Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 37 – Issues with anger – Part One

Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 37 – Issues with anger – Part OneOgre Tyrant: Chapter 37 - Issues with anger - Part One

Staring down at the pair of Fallen Angels barely clinging to life, a lingering doubt briefly flitted through my mind before it was ruthlessly extinguished.

With Orphiel’s veins on prominent display, it was easy to find the one I needed. Inserting the sterilised needle into an arterial vein in Orphiel’s arm, I firmly fixed it in place with a bandage while watching the faintly flowing liquid pass through the needle and into Orphiel’s bloodstream.

Creating a primitive IV had been simple enough. The needles had been the most difficult part while repurposing glass bottles had been the easiest. Rubber tubing had seemed like it would initially be out of reach, but despite her debilitating injuries, Hana had been able to grow something that Qreet was then able to further alter to purpose.

It was Orphiel’s fourth simultaneous IV of Evolution Elixir.

The life-draining effects of the Liche’s spells were beyond the ability of the Surgeons to heal, leaving the special Racial Abilities of Orphiel and Ophelia as the only viable option for providing treatment. Daemons and Angels both presented a comparatively weak ability to recover from the life-drain, Naturally, this presented only one viable option for treatment.

Unlike their true selves, the summoned copies of the Fallen Angels were created in pristine condition, bearing none of the original’s existing damage from life-drain. Unfortunately, the damage to the original's Toughness drastically reduced the summoned copy's ability to meaningfully heal that damage. Most frustrating of all, the summoned copies could not heal Fallen Angels, summoned or otherwise.

This left only one real alternative, healing and strengthening the Fallen Angels through Evolution.

As the Fallen Angels evolved, the Summoners and Pact Binders would be able to summon more powerful copies of the originals. This would allow the copies to heal more damage before succumbing to the life-drain themselves. For what it was worth, Orphiel and Ophelia were both under heavy sedation as a side effect of the intravenous injections of the Elixir.

Wraithe had watched me administer the procedures in silence.

For her benefit, and to remind me of what I needed to do, I had repeated my mentor’s instructions on best practises, or as best as I could remember them while inserting each of the IVs.

“Refill the bottles as needed, and readminister the IVs if they evolve and the needles come loose,” I ordered while cleaning my hands on a clean cloth, “And make sure to feed them using the tube and funnel at least once a day.”

Wraithe nodded and continued observing me in silence. I could tell she did not approve of what I was doing, but I chose to ignore that and continue with what was needed.

Ophelia, or rather, a summoned copy of Ophelia summoned by Sanctuary’s highest level Pact Binder, had volunteered herself for everything I had requested of her. Orphiel had taken some convincing. The bottom line was that both of them had provided consent, and for me, that was enough.

On my way out of the hospital, I briefly stopped by the entrance to the long term care ward.

Hana and Kohana were the only ones awake, and with the exception of Nadine, bore the least visible damage from the Liche’s attack.

Despite appearing unharmed, Nadine was under the effects of a powerful curse inflicted by the Liche. Plagued by unceasing nightmares, her only defence was the telepathic link being maintained with Ril.

Leaving the hospital, I made my way to the forges to collect my newly commissioned weapons. Using my clubs as a base, the Deep Orc smiths had attached a flanged mace head onto the end of each club. Designed for crumpling armour, crushing bone and mauling flesh, the new maces were exactly the weapons I needed in order to play to my strengths.

My armour had been reforged and refitted, prioritising manoeuvrability over protecting otherwise exposed joints. Adding the magical beaded crotch protector as something of an afterthought, I briefly considered and promptly rejected using Shiverfang. The maces would be sufficient.

For the Liche and Vampyre to invade Sanctuary, twice, in spite of my dominance enforced over the connecting rifts, meant that they likely had a labyrinth key of their own. Perhaps even more than one. For their attacks to end, and to ensure the safety of Sanctuary and my unborn child, I had to put an end to both of them and seize their key for myself. With a room full of injured friends and subordinates to serve as proof of what would happen if I continued allowing enemies to take the initiative.

Barely injured by the attack, Dhizi had been pining for Clarice and wearing trails in the grounds surrounding the hospital as she restlessly paced its perimeter.

In stark contrast, Shady appeared to be completely unharmed and had been trailing me for the better part of the day. Bearing in mind my earlier theory that the Shadow Cat was in fact a Variant, I briefly wondered if his degree of sentience could fully comprehend what had happened and what I was preparing to do.

