free of his lips… warping reality’s grip upon the nightmare edifice that so many souls were desperate to escape.
So desperate that they would warp and bend causality itself as Eric uttered the words that he prayed would set them free.
“Inverto!”
A roar that came from over 90 throats. Soon whittled to 87
“Gravitas!”
You have been critically struck by: Mind Blade!
You have successfully saved versus Dissolution! One additional Critical Wound suffered!
“Animus!”
A startled jolt of dismay washed over them all.
Not from Eric, already reeling with agony that would have been crippling, were he not just an extension of his hive mind and the city itself...
But from the Cthulian horror, its own mind reeling as it finally took in the significance of the fortification it found itself in. An impossibly massive edifice of crushing weight and despair. A mass that no White-tier Contender could possibly hope to shift in any direction, weighing countless tons.
A pyramid that had been made so much stronger with granite blocks fused with mortar of blood, bone, and souls in such torment, blended so completely in their agony, dehumanized and rendered as utterly insignificant, save as numbers on a ledger that all blended into one.
One unified soul in impossible torment.
One single burden to bear.
“Unus!”
“NO! Die, vermin! DIE!”
“Attentio!”
You have been critically struck by Psionic Blast!
Psionic Blast dispersed over multiple city block area!
You have no natural resistance.
You have suffered Severe Damage!
Your revenant contingent has been obliterated!
You have suffered an additional 1819 health debuff!
Essence of Dominion successfully stabilizes Neural Matrix!
Willpower check (at severe penalty) MADE!
Eric left eyes ruptured as his contingent was destroyed. But it didn’t matter. Even as his thoughts became discordant and disjointed, his neural network and his fierce tight grip to his spell held.
He was sent tumbling through the air, as were dozens of corpses, eyes milky white, both predators and desperate survivors who had hidden here in the financial district despite Caliban’s best efforts to gather all the survivors as far away from the area as possible. Because against a Bronze Tier Mind Lord, fragile mortals with a mere 100 Health or less didn’t have a ghost of a chance against the monster’s Psionic howls as the very world seemed to tear itself apart.
Eric could feel the crack and boom of the entire block tearing itself apart as the quarter million ton temple that had been buried in the heart of the financial district began to shake and elevate itself as the entire district began sloping upwards, like a mountain rising, with a roar like an endless tidal wave.
Countless dozens of buildings then shattered and splintered as the giant temple abruptly popped free of the Earth’s crust like a massive pimple, tumbling through the air end over end as it fell towards the heavens, leaving behind a massive crater now filling up with rubble, ruin, and choking dust.
Eric did his best not to look at the vacant-eyed victims as they were torn free of the crumbling buildings they had hid within as they all tumbled into the awful pit along with Eric himself, his Physical Resistance making the sensation of crashing into that pit filled with shattered buildings, concrete, and steel rebars no more arduous than jumping into his favorite pool. Yet the agony of his Psionic wounds was so great that even that jostling made him cry out.
Yet despite his agony, fear and fury kept him on the task at hand.
His neck craned up to keep his target in sight.
All his desperate focus was upon the massive edifice that now just a dot in the starry night sky that Superhuman stats and Unified Perception alone allowed him to still keep track of.
Of course what he had accomplished was absolutely absurd. It was an impossible weight of countless thousands of tons that should have been absolutely impossible for him or anyone else below deepest Silver to fling free of Earth’s gravity well.
Which was why he had foregone the physics aspect of his arts entirely, focusing on the spiritual side of things alone. He had linked his will to the desperate howling amalgamation of spiritual agony that had been ruthlessly fused into one tormented hybrid soul in ways he suspected not even the gods would have done, so vile was the path that Malice had his twisted disciples walk. For just as that fused soul of torment had been used to hold the mortar of a quarter million ton structure together, so too Eric took advantaged of arcane laws of contagion to yank free that gestalt spirit and fling it into the ether, allowing its own desperate need to break free to guide it, the spiritual horror enduring the burden of pulling the massive temple in its wake, and not Eric at all.
And it was not a kind spirit or merciful after being tormented so hideously as it writhed and spun its prison through the air like a whirling top, that fused collection of countless thousands of spirits sensing that only here and now would it be able to exact even the tiniest sliver of vengeance upon at least one of its tormentors. For centrifugal forces were no doubt pulverizing anything and everything within as Eric flashed a crimson lipped smile, crashing to his knees as his Qi and Mana pools rapidly began to crash, now snarling and spitting blood as he coaxed the tormented spirit, visible as no more than a tiny dot in the sky, to float just a bit further south as it drifted through currents Eric had provided.
