371.5 Interlude |
The day started with a massive list, and for a brief moment, she felt the list blend together. She shook her head and felt the nourishing effects of a nearby calming tree. Well, for Allana, she had not slept for the past week, surviving entirely on spiritual reinforcements from the Order's priests and a cocktail of various potions. She could feel her own soul yelling at her to sleep.
It all started going to shit when the Descendants started slaughtering the dwarves of Eras.
Or was it even earlier? She wasn't exactly sure. Her memory felt a little hazy, the past few weeks blended together.
Her face was slightly pale, but she held on. Not yet. I can do this. I must hold on.
She looked at the list, even if the words were a little hazy. An assistant reread it. Central and the artificial minds listed down the resource situation on the thousands of peripheral worlds, all facing attack at the same time. Worlds that they thought were safe, suddenly were not once more.
The leviathan's blessings somehow supercharged earlier closed riftways, and the worlds that the Order cleared were attacked with demons from other demon worlds.
"Who should we prioritize?" The attendant looked equally tired. "Central says they are all urgent, and I've already split the load where I could."
"All? Is there even a question of prioritization?" Allana countered, the list still extremely long. When they were dealing with invasions on hundreds and thousands of worlds, how much could they reduce it by? The attendant frowned. "Can you push it back to Central, and tell them to give us a ranked list! They should know better!"
"They say these are equal."
The attendant nodded and ran off to a transmission room elsewhere to speak to the planners in Central. Another of her many attendants came to join her.
"Next is inspection before shipping." The attendant said and escorted her to the delivery bay. She felt like she just did a round of inspection yesterday. Or was it the day before?
There were racks and racks of weapons, all freshly made. Many more were bombs and protective tools. She began to hover over them and activated her abilities to inspect them individually. "They have been prechecked?"
"Yes, milady."
She was pleased with the protective tools. Many of them were enchanted with ten charges of a magical [barrier] spell, enough to stop one average power shot from a demon champion. At least those making the protective equipment didn't screw up. "Good. These are cleared."
The attendant nodded and waved some beetles over. The beetles quickly dragged them to a teleportation site elsewhere.
Then, she checked the weapons. Allana picked up three spears amongst the hundreds, and tossed it into the bin. "These are not good enough, remake it. Check who approved this for release!"
She felt a bit bad. They must've been just as tired as she is, if not more.
"Wait. Put it in the 'investigate-later' list. We'll deal with it once we've crossed this moment. As for these sub-standard equipment..."
"Yes, milady." The attendant said.
"Seriously. We can't approve substandard equipment just because we are pressed for time! But is that better than not having any equipment out there in the field?" She walked, with only her attendant taking her notes and recording down her instructions. The workshop hummed all day and night with workers taking shifts to keep production running.
The strain and exhaustion was evident in all the crafters she walked past. Their bodies were strong and healthy, but she could tell that there was a kind of spiritual exhaustion in them. They'd worked day and night to ensure that the Order's soldiers on the front line were well equipped with disposable tools.
"Mark them as substandard and have Central inform the Order squadron, receiving these tools, that they should only be used as a last resort."
"Yes."
Disposable bombs and weapons had the best damage to level ratio. They allowed for weaker individuals to temporarily deal large quantities of damage, in exchange for spending vast quantities of resources.
The domain holders relied on their own skills and abilities, and their items served more as companions and enhancements, because they already had surpassed the strength of many demons. But the Order's soldiers were mostly around level 70 to 100.
The amount of items spent daily as the Order fought off demon champions would make the earlier Guild Wars look like a mere trickle. In these peripheral worlds, where Aeon's various auras were nonexistent, the order's forces only had each other and their equipment.
She looked at some of them, and they looked tired. They really could use some rest. A few already did. But there was only a small quota.
"Milady, Crafter Edd cannot last much longer. His spirit is drained even if his body is willing." One of the supervisors said. Begged.
"Stand with him. He will work until he is not able to." Allana said, even as the words pained her. "Our colleagues and comrades in the peripheral worlds need us to."
Then, a device on her belt rang. She cursed.
"Allana. Alka here. I need you and your team on Delvegard. Now. We need to arm the bomb. Both of them. I've called the other team to set up the Comet with me, but I need you to start the process for the smaller bomb."
"Wait. What!?" Allana paled, and looked around.
"I'll brief you later. Get your team here. Now."
