Chapter 7 Shattered World

  The Great Wastes, Mt. Defiance, Home of House Zarakova

  Archduke Yuri Baikov looked around dumbfounded, and concerned, he had come down to relieve a siege and yet the enemy had so rudely refused to show up. The Archduke had no idea what to expect, as Mt. Defiance itself was an area that nullified all long-range communication magic, but he wasn’t expecting this. Grand Duchess Zoya Zarakova and her elite guard had come down to treat him.

  Even though she was pushing into her eighties, the old woman was still somehow as quick and nimble as she was in her youth, though her gray hair and many wrinkles did not disguise her age. The Grand Duchess was dressed in the attire of a Zarakovan Scout Commander, with a quiver on her back, a bow in her hand, and two short swords to her side. This wizened old woman didn’t come up to the Archduke’s chest, though he still had great respect and admiration for her, he had been quite a cocky young man in his youth, and she was the one who put him in his place, giving him a beating he would never forget.

  “My Archduke, I would hate to say this, since the truth may be too much to bear, but I do believe you have been tricked.” The wizened old woman said with sorrow in her voice.

  The Archduke, severely annoyed and growing in fury at the situation, replied “It would appear so, but that just leaves open the question, where in Passions Inferno is the enemy?”

  Bear Territory, Wall Visalia Eastern Command

  Zarathustra overlooked Wall Visalia from the battlements of his mobile castle. When he had last been in this region the wall had yet to be built, this was the location where the final battle between him and the King of Lions took place. It was a fierce and mighty battle, but in the end, he lost and retreated to his old keep deep in the wastes, waiting a full millennium for someone to awaken him.

  Now, he had returned, this time with an even larger army under his command and no damnable King of Lions wielding magic swords and flying on winged lions standing in his way. Zarathustra looked down from his castle at his host arrayed before him. The Gribs were swarming in the vanguard, backed up by Ormag, Tormag, and Hill Giant shock troops who would fall in right behind the Gribs as they swarmed through.

  Behind them stood the unruly Chren-Zul mobs and the more disciplined Ma-Grib companies, standing perfectly still but focused on the wall in front of them with intense hatred in their eyes. Most of his horde waited behind his castle, including the Ri-Gribs and all his cavalry.

  Those forces would not be needed for this battle. Zarathustra smiled as the trebuchets containing the alchemic solution necessary to tear down this damnable wall were being set up and loaded, Ludwig was busy overseeing the calculations to make sure they hit their target.

  Ludwig assured him that they would work, and Zarathustra was inclined to trust him. While he never dabbled in alchemy, he knew better than to second-guess his alchemical expert. Now was the time for his big speech. Using his magic, he projected a massive image of himself in the sky, making sure to darken it in the process, he always liked to go for the grand effect. Zarathustra, instinctively but unnecessarily, took a deep breath and then propelled his voice across the entire area.

  “Good afternoon everyone, my name is Zarathustra the Enlightened, 1000 years ago I ruled a substantial portion of what you now call the Kingdom of Lions, before that wretched son of a whore, Arthur Galdwin came with his mercenaries and defeated me and the other six warlords. You have been lied to, there was nothing divine about this man born the son of a literal whore in the city of Swordfall that lies in the lands to the east of the Clustered Ocean. And the world certainly is not 1000 years old, just another lie to keep your mindless sheep pacified, obedient, and complacent.

  For millennia, you have been cultivated into a culture of dull-minded submissive slaves, incapable of introspection or critical thought. Those who have dominion over you have built their castles upon a pillar of lies. None of you commoners even realize that you once had surnames, just like the nobles, but they were stripped from you by the King of Lions, and your memories of them erased.

  The removal of your names was just another way to objectify you and turn you into property. The erasure of your names, along with the erasure of your history, of who you used to be as a people, is a grievous crime, and grievously shall the descendants of those responsible pay for it. I have come to shatter this old order, to break the chains and create a just and equitable society. It will be rough for many of you, but once your conditioning is broken your descendants will thank me for freeing them. But first, a reckoning is in order, those who have been dispossessed and driven into a literal wasteland have come seeking justice for wrongs done to them.

  The dispossessed have come to claim what you have denied them. Now, I do not doubt that you will defy me here, though it is of little consequence, you are but a castle made of sand, and I am a wave coming to wipe you away. May you die well, though you die in vain.”