Before they abruptly cut off, and the quarter million ton structure, now far higher than any jet Eric had ever flown through the air upon, was already falling back to earth.
Eric’s eyes widened as fierce vindication turned to a growing sense of dread. Because this wasn’t a human that would have limited terminal velocity thanks to air resistance. This was a quarter million ton monstrosity of steel and stone that was plummeting toward the earth at nearly 10 meters per second squared, with air resistance providing hardly any resistance at all against an object that massive.
E – Caliban! Brace yourselves! We got incoming!
E – Morlekai! Have everyone shelter in place! We got incoming!
With every iota of energy he had left, even chewing into a health pool he knew was running perilously low, he roared for spiritual winds to continue pushing the tormented soul as far south as possible.
Praying that his hunch was right as he saw the distant speck begin to glow white hot as it fell to Earth, far faster than even zero air resistance should allow.
“Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck!”
Heart pounding like a drum, he could only pray that his hunch was right as etherial winds pushed the tormented soul infusing the entire pyramidal meteorite with far more efficiency than any physical shift in air currents could hope to replicate.
And then, just before an impact that he was dreadfully certain might have obliterated himself and every other survivor, the hideous temple entered the untamed territory ten miles Southeast of Freetown. A massive Orange tier territory so bloated with wild arcane potential that Eric’s interface was showing that it had already evolved to Red.
A revelation that, on any other night, would have filled Eric with dismay.
Then there was a flash of watery light right before the ground began shuddering under his feet.
He braced himself for the worst, dreading sudden dust storms or flash winds of superheated gas. Yet the night breeze stayed much the same as before.
C – Eric?
E – Take shelter in case falling rubble tears through the populace like cannon shot!
C – Eric, what happened?!?
E – Huddle under the Southeast arena walls. Tall as they are and reinforced… maybe it will do some good.
E – Morlekai! Are you guys sheltering inside?
M – Eric, Lord Grim felt a spiritual jolt. Just what the hell did you do this time?
E – Stay inside. Please.
Eric’s heart continued to hammer with something besides the agony he was increasingly aware of, taking ragged gasps of air that, by some miracle, wasn’t clogged by blazing hot winds, choking dust, or a rain of rubble that would crack the skull of any mortal.
He kept his worried gaze upon the starry night sky. Yet no matter how hard he looked, he saw no glimmers of darkened stars presaging any shower of stony doom.
Nothing but the twinkling lights flashing brilliant within his mind’s eye, and the messages now flooding his interface.
You have successfully OBLITERATED 374 Red tier opponents between Ranks 83 – 97!
Mad Bomber Perks in effect. You have earned 15% of Baseline Experience for your kills!
2nd Tier Core Saturation is now at 21%!
You are the first Contender to slaughter over 100 Red tier opponents of any race in a single catastrophic strike within an adjoining territory!
You have earned the Title: Elite Artillerist!
All gunnery classes are now open to you, including at least one that you may advance to Elite Silver!
All battlemech classes are now open to you, including at least one that you may advance to Elite Silver!
Quickness has increased by 5 points!
Perception has increased by 10 points!
Finesse has increased by 10 points!
As an Elite Artillerist, all ranged weapons powered by external forces (including your soul-bound plasma blaster) have an additional 25% Bonus to hit and do an additional 25% Damage!
You earn an additional 25% (40% with previously earned perk) of baseline experience for every target you take out with said weapons, including all guns, blasters, starship weaponry, ship cannons, or any other form of artillery!
Congratulations! You have claimed one of the most coveted titles to be found upon newly ascended worlds. Elite cadets even now porting into your world under multiple highly questionable pretexts will be FURIOUS when they find out that such a coveted title (along with many others you have stolen!) was claimed by a native.
NOTE! The average starship gunner without multiple specialized Nodal perks earns only a fraction of 1% of a starship’s crew’s potency for those ships he takes out! You now earn 40% of baseline. Over forty-fold the norm!! Expect to shine in the eyes of your superiors as you rapidly rise the ranks to Imperial Commander!
NOTE! You have destroyed one of Malice’s Secret weapons! You have successfully slain the Bronze Tier Contender Zacharia Lex Richardson! A hybrid abomination infused with Terran bloodlines from breeding pens goblin flesh peddlers have hidden within countless cities long before you and your twin sister were ever born.
