Eric howled with manic mirth, no matter his blindness, no matter his temporary Unified Restoration Suppression.
What mattered was that his army was growing like never before. Infravision and an absolutely absurd Perception meant that he could easily make out the battlefield with all its exquisite nuances and degrees of heat, much as he had once used to hunt rats in pitch darkness. His interface made it clear that even as his revenants were savagely reduced by several thousand units, thanks to the massive army of bugs that was now fighting more like a sentient unified mass than it had been before… his revenants had still given every bit as good as they got, Eric roaring the words that instantly brought him back on the winning foot, silently commanding his entire legion to grab their spears and RISE!
Because the best entrepreneurs and commanders learned from their mistakes, happy to embrace the obvious tactic with fervor and zeal.
“We don’t need to charge them at all! Do we, boys? Fifteen feet elevation! All of you! SPREAD OUT and follow my lead! Bottom row stays where you’re at! Follow me until your all evenly spaced above our foes! Everyone got a bug in sight? GOOD! Now all of you plunged down with your sarissa on the count of three! Let’s see if we can do a hundred thousand kills in one strike and GET PAPA BEAR ANOTHER END-OF-WORLD TITLE! Got it? Good! One… two… THREE!”
Regrettably, perhaps, a single spear thrust to swarming Bronze-tier enemies did not result in a definite kill. Yet Eric was still laughing with delight as he belted out the glorious words that added another 25,000 revenants to his cause as he continued roaring out the words and spreading out his troops that ruthlessly speared swarming locusts like fish in an endless bloody barrel, his troop count continued to rise until 150,000 had been hit. Then, as the tide of locusts only grew in their ferocity, many now swarming over one another and leaping as if to force engagement, Eric merely positioned his entire army several feet higher… and three men deep, bringing all their considerable power to bear as they thrust down very much like a spear fisher, tearing into one carapace after another by the thousands.
The tactic wasn’t perfect. The locusts managed to yank from their invisible perch hundreds of revenants that were devoured by the increasingly frenzied locusts.
But for every hundred that fell, several thousand locusts joined them in death…
Before being brought right back to life.
“Surge Centuria! Rise again, motherfuckers!”
And almost before he knew it… even if it had been an endless interim of directing his troops with the exquisite grace of a master conductor directing an entire symphony of slaughter to the endless cacophony of chittering, screeching, thrumming madness… he had two hundred thousand troops under his command.
200,000 revenants spearing the entire army of swarming locusts as they passed under.
Eric’s eyes widened, suddenly GETTING IT! How they could WIN THIS FUCKING WAR!
“Surge Centuria! Up and at it, fresh recruits!” He roared to the fresh twenty five thousand revenants now racing behind him as his men continued to slowly advance and wear down the massive surge of locusts stacking on top of one another, eager to snip their mandibles and swipe their jagged steel-cutting forelimbs at Eric’s revenants. Yet his disciplined soldiers needed to do to gain altitude was take another step upon invisible stairs while continuing to plunge their 25-foot-long rune-reinforced and nearly indestructible spears into their prey.
Eric raced away from the heart of the battle, away from the too tempting silver orb holding Eric’s sister and friends and floating so enticingly to the frenzied locusts that, for the most part, no longer had wings… and away from the enticing target of his hundreds of thousands of defiant troops that whatever subtle intelligence clearly controlled the swarm just HATED, even now trying to form a second massive wave to wash over them as Eric raced as fast as he could, his reserve 25,000 troops stored in his ring without any effort at all… Eric racing until he was well past the incredibly awesome Doomtwisters shrieking like the end of days with their mile long funnels shooting any stragglers into the stratosphere and deep back into Black territory.
Eric dared to go farther still. Far enough that he sensed his sister’s sudden panic.
ES – ERIC! Please don’t leave! I can’t hold!
EES – I got your back, now and always!
And it was only there, where the sound of real crickets so different from the horrific cacophony of the distant seven foot abominations could be heard over the howling winds that Eric set up his final defense. Summoning forth his entire backup regiment of 25,000 and racing in a large half circle around both the massive tornadoes and the strip of land serving as the desiccated barrier between the two territories, ordering his now spread out men to stay stationary, exactly ten feet in the air, in perfect position to thrust and spear and hold any stragglers back.