  Zarathustra raised his skeletal hand and signaled for the bombardment to begin.

  Everyone on the Baikov side of the wall started looking around at each other with confusion and fear. It was easier for those not on the battlements and towers of the wall, they were spared the sight of a massive horde stretching further than the eye could see. General Dimitri turned to his Colonel Natasha Ortoff, who had already sent a vibration through the earth to pick up the number of the host before her. The color drained from her mineral-laced body, she looked at him, trembling in fear. “The enemy numbers are five hundred thousand soldiers strong, General.”

  General Dimitri stared at her, dumbfounded for a few moments, before returning to his senses and remembering his duty. Turning to his assembled officers he began giving commands. “Sound the mustering call, I want everyone who is still here armed and ready, they’re going to hit us and hit us hard. Also, scouts need to be sent out in all directions, and everyone needs to be warned, especially my nephew and sister, we might be able to hold the wall for a while, but we will need the central and western forces to drive them back. I'm sure my brother has learned of this trick and is already on his way back. We’ll hit them from both sides.”

  None of his officers were convinced that they could hold, and he wasn’t convinced that they could hold, but right now he had no choice but to put on a confident and assured fa?ade, such was the burden of leadership. If he panicked now everything would collapse. General Dimitri just had to hope that they could withstand the full might of this creature and his minions, even for a little while.

  Bear Territory, Zarathustra’s Artillery Line

  Ludwig quietly surveyed the wall before him. The trebuchets had been stationed on the highest hill, closest to the wall. Ludwig was sure his alchemical dissolvent would do the job, he was just running through the numbers in his head one more time.

  “Adjust the trebuchets up by 5 degrees,” Ludwig told the Ma-Grib crews under his command. They obeyed and looked to him for further instructions. Ludwig lifted his hand to signal the loading of the trebuchets, as the crews motioned their Ormag attendees to hoist the large vials into the slings that would send them flying.

  Once that had been done, Ludwig closed his eyes and took a deep breath. There was no going back now, there never was. All he could do now was ensure a future for himself and Brunhilde. Ludwig lowered his hand, and the glass containers were sent flying.

  Ludwig was aiming for the softest space in the wall, the stretch of wall between the massive Eastern Gate and the Eastern Command Fortress. All the giant vials hit home covering the wall, from the ramparts to the foundation, in a viscous substance the color of green snot. The dissolvent did its work, destroying the millennia-old enchantments and protections, before moving onto the wall and those hidden inside of it. The dissolvent worked so fast that no one in its path even had time to scream before they were smothered in his solution and erased from the face of the planet, nothing was left of them.

  On the plus side, Ludwig smirked as he thought to himself, their families had just been spared costly funeral arrangements, so they could count that as a blessing. Though all the corpses left on the field that day would be in the army cooking pots this evening, either way, the families won out by having their loved ones’ bodies destroyed. In a matter of 45 seconds, the dissolvent went inert, having been exposed to outside air and losing its properties, but the damage had been done, there was now a gaping hole in the wall two hundred feet across. Ludwig could not help but admire his handiwork.

  The vanguard of Zarathustra’s force began to move forward. Discordant swarms of rabid Grib fodder with Ormags, Tormags, and Hill Giants dispersed behind their ranks to make the defenders unsure of who to target and to guarantee that the Gribs did not turn around and run for it. Following right behind them in the center of the van were several ranks of disciplined Ma-Grib spear infantry marching in perfect unison, shields raised high to protect from any incoming fire.

  On both flanks, unruly gaggles of fierce Chren-Zul warriors surged forward, desperate to get to the fight and upset that others would be getting there before them. To face this threat the remaining garrison force gathered what trained soldiers they had on hand around the wall, who had not been dissolved, either wholly or partially, into a formidable shield wall around the crater where the wall once stood.

  However 200 feet is a wide area to cover, especially when they were low on manpower to begin with. Instead of forming an impenetrable wall of wood and steel, there were several isolated pockets desperately trying to hold their ground as the horde rushed into the crater and then up and out of it, into the desperate defenders. They were doing their best to slow their foes down to buy everyone else time to join the fray.

