“How are things going over here, Herzblatt?” I asked the dog-pope that stood on the outskirts of the battlefield.

  He had appeared preoccupied in thought as I approach him. He had a claw up to his mouth and was picking at his teeth with a vigor that screamed of pent up nervous energy. His body lurched slightly in surprise at my voice before rapidly composing himself. Not quite fear, but far from excitement.

  “Well, for the most part,” Herzblatt reported. “We have subdued most of their weaker forces and are almost done finishing off their elites.”

  “But?” I pressed.

  “But, I am getting repeated reports that there is someone that is giving us troubles,” Herzblatt continued. “One of the elites has an ability that nullifies the numerical advantage we were using.”

  “Where are they?” I asked with deep interest. “Take me there.”

  With a nod, Herzblatt walked off in front of me. We wound our way through the lower battlefield. The robed figures of Herzblatt’s Opportunists plunged their weapons into the woefully outnumbered and outclassed remnants of Wrath. Pools of burning tar sat interspersed amongst the fighting, incinerating indiscriminately any flesh that was in the vicinity.

  “Were my abilities a hindrance?” I wondered aloud.

  “Everything that you do is a chance,” Herzblatt replied as any good zealot would. “Some used it to their advantage, some didn’t. They will have plenty of time to consider their faults.”

  Soon, we reached a more active place of the battlefield. Where the rest was no better than a procedural execution, this was a hot-blooded conflict. Robed followers rushed into a pocket of enemies.

  A burst of purple fog and arrows caught my attention. I moved closer, brushing by Herzblatt and reaching the outer edge of the fighting. Inside, I saw a bizarre melee. A platoon of demons all wearing the same robe up against an equal number of clones of a demon. They held swords and charged forward with coordination; cutting down any follower that was caught out by themselves.

  I recognized this demon who was valiantly and stubbornly refusing to die to my plans. How could I not be familiar with such an impressive demon? They were even better now. They had more copies of themselves, better weapons, better coordination; perfection.

  The bronze-skinned elf.

  “Stop! Back away!”

  My order boomed over the battlefield. The robed followers immediately followed my command and disengaged from the elf. She panted and wiped blood from her face. But I could see raw hatred flowing out of her towards me.

  “You!” The elf screamed. “Traitor to Wrath!”

  “It’s good to see you again,” I said warmly. Good, it’s better to hate me when you see me. “I’m glad that you’ve advanced this high.”

  “If I took your head, I would have been far higher than this,” she spat.

  “Then all the better that I won,” I replied. “Otherwise, we may not have had this chance of settling the score.”

  The elf got back into a combat stance and hardened their expression. That eagerness was wonderful.

  “Come at me, I’ll correct my past failure.”

  “It won’t be me you’ll be fighting,” I corrected. “I’ve had my fill facing off against your Supervisor and his friends. I shouldn’t be such a glutton as to take all the best feasts for myself, even if you make me want to be greedy. Herzblatt.”

  “Yes?” The dog-pope moved to my side in an instant.

  “This is the demon that I wanted to abandon you for back in Brunswick. You remember them right?”

  Herzblatt’s snout flared up into a snarl. A guttural growl rumbled in his throat like a revving engine.

  “I do.”

  “And they are getting in your way again,” I continued. “Are you going to keep allowing them to make you look shameful in front of me?”

  “No.”

  “No?” I asked with fake surprise. “What are you going to do about it?”

  Herzblatt stepped forward into the ring around the elf. He unbuttoned his robe and stretched out his arms. One follower rushed forward to take the robe while the other removed the hat. Under the removed raiment was some padded armor. His hands glowed and a pair of swords appeared in his hands.

  “I will be your opponent,” Herzblatt said, pointing a sword at the elf. “I am Herzblatt, Pope of the Opportunists. What is your name?”

  “Mutya,” the elf spat, wiping blood from her nose. “But, I am not interested in fighting you or helping you find whatever revenge it is you think you’re owed. I want to fight the lizard behind you. Why aren’t you willing to fight me?”

  “I don’t eat food that someone else has already chewed on,” I answered, looking at the numerous light wounds she accumulated from her previous skirmishes. "It would only breed excuses."

  “Allow me to offer some encouragement,” Herzblatt offered. “If you defeat me, then I and every member of my church will join your cause to take Ishmael down. Strong as he may be, he’s trained us to be quite formidable.”

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  “You dare stand to betray me, Herzblatt?” I demanded. “Your loyalty is not yours to give.”

  The prospects of my anger seemed to delight Mutya far more than the actual content of the proposal. She wasn’t the type that fought solo even when she was alone, she seemed to have no qualms with bolstering her forces.

  “But, if I win, you must renounce Wrath and become one of my followers,” Herzblatt continued.

  “I accept your terms. But, I thought you were non-violent,” Mutya said with a laugh. “Are you sure you’re capable?”

  Herzblatt didn’t answer. He charged across the battlefield towards Mutya. A soft glow hummed from his swords.

  Mutya started by feeling him out by sending on a couple of her clones into melee range while the rest fanned out. Herzblatt’s swords met the clones on either side of him. With a deft flick of his wrists, his swords outmaneuvered his opponent’s driving them to the ground. He pressed his swords together, forming a massive great sword. He cleaved through the two clones before they could recover and pressed onwards.

  The elf released a volley of arrows at Herzblatt. He held his sword in front of his and it formed into a shield. The arrows deflected off effortlessly the metallic surface. Herzblatt leapt sideways, his shield now a hammer, and slammed down on the nearest clone.

  The clone deflected with their sword and a quiver’s worth of arrows dug into the dog pope’s back. Herzblatt growled angrily, turning his hammer into a pair of twin axes. He caught the clone’s sword with one axe while viciously chopping at the clone’s face with the other. It turned into bloody mana at his feet before he moved on.

