“Granny tales!” The mountain giant blustered to her comrades. The small company of six giants and nine ogres sat around a campfire that would have amounted to a huge bonfire by human standards. “No way our king Orithrim was defeated like that! And by goblins? Hmph!”

  “Even the dragons won’t cross the Bone Wall alone.” Another giant countered after taking a sip of watery stew from a huge wooden bowl. “The eldest won’t even look up from the dirt when they talk about it.”

  “If they weren’t as bad as the tales, then why have we stuck to the mountains all these years?” A third giant mused.

  “Granny Tales. A goblin’s a goblin.” The original giantess reiterated. “Squished thousands before I ascended.”

  “You’re from the Fifth age.” A deeper voice came from a short distance away, and the approaching battle scarred frost giant mage continued. “You’re going to die in the morning.” The blue skinned behemoth’s words were casual, and carried no intent to insult or disparage.

  “What can mere goblins do to us, old one?” There was only a tiny hint of hostility in the female warrior’s tone now.

  “Get some rest, and eat as well as you can.” The giant mage refused to elaborate further, and simply continued past the small group.

  Similar conversations were common throughout the massive gathering along the northern edge of the Bone Wall. Younger fighters were excited to finally see some real battle rather than the mundane hunting skirmishes they were used to. After all they were all the very best that their various races had to offer, their ascension to this realm was proof of that. All of the oldest giants, and even a handful of ogres that had survived the original assault on the Heart Tree simply shook their heads knowingly. The only reason they hadn’t joined their allies as part of the Bone Wall was blind luck, and the mercy of Ug’gut herself.

  Even with those grim memories, morale was generally high. The population of Orithrim’s ring had swelled to nearly double what it had been in the Third Age when they had been so decimated. The dragon faction under Füren had also grown substantially. In fact, even if this assault had not been ordered it would have become necessary simply to stave off overpopulation. Resources were running thin.

  Beyond that, the Seer’s report stated that the White Fangs tribe hadn’t grown at all since Polemios had been dethroned. The learned knew the reason for this was simple, Kutris himself was now the one responsible for ascending beings to Bl?dgard, and Ug’gut refused to bend the knee to him.

  As the monstrous army prepared for their advance, Ug’gut and the White Fangs were making their own preparations.

  Ug’gut stood before her great cauldron, gazing down at the golden brew with crackling white energy blazing from her eyes. Before her, three thousand goblin fighters knelt and chanted in voices too deep to belong to goblins.

  This ritual was not one to be performed lightly. The Heart Tree sap that fueled it was deadly if handled raw. A single drop of the stuff was enough to create this entire cauldron of elixir.

  As the chanting before her reached a crescendo, Ug’gut held her hand out over the brew and dragged one of her bone daggers across her palm, spilling a small stream of blood into the cauldron.

  As the blood touched the liquid, a violent reaction occurred and moments later a crackling ball of red and gold emerged, looking as though it might explode like a nova at any moment.

  Ug’gut began her own chant then. As primal magic verses flowed from her lips the skull shaped beads on her ceremonial garb began to glow red from their carved eye sockets. The ball of energy responded, spinning faster and faster as it swelled in power. Then her chant ended, and the orb slowly descended back into the cauldron. The liquid boiled furiously, and gold tinted steam billowed into the air. Eventually the brew calmed, yet even after it ceased to bubble golden sparks could be seen arcing within the liquid. The brew gave off an ominous thrumming aura, and with no direction needed the goblins rose to their feet and began to form a line.

  Ug’gut used her Appraisal ability on the brew to verify its perfection before the first of her flock could have their dose.

  Item: Elixir of the Endless Horde

  -Allows user to tap into the cumulative power of their own race at (.001%) efficiency.

  -All stats increased by (X) during effect .

  -Causes (Berserk: Non-Goblinoid) Status Effect for the duration.

  -Loss of Temporary Stats will cause extreme fatigue and possibly a comatose state for (X) Minutes after duration expires.