  The inside of the wall was no better, as a ravenous swarm poured into the breaches on both sides, overwhelming the bewildered and wounded defenders. Those who had parts of their body dissolved stood no chance while their whole companions only fared slightly better against the relentless onslaught. The defenders on the higher levels were able to shoot down at their foes, but their measly crossbow bolts could only do so much against such an inexorable foe.

  The front line just shattered as the Gribs swarmed around the outnumbered shield infantry and got them from behind. To their surprise, they were wounded but not killed by the Gribs, though the realization of this only became clear as the Ormags, Tormags, and Hill Giants made their way to them. These beasts, but especially Ormags and Tormags, loved the flesh of humanoids, the fresher the better, and that meant alive. The Hill Giants were too stupid to realize that the Gribs had given them a free meal.

  Despite being cousins, Ormags and Tormags had different physiologies. Tormags were as tall as Ormags, but incredibly lanky, appearing to be emaciated by those who knew nothing about them. This was due to Tormag physiology, which was so efficient in breaking down those devoured. That they had no need of any further digestive systems, and instead of defecating or urinating, they just sweated out whatever their bodies did not metabolize. Now, that meant that those devoured by Tormags only had a couple of seconds of horror before they were torn apart, molecule by molecule, and incorporated into the Tormag's physiology. This peculiar quirk also meant that Tormags took on the characteristic traits of those they ate.

  Those who fed on many humans became more intelligent and ambitious, those who fed on Halmen’s became smaller, but more agile and stealthy, possessing a keen cunning. Since these Tormags had fed on their kind or the other savage tribes, they had become inbred. Over time the Tormags Zarathustra brought with him would prove to be highly dangerous as they devoured the humans and Halmens of the Kingdom of Lions and transformed into ever more varied and unique Tormags.

  Ormags, in contrast, had highly inefficient digestive systems, despite possessing massive appetites, so instead they became quite rotund, though their outer layer of fat hid several layers of muscles. They were just as tall as Tormags and possessed gigantic maws that they would shove their meals down into. Now those unfortunates enough to be devoured by an Ormag would have several days of digestion to deal with.

  Ormags did not stop feeding until their bellies were full, and while it took a while, all those crammed inside of its gullet would eventually be digested. The strong stomach muscles of the Ormags would often aid in this task, constricting and bashing together those unfortunate enough to be devoured by an Ormag, until they were broken down. Tormag and Ormag physiology is fascinating, if horrific to the defenders who learned about it firsthand.

  The Second Line

  Major Edith, one of the few Conduits serving down on the wall, looked on in horror with her golden orb eyes as the horde got ever closer. Taking stock of the situation, she reached deep inside of her and called forth her family Scion, Edachiel, an Empyrean in service to the King of Kings, Alnardun. Edachiel had silver skin, copper hair, and glowing sapphires for eyes. Edachiel was clad in ornate empyrean gold armor, wielding a sword and shield forged from empyreal gold. On his back were a pair of massive golden wings. Edachiel looked with disdain at the great host before them.

  “Edith,” he said, “I do believe that this is the day your life will come to an end.” Edachiel face was unflinching in that proclamation.

  “I know Edachiel, I have made peace with that fact. Tell me, who in my family will you go to once I go beyond?”

  “Your brother George still lives, so I will pass to him.”

  A bitter smile passed across her face. “So, he’s still alive, good luck straightening that delinquent out.”

  “I am sure that I can turn his life around, with the proper guidance.”

  “Edachiel, when you see him, can you tell him that I loved him and that I miss him dearly, and that no matter what bad blood came between us, he’s still my little brother.” Tears were streaming down her face now.

  “I will relay your message.” Edachiel looked back at her with sadness in his eyes.

  Realizing that Edachiel might not be enough, Edith decided to call forth some extra help as well. With all her might, she reached into the realm of Lord Alnardun and drew forth reinforcements. Twenty Empyrean Hounds, hers appears to be short-legged and stumpy, with empyrean gold helmets on their heads and little wings on their backs. “Servants of truth and justice, I call upon your aid in this darkest hour, will you stand beside Edachiel and myself against the foe before us?” Edith asked.

  The leader of the Empyrean Hounds took one look at the foe before them. In a sophisticated voice, speaking the language of the heavens, he replied. “My dear, we will fight by your side till the final trumpet sounds.”

  “Then let us make our stand.” Edith was sheathed in golden light, as she floated in the air, ready to give aid to her allies as they charged forth into the implacable horde before them.