"Curse you." Allana said but the magical transmission ended. Her attention refocused on her assistant. Her assistant was already firing off [messages], and she took the moment to breathe. It was a good thing they all had great, somewhat well rested assistants who worked shifts to support them.
***
Meanwhile
The Gantreethor wobbled as the demon champions attacked. Demonic dragons breathed fire, and they met the powerful shields of the Titan.
Demons burst forth from the rifts and swarmed the planet. Everywhere else, the Leviathan's blessing spurred a burst of invasions.
It felt like there were many bursts of invasions in the past few years. Rifts opened, and demons attacked the peripheral worlds. Novorosk looked at his team, and they looked tired. They’d had four straight days of battle, and were now finally withdrawn to breathe.
"How many damned champions are there?" Murien cursed as they felt the Gantreethor wobble some more. They felt one of Gantreethor's powerful onboard magical weapons fire, and one of those flying demon dragons died.
"Too many." Novorosk said.
A small magical transmission device rang and transmitted. "Captain. We're eight minutes from the dropsite."
"But we're not stopping this invasion until we take out the demon king."
Throughout the peripheral worlds, demons and demon kings invaded. In the past, that battle was for the domain holders. But today, that was not possible. All the domain holders were fully focused on the battle against the great leviathan. Today, at this moment, the Order was without the direct presence of their greatest warriors.
"Us." Murien looked tired, but Novorosk knew his mind was trying to rest.
"Not just us." Novorosk assured. There were at least thirty other elite valthorns, those level 100 to 140, onboard Gantreethor for this mission. "But that doesn't make it better. For this world, we are all that we can deploy. Rest, have a nap, I'll see you outside in five."
Novorosk walked out of the cab, and Admiral Nulven looked at him. "Have you seen the files?"
"I did, twenty minutes ago." Novorosk said. "That's all we have?"
"Yes."
Novorosk nodded. "Oh well. Is the bomb ready?"
The admiral nodded, as they looked outside. Gantreethor flew high above the clouds, but even at this height there were a few demonic dragons flying up. Smaller demonic dragons were not a threat, but powerful demonic champions, empowered by the Leviathan, were now tougher and harder to kill. Demons that could be defeated by level 80 Order operatives now were rated for Level 90 to Level 95, and on some worlds, demon champions had to be dealt with Level 100 elites.
Gantreethor, thankfully, was no ordinary Titan. Years of upgrades meant it had powerful weapons that could fire magical beams, and there were a group of high level archers armed with a wide array of Valtrian weaponry to deal with flying threats.
Novorosk felt another burst of magic as another of the carrier's magical guns fired. It was annoyingly frequent that it felt like a constant drumming.
"The ship will hold position here." Nulven said as he pointed to a map. “Once the bomb goes off, we need all of you down there to get the demon king.”
Novorosk gulped.
In his mind were a thousand doubts.
This brought flashbacks of his earlier life. When the elven world of Landas was more like a scattered wreck. He remembered how he fought with a kind of recklessness. The door to the bridge opened, as Novorosk's team walked out.
A few other captains joined them.
Admiral Nulven smiled. "Well, let us kill a demon king. Bombs away!"
****
Another peripheral world
The demon champion was dead.
Meun felt the spear in his hand feel so heavy, his strength fading.
The [Warrior of the Unchosen] felt blood on his hands. Blood on his limbs. His sworn brothers, dead at his feet. But he stood, and his spear stained by the foul liquids of the fallen demon champion.
"We- we won!" A villager Meun didn't know screamed in joy. He didn't even meet the villagers yet, but when the Goddess's order came, they did not think much.
But Meun looked around, and then another demon was just behind the villager. How? Where did it come from?
The villager died, and the other survivors screamed. Meun felt his strength, or lack thereof, as he tried to lift his spear. Why?
Why now?
He pushed anyway.
He saw another of his teammates. "Meun! Snap out of it!"
Meun stared. But he had no strength. He gave everything already.
The demon champion came.
And Meun saw the claws of the demon champion tore through his gut.
***
Village Chief Jaan sat, as dozens of young lizard warriors said goodbye to the rest of their peer groups, and the matrons that raised them all.
There was no crying or weeping out of sorrow or fear. Lizardmen were always a warrior race, and they would sacrifice hundreds so that their village would live.