  -Duration: (X) Minutes

  - Doses (3571/3571)

  The potency was strong, but her warriors could handle it. She nodded, and the first goblin took the small bone ladle and brought it to his lips. As his body began to glow and swell, Ug’gut raised her voice.

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  “White Fangs! The enemies of our great master have assembled themselves once more. They plan to march upon these sacred lands with their filthy feet.”

  The first goblin - a veteran of the transformation gritted his teeth through the agony and ecstasy. His body broke in every possible way, and he was rebuilt cell by cell in a way that only a true divine miracle could facilitate. The cost was agony on a scale that few in the universe could understand.

  New tissue exploded asymmetrically. One leg suddenly quadrupled in size while the other remained normal, sending the now shrieking goblin tumbling into an odd cartwheel to lay in a rapidly mutating heap on the dirt. It was the pain of a million deaths, and the birth of a vessel able to withstand the power of an equal number lives. Even after seeing the horror of the transformation, the next White Fang in line didn’t hesitate in the slightest as she brought her own dose to her lips.

  Rumbling drums began a cadence from the edges of the gathering, underscoring Ug’gut’s fiery voice.

  “They believe their rest sacred so long as they wait outside our wall. They forget that the wall is merely a courtesy; a mercy bestowed after they begged us to halt our slaughter.”

  Grunts and screams accompanied the snap of bone as goblin bodies grew, their great shadows spreading farther and farther.

  “They spit upon that courtesy, and arrogantly parade themselves before us as frogs before a viper. Thus we shall go to them in the night, and prey upon them like the heathen vermin that they are.”

  A roar erupted from the goblins that split the night like a thunderclap, so deep as to be barely audible. It was felt more than heard, and the whole jungle collectively shuddered.

  “Drink of this miracle wrought by the hand of this world’s only true master. This night you fight not as a mere goblin - derided as fodder by all. This night you carry the might of your entire race, wherever they may be, dead or alive. When you strike, millions will exact their vengeance through your hand.”

  Another roar split the night, more powerful than the first.

  “Do not forget, my children. This night, Polemios himself shall observe our deeds. Every drop of blood spilled is a prayer in His name. And so we shall summon a torrent of crimson!”

  Twenty minutes later, a rumbling resounded in the great jungle as the most powerful goblin army to ever exist sprinted through the darkness, the scent of prey drawing them north like a beacon.

  The natural beasts of the jungle - creatures beyond the skill of even the most accomplished mortal adventurers hid just a little deeper in their dens that night. Even the plants seemed to react at the passage of the goblins, leaves curled inward and shuddered as if an unnatural breeze blew. Insects fell silent, and even the bats ceased their hunting.

  Orfan sighed at the sight below as he stood on motes of his own aura high above the jungle. Ug’gut had really decided to go all out immediately. The timing could not have been worse either. That damned overgrown lizard had suddenly been recalled by the wraith Lobius to the inner ring for some obscure reason just after their brief battle for dominance. This left the bloated Orithrim and himself to manage the entire assault on their own.

  Orfan had miscalculated. He had expected her to stay close to the Heart Tree where her strength was at its peak. This raid would cost both sides, but he knew from experience that his side would suffer the worst of it. After all, Ug’gut could simply resurrect any of her fallen followers.

  Still, Orfan’s warrior spirit stirred in excitement as he tracked the goblin ruler’s razor sharp aura. An unbidden tingle in his core brought a wave of nostalgia with it. How long had it been since he had felt such pure primordial terror? He felt his grip tighten reflexively on Little Sister, and then paused in confusion. When had he even drawn his weapon?

  Füren the Cataclysm fumed over being recalled from the impending battle and his his long awaited rematch against the accursed Ug’gut. Phantom pain flared in his great form at the memory of the countless tiny but serious wounds she had savaged him with in the span of a literal second when they had last battled. If not for the intervention of Kutris and the resulting parlay, the divine red dragon would have lost his life that day.