I decided it would be best to eliminate all doubt and be direct. “Do you want revenge?” I asked quietly.

In an all too human gesture, Shady looked me in the eyes and nodded his head before releasing a low growl and baring his fangs.

As is, Shady was likely to be a liability. However, the fact that he had escaped the Liche’s attack without permanent harm and could share a short-range teleportation ability, were both marks in favour of bringing him along. After all, there was nothing stopping me from sponsoring Shady’s Evolution into a more durable form.

Kneeling down to bring us closer to the same eye level, I motioned for the large black feline to approach. After removing Shady’s collar, I invited him into my party. I already knew from experience that my Racial Abilities synergised incredibly well with Beast monsters, so Shady wouldn’t be as much of a liability as he would be otherwise.

“Follow me,” I commanded and returned to the Grove.

I wanted to see Lash one more time before leaving, but I knew that if I did, I might not have the strength remaining to leave at all. With all instances of the Bodyguard Ability active, Lash would be surrounded by protectors to keep her safe while I was away. Chief amongst them was Dar, who I knew wouldn't hesitate to activate the Ability and intercept any attack intended for Lash.

Passing the grove, I headed for the gateway.

As I had expected, red puffy-eyed Goblins and Serpent-Kin were gathered nearby, their faces contorted in pain and grief. They all bore minor signs of the withering effects of the life-drain, but it wasn’t the source of their pain. Each of them had been expectant parents engaged in hatching their eggs inside of the hatchery during the Liche attack.

A fresh wave of rage flooded through my mind and renewed my sense of purpose. I wouldn’t return to Sanctuary until the Liche and Vampyre were destroyed, and whatever artefact allowed them into Sanctuary was destroyed or in my possession.

Too weak to enact their revenge, the grieving parents would be left behind. I wouldn’t allow those I failed to protect once already to be sacrificed. Surviving would have to be the limits of their revenge.

In the wake of the attack, many of Sanctuary’s citizens had volunteered, even begged, to be allowed to join me. I refused them all. Although the Humans were comparatively weak, they were the only ones with a military structure that would suffice for the type of war I wanted to wage against the undead.

Stopping before the gateway, I knelt down and took a firm hold of the scruff of Shady’s neck before pressing my other palm against the cold iron of the gateway. Establishing a firm image of the cathedral’s courtyard, I channelled my mana and let it build until I felt a strong pulling sensation. Leaning into the sensation, I ignored a sudden sense of panic as the ground momentarily disappeared from beneath my feet. Just as quickly, the cold flagstones of the cathedral courtyard replaced them.

The courtyard was bustling with soldiers and low ranking officers as they unpacked sleds of supplies that had likely been delivered through the gateway.

My arrival had prompted a strange state of organised chaos to take hold of the courtyard as runners were sent to alert higher-ranking officers. It was obvious that they had been expecting me but were unsure of when exactly I would arrive.

I didn’t have to wait long for seven officers to present themselves. Each of them wore armour that bore scars of reforging and sectional repair. In addition to the battle-tested state of their equipment, each man and woman wore a helmet styled in the appearance of a lion. The highest-ranking amongst them, a Colonel, was on the older side of middle-age, with shock white hair and a mass of scars in place of his right eye. The Colonel wasn’t the only one with scars, all of the assembled officers in lion helmets had them.

As one, the officers removed their helmets and knelt down on one knee, “Majesty!” They declared in one voice and were echoed moments later by those soldiers still in the vicinity.

“The Lord Regent has placed the Pride of Asrus regiment at your disposal!” The Colonel rumbled slamming his free fist against his chest and bowing his scar streaked head, “What is your command?!” The Colonel's officers followed suit and repeated his gesture.

“We are going to destroy the Liche,” I growled hatefully without raising my voice. A quick scan of the group revealed that every one of the officers had a rank of Underlord. “Are you aware of how Group Synergy works?” I asked.

“Yes, Majesty!” The Colonel replied.

“And you are familiar with the Retinue function your titles allow?” I pressed.

“Yes, Majesty!” The Colonel repeated with the same intense energy.

“Good. Assemble every one of your junior officers and sergeants for inspection,” I growled before climbing onto the roof surrounding the courtyard and then climbing up onto the wall.