Eric dared to smile in fierce self-congratulation as he passed the first bug-sucking tornado, his now exquisitely attuned whole-body Infravision working nearly as well in the darkness as two intact eyes would have, refusing to let the agony of his impairment or aching bones slow him when he raced past the second weakening Doomtwister just in time to confront a handful of locusts that had somehow slipped through, scurrying for all they were worth.
“I don’t think so, fuckers!”
The air flashed with a 24-foot bar of blazing crimson, and within a handful of seconds, all six massive Bronze-tier monsters had collapsed.
Even as Eric himself fell to the ground, instantly surrounded by a thousand of his troops as he was struck by ecstasy so sweet and sharp and unexpected that all he could do was collapse and scream in the sheer heart-pounding rush of a completely unexpected ascension.
Congratulations! Bloodfire Strike is now rank 25!
ALL STRICTURES HAVE BEEN LIFTED!
YOU ONCE MORE DARE TO ASCEND AS A PHOENIX!
You have slain 6 Half-step (100th level) locusts as a 49th level Pristine Phoenix!
You have achieved Level 50 in your primary class!
You have achieved Level 51 in your primary class!
You have achieved Level 52 in your primary class!
You have achieved level 53 in your primary class!
You have achieved level 54 in your primary class!
Points automatically distributed per power-boosting ratios!
Eric shuddered at the sudden rush of Potency, one point in each of his physical attributes and Psionic Potential, as well as four points in Arcane Potential, Spiritual Energy, and Soul Reserves. Because the fires of his potential blazed hot and mighty and his Ascended form would dare even Psionic currents, the bane of mortal elves. But no focus for him mattered more right then than being able to master the abilities of both Phoenix and mage, making full use of his spells, Qi Skills, and most especially, the transcendent attacks that he had previously allowed far too many obstacles and issues and judging gazes to hinder his own development and mastery of. Well no longer!
“I’ve never been stronger, never felt more alive!” He roared with furious satisfaction as every injury instantly healed, eyes reforming with a single excruciating pop, and then the blessed tingle of completeness, almost wholeness, the weight of multiple banes… though not abrogated, had definitely been mitigated. He laughed with sheer wonder at just how transforming and life-affirming leveling up as a legendary classer who had evolved even that one additional half-step truly was
“Fuck if I can’t recover at least a bit, even if charging is still out of the question!”
His eyes blazed with sweetest satisfaction as he breathed deep of a night filled with madness and desperate peril as death swarmed and grew behind him and laughed.
Laughed and REVELED in this sweet, perfect moment as he continued racing past the dying tornadoes, instilling his well spaced men as a final…
His now once-more and fully functional eyes widened with sudden dismay.
“The Twisters are dying out. I only got enough men here for stragglers! There’s going to be nothing to stop the swarm—ELONIA! ELONIA!”
He screamed the words and pinged her interface with his desperation, and it was all he could do to finish his perimeter placement, just in case, before racing for the silvery sphere now bobbing his way at Mach II without a single damn muscle twinging… even if he had absolutely no plans of a kamikaze crash anytime soon.
“Elonia!” A wild-eyed Eric shouted as he slipped through the Silver headmaster’s barrier once more, ignoring the countless stares of awe, wonder, and fear, having eyes only for Elonia, rushing to her side as a clearly exhausted Paladin whispered fervently over her collapsed form, the other sentinels adding their hands to his own.
Eric’s heart pounded with terrified dismay. “Headmaster!”
And the placating smile Wyrmwood gave him nearly brought him to tears.
“It’s alright, Ernest. Your Si—our queen merely sleeps the sleep of the exhausted. We are heading to New Arcadia this moment where healers are present.”
“And the golden gate, if everything goes to shit,” Eric said between gritted teeth, before giving a furious nod. “Good.” His thoughts raced, paying no mind to the relieved smiles, as if the poor students actually thought he was monstrous enough to force them to stay.
Instead, he leaned over, gently kissing his sister’s wan cheek before standing upright once more, gazing at the students before him.
