Chapter 158 |
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The Creator, Atlantis, The Kalenic Sea
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The storm that my manaspirits and children had crafted was apocalyptic in strength, if not in scale. It extended miles beyond my borders, with 250-mph winds whipping the ocean into a frenzy, enormous swells and rogue waves tall enough to threaten any ship, while waterspouts sprang into existence at random. Lightning was common in the clouds, aided and encouraged by Pyry and her mate as they navigated the storm, entirely in their element. Sidhe and the water spirit had done most of the work forming the storm, but at this point, it was mostly self-sustaining. They just nudged things here and there to keep it from dissolving into ordinary weather.
Beneath the waves, my sea monsters were ready for the crusade's arrival alongside hundreds of thousands of monsters and ordinary fish. The Leviathan Matriarch was waiting, patiently, for the first hulls to come into reach. The Kraken and Sea Serpent were nearby. Making the crusaders fight them one at a time made no sense. Now, within the confusion of the storm, one far more violent than the last I'd made, they'd all strike at once. They'd pick off isolated ships, hiding their existence for as long as possible. My other fish monsters and the Crabs, released into the ocean once again for this defence, were ready for the assault and boarding operations.
Meanwhile, Atlantis sat within the eye of the storm, experiencing none of it. All was eerily still in my tropical paradise.
When the Crusader fleet finally reached my domain, seen through the eyes of the brave gulls on patrol, they were already in chaos. If they'd had a formation, they'd lost it some time into the storm. Ships crested enormous waves, surfing down the other side in groups of three or four. What I did notice was the weather around those ships acting odd. It was still incredibly windy; rain battered the sailors, and the sea roiled, but near the crusading fleet, it was markedly less than in the rest of the storm. The wind still blew into their sails, rocketing them forward.
I could only conclude it was divine interference. The elemental personifications were aiding their worshipers in their quest. I fired off a quick question about just that to Sidhe, and she confirmed it with a weary, strained sigh. "Yes, this is the work of Wind, whom the humans name the god of travellers and Water, called the god of the ocean. They are limited in their interference by their oaths and pacts, but even against this much power, all we can do is maintain the storm." A mental grunt of assent from the Water Spirit was all he had to add.
Either way, even if the storm wasn't affecting them as badly as it could have, it was doing something. The leading ships weren't attacked outright; these were the sacrificial lambs sent to bait out my defences. Instead, the crabs delivered my shipbreaker molluscs in the hundreds to latch on and break through their hulls. Giant seagulls harried the ships, breaking rigging and lines as much as they picked off individual sailors. One ship lost its sail entirely, and the sheet of canvas fluttered away into the storm, quickly picked up by an incoming waterspout.
When the 'middle' of the 'formation' passed into my domain, I decided it was time and released my sea monsters. They did as instructed and spread out, guided by my directions to flailing, lost ships. The look on that one captain's face as his ship capsized, and he saw the sheer scale of the Leviathan that'd done it? That pure terror as he understood his folly and despaired? That was priceless. Dozens of ships sank, one after another, and their crews were swiftly consumed. Some were flipped, others crushed. A select few were left crewless as the crabs boarded, killing everyone they found and commandeering the ships.
If those ships happened to turn back to the fleet and crash into the largest ones while the Crabs threw themselves back into the ocean? That was a bonus. Lightning struck masts, setting the pitch-soaked ships ablaze. Some were doused by water or fire mages, but others, without that support, sank into the briny depths. As the outlying ships sank, the core of the formation gathered tighter, and my sea monsters eventually had no other targets.
One of the most dramatic moments of the fight was probably when the leviathan matriarch surfaced, swallowed an entire frigate whole, then bashed another two aside, tipping and upending them as she retreated under the roiling surface of the ocean.
But, eventually, one by one, my sea monsters died. These had been smarter, fought more cleverly, using ambush tactics and minimising risk to themselves. They'd certainly taken out more ships than the last ones, by far. While some elements of the invasion are comparable, they seem to differ beyond the numbers in the sheer strength of their top fighters. The templar and heroes were the ones to slay my monsters, whereas normal mages and other guilders found it an impossible task.
One of the Templars, wreathed in a halo of energy and eyes glowing with power, launched himself into the air, then straight down into the water. The sea practically exploded at his touch, sublimating to gas immediately, and he moved as if it wasn't there. He superhero-punched his way straight through the Leviathan's brain, and she died almost instantly, insides already cooking and burned where he'd passed through her.