There was smoke everywhere. Towering piles of human corpses smouldered as soldiers threw more dead Zombies and fresh torches onto the pyres. The immediate vicinity around the cathedral was now a swarm of activity with soldiers running to and fro as they delivered fresh corpses or moved to reinforce a battle line that was obscured by the smoke.

A sudden flash of gold emanating from my body signalled that I had levelled up again, but a cursory scan revealed no skills so I didn’t bother reading anymore into it.

Shady had joined me on the wall and stared out at the smoke just as I had done.

Seeing the Colonel had returned with all of his officers and that they were all standing in parade readiness, I scooped up Shady and jumped back down to the courtyard.

*Boom!*

The force from my landing was enough to break the flagstones but the mortar held them firmly in place.

“Majesty!” The junior officers fell to one knee just as quickly as their superiors. With their helmets removed, it was obvious that the Pride of Asrus didn’t discriminate based on age or sex. Similarly, the junior officers bore just as many visible scars as their seniors.

Provided a visual reference, which made the process much simpler, I promoted every one of the officers at least once. I promoted the Colonel to an Overlord and promoted the Majors and Captains to Lords.

“Spears, clubs, maces, hammers, bows, slings! Fists! FEET! AND TEETH!” Clenching my jaw I reigned in my mounting anger, “You and your men are to use only Primitive and Heavy weapons.” I wanted them to be dealing the most possible damage with the Group Synergy, increasing their chances of destroying the undead with as few strikes as possible. I didn’t want a single one of those filthy, disgusting, ABOMINATIONS!!! Getting away...

“As you command, Majesty!” The Colonel agreed immediately, “Your Majesty! Measures have been taken for rearmament, the men will be ready within the hour!”

Looking at the nearby crates, I could tell that the Colonel wasn’t lying. Even though I couldn’t read the language, I recognised stencilled symbols denoting their contents.

I nodded and then motioned to Shady, “This is Shady. A friend, treat him with respect.”

Shady growled for a moment before settling on his haunches and eyeing the officers warily.

“Make a list of supplies you and your men will need for long term deployment in the field. Send a copy to whoever handles your logistics and make it crystal clear to them that a designated space will be required to maintain those listed items AT ALL TIMES,” the delays, as necessary as they were, made my brain itch. Every second of inaction was another second that the enemy might use to harm my people. Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I let it out as slowly as I could manage, attempting to bring my mind back into a semblance of balance. “The copy of the list will then be read to me so I can establish the long term quest. Once the quest is active, we will depart for the closest gate to the centre of the city AND HUNT THOSE ABOMINATIONS DOWN!”

The Colonel had everything arranged within the hour and the thousand men and women under his command were waiting outside of the cathedral. There was one minor upset. The abbot, and a couple of dozen militant priests, wanted to join my little crusade.

With the explicit understanding that they would be responsible for their own safety, I agreed. Having a few Pact Binders and Warlocks could prove useful.

With an army now marching at my back, I began pushing for the closest gate to Mournbrent’s interior.

The regular army had been pushing back the straggling horde of the lesser undead street by street. Unfortunately, they had to proceed carefully to avoid exposing themselves to infection and lacked the bonus damage to make quick efficient kills.

Pulling the pair of flanged maces from my belt, I passed through the forward defensive line and evaporated the upper body from the first Zombie to come staggering in my direction. The second crumpled like a wet bag of meat, spattering the corpse across the road. Their deaths did nothing to scratch the itch in my brain, only making it worse. The weak undead were nothing but fodder, I needed the elites.

I set a fast pace, the percussive echoes of my maces ringing up and down the road, drawing more weak undead.

I didn’t stop until I reached the gate to the interior. Even at a distance, I could feel the mana emanating from inside of the steel-banded gate doors. The mana felt familiar, similar to the Fallen Angels’ only weaker. I could feel it growing weaker with each passing moment. Whatever magic was keeping the undead contained, it was failing.

Assuming that the enchantment on the gates was designed to keep the undead inside and not out, I wondered if Shady’s limited teleportation would allow entry. Able to see the open road through a gap between the gates, there were no immediate signs of undead presence.

Concentrating on a space on the other side of the gate, I gathered my mana and imagined myself stepping forwards.

As I had suspected, I met no resistance entering the central district with Shadow Step.

The buildings in the central district were much nicer than those in the western district. The buildings were also a full story higher on average, making three-story buildings the norm. There were also a great deal more windows, although most of them I could see had broken shutters.