He quirked his lip in bemusement when the obvious prince among them bowed to one knee, his glare forcing everyone else to comply. Even Jack, Marci, and Yuki paid him a half-kowtow of respect, Richard alone winking as if they were both in on the joke.
“This former commander greets Dreadlord Silver. I am happy to provide whatever tactical advice or insights that I can.” He flashed an apologetic smile Senren’s way. “Former Commander Senren was herself a master battlefield tactician. Unfortunately, the costs of this battle have proven to be… considerable.”
Eric gazed at the youth for long moments, calculating sapphire eyes meeting equally considering orbs of lavender.
“What’s your name?”
“Prince Levalier of Yorklire Principality. In the golden quadrant.”
Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.
“Do you give your oath to cause Prince Elonia and New Arcadia no deliberate harm?”
The youth flashed a surprised, yet pleased smile. “I have sworn to the non-aggression accords that all those who dare to join Queen Elonia Silver’s legendary Mistridge Academy have sworn. And I swear once more to honor New Arcadia and her queen.”
Eric, sensing the perilous seconds ticking away and with 2000 troops already secured to the silver globe, made what he hoped was a prudent choice, giving silent commands to his revenants.
“Very well. You will be permitted to direct the revenants around the headmaster’s globe. They will form up under your command, so long as it’s understood that your primary role is to protect your fellows and either defend New Arcadia or bring the fight right to the fucking locusts, if any manage to penetrate that far, or at least buy time so as many people as possible can jump through the gate. Your revenants will not be permitted to strike at any living humanoids… save those actively attacking the queen... or goblins of course. Because fuck goblins. Seriously. Is this acceptable to you?”
He noted Headmaster Wyrmwood’s approving nod as the still annoyingly handsome Prince Levalier stiffened and snapped a salute. “More than acceptable, Dreadlord Silver!”
Eric couldn’t help smirking at the youth’s enthusiasm, Levalier’s eyes going wide with what Eric almost thought was revelation when he caught his revenants’ thousand-yard gaze and gave orders mirroring those he had said aloud, with a backup contingency or two, just in case.
Levalier swallowed, gazing at Eric with odd intensity. “May I, Dreadlord?”
Eric smirked. “Go for it.”
“Salute your high commander!”
As one, Eric sensed all of his troops that were now hovering in place all around the globe upon invisible planes of movement accessible only by them, warping Eric’s own fusion of Speed Racer and Death March in what he thought were deliciously absurd ways, crash to one knee and salute Eric, bronze tipped great spears jutting at a perfect 90 degrees as fists slammed against the bronze shells of their chests, sculpted to perfectly resemble seven foot tall Greek statues.
The prince clenched his hands into tight fists, clearly schooling his features as best he could, yet Eric couldn’t help winking. “Let me guess, you just got offered an awesome Profession to go with your second life Arcane Apprentice class. Am I right?”
Levalier paled, eyes wide with unexpected fear. “Dreadlord…”
“No, it’s cool. More power to you, Lieutenant. Just get our boys and girls safely back to New Arcadia… and through the gate, if it comes to that, and I’ll consider it a damn good investment.”
Levalier snapped a salute. “It will be done, Dreadlord Silver.”
“Excellent!” Eric forced a cheerful smile before exchanging nods with both Richard and Yuki, even winking a flustered Jack’s way before making his way back to Wyrmwood’s side, gently stroking his sister’s cheek.
“If it comes to it, you know what to do.”
The headmaster solemnly nodded, somehow understanding exactly what Eric meant, about a great number of situations and contingencies.
“It will be done… Your Grace.”
“Good.”
Eric clapped his former Underlord’s shoulder before leaping free of the globe now rapidly coasting toward New Arcadia City with his two thousand revenants nominally under Prince Levalier’s control… when Eric’s bemusement snapped into crystal clear focus, suddenly realizing what was so wrong even as he glared down at the endless mass of locusts STILL swarming in from the neighboring region.
“He called me Dreadlord Silver. SILVER! Not Slaughter. And what the fuck’s a Dreadlord anyway?”
He then pushed all extraneous thoughts away. Because even if he was a naive fool to think that his identity would remain a secret when exposed to former half-step Silvers perhaps centuries old and well versed in court intrigue and subtle tells… and how many tells of a brother’s devotion did he give off in his concern for his twin? Even if he didn’t look like her at the moment… not really?
