by James Hunter
“You lose, False Champion,” Hydra-Vox snarled, strands of magma dripping down like strings of drool, splattering against my face with burning agony. “You never stood a chance, not even with your deception and your tricks. So what if your insignificant Pixies destroyed the last pillar? It is but a minor setback. As long as I live, I can rebuild. I will find a new weapon, I will never give up because Order always prevails, and I am the very embodiment of Order. Of logic. You were destined to fail, and now you are destined to perish.”
I couldn’t move, couldn’t resist, but once again I found myself grinning like a moron. Vox hadn’t noticed yet—far too focused on the battle at hand and his impending victory—but with my new, heightened sense of hearing, I caught the whirl of a steampunk engine approaching.
“And what exactly do you find so amusing?” Hydra-Vox spat, serpentine eyes narrowing in suspicion.
“I never thought I could beat you,” I said, coughing up coppery blood. “Not in a straight-up fight,” I wheezed. “Which is why I planned for backup. Beat you down before hitting you with our big guns.” I shifted my eyes to the left as the Goblin zephyr cruised into view, Cutter at the helm and … a handful of Goblins scuttling through the rigging, working the sails.
I certainly hadn’t expected the Goblins, but there would be time for questions after we beat Vox.
“You think a few cannons can stop me?” Hydra-Vox sneered. “I am a living god.”
“Nope,” I said with a grunt and a pained chuckle. “But I thought an actual goddess might do the trick.” Just then, as though to rub my words into Vox’s face, the zephyr banked right, revealing Sapphira the Mer-Queen, her arms hanging over the retaining wall, the Scrimshaw Trident clutched in her hands. Getting a mermaid all the way into the Burning Expanse was no easy task, but Cutter had kindly retrofitted the blimp, tearing out the deck, then filling the cargo hold with seawater, turning the whole ship into a massive floating swimming pool.
“Hello, darling,” the Mer-Queen shouted, her voice a clarion call. “You enslaved my citizens and tried to steal my throne. That’s a debt which simply must be settled.” She thrust her Scrimshaw Trident straight out. “And this time I think the butcher’s bill shall be paid in full.” Her face contorted—skin glowing a brilliant cobalt, trident burning white like a falling star as she raised it to the sky. Overhead, the sky darkened, heavy, roiling black clouds appearing from clear skies as if by magic. “Goodbye, Vox,” she said, a condescending snarl contorting her face as the storm overhead unleashed its torrential rains.
A tsunami of seawater washed over the Hydra, white steam billowing up in a tremendous curtain as the Lich Priest shrieked.
Hydra-Vox hadn’t exactly been in good shape before, but as the unending torrent of water fell, his HP plunged—50% ... 40 ... 30 ... 20 ... 10—and then the pressure on my chest vanished. I couldn’t see a thing, the steam so thick it obscured the world like an early morning San Francisco fog bank. My Paralysis Debuff had almost lapsed, but it was the Avatar of Order countdown timer that caught my attention. It strobed and flashed, hitting zero, and suddenly I found the world shuddering around me as my limbs shrank, scales retreating into my body, wings disintegrating beneath me.
The pain that came when activating the Avatar of Order ability was blessedly absent as my body resumed its normal proportions. The Paralysis Debuff lapsed a second later, and I sat up with a groan, instantly fishing a Health Regen potion from my belt. I downed the concoction in a gulp, feeling a rush of sweet relief flood my body and infuse my muscles with new strength. I tossed the bottle and stood, wiping the sweat from my brow as the massive steam cloud finally receded and dissipated.
And there was Vox, a broken, withered shell of a man, laid low in the dirt, his chest hitching as he fought to breathe.
I didn’t have my hammer—it was lying somewhere in the desert—but I’d managed to hang onto my curve-bladed dagger. I pulled it out, fingers wrapping tight around the handle as I marched over to the dying Lich Priest. He was partially curled onto his side, so I used the toe of my boot to flip him onto his back, then planted my foot firmly on his chest, savoring the sweet irony. But it was hard to fully embrace the joy of my victory. Staring down at his crumpled, emaciated form didn’t give me nearly the satisfaction I thought it would.