Having expected the more powerful undead to be gathered towards the gate and attempting to break their way out, I was both disappointed and considerably irritated.

*Tingling*

A Ranger wearing hardened leather, a lion helmet and carrying a recurve bow appeared in front of me. “Majesty!” The ranger growled hoarsely, falling to one knee, “How may I serve?”

“Scout the way ahead, find the enemy,” I replied, motioning down the street.

“Thy will be done!” The Ranger agreed. Rising to his feet, the Ranger jogged towards the side of one of the nearest buildings and adeptly began climbing to the rooftop. After reaching the rooftop, the Ranger spent a few moments carefully scanning his surroundings before jogging across the roof and leaping to the next.

Shady suddenly appeared at my side, giving me a strange look before sniffing at the air and panning his feline eyes over the shadows cast by the buildings.

[Gavin* has slain {Vampyr Thinblood 2} +0 Exp]

[Gavin* has slain {Vampyr Thinblood 1} +0 Exp]

[Gavin* has slain {Vampyr Thinblood 2} +0 Exp]

The trio of kills ended with a burning white flare streaking into the sky from a short distance away, perhaps no more than a block or two from my position by the gate.

Doing my best not to rush headlong towards the enemy, I patiently waited to see if the scout would uncover more hidden enemies.

[Gavin* has slain {Vampyr Thrall 1} +0 Exp], [Gavin* has slain {Vampyr Thrall 1} +0 Exp], [Gavin* has slain {Vampyr Thrall 1} +0 Exp], [Gavin* has slain {Vampyr Thrall 1} +0 Exp], [Gavin* has slain {Vampyr Thrall 1} +0 Exp], [Gavin* has slain {Vampyr Thrall 1} +0 Exp]

The Alerts came much faster this time, with barely a handful of seconds between them.

[Summoned {Gavin*} has been terminated by {Vampyre Trueblood}]

Carefully reading the Summoned Ranger’s termination notification, I scowled as I remembered the Vampyre that had lured me out of the Grove. However, I had only managed to take a few steps forward before the Colonel and a handful of officers materialised a short distance behind me. Apparently, they had figured out the trick to traversing the gate.

Alongside the officers was the Ranger I had used as a base for my Summons.

“Majesty!” The Colonel and accompanying officers dropped to one knee.

I raised my hand as the Ranger moved to copy them, signalling him to remain standing. He had already died once today, he had earned this. He had also earned a considerable number of recognition points to spend on Elixir as compensation for his Summons and subsequent death.

“The undead have revealed themselves to be hiding within the more fortified residences of the district, and they appear to have taken civilian hostages. How shall we proceed?” The Colonel asked obediently.

The news of the hostages was a surprise considering the duration of the undead occupation. Yet the conditions they were likely living in would be far from enviable.

“Is there a fortified structure we can seize in order to safeguard rescued hostages?” I inquired while doing my best to keep my anger in check.

The Colonel nodded, “Several, Majesty. It is almost guaranteed that the undead have laid claim to them, but any of the former Guild headquarters, the grand cathedral, the Count’s keep, or central city guard headquarters would serve as defensible locations while we prosecute the campaign.”

I briefly considered the options before settling on the cathedral. There was a chance that it contained more lingering Divinity that Orphiel and Ophelia could put to good use either in their own recovery or that of others. “Take the grand cathedral,” I ordered.

The colonel nodded, “As you command, Majesty!” He turned to one of the other officers and gave her a weighty nod.

Within minutes, the thousand-strong regiment, and the small band of militant priests, had Shadow Stepped past the gate and were now headed towards the centre of the city.

There was a very real possibility that the Liche was holed up inside of one of the buildings in the city centre, which would make us neighbours at worst and provoke a confrontation if we were lucky. In fact, I was hoping the Liche was hiding inside of the grand cathedral. It would go a long way towards narrowing the search and dramatically lowering my assumed timetable for destroying it.

In stark contrast to the outer districts, the central district seemed completely empty. Without Zombies to break the monotony, the sense of emptiness only intensified.

The wealthier homes hadn’t fared any better than those of the working class. Doors and window shutters were broken, shattered or otherwise torn off their hinges.

Despite the occasional shot fired by one of the Archers or Rangers and the accompanying kill notification, the march proceeded with no real interruptions.