Another, a woman in a voluminous white robe, merely glanced into the eyes of the Sea Serpent as it rose and pointed. A flash of life mana bridged the gap between them in less than a second, and the sea serpent died. The light left its eyes, and it collapsed bonelessly into the ocean. The final remaining sea monster, the Kraken, died while being fought off by a dozen guilders working in tandem. While they might have been regular guilders, they were so ethnically diverse that they had to be the other summoned heroes.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Either way, between my sea monsters, the storm, and my other monsters, the crusader fleet had lost nearly a third of their numbers before even making landfall. As the fleet finally reached the shore and port of Atlantis, I had Pyry, her mate, and the manabeings return to the Eighth and Eleventh, respectively.
I watched through the eyes of Gull, from the shadows of the Seagull Nest above the dungeon's entrance, as the crusaders pulled into port and disembarked. Thousands of rats, mice, insects, and birds roamed the town, leaving no corner or crevice unobserved.
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Voice's Manse, Atlantis, The Kalenic Sea
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Haliet pushed open the double doors, revealing the dark room beyond. Light filtered in from behind him, casting his shadow all the way to the raised dias and the seat atop it. As he entered the empty room, he raised his sword, and a quick spell shed a bright light, banishing the lingering darkness. There were scones along the pillars of this room, though they lay empty. There was a rectangular section of floor, empty of dust, where a carpet once lay from the door to the dias.
The other Templar filtered into the room behind him, searching the room with all their senses. "No traps, just like the town," Gregg muttered as his gaze swept the hall. "Just empty rooms, with all finery taken, all comforts missing."
"A measured evacuation," Artic agreed, her fingers tracing the dust on the floor. "This room has lain unused for at least a month, though... footsteps, here, leading to the dias. Someone was here recently; a day or two ago, at most."
Haliet walked further, reaching the dias and the throne atop it. On the seat of the throne lay a folded piece of parchment, a red wax seal holding it closed. To his senses, it was devoid of mana. He reached out and took it, holding it up to examine the seal. Hexagonal, with the embossed image of a faceted teardrop. The same symbol used by the monsters at Blackwater Bay, for their 'church'.
Without hesitation, he broke the seal and unfolded the letter. Most of it was written in plain Phenocian, though there was a section at the bottom written in another language, one angular and strange.
To the Crusaders
Welcome to Atlantis. I hope you enjoyed your welcoming party. My children were so eager to meet you all, though I didn't want to... overwhelm you. It is so important to be aware of your guests and their attitudes, after all. By now, I'm sure you've discovered... nothing. There is no one there to find. All those innocents you would have declared heretics and slaughtered without a second thought have been rescued and taken somewhere beyond your reach. I'm sure it burns your little zealous hearts to be denied that.
Know this, Crusaders and Heroes of the Phenocian High Temples. You have been sent on a suicide mission. Succeed in your task, or fall trying; you die either way. The only chance you have to survive is to give up. To leave well enough alone. But I doubt you're capable of that. It is outside the nature of zealots to be swayed from what they view as righteous.
I await your attempt at my life.
The Creator, The Dungeon Core of Atlantis.
