by Iliev, Neven
Far below them, on the ground within the Fort’s walls, was a freshly planted grove of young hylt trees with a myriad of large stones and rocks strewn around them. The five-meter-tall seedlings began moving and bending like clay as their trunks and branches creaked. The elves immediately cleared the area and got out of the way. The trees bent over and grasped at the rocks with their branches as if they were gigantic hands and fingers. The saplings flung those stones and boulders into the air with enough force to very nearly uproot themselves. Their haphazard trajectories easily cleared the walls and rained down on the Empire’s unsuspecting troops, injuring or killing hundreds of them in the first volley.
A squad of Druids within the so-called Catapult Garden quickly used their magic to heal the disturbed soil and revitalize the young trees, which bent over and repeated the process. This phenomenon was possible because of Control Vegetation—a dryad-exclusive Skill that served as their main form of offense. It wasn’t just their own bodies, but pretty much any non-sentient plant within their roots’ reach that could bend to their will. Considering an ancient hylt tree’s root system could span kilometers in every direction, it went without saying that the entirety of Fort Yimin fell within their range.
Back outside the walls, the Empire was steadily gaining ground. A large number of the barriers protecting the defenders had shattered, and the Republic soldiers had to deploy their own magical defenses. The invading army pretty much crashed against the thick, ten-meter-tall stone walls like a battering ram. Those at the front were already busy attacking the enchanted fortification using maces and warhammers, while powerful Spells crashed against its surface overhead. Even if it was little by little, they steadily chipped away at the fortifications.
Of course, the Republic would not let them have their way so easily.
“Alright, boys,” Fizzy’s metallic voice rang out. “I think those meatbags outside need a bath!”
“Yes, ma’am!”
A dedicated squad of siege engineers replied in unison as they began ferrying pots of boiling oil up the stairs and onto the walls. The elves already up on the ramparts made way for them, and the scalding mixture was dumped onto the soldiers below. The cries of pain rose up from their ranks as proof of the oil’s effectiveness, but that was only the first step. With practiced ease, the siege engineers took a number of stick-like bombs out of their pockets and pouches, pulled the pins, and threw them over the edge. The metal tubes burst open not with explosive force, but bright yellow flames. The alchemically-prepared boiling oil below caught fire, enveloping the base of the walls in a raging, persistent inferno. Heavy brown smoke rose from the flames and lingered around the area like a thick smog, choking the life out of anything that still drew breath.
Artificers and Alchemists both made nasty stuff on their own, but the combination of the former’s ingenuity and the latter’s deadly chemicals was truly gruesome.
Just then, a plume of bright, blue light radiated from somewhere within the Empire’s ranks. The man known as the ‘Loose Cannon’ was charging his signature move. The Republic forces launched attacks at him to interrupt it, but the Empire’s magic users converged around him to provide cover. It was a tense few moments, but the attackers’ efforts proved enough.
“Particle Cannon!”
A conical beam of pure energy shot out from the man and flew the walls of Fort Yimin at near-light speed.
“Mirror of Calandra!”
Split seconds before it hit, a gigantic, oval-shaped, ornamental mirror sprang up in front of the walls. The beam bounced off it, and washed over that section of the Empire’s force. It scorched the ground, and turned hundreds of the invaders to ash within the blink of an eye.
[Feat of strength performed! You have unlocked a new Perk: Slayer of Humanity.]
This was the only noteworthy message amidst the flood of notifications that assailed Imiryl’s consciousness. The power of the ascendant human’s Particle Cannon had been reflected by that of the high elf’s own Ultimate Skill. The ‘Loose Cannon’ himself had been caught up in the attack, though he barely managed to survive. The two high-Level Wizards glared at each other across the momentarily-silenced battlefield.
“Tsk,” Lerion clicked his tongue. “I wasn’t told that bitch would be there.”