Entering the centre of the city had required passing through a heavily damaged set of gates. Similar to my home city back home on Earth, the centre of the city was developed into a number of small parks. The centre of the city also had a number of fountains featuring artistic statues, although all but one of them was heavily damaged or otherwise defaced. The damage resulted in the surrounding plaza being an inch or more underwater as storm drains further out drained away the overflowing water into the sewers.

Each of the buildings ringing the central plaza and parks was a fortress unto itself. The only real difference I could determine between the Count’s Keep and the grand cathedral was that the keep didn’t have a colossal bell tower on top of it. I had a general sense for the location and distance of the portal to the Labyrinth, placing it within the fortified grounds of what I assumed would be the Adventurers Guild’s former property.

Curiously, despite the outer gates to the grounds of the grand cathedral being heavily damaged and compromised, the large doors to the cathedral itself looked remarkably intact.

With a couple of dozen Rangers scouting ahead, I moved forwards to investigate things for myself.

I could feel the same protective enchantment and mana emanating from the large pair of iron banded doors that I had felt on the gate barring entry to the outer districts. However, the mana level in the doors was not weakening and seemed to be holding strong.

Curious, I tried drawing open one of the doors by pulling on the large handle. Meeting with resistance, I realised the door was most likely barred from the other side. Lacking a significant gap to see into the space beyond, Shadow Step was out of the question. Or rather, it was, until I shifted my attention to the arrow slits flanking the doorway.

*Tingling*

“Open the doors and then investigate the interior,” I commanded.

“As you command, Majesty!” The ranger growled from the other side of the wall.

A few moments later, the doors to the cathedral opened and revealed that my guess regarding the bar was correct. Similar to the cathedral in the western district, the entry hall was festooned with arrow slits leading to another pair of doors allowing entrance to the greater interior.

The Ranger was already using Shadow Step to manoeuvre through the arrow slits and move deeper into the cathedral. After a minute, the Ranger opened the far doors and began quickly and quietly pressing deeper into the interior.

Slowly following behind, I warily eyed each of the arrow slits as I passed them on my way through the hallway and into a large courtyard that seemed almost identical to the one found in the western cathedral, with the exception that this courtyard was considerably larger and featured an artistic fountain.

Feeling the mana of the Summoned Ranger growing critically low, I considered extending the Summons but ultimately decided against it. I hadn’t smelt any of the telltale stench of decay since entering the cathedral, so it seemed unlikely that the soldiers wouldn’t be able to handle anything that might otherwise be skulking about.

Allowing the Summons to terminate, I left through the front doors before waving through the Rangers to perform their own sweep.

The Colonel had already moved most of the soldiers into the open grounds and gardens surrounding the grand cathedral.

“Colonel!” A Lieutenant hurried over and whispered something into the Colonel’s ear.

Unfazed as always, the Colonel turned to me, “Majesty, survivors have been found within the chapel, and the High Matriarch is amongst them. What are your orders?”

“Who is the High Matriarch?” I asked, unclear on the hierarchy within the dead god’s religion.

The Colonel turned his head to one of the Captains and motioned him forward.

“The High Matriarch is the religious head of the Sleeping God Sabriel’s organised faith,” the Captain explained in a hoarse rasping voice, “Born of the people, her appointment to High matriarch was unpopular with the more politically involved Abbots of the kingdom. Some used the excuse of her appointment to secede from the faith altogether, aligning their cathedrals and churches with foriegn gods. Some say...” The Captain stopped himself, “Pardon Majesty, it is just a rumour...”

“Tell me,” I pressed, wanting as much information about the woman as possible before deciding her fate.

The Captain took a moment to clear his throat and nodded, “Some say that the High Matriarch performed miracles in spite of the Sleeping God’s absence. She never displayed those miracles to Lords or powerful merchants, so it remained rumours amongst the common folk. But...” The Captain took a deep breath before continuing, “My boy, my eldest, Tommon, he swears he saw a woman matching the High Matriarch’s description in the southern district removing plague from the poor during the outbreak five years ago.”

The Colonel motioned for the Captain to step back, “Majesty, it is uncertain how the High Matriarch will react to your reorganisation and revival of the faith. Perhaps it would be best to send the Abbot to inform the high matriarch of these changes before-”

“No,” I shook my head and glanced up at the slowly retreating sun. “Have all of your men moved inside and prepared to fight once the sun goes down. See to it that the survivors are given food and water as well as anything else we can reasonably provide. I want to meet with this High Matriarch myself.”