ᛟᚾᛚᛁ ᚦᛖ ᚺᛖᚱᛟᛖᛊ ᛊᚢᛗᛗᛟᚾᛖᛞ ᚠᚱᛟᛗ ᛖᚨᚱᚦ ᚹᛁᛚᛚ ᛒᛖ ᚨᛒᛚᛖ ᛏᛟ ᚱᛖᛞ ᚦᛁᛊ ᛊᛖᚲᛏᛟᚾ × ᛗᛁ ᛈᚱᛖᚢᛟᚢᛊ ᚹᛟᚱᛞᛊ ᚨᚱᛖ ᚾᛟᛏ ᚺᛁᛈᛖᚱᛒᛟᛚᛖ ᛁ × ᛞ ᚷᛟ ᛊᛟ ᚠᚨᚱ ᚨᛊ ᛏᛟ ᚲᚨᛚᛚ ᛁᛏ ᛗᚨᛞ × ᛁᚠ ᛁ ᛞᛁᛖ ᚦᛖ ᚹᛟᚱᛚᛞ ᚹᛁᛚᛚ ᛖᚲᛊᛈᛖᚱᛁᛖᚾᚲᛖ ᚨ ᚲᚨᛏᚨᚲᛚᛁᛊᛗᛁᚲ ᚨᛈᛟᚲᚨᛚᛁᛈᛊᛖ ᚲᛟᛗᛈᚨᚱᚨᛒᛚᛖ ᛏᛟ ᚦᛖ ᛗᛖᛏᛖᛟᚱ ᚦᚨᛏ ᚲᛁᛚᛚᛖᛞ ᚦᛖ ᛞᛁᚾᛟᛊᚨᚢᚱᛊ × ᛏᚺᛁᛊ ᛁᛊ ᚾᛟᛏ ᛊᛟᛗᛖᚦᛁᛜ ᛁ×ᚢᛖ ᛞᛟᚾᛖ ᛟᚾ ᛈᚢᚱᛈᛟᛊᛖ ᛒᚢᛏ ᚨ ᛊᛁᛞᛖ ᛖᚠᚠᛖᚲᛏ ᛟᚠ ᛈᚨᚱᛏᛊ ᛟᚠ ᛗᛁ ᛞᚢᛜᛖᛟᚾ ᚲᛟᛚᛚᚨᛈᛊᛁᛜ × ᛁ ᛞᛟᚾ×ᛏ ᚲᚾᛟᚹ ᚹᚺᚨᛏ ᚦᛖ ᛏᛖᛗᛈᛚᛖᛊ ᚺᚨᚢᛖ ᛏᛟᛚᛞ ᛁᛟᚢ ᛒᚢᛏ ᚦᛖ ᚦᚱᛖᛖ ᛏᛖᛖᚾᚨᚷᛖ ᚺᛖᚱᛟᛖᛊ ᚨᚲᛟ ᛒᚱᚢᚲᛖ ᚨᚾᛞ ᛊᛟᛈᚺᛁᛖ ᚨᚱᛖ ᚺᛖᚱᛖ × ᛏᚺᛖᛁ ᚺᚨᚢᛖ ᛒᛖᛖᚾ ᚷᚱᚨᚾᛏᛖᛞ ᚨᛊᛁᛚᚢᛗ ᛁᚾ ᚦᛖ ᛞᛖᛈᚦᛊ ᛟᚠ ᚦᛖ ᛞᚢᛜᛖᛟᚾ × ᛏᚺᛁᛊ ᚲᚱᚢᛊᚨᛞᛖ ᛁᛊ ᚨ ᚠᛟᛟᛚᛊ ᛖᚱᚱᚨᚾᛞ × ᛁ ᚺᛟᛈᛖ ᛁᛟᚢ×ᚢᛖ ᚾᛟᛏ ᛒᛖᛖᚾ ᛏᚨᚲᛖᚾ ᛁᚾ ᛒᛁ ᚦᛖᛁᚱ ᛚᛁᛖᛊ
Haliet handed the letter off to Pan as she approached, and the dangerous woman hummed. "It is mocking us," she concluded, after she'd finished reading. The letter made its way to each Templar in turn, each with their own reaction to the words.
"I agree, Pan," Ranilla said evenly when it reach him, a frown pulling at his lips. He offhanded passed the letter to Gregg, already bringing the other hand to his chin. "But it's also desperate. It knows it cannot face our full might, and is trying to scare us off."
"And a piss poor attempt at that, I must say," Gregg nodded. "Succeed or fail, and we die either way? Preposterous."
Haliet's eyes sharpened as the letter made its way to the heroes' hands, and they read the letter. Their eyes widened in surprise, though none exclaimed or dismissed the letter. They were thoughtful, contemplative, and... fearful. Heroes bore a permanent, translation enchantment, capable of translating any language they came across, so that no simple misunderstanding would halt them in their task. Ergo, the heroes could read that extra paragraph. The Dungeon knows heroes can read any language, and purposefully picked one that the crusaders couldn't know. Haliet himself was fully capable of reading English, just as Ranilla could read Spanish, and Artic could understand Japanese, for example. Whatever that language was, it wasn't one they knew.
What did the dungeon want to tell the heroes? What could have them acting so secretive?
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A Comandeered House, Occupied Atlantis, The Kalenic Sea
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David closed the door and turned to the rest of the heroes. The heroes had taken this house near the city centre as their residence because it was one of the largest, with enough rooms for all of them. With all the windows and now the door firmly shut, David pulled out the privacy-enchanted stone and activated it, letting the hum of mana briefly wash over him as it extended through the room.
"What do we do, David?" Karen asked. She looked frightened, practically terrified, just as many others did—some more than others. There was a burst of noise as everyone tried to speak, broken by a shout from Bobby. The man nodded at David, who nodded back. He took a deep breath, then put his hands on the table at the centre of the room.
"We survive," David stated firmly. "The dungeon, the Creator, whatever it calls itself, has declared MAD on the Crusade. According to that letter, it has something that will guarantee the near-destruction of the world if it dies. Those teens, Akio, Sophie and Bruce are here, hiding in the dungeon. They escaped Haliet and came here."
"If we believe it," Bobby added, playing devil's advocate. "It's given us no proof, only its word."
"It promised it would, at the soonest opportunity," David countered, then nodded. "But you make a fair point. It could be lying to save its own life."
"Until we get proof, we'll just have to play along," Karen continued, her initial panic under control. "It has, what, twelve floors? It'll take a long time to get down that far. It should be able to find plenty of opportunities... right?"
"Right," David nodded, looking around the room. "No one says a word to the Templar about this." Everyone nodded, even those who still looked terrified.
A mouse in the corner of the room sniffed, then scurried back into its hole.
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