  Training Grounds

  Elizabeth and her companions were unprepared for the onslaught, though they did their best. Pairing up they put themselves between Elizabeth who was a non-combatant and overcome by the horror that she was witnessing. Sir Frederick paired up with Damian, Ragnar with Madeline, Hezekiah with Bridgette, and Carmen with Francesco.

  The Grib swarm hit them and hit them hard. Carmen began to sing a song of enthrallment, a gentle melody that clouded the minds of the Grib as they got close, leading them to stand in place. Francesco, taking this as his cue, moved through their ranks, slicing their throats while they remained helpless. A stray stone came flying in and hit Carmen on her head, ending her song and leaving Francesco surrounded by a group of very irate Gribs. Charging with their crude stone knives and clubs, they tried to hit Francesco.

  Thankfully, his reflexes aided in saving him from most of their savage assault, but he was not used to this kind of fighting, and one lucky blow knocked him to the ground. Right as they began to pile on him, a loud and bone-shattering sonic boom hit them, bursting their brains with its force. Francesco looked up to see that Carmen had recovered and had killed the Gribs with a mighty shout. Moving to her side, they both got ready for the next wave that was coming in. Carmen had another song in mind, this one would make Francesco a deadlier fighter and aid his dodging ability, but she was not sure if it would be enough to survive the onslaught.

  Sir Frederick and Damian were also dealing with Gribs. Demanding that Damian support him, Sir Frederick put his shield in front of him with his Empyrean gold sword at the ready, suffused with holy energy. A golden aura enveloped his body, further increasing his combat prowess.

  The Gribs hit hard, but Sir Frederick knocked a few of them back with his shield, though he was aware of the fact that he could be overrun at any moment, so he went to work cutting them down. The Gribs fell like wheat before the scythe as Sir Frederick proved his martial prowess, but it was not enough. It was inevitable that one of them got lucky and got behind him.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  Damian was hesitant and confused about what to do, while he had been learning to harness his low magic, he was not confident in his abilities, and the current stress-inducing situation was not helping him. Desperately mumbling half-forgotten spells and making hand gestures that he had always found awkward, he tried to cast spells like an Arcanos, to no avail.

  A couple more Gribs had made it past Fredericks defenses, knocking him to the ground. They begun to crawl all over him, trying to get underneath his armor. A frustrated and desperate Sir Frederick finally called out, “Hurry and do something, you coward, Elizabeth is in danger.”

  This snapped Damian out of indecisive finger twirling and spell mumbling, and calling on power hidden deep within him, he put forth his hand and shot out bolts of pure arcane energy. The swarm of purple bolts struck with precision, hitting not only the Gribs on Sir Frederick, but all the Gribs coming their way as well, killing them instantly as they were all impaled.

  Exhausted he looked down at his right hand and discovered that an intricate array of purple lines had formed on it, pushing up through his skin and glowing purple with arcane energy. Damian watched as these lines made their way up his arm until they stopped at his elbow. Damian reached down and touched one of the larger ones that was pushing up out of his arm. It felt hard like stone, or crystal, though he still had great flexibility in his hand and lower arm. If anything, he felt less awkward and uncoordinated than usual.

  While obsessing over the changes being wrought on his body, he heard another shout, “Damian, your arm looks impressive, but right now we have to focus on the task at hand.” Damian looked up to discover that another wave of Gribs were swarming around Sir Frederick who was trying to hold them off, choosing to infuse his armor with holy power rather than himself. Sighing, Damian got off the ground and got ready to launch another attack.

  Hezekiah and Bridgette were not nearly as uncoordinated in their attacks as Sir Frederick and Damian. Both seemed to work together quite well. Hezekiah was a whirling tornado in the Grib’s midst, either kicking them or whacking them with his owl-topped staff. Every time he struck, he struck true, and Grib's bones shattered beneath his furious blows.

  Meanwhile, Brigette was picking off the Gribss who appeared to be the most dangerous or were managing to avoid the literal maelstrom of pain that Hezekiah had become. Every one of her shots either hit in the throat or the heart. Bridgette did run out of arrows, but that didn’t mean she was helpless. With a maniacal glint to her now glowing emerald eyes, she pulled out her long hunting knife and prepared to slice the Gribs like they were Redcaps.