The gathered officers bowed as I left and headed back inside the cathedral.

Headed for the chapel and passing by the fountain, I paused for a moment as I felt the presence of saturated mana. Similar to the water of the fountain in the Grove, the waters of the courtyard fountain possessed mana many times greater than the otherwise thin amounts present in the air.

Cupping my hands and raising the water to my lips, I found it possessed an almost silver-like shimmering quality. Tasting it revealed nothing besides a clean if somewhat mineral-like taste likely leached from the stone and mortar of the fountain. With no alerts triggering and announcing the presence of Poison or Disease, I gulped down the remaining water in my hands before continuing towards the chapel.

Featuring large statues of Angels in recessed alcoves, the chapel had six different lines of pews on the ground floor and two stories of private galleries on either side. If it wasn't for the raised pulpit on the far side I would have probably mistaken the chapel for a playhouse.

Around two hundred or so civilians were seated on the pews closest to the pulpit and the elderly woman in pale grey robes standing behind it. Fat candles were suspended on simple iron chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. The chandeliers drew my attention predominantly because they hung above the most direct path between the pews and the pulpit.

Warily taking a more circuitous route, I made my way towards the elderly woman standing atop the pulpit.

My presence was detected almost immediately. However, rather than panicking as I had expected, the civilians just silently watched my approach with expressions of confusion and mild surprise. Some of the civilians even looked curiously between the High Matriarch and myself while quietly whispering with one another.

“And so the Champion arrives in our darkest hour.” The High Matriarch’s voice was quiet but carried thanks to favourable acoustics and years of practice. “Is it not always the way of things?” She raised her cowled head to reveal a wizened and frail face of an incredibly old woman. Eyes milky white from cataracts, she was almost certainly blind. Yet I couldn’t help but shake the feeling that she could see me clearly.

“No prophecy?” I joked sarcastically, emotionally drained from resisting my more violent impulses for the past few hours, “Isn't there usually a prophecy about events like this?”

The old woman’s wrinkled mouth crinkled into a crooked smile, “Oh there are prophecies that might suit the situation,” she laughed lightly, “But that is more thanks to the creativity of the scribe than the seer I would think. Do you want to hear one of my favourites?”

“Please?” I stopped a few feet shy of the old woman and slouched to make us roughly at eye level with one another.

“As nations fall and darkness rises, love will determine humanities final fate,” the high Matriarch smiled wanly and lowered her eyes for a moment before meeting my gaze again, “Having the fate of the world determined by love is a little silly and naive, but I find it to be one of the more tolerable apocalyptic prophecies all the same. It is not the slaying of some great enemy, the culling of a people or toppling of a great monument, but love that will determine our fate...”

“It’s a nice sentiment,” I agreed while keeping my reservations to myself, seeing no point in taking out my frustrations on the old woman.

The High Matriarch tilted her head slightly at my reply before slowly shaking her head, “Are you here to evacuate my flock? Or to prosecute a war against the dead?”

“Both, and more if possible,” I replied, my curiosity piqued by her choice in phrasing. “The undead have hostages, prisoners, that are in need of rescue,” I fought down a sudden flare of anger at the absence of children from the outer district.

The High Matriarch smiled wryly and nodded, “I suspected as much. Regarding the prisoners I mean...The attack was just too coordinated...”

“Why was the cathedral spared?” I had some theories but wanted to see if the High Matriarch could provide the answer.

“When so many other fortresses around us have fallen?” The High Matriarch nodded in understanding, “The cathedral is protected by a consecrated relic residing in the crypts below. Whoever was responsible for the attack attempted to seek out the relic, but they failed to defeat the guardian. The faith militant sacrificed themselves to ensure that none escaped.” The old woman’s features sagged and her eyes lost their lustre, “Only the living servants of the undead can enter the cathedral without being unravelled by the relic’s power. Even the grounds surrounding the cathedral will unravel the undead if they linger, so whatever maligned force drives them has decided to starve us into submission and be done with it. Or so I believe.”

“The relic was made by your goddess?” I asked curiously, eager to know if Orphiel would be able to replicate the feat with enough Divinity.

The High Matriarch gave me a curious look before shaking her head, “No. The relic was a gift from Rioshans in much better times. It was likely blessed by their gods as thanks for the Kingdom’s aid in sheltering their crowned princess during the succession crisis at the time.” She shrugged lightly, “The library no doubt has records pertaining to the exact series of events. But may I ask a question of you in turn?”