Had he known, he wouldn’t have thoughtlessly used his Ultimate Skill like that. Not only were most of his direct subordinates dead, but his MP was nearly exhausted and his HP wasn’t in great shape, either. This seemed to be a good point for him to fall back and recuperate. No matter how weak or powerful they were, any individual on this world would be able to heal from their non-crippling injuries and return to battle after a ten-to-fifteen-minute rest. This time could be cut even shorter with the aid of restorative magic and elixirs. The injured troops still wouldn’t be able to use any powerful Skills that had excessively long cooldown periods and had to manage their stamina, but for the most part they could get right back to the fight.
None of that was relevant to the ascendant Wizard, however, as a spectral arrow bore a hole clean through his heart. A second one pierced his skull before his body had even hit the ground.
“Confirmed kill on Lerion,” Faehorn reported from his perch.
“Good work,” Underwood replied.
“Thank Imiryl if you have time to blab, Silus.”
If it hadn’t been for the high elf’s perfectly executed counter-Ultimate, bringing that man down would have been a much more difficult task. Breaching his Mana Shield alone would have taken far too much time for a lone Ranger, even one of Faehorn’s level.
“Heads up, the Hallowed Dead are encroaching on the walls,” the archer reported.
“Can you take that Necromancer out?”
“Not a chance. He’s been using his minions as shields, and they’re too hardy for me to... Wait, he’s personally going to the base of the wall!”
A magic user who willingly threw himself into the front lines like that could only mean one thing—he was about to unleash an Ultimate Skill. Since this man’s ability was unknown, it immediately sent the elven officers into high alert. However, they were unable to pass orders down the chain of command fast enough for the defenders to react, and the white-robed man reached the foot of the stone wall unharmed.
The alchemical fires and poisonous fumes that had been started by the fort’s defenders had already subsided or been cleared away. The Empire’s soldiers were wary of approaching this section of the wall again, so the corpse-commander had no cover from the army. He didn’t need it though. The man’s towering death knights used their huge shields to form a mobile bunker around their master, sheltering him from the rain of attacks that came from above. Although he lost about a quarter of his minions getting this far, he reached his goal without much difficulty.
He raised his right arm and placed a pale hand on the chipped, battered, and scorched surface of the walls. He then let out a low voice, almost like a whisper.
“The goal of all life is death.”
In the next instant, everything within fifteen meters of him died. It wasn’t just the elves within range of his Ultimate Skill, either. Even things that were not technically alive were granted ‘death.’ Armor and weapons eroded into oblivion while the ground and stone around him turned to sand. Even part of his own undead platoon succumbed to the effects of the Ultimate Skill and collapsed into inanimate piles of ashes. The very air became stagnant with anti-life to the point that even the person that brought about this world of ultimate decay started to choke on it.
The Necromancer, who was not completely exempt from the effects of his own ability, collapsed to one knee. The death knights left just outside the range of his Ultimate Skill ran to his side to provide cover. He heard thumping and clanging noises overhead, as numerous attacks bounced off their heavy shields and armor.
“Owww! That! Hurt!”
In the next instant, he heard a high-pitched, childish voice that sent him on high alert. It was clearly audible over t
he chaotic noise of the battle around him, but he neither saw nor felt any nearby living beings. He quickly dismissed those words as the enemy using some kind of trickery to unsettle him. Rangers, for instance, commonly used Whisper Wind to distract an enemy during combat, the experienced Necromancer wouldn’t fall for such a basic ruse.
He stood unsteadily, using his staff to support his weakened body. Looking up from the sandy ground and peering through the gaps between his minions, he confirmed that the walls before him had collapsed to leave a gigantic, gaping hole in the fort’s defenses. He smiled under his mask, as his mission had been completed. With his part in the battle over, all that was left was to fall back from the front lines, collect his pay, and gather new ‘recruits’ from the soldiers that signed their bodies over to him. It wasn’t difficult to find military types who preferred to have their remains continue to serve the Empire rather than being left to rot in the ground.
However, the Holy Necromancer would have to actually make it back to safety before he could cash in on his ‘investment.’