Aurelia wasn’t the only one cooking up unholy abominations for years behind the scenes, Malice having successfully maneuvered so many of his secret weapons all the way up to Bronze within the first year of Earth’s ascension!
And still you managed to kill Malice’s progeny just hours before this night would have ended with Zacharia’s legitimacy as a Terran Contender retroactively assured for all time! Claiming Freetown would have then been effortless, the remnants of Blue eternally enslaved to his will, tools that would have been used to organize his growing empire as he moved on to enslave the minds of every Bronze Tier power-armored mercenary company specifically hired to serve as Malice’s youngest son’s pawns. Pawns that would then be effortlessly maneuvered to slaughter you and your sister before Zacharia went on to claim all of North America for himself!
Or such had been the original plan.
Only now he’s carbonized slag in a massive impact crater that you have localized to a single adjoining territory!
(No wonder Malice hates you so much!)
Congratulations! A massive portion of Zacharia Lex Richardson’s endless potential (7.5% of his key attributes, thanks to your recent evolution along the Crimson Contender’s Path!) is now forever your own!
Soul Reserves have permanently increased by 5(+2) points!
Arcane Potential has permanently increased by 7(+3) points!
Vitality has permanently increased by 6(+3) points!
Psionic Potential has permanently increased by 20(+10) points!
(Note! Attributes claimed have been further enhanced by elite stat bonuses and Bronze-tier Title boons!)
Experience earned!
2nd Tier Core Saturation is now at 25%!
You are now a Level 33 Master Necromancer!
You have earned NO Cultivation levels for this battle!
Eric wanted to howl with agony that transcended sweetest bliss. For his desperate maneuver might have saved the entire territory of Freetown from being either enslaved or obliterated, but the psychic backlash of a young Bronze-tier contender’s death was another story entirely.
A howling storm snuffing out the lights of half a dozen Psionically sensitive mortals and budding Classers with the desperate final terrified moments of a young Contender, who, much to Eric’s horror, wasn’t a Lythid abomination at all. Or he was… just as much as he was a goblin. Just as much as he was a Sylvan and a human. All of it blending into remarkably plain features that would blend in anywhere, save for inhuman irises. Yet all that was needed was a simple pair of contacts, and he could blend into any urban environment, whether city, mall, or school, without years of ostracization and abuse necessarily making a monster out of him.
And he had done just that. Having lived a remarkably normal life, until Malice had downloaded a portion of his monstrous will, hate, and killing intent into his once innocent offspring. Warping him in ways beyond horrific as the youth’s final tormented years of life flashed before Eric’s eyes, summarized so neatly by overly cheerful System Interface messages encapsulating the machinations of a genius who had been playing the entire city like a harp from hell. Two steps ahead of all of them. Even Blue Corp’s Savings And Loan charter had been acknowledged and factored in with every intention of Malice’s pawn using it not only to master Earth’s financial sectors all the more thoroughly, but as an inroad to destroying Blue Faction from within in ways that were far more artful and intricate than Greed’s brute force approach.
So many pieces moving to Malice’s will, the entire board his to master! Disparate units of bucket-heads good at shooting and very little else, pawns Zacharia needed only to forge into the most elite infantry company that would reign unmatched upon Terra’s surface, it’s endless perilous delves neither his interest or his concern, future monster waves be damned.
It was only when brilliant Gold had flashed so bright, shocking the splinter of Malice that poor Zacharia had become, Malice at that moment bitterly regretting that his communion only went one way. He was just an echo of his true self and all his bitter schemes, for all that he reveled in being in a body so strong, so vital! Even as his original shell withered on a well-hidden moon he had, until this very night, thought impervious to all their foes.
Not that it mattered. This too had been accounted for, factored in, and he had contingencies, absolutely delicious contingencies that would assure absolute and utter ruin of his former foolish whore of a wife. A woman who’s shattered innocence and bitter despair had catapulted him all the way to Bronze so many centuries ago, and now the absolute ruination of those who were closest to her heart would propel him all the way to GOLD as he claimed her children utterly and stole her power for himself.
It was a delicious awareness of future contingencies and plans that had comforted the Zacharia/Malice gestalt from the moment that vile Gold corona had seared his eyes and torn asunder his original plans for Freetown. And the rage he had felt as his precious pawns were extinguished, delicious twisted schemes unraveled by blundering fools had known no equal.