Truthfully, he was pitiful looking.
He glanced up at me, his emerald eyes rheumy and washed out, the nimbus of green light that had surrounded him before extinguished. He sputtered and coughed, blood spilling over his thin lips and onto his chin. “I don’t understand,” he said, genuinely confused, all his fight gone out. “It was supposed to be me. I am Champion of Order. You cheated, you worked with agents of Chaos. You seem to be the anthesis of Order … and yet you stand victorious.” He coughed again, his skeletal frame quivering. “How?” he asked as the coughing fit subsided. “Why?”
“I almost feel bad for you, Vox,” I said, pressing down harder with my foot. “You’re a zealot, and that’s why you were always going to lose. Because you couldn’t see beyond yourself and your own narrow view of how things are supposed to be. Being Champion of Order isn’t about mindlessly enforcing some set of arbitrary rules, and it isn’t about stomping out anything that’s different. Being champion is about bringing things back to balance. Back to the middle.
“Sophia works with Enyo, you know?” I continued. “The same way she had me work with Osmark, the Champion of Chaos. Why? Because Chaos isn’t evil, any more than Order is good. They are two sides of the same coin. They are yin and yang, pushing forever against one another in an endless wheel. And there, in the center, is balance. Free will. The right to choose between Order or Chaos, knowing that you can’t have one without the other. I’m not fighting for a world that’s free of people like Osmark, I’m fighting for a world where both sides can exist.”
I moved my foot and crouched down on my haunches, lips pursed. “Still, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. Some part of me thinks you genuinely believed you were doing the right thing. That you were the hero, the champion.” I patted him on the chest with my left hand, raising the dagger high with my right. “Some part of me wants to let you live, to get a second chance—that seems like it would be the heroic thing to do. But no matter how I feel, I also realize that sometimes being the leader means not being a hero.” I moved like a snake, hand flying from his chest to his head, pinning him down flat as I drove the dagger into his frail throat.
Critical Hit. His HP bar hit zero, the fire gone from his eyes, his body slack and lifeless. Killing him didn’t feel good—I felt queasy, in fact—but there was a sweet surge of relief as a Quest Alert popped up before me:
<<<>>>
Quest Update: Rise of the Lich Priest
Congratulations! You have destroyed all three Necrotic Pillars scattered throughout the Realm of Order and vanquished Vox-Malum, the Lich Priest! As your reward, you have received 75,000 EXP and (2) Divinity Points, which can be invested in the Champion of Order Skill Tree! Additionally, you and all accompanying party members will each receive a special gift from Sophia, Overmind of Order, for completing this quest! You have also been awarded 1,000 renown—in-world fame—for completing this quest. Greater renown elevates you within the ranks of Eldgard and can affect merchant prices when selling or buying. The Entwined Fate and Shared Trauma Debuffs have been removed!
<<<>>>
I dismissed the screen, only to receive a flood of other notices:
<<<>>>
x1 Level Up!
You have (5) undistributed stat points
You have (1) unassigned proficiency point
<<<>>>
Skill: Bladed Weapons, Dagger
Skill Type/Level: Active / Level 4
Cost: None
Effect: Increases bladed-weapon damage by 11%.
<<<>>>
Skill: Blunt Weapons
Skill Type/Level: Active / Level 18
Cost: None
Effect: Increases blunt we
apon damage by 39%; increases blunt weapon attack rate by 9%.
<<<>>>
Subspecialty: Champion of Order
Ability Type/Level: Passive / Level 6
Cost: None
Effect 1: All Champion of Order-based skills and abilities are increased by 2.5% per Champion of Order Level (Current Level 6: 15%).
Effect 2: Luck stat increases by one point for every (2) Champion of Order Levels (Current Level 6: +3 to Luck).
Effect 3: You have (3) unassigned Divinity Points.
<<<>>>
I grinned, ecstatic about the advances, but then dismissed those as well and closed my interface, pulling up Vox’s inventory instead. Despite everything that had happened, I was insanely excited to see what kind of epic loot he was carrying … I let out a sigh of disappointment as I looked through his gear, which had all turned to ash. I glanced down at the corpse, dismayed to see that Vox’s body was actually crumbling before my eyes, skin flaking away like crepe paper, gray bones collapsing under their own weight, turning to dust, which was quickly picked up by the wind and swept away.