“GRAH!”
The man let out a shrill yell in response to the sudden sharp pain in both his feet. Looking down in a panic, he saw something had pierced clean through them from below, effectively nailing him to this spot. How was such a thing possible? Everything underneath his position should have turned to ash and sand. Whatever traps the elves might have laid should have ceased to function, regardless of the magic they might have held. Even high-Level monsters would wither away unless they were practically overflowing with vitality.
“Hack! Koff!”
The man’s high-speed thought processes cut off as he coughed, gasping for air. He felt weak and dizzy, far worse than the after-effects of Final Goal, his Ultimate Skill, should have been. His limbs felt cold and his body grew heavy as he realized both his HP and MP were rapidly dropping. Whatever had pierced his feet sucked the blood straight out of him, leaving the man without the strength to free himself.
In a fit of calculated panic, he mentally commanded his death knights to cut off his legs at the knees, which they did without hesitation. The man stifled the screams of pain as their ivory blades cleaved through his lower limbs. Separated from his feet, he fell over backwards into the waiting hands of his Hallowed Dead, who carried him away with all due haste. He reached for the Rejuvenating Potion on his belt. It was a high-class mixture that could be called the ultimate healing elixir. It was powerful enough to fully restoring a living being to pristine condition in seconds, including growing back lost limbs. Its main downside was that a single dose would shave off several years from one’s natural lifespan, but the Necromancer didn’t hesitate to bring the mixture to his lips.
Moments later, the ivory-colored troop of death knights crumbled into piles of dust and bones, which blended into the yellow sand underneath. However, their master was nowhere to be found. All that was left of him were a pair of pierced shoes, a white robe stained red, and a trail of bloodied sand connecting the two points. An uncorked crystal vial lay on the ground, its pink contents draining away into the sand. It was as if the man’s body had disappeared into thin air.
It was the price he paid for carelessly harming a dryad’s precious roots.
Part Two
“Morgana! Did those dryads make a move just now?”
The angry visage of Prefect Vera stared accusingly at the Comm-crystal’s image of the beastkin who was supposed to keep those ‘children’ in check. She saw the girl turn her head around and heard her repeat the question. The redhead seemingly got her answer, as she turned her attention back to the elf.
“Uhm… Castelia says she got upset and drank the man that hurt her roots.”
Vera blinked a few times in surprise. She could immediately understand how the Necromancer’s large-scale attack might have caused the dryad to retaliate on reflex. That much was obvious. It was that other bit that confused her.
“Drank?” Vera asked incredulously.
“Yes, ma’am. Something about nutrients?”
“So, she… absorbed his body while leaving nothing behind?”
“I think so. She’s not very good at explaining things.”
“I see… Well, uh, we likely haven’t been found out, but make sure you keep them in line, okay?”
Even Faehorn, who had just reported on the Necromancer’s mysterious disappearance, failed to see what went on with all the undead covering that VIP’s retreat. It was therefore safe to assume the Empire’s spotters were just as dumbfounded.
“Yes, ma’am.”
The Prefect cut the connection and returned to the problem at hand. While losing two of their trump cards this early had definitely been a heavy blow for the Empire, they still managed to penetrate the fortress defenses much sooner than anticipated. The Republic planned to wear the enemy down a lot more before that happened, but that was just how powerful Ultimate Skills were. If applied correctly they could drastically change the course of an entire war, let alone a single battle.
The upside was that Operation Honeytrap involved letting the enemy pour into the fort anyway, though the Republic couldn’t just open the gates and let them in. The invaders needed to remain oblivious to the nature of the nasty surprise the defenders had in store for them. This meant the Legionnaires and conscripts had to clash with the Imperials head on. Many Republic troops would doubtlessly perish, but as Faehorn had pointed out time and again, the dryads would only be effective so long as they remained an unknown factor. The elves had only one shot at this, so they had to make it count, even if it meant sacrificing their people.