He shook his head, glaring down at the nightmare scenery of death and destruction below, heart lurching in his chest from more than revealed secret identities when he caught sight of the massive fucking wave of bugs about to flood right over his—
“Pull the fuck up, assholes! Ascend! Ascend now!”
His heart lurched in his chest when a massive FUCKING tidal wave of screeching nightmare bugs began washing over his troops. And that’s when he caught sight of the now dozens of winged bugs that were flying his way.
“Bunbun! Where the fuck are you, girl? I need my awesome number two!”
“We got problems, fearless leader!”
“Fuck! What?”
“Your asshole dad is doing all he can to force further breaks throughout the region! No luck for him so far, but he’s forcing me to scurry like mad, gulping down batches of several thousand all over the fucking place! The entire place is now a lifeless wasteland, by the way. The fucking locusts have eaten everything!”
“He’s not my anything! He’s nothing to me but a monster that has to be put DOWN, Bun!”
“Sorry, Boss. My bad.”
Eric shook his head. “Thank you, Bunbun. The world’s counting on us, and it’s a fuck-ton of pressure. Thank you for being here, fighting by my side… a territory away.”
“You got it, Fearless Leader!” replied a much more perky mental voice. “Okay, Bad guy swarm coming in HOT and HARD—Bunbun out!”
Eric clenched his jaw, suddenly worried for his beloved familiar but knowing he dare not distract her now with meaningless shit when he was stuck here, a hundred miles away.
Eric snarled, existential dread turning to snarling fury as his his mithril blade blazed with ice-blue flames that could free the world.
PHOENIX STRIKE!
In the blink of an eye, a trio of bugs froze to perfect crystalline clarity with a single streak of golden flame bisecting each of their forms, before all three erupted in a catastrophic spray that utterly obliterated the bugs behind them and shrapnelled the wings of another dozen beyond.
Eric howled in desperate fury as their potency roared into his shuddering frame.
He pushed aside his growing fear and fury and dismay, forced to fight an ever growing hoard with ever fewer resources, save for those he forged himself from the shattered shells of his enemies.
Doomtwisters gone, his too thin barrier of revenants at the borders between virgin fields and devastation soon to be overwhelmed… he knew the situation was spiraling out of his control.
So he focused on the one thing he COULD control.
Putting everything he had into growing his troops, empowering his skills, and leveling up like a motherfucker, even as he screamed out the words that would be his guiding principal for years to come.
“Maximum potency to skill point conversion at ALL TIMES, Conceptio! Let that be our fucking guiding light!”
DONE
Eric shivered, choking back the sense of silvery worms (friendly, silvery worms!) squirming about his brain for an endless screaming moment before everything snapped back into focus, clearer than ever. And he was fully himself, of course, had ALWAYS been himself, not any dread AI hybrid cyborg and he felt EXACTLY as he had always felt before, because if he were some altered creature, his guts wouldn’t be churning with growing dismay for an apocalyptic world-ending event he couldn’t get a fucking handle on… yet his dread and anxiety and everything else was EXACTLY the same.
It was just… he could comprehend the flow of soul-freezing cold and world-erupting flame erupting from his mithril blade a bit better than he had, just moments before. Sensing… TASTING the glorious masterwork of resonating potencies as Wrath-fueled flames so tightly controlled and made so bloody EFFICIENT with Dominion’s grip upon the bitter frigid Ice of purgatory itself.
A massive five-foot-long blade of pristine obliterating Ice Fire that he RACED at a FULL Mach 2 to CLEAVE INTO the handful of remaining locusts that still had their wings intact, a flying contingent of locusts that dared to rise above their landbound brethren.
Before erupting in frozen flame and obliterating their fellows in a catastrophic eruption of blinding light and shocking cold.
Phoenix Strike has successfully OBLITERATED 3 additional revenants!
Ice Shrapnel has slain 7 additional revenants!
Phoenix Strike is now Rank 14!
Eric howled with the sweet searing vindication of his body and soul transcending past all limits as he raced toward the swarming hoard so eager to crush and drown his revenants, already sensing the terrible price his enemies had paid and EAGER to make them pay a greater price still.