  As Herzblatt charged another clone, the remaining clones were consolidating closer to Mutya. They formed a proper formation as the elf’s mana procured a couple replacements to those that had fallen.

  Wordlessly, the clones rushed Herzblatt. They formed into an array, leaping around the dog and taking slashes at him from every direction. Herzblatt held firm, smashing into any clones he could get his hands on, but receiving deep slashes in return. Large bloody lines crisscrossed his entire body as he winced.

  The final elf planted her foot into his chest and knocked him slightly off balance. One of the clones slashed at his ankle and he caught it in the face with a mace.

  An explosion of blood and teeth flew everywhere, splattering the nearest clones with blood. The carnage did not phase them as they endlessly pursued him; each willing to sacrifice themselves to ensure a different one got a cleaner shot at Herzblatt.

  The damage was accumulating quickly. Joints were targeted ruthlessly to incapacitate Herzblatt. I could see Herzblatt’s movements slowing slightly. His revenge shots weren’t as vicious as they could have been. I could see his lip involuntarily wince as he struggled to complete his movements satisfactorily.

  In exchange, many of Mutya’s clones were destroyed. Under half of what she started with had been destroyed and only a handful were able to be replaced with her current mana levels. Still, from where I was standing, she currently held the upper hand.

  Herzblatt coughed, blood slipping out between his teeth. The grip on his weapons loosened slightly. He moved the weapons up to his chest and his body was covered in golden light. The weapons melded with his clothes to form a glimmering suit of golden armor. He moved into a pugilist’s stance, brandishing his spiked gauntlets at Mutya.

  Mutya accepted his challenge and sent her clones at him in another pattern. This time, the weapons skittered off his armor and he delivered killing punches.

  “God protects me,” Herzblatt said with a snicker.

  Mutya recalled her clones back into her. She threw a single arrow at his head with her telekinesis. As he swiped at it with his armored hand, Mutya charged beneath him. She swung horizontally and struck him in the side of the stomach. The armor rejected the sword blow with a loud sound of metal on metal.

  But, it did not end there. A clone of Mutya, like an after-image, followed the movement of the original and struck the same place. Then another and another and another and another and another; all in rapid succession before Herzblatt could have completed an attack.

  With so many blades striking an identical target, the mana armor cracked in that spot and allowed the final blade to find its target.

  Herzblatt managed to obliterate the final clone with his revenge attack, but Mutya had already struck his knee. The afterimages followed suit with Herzblatt striking the final clone. His stance went wobbly from the impact to his leg and Mutya went for a more decisive strike aimed at his neck.

  Herzblatt held out his outstretched palm towards Mutya. His body glowed, the armor disappearing as a lance shot out of his hand. The tip dug into Mutya and had her stuck in the air. She broke free by keeping a clone impaled and slipping down. She charged again, despite the brutal injury to her shoulder.

  Herzblatt took four more slashes to the body before the armor reformed. He grabbed two clones and smashed them into each other to create a fountain of gore.

  Mutya only had three clones left and Herzblatt had only so much blood left in his body.

  “I will show you the last and strongest gift given to me by God,” Herzblatt said with a hoarse voice.

  “Why are you saving your best move for last?” Mutya questioned as she attacked him again.

  A beam of light appeared in Herzblatt’s hand. It quickly formed into a sword that he held high into the air. Mutya went directly for his abdomen, jamming her blade deep into his organs.

  She tried to pull out the blade to stab again, but the sword was stuck. Herzblatt had clenched his stomach muscles with all of his might to keep the blade from leaving.

  Additional arms struck out of Mutya’s body, all holding the same sword, all digging into Herzblatt’s body to extinguish his life. But Herzblatt did not fold. They twisted and ripped and sliced enough for me to believe that he should die.

  But he did not. Instead, I noticed some of the followers in the ring around me topple to the ground. Where had he gained that pesky ability? I smiled at how far Herzblatt had come, using the health of his followers as his own. But, it is what he needed. The golden light coated his body and formed into a solid sword.

  Mutya leapt away. Her face contorted in frustration.

  “Why won’t you die?” She demanded.

  “Because I am loved. Pure-hearted strike,” he whispered as he brought the blade down at Mutya.

  The sword cleaved through Mutya, but left no wounds. The mana passed through without even damaging her clothes. But, as soon as the light exited her body, Mutya was dead. She toppled backwards and into the mud.

  Herzblatt toppled to his knees. Blood flooded from his stomach as his followers rushed him with health potions in hand. They doused his body to try to keep him breathing, begging for him to take more life if he needed it. But Herzblatt did not hear them. I could see him staring up at the sky in rapture.

  “I did it,” he said with starry eyes. “I seized my opportunity and grew richer for it. Praise.”

  A small chorus of agreement echoed around him.

  “Well, done,” I complimented with a small clap. I scooped Mutya out of the muddy ground and draped her over my shoulder like a napping toddler. “I think our work here is done.”

  “The deal was to be my subordinate,” Herzblatt complained, blood spilling out of his mouth.

  “Here’s the thing, Herzblatt, what belongs to you belongs to me,” I reminded with a grin. “This one here is too good to be serving directly under you. Consider it revenge for daring to offer your allegiance to someone else.”

  “You were the one who gave me the chance to fight her, you are only reclaiming the debt owed.”

  “Smart,” I complimented. “Then, we’ll be going on ahead to get a base arranged. If you take too long getting here, I’m disavowing all of you.”

  With a less than enthusiastic cheer at my threat I carried Mutya off to where Charles was waiting. We would take the Portal to advance to where the real war, the real killing was happening.

  I couldn’t be more excited.