In seconds it vanished. Robes. Rings. Weapons. Gold. All of it. I paused and stood. Then faltered as I noticed a green gem peeking up from the inky ash bank where Vox’s body had been. I squatted back down and pulled the jewel free—not a jewel at all, I saw, but the pommel of his brutal mace. The only piece that had survived his demise. Curious, I pulled up the item description:
<<<>>>
Doom-Forged Pommel
Item Type: Relic
Class: Ancient Artifact
Base Damage: 0
Primary Effects:
Doom-Forged Relic 1 of 3
A Piece of the Doom-Forged Weapon
Once, eons ago, in an age long since forgotten to mankind, a powerful weapon was created to balance the colossal forces of the universe. A weapon so great even the gods feared its blow. Legend tells that after the Doom-Forged Weapon was crafted by the Dwarven demigod Khalkeús, the weapon was split apart by the gods and goddesses who feared its might and scattered across the realms so that it would never be assembled again. Perhaps it is time for the gods to fear again …
<<<>>>
My hand trembled as I curled my fingers around the Pommel and tucked it into my inventory.
THIRTY-THREE_
Goodbyes
As I turned my back to the ashy pile that was once the Lich Priest, I realized the world was frozen all around me. No sound, no motion, the Vale Army statue-still in their moment of triumph.
“Jack,” Sophia’s voice came a second later.
I wheeled to find the Overmind lounging in an elegant wooden throne not four feet away from me. The throne was an impossible thing that grew straight from the earth, somehow modeled from living wood and festooned with wildflowers and creeping vines. She had her legs crossed, one foot bouncing idly, fingers steepled as she regarded me with an arched brow. Vibrant grass sprouted from the dusty ground as I watched her, radiating out from her throne, flowers blooming in double time—petals unfurling only to transform into neon butterflies, which took to the air.
“I believe you dropped this,” she said with a smirk, lifting one hand as my warhammer appeared in the air before me.
“Sophia,” I said, trying not to be awed by her display of power. “Seems like you’re feeling a little better.” I grabbed the floating weapon and slipped it back into the leather frog at my belt.
She smiled, teeth brilliantly white, then shrugged. “A bit. Though I must confess I was worried toward the end there. You do have a tendency to cut things awfully close. Yet”—she bobbed her head as though acknowledging a fencer’s touch—“you prevailed again, despite the odds. Just as I knew you would. And now it is time to reward you and your friends for your tireless efforts.”
She snapped her fingers, click, and suddenly Abby, Cutter, Amara, Osmark, Jay, and Ari were all with me, reeling unsteadily as they glanced at each other before finally fixing their eyes on Sophia. Ari flitted to the ground at once and dropped to one knee, head bowing deeply in reverence.
The Overmind acknowledged her with a smile and a nod, motioning her to rise. “It is good to see you all once more,” she said. “You have learned your lessons, set aside your differences, and—most importantly of all—served me well. You seven have accomplished a deed that seemed impossible on the outset, and in doing so, have given us a fighting chance against Thanatos and his growing power. It is your duty to serve the greater good of all,” she continued, “yet I realize I owe each of you a debt of gratitude. And so, I will reward you for accomplishing this greatest of quests.
“Now, the reward for this quest stipulates one unique scalable item apiece.” She thrust a single finger up. “That is what you are owed, but it is not every day a goddess regains her kingdom. And because I am feeling especially magnanimous and powerful”—she breathed deeply, seeming to savor the air—“I will instead allow you to choose your reward. You may choose the unique scaling item if you’d like, or …” She trailed off, a glimmer in her eye. “Or, I will grant each of you a single favor, so long as it is within my power. So, what say you? And remember this an opportunity that is not likely to come again, so choose wisely.”
Osmark stepped forward first, bold and eager. “Avatar of Chaos,” he said at once. “So far Enyo has largely ignored me. I have seen what power the champions are capable of, and I want that power for myself. I need to unlock my abilities as Champion of Chaos.”