  Terrain passed beneath him in a blur as he flew over the third and second rings, barely restraining himself from unleashing a breath of destruction on the tranquil fields of golden grass belonging to Orfan. His goal was the former capital city of Paius Major, now a cursed ruin populated by billions of shambling undead. Souls that died valiantly but unacknowledged were cursed to spend eternity wandering this sprawling former metropolitan paradise.

  The dragon cared not for cursed weaklings so feeble as to be afflicted by such a malady. He landed in a wide courtyard and began a stalking walk up the wide main street, his locomotion looking remarkably like that of an enormous tiger - fluid and dominant. Rotten shambling husks shattered beneath his claws by the dozen, and those that remained standing burst into flames like oil soaked torches from his presence.

  His destination was the largest structure, still unmarred by the eons of neglect. It was also the only building that he didn’t tower over, and in fact felt rather small in its shadow. It was the War Carnival, the largest arena known to exist by even multiversal deities. Many gods had settled disputes, and full scale wars had once been staged within.

  Füren despised this place. He had tried to destroy it once, and the colossal golems that had animated to attack him had sent him desperately flying back to his territory with more than a few broken bones. Kutris had laughed at the dragon, having goaded the prideful beast into the foolish attempt in the first place. He growled at the lifeless statues that leered down at him as he passed through the mountain sized archway that led to the arena proper.

  His scales tingled as he felt his passage into an extradimensional space. The pristine white sand of the arena floor spread out for miles around, and the stadium seating soared up beyond sight. He was not alone here. At the center of the arena stood the wavering shadowy form of the ancient wraith, Lobius. A ways behind the wraith, and looking more like a feature of the landscape, the great shell of none other than the crab god Un’kuthuku protruded from the sand. He was deep in slumber, and mostly submerged as was his typical state.

  A familiar, cracking sound from above drew his gaze. The air far above cracked like a pane of glass, and then shattered. The shards of reality levitated in place after falling a few dozen meters. Beyond the shattered plane was a void that would cause madness for any but the supremely powerful.

  “Nexus Queen.” The Dragon greeted with a tone of what could almost be called respect.

  Nothing answered his greeting, but a midnight blue hand and arm larger than the dragons body descended through the fractured portal, and gently deposited two figures on the sand next to Lobius.

  “My master.” Füren said, tilting his head down a fraction of a degree. “Why have you recalled me from my rightful place in battle?”

  “I am in need of your strength here.” Kutris answered, and it was then that the dragon noticed a small emaciated animal under the ancient mage’s arm.

  “Where is the other?” Füren narrowed his gaze, recognizing the presence of the divine beast, Fenrir. Two thirds of the beasts required to fuel the ritual were present, and that could only mean one thing.

  “I am truly sorry, old friend.” Kutris lamented, and there was only sincerity in his haunted expression.

  The red dragon ruler reared his head back and cocked his head in confusion for just a moment, and then everything clicked into place. There were indeed three divine beasts present for the ritual, if one counted Füren himself.

  “Betrayer!” Boomed the dragon, destructive breath bursting forth with the word.

  The wave of undeniable destruction crackled, and faded into nothingness as it was about to reach the wraith and his treacherous master. It was then that Füren noticed the many magic circles flaring to life all around him. The Worm’s preferred method of battle had always been one of massive preparation, and he knew that his struggle was a futile one.

  “I must go to her, and you are needed to get me there. The Heart Tree must fall, and the souls must be set free. When His will is done, we’ll be reunited at last.” Magic power burst forth from Kutris in a gust of arcane wind.

  Concentric circles continued to flare to life, spreading out for hundreds of meters in every direction. The mage spoke commands in the primal language of magic, and pulled forth a sealing orb. Two spiritual beings swirled out from the crystal, and Füren recognized the great dryads of Rakashi. So it was truly happening, he realized with a sense of dreaded finality. Every piece was in place for the apocalyptic ritual.

  “Now, fulfill your promise to me!” Kutris commanded the twin spirits. “It is time for Fenrir’s Feast!”