  Madeline was fortunate that Ragnar had an appetite for violence because she had none. Much like Hezekiah, he too had become a whirling maelstrom of death, through his involved more axe blades and war cries to his foreign gods. Ragnar had been overtaken by a savage bloodlust, slaughtering terrified Gribs in his path, all the while bellowing his war cries, beseeching Hasbarl Allfather and his Valkyries to witness his glory and martial prowess in his native tongue. Regardless of the method, he was proving quite adept at slaughtering every Grib in his path, allowing her to relax and wait for him to need her.

  Unfortunately for her, she had caught the eye of a crafty Grib Arc-Blood, who had found a way to make it past Ragnar, who was too preoccupied with slaughtering the obvious threats. Madeline did not even notice him, too preoccupied checking up on how the others were doing to pay attention to him, moving up on her until he was only a few feet away. Shocked, she stumbled backward and fell flat on her rear.

  Eyeing her maliciously, he said, “I’m hungry.” The Grib's appearance was odd, even for a Grib, possessing a head that resembled a massive muffin covered in poppy seed hands that appeared to have been deep fried, and slimy skin that looked like it had been drenched in butter. Too late did she realize that he was a Food Arc-Blood and that he had put her on his menu. Madeline looked around for help, but the others were occupied, and Elizabeth had fallen to the ground, cradling her head and screaming at the top of her lungs that this was not happening.

  Madeline felt a tingling sensation, looking down and screaming in horror as her right arm was being transformed. Her fingers were turned into little sausages attached to her larger sausage arm. Realizing her predicament, she tried to get up with her left hand only to discover that she could not stand up, as her legs were being turned into cheese.

  Finally, her left arm began to match her right, being made into sausage as well. She was now crying out for help as the Grib stood over her, leering. The Grib Arc-Blood stuck his hand into her chest, and it began to transform into bread. Closing her eyes, she prepared for the worst, when she heard a voice speaking to her. “Madeline, you can beat this, I know you can, it’s too soon for you to die, I need you in the trials ahead.” She realized who was speaking to her, it was her goddess. “I know you are a gentle, sweet child; I wouldn’t have it any other way. You do not like to hurt others, and you always try to do what is right. But right now, you are on the verge of being devoured, and it is far too soon. Many, including Elizabeth, will need you. Now fight back, you can undo what is being done to you.”

  The voice left her right as the Gribs magic was about to finish transforming her head into a bowl of vanilla ice cream, with her hair becoming the hot fudge topping, she had very little time left. Reaching deep within, she channeled the power of her goddess through her body, undoing the transformation and sending the Grib flying off her.

  Madeline got back up, a bit wobbly as the final effects were undone, but she was still fine. Madeline stared the Grib down, who looked at her with frustration and fury. “You aren’t supposed to fight back!” The Grib shouted at her.

  “You have poor table manners,” She replied, “didn’t your mother ever teach you not to play with your food?”. Madeline began to summon divine energy into her clasped hands, saying a prayer and drawing on the power granted to her by Lenera. “By your radiant majesty, may this evil be purged.”

  Madeline then sent forth a beam of blazing white fire that consumed the Grib, the fact that he was lathered in butter only made his demise much quicker. When the flames subsided, only his charred body remained, with his now blackened cupcake head having split open with some form of chocolate filling leaking out all over the ground. Madeline looked around, this fight was far from over, and she had to help in any way she could. Ragnar had kept on slaying, oblivious to what had happened behind him.

  Command Post

  General Dimitri made his way through his command post, desperately trying to think of a way to turn this situation around. Not only had the wall been breached, but the largest horde in recent memory was pouring through it. General Dimitri did not know what to do, his troops would fight bravely, but they would soon be overrun.

  The messages had been sent out, so the entire kingdom would soon know that the wall had been overcome, but they did not know the magnitude of what they faced. One of his command staff, Captain Natascha Ivakina came to him to report on the situation.

  “General, our forces are being worn down and we cannot hold them back.” This statement of the obvious information annoyed Dimitri.

  “Can you tell me anything that I don’t know? What is the condition of the healing center?”