His blood had BOILED at the thought of Aurelia’s weak-willed spawn DARING to approach as if he were anything other than the most fragile puff of foam and arrogance, effortlessly OBLITERATED with a single Psionic Strike.
Now the gloves were off, his Shadow’s final gambit in play as Aurelia fell RIGHT INTO THEIR TRAP! And how exquisite it would be if mother and son would be forced to pay the ultimate price together as both halves of Malice’s soul ascended upon their corpses.
Then all thoughts of convoluted schemes and sadistic delight were overwhelmed by a sense of shocked disbelief, when Zacharia/Malice actually felt the entire bank, immutable, near indestructible, shudder.
“No. There’s nothing you can do to alter the fate of this edifice, fool! It is anchored deep to Earth’s bedrock! To Terra’s ultimate fate! Not even Aurelia’s bitter storm could wash the simple illusions hiding it from you all! You can do noth—”
And that was the instant his sanctum was torn free of Earth’s gravity, the massive structure spinning at inconceivable speeds as it whirled into the heavens, Aurelia’s MONSTROUS spawn having somehow conflated the most extreme concentration of mass ever made by man upon the North American continent with the weight of a single fused soul. The mortar between his goddamned bricks! Effortless to spin about the heavens.
And those were the final broken thoughts of a young Contender finally tearing free of the fugue he had been lost in, a helpless passenger as Malice’s soul fled its doomed vessel as Zacharia, battered and broken even with his Bronze tier body, screamed for his mother in his final moments as his coffin hurtled down to Earth at shocking speeds.
And the final agonized shriek of an obliterated soul, shredded by the thousands upon thousands of trapped spirits at last bursting free as their cement turned to superheated plasma, tore through the very few minds with any psionic potential at all as a handful of youths excited for the promise of a fresh start collapsed in lifeless heaps as their companions cried out in surprise, and Eric’s own soul was flooded with the horrific revelation that Malice’s final gambit was far from over.
Now, to his horror, Eric understood the source of the desperate screams he increasingly heard echoing through this endless night.
The screams of a child locked in status.
The mother of an entire race, eggs harvested from her pristine shell. Awoken after countless centuries to find herself strapped down in a cell of torment, tortured by sadists, forced to endure perpetual hours awake and in agony as Malice’s minions mutilated her without mercy, determined to extract every last hour of torment the could from her before she collapsed in death and this endless night finally drew to a close.
In that moment of horrific revelation, Eric understood. The doomed soul forced to endure the burden of this endless night was none other than the girl Aurelia had been so desperate to save. The one that Malice had laughed in her face over, assuring Aurelia that her firstborn child was long since dust in the wind.
An innocent child that was, in fact, alive even now, and was being tortured unmercifully by sadists and monsters.
Eric’s firstborn sister.
Her tongue torn free. Her mind screaming for help that would never come.
***
“NO!” It was only in the that endless awful moment, as he was torn free of his body with the psychic backlash of taking out yet another Contender dead set on destroying him and his sister… another kid who had just been a puppet, literally, of his psychopathic ancestor, that Eric could appreciate just how devious and byzantine Malice’s plans within plans had been. It was as if Malice had known, with his ability to twist and pluck the strings of causality, that whether Zacharia killed him first or the reverse... either way, Eric would fall and his family with him. Despite his unexpected triumph, Eric felt just as helpless to avoid that twisted fate as millions of Malice’s other victims over countless centuries.
Yet there was one crucial difference.
No matter Eric’s inconceivable sacrifice…
He, unlike so many of Malice’s helpless victims, had already ascended to Gold.
He might delude himself into thinking he could forget those impossible heights to which he had, for however brief a time, ascended...
But the quantum froth of spacetime itself still churned with the brilliant trails he and his mother had blazed through reality itself… just hours ago.
An act that echoed still in the cords of fate strummed between celestial bodies, and the System as well.
Eric’s sense of helpless futility as he was torn free of his own body with the mocking laughter of his ancient nemesis all around him abruptly catalyzed to a white hot fury that set his wings ablaze.
His shriek became the graviton waves tearing through space-time as he roared through the heavens once more.
Just an echo of the brilliant Golden Phoenix he had so recently been as the stars raced by in brilliant streams of light.
And that was okay. Because he didn’t need to convert the mass of the almost-ascended being who had last raced across this starway. He just had to compel the spirit of a doomed boy. As weightless as the spirits he had sent soaring to the heavens, before crashing down and obliterating yet another mixed blood child forever doomed by machinations of those far more ruthless and malicious than they.