Because nothing said he couldn’t charge his foes. It was just that he didn’t dare hit them all head-on.
“Surge Centuria! Imperator, Imperat, Tibi!”
“Surge Centuria! RISE MOTHERFUCKERS and SPEAR THE FUCK out of the assholes trying to bring you down!”
Time began to stretch and blur as his thoughts took on a desperate crystalline clarity, the world lit by the blazing corona of frozen flame as his blade weaved and danced about the once more growing hoards of revenants as his body trembled with the massive surge of potency making him faster, stronger, more aware of his environment and able to sink ever deeper into Battletime as he strove to become one with his blade.
One with the higher order attack that defined the blazing phoenix he would one day become.
Again.
A weapon that, for now, was absolutely perfect for lashing out at his prey in this one pristine night where no one was saying SHIT about his abilities that they hadn’t already, one Apocalyptic event with doors wide open and he wondered what asshole would dare to come NOW, of all times?
He laughed, fiercely, as he screamed the words that filled him with such dark shivery POWER as the ground trembled with tens of thousands of fresh troops spear fishing the endless swarm of locusts below as he danced in the skies, blade flashing with transcendent revelations as countless bugs died and he avoided lashing forelimbs and sniping mandibles with a ballerina's grace as he spun about the aerial battlefield, all directions and frames of reference exactly what he needed it to be.
You have successfully raised an additional 125,000 Level 150+ Revenants!
Master Necromancer is now Rank 51!
Master Necromancer is now Rank 52!
….
Master Necromancer is now Rank 55!
You have successfully struck and SLAUGHTERED 48 Bronze-Tier locusts in single combat!
Ice Fire Shrapnel has OBLITERATED an additional 62 Bronze-Tier locusts!
Phoenix Strike is now Level 15!
Phoenix Strike is now Level 16!
Phoenix Strike is now Level 17!
You have consumed the potency of 86 Half-step (100+ level) Bronze opponents as a White-Tier Contender! (NOTE! Maximum potency to skill conversion is now in effect!)
You have achieved Level 55 as a Pristine Golden Phoenix!
You have achieved level 56 as a Pristine Golden Phoenix!
…
You have achieved Level 72 as a Pristine Golden Phoenix!
NOTE! You have achieved 1300 Quickness! You are now the fastest Contender on Planet Earth! Terra herself recognizes your accomplishment with a permanent 60% Bonus to all Quickness points above 1300!
You have declined Sniper’s Grace, Internal Mastery, and all other Quickness Perks. You have chosen to further enhance Your Battletime / Speed Racer boon!
Eric howled with fierce joy as he allowed the System’s enthusiastic messages to wash over him, reveling in the strength and incredible power he felt surging through his limbs, the ever increasing mastery he felt over himself, his gifts, and the battlefield, even as his interface blared warning.
BREACH IMMINENT!
Eric snapped into cold focus, exhilaration turning to panic as he belatedly sensed the sudden surge of pressure forming at the other end of the shared barrier between New Arcadia and its doomed neighbor, nearly one hundred miles away.
In desperate panic, he screamed orders to the troops just barely holding the line against the constant surge of monstrous foes, demanding 75,000 of the now 350,000 strong phalanx spearing the fuck out of the heart of the swarm to pull back and reinforce the periphery of this rupture, Eric racing as fast as he had ever dared before, quadrupling the number of Sarissophoroi patrolling the perimeter, now a full 100,000 strong, ready to repel any bug that slipped free his inner net.
It was a barrier he then demanded his men slowly tighten and constrict, tightening the area of infection and increasing the density of their own overlapping phalanx.
And with that done, he made a silent prayer towards the stars overhead as he stored 100,000 in reserve in his ring that claimed his troops with no trouble at all, leaving 175,000 to continue spearing the swarm and thinning their numbers from above while the outer perimeter tightened the net, the end goal being for them all to meet and form a tight constricting band of overwhelming force right at the rift that would serve to stem the flood of locusts so eager to surge into New Arcadia.
He racing for all he was worth, streaking through the air as fast as what a now 1300+ Quickness reinforced by 1000+ Strength and Vitality would allow, desperate to make it to the emerging rupture sight in time.