But Jaan looked, and saw in their colored eyes, an ancient drive. Back when they were living in those small villages out by what could hardly be called a pond, the spawns had that same look. A desire to make a name for themselves. Back then, lizardmen that were no more than fifteen would walk to the battlefield a nameless lizard, and return worthy of adding their seeds to the communal spawning pools.
"Chief Jaan." The village warriors bowed, as they asked for his blessing. "We are ready."
He looked at his warriors. They were young. They were only three decades, at most four decades old. They've trained since they were young under the Order's regime, and this, the Order promised, would be their greatest deployment.
"I have sent you, as our lizard village's representatives, for many battles." Jaan said.
He steeled in his heart. He knew the truth. This one was different. Aeon and the gods would not be there to watch over them, and so only a few of them would return.
But he looked at his warriors again.
Strong. Powerful. Every one of them is superior to the lizard warriors he sent to their deaths decades and centuries ago.
The stigma that the lizardfolk were a weaker race was long erased. These days, a lizard warrior was every bit the equal of another race's warriors.
He closed his eyes briefly, and felt old. It's been a while since he truly, willingly and knowingly sent his warriors to the gates of death. "This battle is different. This one, many of you will die. But us lizardfolks have never feared death. In the old days, tens of us would die just so that one of our enemies would share in our deaths!"
He dipped into the bloody bowl, and touched their heads.
"Go, die proud. There is nothing greater than the fires of war."
***
Treehome, Hero District
"Mother." Rohana said quietly, days before the attacks. She spoke with realization and with acceptance. "It has come, hasn't it?"
Colette nodded, and held her daughter's hand. "Do not fear, Rohana. We will survive this, or even if we die, there are ways for us to return."
"You sound certain that Aeon's abilities will not fail."
"It will not. It must not. The worlds beyond us are doomed if it does." Colette said. "But this game is slowly coming to its climax, and we, the summoned heroes of the old gods, have a part to play. Perhaps, the part we were always meant to play, but were denied all this while."
Rohana and Colette hugged. Rohana squeezed her mother, even if it wouldn't hurt her much. "This will just be one of your trips, correct. Just one of those times when you're sent to fight another one of those demon kings. Just bigger. Way bigger."
Denial. Maybe she denied it.
Rohana is a fully grown adult, and yet under stress, there are times she still reverted to a more simple sort of vocabulary. Colette reassured her like she was still a child, and maybe, Colette thought to herself, maybe she pampered her a little too much. "Yes, Rohana. We'll be back. This is just a work trip."
Rohana looked at Colette. Colette stood, and tapped her daughter on the shoulder.
"Wait for us."
"Yes, mother. Come home."
"I will, my daughter. I will. I love you."
***
Few weeks before the final battle
Lausanne sat at the edge of her mansion's balcony and looked at the city and felt her stomach grumble. Her gut felt it.
The rising tension and conflicts with the Descendants was going to escalate eventually. She had a feeling they would all be doing something so thoroughly repugnant that there was no choice but to go all in.
It didn't feel right.
So she walked. She used her abilities, and moved through the network of teleportation gates and soon arrived at Tigashfall, where one of the many tombs stood.
It was surrounded by trees as he claimed he wanted. It was a quiet tomb. Clean, proper, but how many of the recent generations remembered the man who was Aeon's first champion?
They know his name, they read about his feats. But they were not there. Those who knew the man were lesser with the passing years, those who survived and remembered were few and far between.
Time was a cruel thing, even to great heroes.
Lausanne stopped, and tried to remember his face. She struggled, and cursed. Perhaps only Aeon had a perfect memory of her uncle.
Time was a cruel thing, even to memories.
"Uncle Jura." Lausanne whispered as she sat at the tomb's edge. "The time is coming. We're bringing this home."
She felt the leaves and the branches sway with the wind. The tomb stood. There were very few remains of her uncle. The steel sword was not the real weapon, it was a replica made for the tomb.
"It has been so many years, and every decade we commemorate the day we won here. But to many the Order that has grown so large, they are more attached to memories and events of their own world. But that's alright, you would have loved to see all these places." She sat.
The sun was fairly gentle here, the trees absorbed most of the heat, and there were a few deer in the distance. She felt them. There was another old couple, a tourist, visiting another of the Tigashfall's many tombs.
"I can sense it. The plague that took you away, we are ending it for good." Lausanne said, as she touched the tombstone. "Watch over me."
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