  The Captain appeared hesitant to answer that, but she did anyway. “After breaking through our lines, most of the Ormags and Tormags were directed that way by their compatriots. The last I saw was our defenders had been slaughtered and the Ormags and Tormags broke down the walls and door. I did hear a lot of screaming coming from the wounded, though that subsided.” The Captain did not say anything outright, but the fate of those inside was implied.

  “It was a Grade A all-you-can-eat buffet, not that I’ve ever seen a buffet, but Ludwig told me they’re awesome.” They both heard a soft voice behind them. Turning around, they found a Halmen smiling creepily at them. The same Halmen who had come in a few days ago to warn them of the assault on Mt. Defiance.

  “You lied to us, why would you do that?” General Dimitri demanded, furious at the deception.

  “Well, I do want all of you dead, so I wasn’t going to tell you the truth. Besides, my master's plan had a lot of moving parts that needed some external care to ensure that nothing messed them up.” Mari replied quite cheerfully.

  “Why would you turn traitor and serve that creature?” Dimitri demanded of her.

  “We’ll you see, I never turned traitor, since I wasn’t on your side to begin with.” The Halmen put her hands behind her head and underneath her skin, pulling it off. As the head was peeled off, a Grib head emerged, smiling wickedly. Dimitri and the Captain were now facing the horror of a Grib-headed Halmen standing before them. Mari burst out into laughter. “You dopes should see the looks on your faces, they’re hilarious.”

  Dimitri and Natascha quickly recomposed themselves and drew their weapons, ready to fight. Mari stopped laughing and drew two knives as she wriggled out of the skinsuit.

  “I see you want to play a game now, alright, what should it be, I’m quite fond of tag.”

  “We're not going to be playing any games, we're going to kill you.” Captain Natascha informed her.

  “But that’s the best part of tag, killing whoever is it,” Mari responded. Taking a quick breath, she moved quickly, too quick for them to react. Mari slipped between the captain’s legs, cutting her hamstrings and bringing her to the ground before she got a chance to slice her with her sword. Dimitri was more of a problem, but he was big and slow, and Mari knew how to deal with his kind.

  Dodging his hammer blows, she climbed up him using her knives before he got to her. Mari made it to his face where she took a big bite of his nose ripping it off right as she shoved both knives into his neck. General Dimitri came tumbling down. Mari spat his nose into her free hand “Looks like I got your nose.” Mari told him as the blood came flooding out of his throat and the light left his eyes. Smiling smugly, she took off the rest of the Halmen suit and walked on over to the captain, who was struggling to get on her feet, though incapable of doing so.

  “What do you want with me, you little infernal.” The Captain defiantly asked Mari who was now standing over her with the Halmen skinsuit in her hands.

  “Flattery will get you everywhere, but you’re too big to be my type, at least at the moment.” Mari put the suit's head over Natascha’s head, which shrank and restructured itself to fit. Mari put the rest of Natascha’s body in with the magic of the suit helping to shrink her down and fit her in. When every piece of her was inside and the suit had sealed up, Natascha looked at her bewildered.

  “Why did you do this to me?” The Captain asked, standing there naked and confused as the clothes had fallen off the skinsuit.

  “I promised some friends of mine a mid-battle snack.” Mari said as she shoved Natascha’s face into the stone floor and kept her down with her foot on her back. Mari pulled out some rope she had stored in a magical bag that she had kept with her while wearing the Halmen skinsuit, and hogtied the poor woman, dragging her along with her deceptive strength. On their way through the command post, they passed by one of the larders. Leaving her tied in the hall, she opened the larder door and went inside.

  Mari came out a few moments later arms full of spices, an apple, and adhesive strips. Mari began to dump the various spices all over her. “Don’t worry, my friends won’t care that you’re a little over-spiced, now for the finishing touch.” Mari shoved the apple into Natascha’s mouth and kept it there by wrapping adhesive strips around Natascha’s head and the apple. “There we go, a feast fit for a Tormag King.” Mari continued to drag Natascha to a portion of the command post that had been destroyed by the dissolvent, with a hallway leading to the outside world. Outside stood about twenty Tormags and Ormags, waiting eagerly.

  “Hello boys,” Mari waved down, “I got you a mid-battle meal, now let us see who gets it.” They cheered as Mari used all the strength, she had to swing Natascha out of the hallway and into the maw of the most eager Tormag of the bunch, who jumped up to catch the morsel. Natascha slid down easily into the tormag’s gullet, where she would meet a very unpleasant though mercifully quick death.