Eric road the trail he and his mother had already forged, lit to crimson brilliance by tragedy and despair… and the reverberations of an innocent child’s tormented howls.
And then he was there.
Locking gazes with his first sister as violet eyes filled with inconceivable horror and pain met his own.
As one, a full dozen multilimbed abominations wearing blood-spattered lab coats spun around, snarling and hissing with forked tongues, bulging eyes filled with bitter spite glaring Eric’s way.
“Who dares to disturb the inner sanctum of Lord Mal—”
PHOENIX STRIKE!
You have obliterated your foes!
Eric’s fury transcended mere words as the chamber became a charnel house to his Wrath. Transcendent Flame obliterated tools meant for torment, not efficient killing, as a dozen meisters and orchestrators of inconceivable pain tripped over themselves when their goal became not one of torment, but simple efficient killing while facing a spirit whose blade set reality itself ablaze. \
Great gaping holes were cleaved through shrieking space-time, devouring every spell, limb, quivering tentacle, or torture device that tried to counter them. Leaving only superheated ash and impossibly cold ice in its wake.
Before both sublimated at once, leaving the chamber the perfect temperature for the fragile life trapped in torment within.
The trembling girl gazed up at Eric as he stepped through the pool of shredded corpses to approach her. She was presently strapped down to a device so horrific it had flayed off her skin, torn free her fingernails, and extracted all the bones from her hands and feet.
Eric swallowed the lump of horror in his throat even as he sensed the entire monstrous moon coming alive, multiple alarms now echoing through the chamber in a discordant furious cacophony.
It was then that he looked all around him, realizing just what these black steel walls were comprised of, a bitter smile coming to his lips before he looked down at his sister once more.
Advanced arcane weapons check: Successful! You’ve spotted the interface port for this device!
He then locked the entrance latch just as the steel door began to vibrate with furious pounding before turning to his emaciated sister once more.
Her gaze was one of such desperation, exhaustion, and hope, even if her damaged mind could no longer form any words at all.
Yet her body continued to shudder under the currents the monstrous multilimbed device of torment was pouring through her shattered body.
With increasing desperation, sensing that his sister’s heart was just moments from crashing to a final stop, Eric scrolled down the list of command prompts, his universal translator making the commands he sought effortless to decipher as foul currents were stopped, devices of torment were extracted, and straps slipped free of a body so broken Eric sensed that it was only the drip of crimson fluid, filled with both healing magics and necromantic foulness both, that left her live.
Blood Mastery skill check made! An absolutely absurd Rank of 33, enhanced by a Lesser Healing Perk, actually allows you to stabilize the massive injuries your sister has suffered!
Flesh Sculptor skill check: Critical success!
You have successfully forged a protective cage of flesh, bone, and sinew made from the remains of your Bronze-tier enemies!
Rituals of Summoning and Binding skill check: Critical Success!
Spirit Mastery skill check: Critical Success! (It helps when you are little more than a doomed spirit yourself!)
This stroller now resonates with all the protective wards its former hosts had once claimed as their own.
Flesh Sculptor is now Rank 27! And you would declare this no different than wearing the treated skin of your enemies. A trillion leather jackets worn throughout the universe! How close you skirt forbidden arts outside of your home world!
Eric swallowed a harsh sob, now holding his doomed sister in his arms before gently placing her in a protective shell formed as fast as desperation and need could compel his foes’ remains to twist and crackle into a crimson bone stroller he then placed her carefully within, before shutting her eyes.
“Sleep, little one. Sleep. And when you awaken once more, this nightmare will be over. I promise.”
And much to his awed relief, she did just that.
A Silver Phoenix talisman abruptly shattered, the awful night at last coming to an end.
Chapter 393 - Heroes never die. They only ascend.
Comments
Goldfish2
Glad he saved her and especially upon the pyre of his enemies corpses used to build her protections.
Peter Drake
Details shmetails? Yah. There might be a few too many balls in the air in this story. Some seem to get dropped.
Iain Grubb
So he has melted all the money in a red Tier crater which he needed to back up his bank claim. Owns not a single province for Blue Corp to Claim and ends the night here with Gilton, Ashland, the Orange Tower Zone etc all owned by the enemy? He failed to claim Freetown also, so none of those territories should default back to his/Blue Corp hands. Leaving only his sister with some of her territories left.
Can't wait till the next chapter. I love your writing style, keep up the amazing work!