Back at the breached-wall-turned-desert, the Imperial officers considered whether it was safe to rush in. The life-sapping air had cleared up, but the Necromancer that caused it was nowhere to be seen. Although they found the latter to be quite unsettling, the lack of knowledge wasn’t going to get them any war contributions. Having two of their living weapons eliminated so soon was unfortunate, but the attackers definitely had the upper hand. VIPs aside, casualties on both sides seemed to be relatively equal thus far. This was good news for the numerically superior Empire. Even if the defenders had a more favorable position, the invaders’ superior military would clearly win out.
Seeing little reason to hesitate, the order was given and the Imperial troops rushed over the dried-up sands and through the crumbled section of the wall. As they were about to pour in, however, they met resistance.
“Grit yer teeth and say yer prayers, ye blithering gomerels!”
Angry, inebriated, heavily armed, dwarf-shaped resistance.
“RRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!”
Hilda gave a war cry that carried clearly across the noisy battlefield, and everyone that heard it felt its effects.
[Your body trembles before the Tempest of Rage.]
[The effectiveness of physical Attributes is reduced by 25% for the next 15 minutes.]
The invading infantry felt rattled down to their very cores. Their movements grew noticeably more sluggish, as each individual felt both their equipment and their breathing grow heavier. Suddenly losing a quarter of the benefits bestowed to them by their STR, DEX, AGI, and END rendered the vanguard confused and shaken on top of being severely weakened.
[The Tempest of Rage has swallowed you up.]
[The effectiveness of physical Attributes is increased by 25% for the next 15 minutes.]
The Republic’s forces, on the other hand, let off a unified war cry as they felt their bodies well up with power. Elves, humans, and dwarves clad in shining silverite armor rushed out to meet the Empire’s charge, their eyes glowing with an unearthly red light. Tight at their head was Hilda, whose blue tabard had been dyed white just for the occasion. She leapt a good ten meters through the air and swung down with a massive axe taller than her.
“Cleave!”
The blade collided with the ground, sending out a shockwave of red light that dug a five-meter-long trench through it. Needless to say, any humans who stood in its path fo
und themselves slain without being able to do anything about it. Hilda didn’t even bat an eye under her spiked helmet. She merely lifted the weapon up onto her shoulder with one hand, and dashed forward, swinging it in a wide arc. Multiple men fell by the wayside every time her weapon moved, the bloodthirsty blade cutting clean flesh, bone, and metal alike. She kept forcing her way deeper into the Empire’s ranks like a blender as she let the red haze overtake her. No steel weapon could reach her, but Spells and various projectiles flew at her and chipped away at her formidable vitality.
However, inflicting damage on a Berserker simply made them more dangerous. This sort of environment was where the Job truly shone. To make matters worse for her enemy, the magic weapon Hilda wielded replenished her lost vitality by absorbing the lifeblood of its victims, turning the dwarf into a perpetual carousel of death. The sheer terror her blood-soaked form inspired could not be understated. Even the allies following in her wake trembled at the thought of even getting near her.
Well, all except one of them.
“Heaaaaahahahaaa!”
An oddly gleeful cry came out from a small, mithril frame. Fizzy had decided to take this chance to further advance her Metal Golem and Paladin Jobs. Though her metallic constitution seemed to exclude her from receiving the benefits of the Tempest of Rage, she would not fail to teach these canned meatbags just how inferior they were to her. For once, it wasn’t just her narcissistic tendencies talking.
“Get out there and score some points with the military, but retreat the instant your survival is at stake.”
Those had been the orders given to her by her Hero, and she would follow them to the letter. The humans stood little chance in close combat against a mithril golem that was faster, stronger, and tougher. Her small size made it difficult to target her as she bashed the people around her into a bloody pulp from the ground up. Knees were smashed, spines were crushed, heads were squished, and groins were mercilessly targeted by her trusty wrench. She was entirely within her element—a Champion of Chaos navigating a sea of violence and slaughter.