  Mari just shrugged to the disappointed assembly. “Sorry folks, but he got her, better luck next time.”

  The battle continued to rage around them.

  Outside Training Grounds

  Our heroes had drawn back from the training grounds and into a storage shed, making sure to bring Elizabeth with them. Elizabeth had regained her senses. The fight had gone well at first, with the group handling most of the Gribs while the Ormags and Tormags headed off to the healing center. The Hill Giants got into a huge brawl amongst themselves, which tied them up.

  The Ma-Gribs and Chren-Zul had come in behind the Grib wave. Against the disciplined ranks of Ma-Grib spear and shield infantry, and the ferocity of Chren-Zul ravagers, they were pushed back. Even Ragnar eventually lost the will to fight, with his savage fury leaving his body at a most inopportune time. Thankfully, Madeline was able to shield with a dome of holy light, that also blinded their pursuers. Together everyone made it to the storage shed and locked the door, though they knew it was only a matter of time before they were finished off. It did not help that the shed was short and small, with all nine of them being cramped inside. Ragnar and Sir Frederick both had to duck down to avoid having their heads touch the ceiling.

  They heard shouting outside and some massive footsteps coming their way. Much to their horror, the roof was ripped off the top of the shed and a smiling Tormag was staring down at them. Everyone was too exhausted to fight back as the Tormag reached his long arm in and grabbed Elizabeth, picking her up and pulling her out, raising her high and showing her to the horde before her.

  The Tormag opened his maw wide and dropped her in, the foul stench of his stomach and mouth overpowering her senses. Elizabeth reached her hands out into his throat to stop her descent, but he used his tongue to shove her down into his stomach.

  Before she could reach the acidic juices waiting to dissolve her headfirst, she felt a strange power overtake her, the same power she had used before in her escape from Methuselah. Elizabeth sent it out, filling the troll with as much mead as she could produce, at a high velocity.

  Elizabeth shot out of the mouth and flew into the air, before landing back on top of the Tormag who had just tried to eat her, who was on the ground throwing up all the mead she had filled and expanded his body with, knocking his face first into the mead/vomit mixture. Realizing the danger of her predicament, she reached into her pouch for the trinket Methuselah had given her. Methuselah was the last hope of her and her friends, so she broke it.

  In a flash of light, Methuselah appeared before her, landing hard on the Tormag's head just as it was lifting its face off the ground, shoving him back into the mead/vomit mixture. “You summoned me?” Methuselah asked nonchalantly, oblivious to the situation around them.

  “Save me and my friends, and I will go with you. I swear upon the Goddess Ariela that I will do whatever you want if you save us.” Elizabeth desperately cried out.

  Methuselah smiled wily, accepting her word. “I will hold you to that.” Before raising their arm and engulfing her and her friends in a golden light that whisked them far from the horror before them, then turning their attention to the brutes around him.

  Methuselah did not need to kill them, but it had been a while, and they were in the mood for some fun. After all, they had tried to kill and or eat their replacement, the people had to be taught a lesson. The assembled creatures overcame their shock, and they all began to converge on them. Moving even faster, Methuselah filled the bellies of the Tormags and Ormags with a white-hot flame that quickly burned them from the inside out.

  Seeing two Chren-Zul groups charging at him from the flanks, Methuselah jumped into the air right as they collided. With a wave of their hand and the flick of their wrist, they turned them all into glass, their momentum leading them all to crash into each other and shatter. Which left the befuddled phalanx of Ma-Gribs before Methuselah. Still floating high, they decided to lift them all into the air while in formation. Methuselah then proceeded to crush them all together.

  As they screamed in pain and terror, Methuselah compressed them all into a toddler-sized ball, made of flesh and metal and which leaked copious amounts of orange blood. Methuselah chucked the ball hard at the head of one of the Hill Giants, killing him instantly and shattering the ball in an explosion of gore.

  “Enough” they heard a desperate voice shout into their head, “Guardian if you have any business with me, please speak to me.”

  Smiling, Methuselah decided to visit old Zarathustra, it had been a while since they had last spoken. Methuselah wondered if the lich was still upset about Metuselah's patronage of Arthur Galdwin, the King of Lions. It did not matter one way or another, but they had found that some creatures just held onto grudges for way too long. “I’ll be over in moment Zarathustra, put the tea on for me, we’ve got a lot to talk about.”