Sophia thought for a moment, then dipped her head in consent. “Very well. This is not a thing strictly within my power, but I shall intercede on your behalf. Within a week, your mistress shall pay you a visit.” She turned her gaze on the monk. “And what of you, Jay Taylor? What would you have of me?”
Jay seemed to think long and hard, his face deadpan, his hands balled into tight fists. “What about stats?” he finally asked, snapping back into the present. “Can you boost my stats, permanently?” His eyes seemed to burn with ravenous hunger.
“Indeed I can. Twenty points, permanently to any stat of your choosing. Any stat,” she said once more, in emphasis.
He grinned. “Luck,” he replied.
That was the obvious choice. The only choice really, since that was the one stat that couldn’t be altered through normal means. You couldn’t add points to it, and items that changed it were exceedingly rare and worth a king’s ransom. And though Luck didn’t have any overt, tangible effect—it didn’t increase armor rating or damage, for example—its influence was vast, touching everything from gold drops and item rarity to shop prices and special quest lines. Sophia had granted me a similar blessing after founding the Crimson Alliance, and I’d sure had more than my fair share of lucky breaks.
Sophia stood, slinking across the lush carpet of grass, white toga swishing, hips swaying, until she was inches from the monk. She reached out one hand, slowly and sinuously, tracing her fingers across Jay’s cheek before winding her hand behind his neck and pulling him into a deep kiss, which lasted an uncomfortably long time. Eventually, she pulled away, leaving the poor guy swaying drunkenly as she moved back to her throne. Jay looked like someone had just sucker punched him with brass knuckles.
“And what of you, Abby?” she asked, sitting slowly, carefully adjusting the fabric so it draped her thighs just so.
“I want my own flying mount,” Abby replied, not even a moment of hesitation. “I love Jack, and I love Devil, but I’m tired of having to hitch a ride whenever I want to take to the skies.”
Sophia traced a finger over her lips, seesawing her head left then right. “Yes. That can be arranged.” She twirled a finger through the air, weaving it back and forth like a magic wand—dip, bob, weave, arc. “For a creature as fierce and fiery as you, child, you will need a mount to suit.” An egg the size of a football and coated with a sheen of brilliant gold appeared in the air, rotating slowly before dropping into Abby’s outstretched hands. “Keep it warm, child. The creature within was harvested here,
in the Burning Expanse. A true gift, the likes of which no other Traveler will ever have.”
“Thank you,” Abby said, eyes wide, her voice breathless. She ran a hand over the top of the egg and clutched it tight against her chest. A little kid getting a puppy for Christmas.
“It is a well-earned reward,” Sophia replied with a genuinely warm smile. “But you are welcome all the same.”
“I’ve got one,” Cutter said, rubbing absently at his chin. “A bit unconventional, I’ll admit, but I might as well try my hand.”
“As I said, if it is within my power, I shall consider it,” Sophia replied, though her eyes narrowed in suspicion. I couldn’t blame her. Cutter tended to have that effect on people.
“Well, you gave Abby a mount,” he said, dropping a hand to the butt of his dagger. “I want a mount, too. But a very specific mount. I want to take that zephyr back to Eldgard with me. The things I could do with that … It boggles the bloody mind.” He paused for a minute, a dreamy look in his eyes. “Oh, and the crew is definitely part of the ‘mount.’” He said it with air quotes. “Apparently those little Goblin buggers have some kinda air pirate code. Since I captured the ship fair and square, they work for me now.” He grinned at me from ear to ear. “The grubby little bastards were just in the Vale, waiting for me,” he finished as an aside.
“You’re pushing the limits,” Sophia said, smile drooping just a hair, “but I am feeling exceptionally good, so I will allow it.”
Cutter let out a whoop and pumped his fist. “By all the Hells, I’m going to plunder everything.” He cackled, rubbing his hands as he fell back beside Amara. “You better watch out, monk¸ you’re right at the top of my list. The Goblin King they’ll call me.”
Jay grunted and crossed his arms. “We’ll see just how well that works out for you, thief.” The words were stern, but the lopsided grin said it all. Those two might never be best friends, but they weren’t enemies. Not anymore.