  Zarathustra’s Castle

  Zarathustra was anxiously pacing around in his throne room, with Bordek, Ghul-Zar, and Cornelia watching him nervously. The lich had not expected the Guardian to intervene in his affairs again, could he have miscalculated? All his answers would be answered soon though as Methuselah decided to teleport himself onto Zarathustra's throne. Smiling, they began to speak.

  “Z, it’s been a while, not since Artie trashed you thoroughly all those years ago. I bet you're wondering what I’m doing here?”

  “Yes, that thought had crossed my mind, I had imagined that you would stay out of my affairs this time.” There was a hint of desperation in Zarathustra’s voice.

  “Yes, that would normally be the case, but then one of your Tormags tried to eat a young woman I have grown attached to. Elizabeth is my replacement you see, and your troops had to be taught a lesson about threatening someone who has my protection.”

  “I did not even know that the girl even existed. Even if the girl had died, wouldn’t she have just regenerated into a new body?”

  “Which is why I’m not crushing your phylactery right now; your ignorance ensures your continued existence. And do not presume to think that just because she regenerates, I will permit you to cause her any harm. Dying is still painful, and regeneration can take a while. It is my will that you and your followers don’t lay a finger on her.”

  “As you wish.” Zarathustra sheepishly responded, now on his knees. His minions had no idea who this creature was, but if they could bring their master to his knees in fear, they were someone they should avoid at all costs.

  “Elizabeth should be fine now, that she’s in my care, but you never know what the future holds. Perhaps she won’t be as petty and bitter as you, and she won’t hold a grudge against you for your little conquest.” With that they disappeared in a flash of golden light, blinding everyone in the room with their brilliance.

  Zarathustra got off the ground and brushed himself off. Zarathustra would remember this warning well. Methuselah outclassed him in every single way imaginable.

  The Front Lines

  Edachiel surveyed the battlefield in his ethereal form. The battle was long over and all that was left was the cleanup as the rest of the lich’s army moved through the gap. Edachiel was not alone, the Psychopomps were out and about, harvesting the souls for judgment.

  Edachiel would not interfere in their work, and they would not interfere with his. Edachiel was here to collect one soul. Edachiel had to wait a bit before returning to the world after Edith was killed and he was banished, but no force in existence had a right to keep him from what was rightfully his. Edachiel and the Empyrean Hounds had fought well, but all it took was one sneaky Grib stabbing Edith in the back to send them all away as she lost her concentration.

  Edachiel was looking for her body, as her soul would not be too far from it. Edachiel found her, waiting for him patiently and sadly smiling as she saw him. The legs of her physical body were hanging out of a Hill Giant's mouth, as he chewed on her upper body, the crunching noises were sickening. Like all humans, her soul glowed white, with a luminiferous brilliance that mortal eyes could not appreciate.

  “Did I do well Edachiel?” Edith morosely asked him.

  “You performed splendidly child. Even in the face of death, you fought on with everything you had. I am proud of you, and I will vouch for you before the Golden King. Your mother is proud of you as well, she can’t wait to see you again.” Edachiel told her.

  Smiling, she reached out and took his hand. “Shall we go then; we need to get all the paperwork done before you appear before my brother.” As they ascended into the sky, a pair of golden wings formed on Edith’s back.

  Chroniclers Notes

  As a Chronicler, I am tasked with being as impassive as possible when it comes to the uglier sides of mortality. Who is crueler, the Wastelanders who would unleash a thousand years of pent-up frustration and hatred on those who had condemned them to such a miserable existence? Or the citizens of the Kingdom of Lions, who hunted them for sport and who had condemned their ancestors to the endless nightmare that is the Dark Wastes.

  They, literally erected pyramids of skulls made from the Wastelanders they killed, children included. It is not my place to pass judgment, but to think critically and try to understand why mortals do the things that you do. No creature is born cruel or wicked, but a cruel world can bring out the worst in anyone. My friends, if you found these events disturbing, then I implore you to put this story aside and instead peruse my collection of Haelmien poetry from the reign of Vizarion Star Crowned because the cruelty will not end. However, if you choose to continue reading these manuscripts, then I look forward to continuing to gift you with my unique insights into these matters.