“Seems fair,” I agreed.

“Why would you need to know if the relic was made by the gods? Forgive me for my candour, but you gave the impression that you intended to replicate the feat,” the High Matriarch’s tone made it clear that a lie would bring a very abrupt halt to our conversation.

“If I can, I will see it done,” I agreed, circling the question slightly, “Is that a problem?”

“A problem?” The old woman’s eyes widened slightly, “No, for you, I don’t think it would be...Although my goddess may sleep eternally, I still have eyes enough to see the Divinity suffusing our aura...” She seemed much warier after having made that declaration, fumbling for the handrails to help steady herself. Sёarch* The nôᴠel Fire.nёt website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“Divinity in my aura?” This was the first I was hearing of such a thing.

The High Matriarch smiled wryly, “I see that it is the element involving your aura that surprises you, and not the presence of the Divinity itself,” she observed before pressing her lips together firmly, “Who do you serve? What is your true purpose for this city?” There was an edge to the old woman’s voice now, an unspoken threat of violent retribution that transcended her otherwise frail exterior.

“I serve myself and my people,” I replied honestly, “And that includes the people of the Asrus Kingdom. I intend to purge EVERY undead ABOMINATION from the city, hunt down the Liche and her Lieutenants and DESTROY THEM!”

The High Matriarch seemed confused and slightly taken aback by my angry outbursts, “You truly hate them...” She murmured while wrinkling her brow further in confusion, “But your aura-”

“I speak with Angels and Gods,” I replied tersely, technically speaking the truth according to the strange realities of this world.

The old woman’s eyes grew wide and her knuckles grew white as she clutched hard at the railing to support herself, “You have spoken with Gods and their messengers?” The High Matriarch whispered in awe.

I nodded and turned to leave. I wanted the High Matriarch to stew in that bit of information for a bit before sending in the Abbot. With any luck, she would convert to the reorganised faith, or at worst not get in its way. Converting the current head of the religion would make transitioning the faithful of other cities much easier, so I was hoping for the former.

Leaving the chapel, I made my way over to the fountain to take another drink. Pondering over the alleged Divinity in my ‘aura’ I could only assume that interacting with Orphiel’s and Ophelia’s true selves had somehow rubbed off some Divinity. What bothered me about that theory was that I had been in close proximity to far more Daemons for much longer. Shouldn’t that have left a mark as well? Was the Divinity only recently acquired? Or was it a native element to the Angels and Fallen Angels as a species?

Following my orders, the soldiers were busily exploring the cathedral and stowing away equipment.

Bearing in mind what the High Matriarch had told me regarding the effects of the relic, I was now far more inclined to draw the enemy into a fight on the grounds outside rather than turtling inside of the cathedral itself. Weakening the forces of the undead would be an important step in preparing to fight the Liche, and if the Liche decided to take to the field herself, all the better.

After sending my new instructions to the Colonel, I turned in my quest requisition points for a pile of manastones and urged Shady to eat them. While not enough for evolution, they bolstered Shady’s maximum mana and increased the rank of Shadow Step.

“Stay inside for now,” I insisted, “You need to evolve before joining an open battle, alright?”

Shady growled irritably and laid down by the fountain.

Washing off some of the grime accumulated from marching through the city, I was surprised to find the water stripped off the dried blood off my maces like a potent acid. It took me all of a second to make the connection between the relic, the cathedral and the fountain.

With a wicked grin on my face, I sent a runner to fetch the Colonel. I was going to need a lot of barrels.

*****

Liz irritably paced back and forth while waiting for the sun to set. While not as flammable as the movies would have had her believe, she was still considerably weakened when out in broad daylight. It practically made her human in all the worst ways. Smirking and opening her mouth to tell a joke, Liz stopped herself and frowned as she recalled how Amalda had been smashed into pieces by the turbo hulk Orc bitch.

“Gonna enjoy plucking out her eyes!” Liz swore angrily.

<Patience.> Amalda cooed, her voice a soothing balm on Liz’s otherwise frantic and addled mind. <We will get them both, in due time.>

“Right,” Liz hissed and irritably nodded her head in acquiescence.

<Just focus on pinning down the Ogre for now. It was incredibly foolish for him to leave his stronghold and pursue us into our territory.> Amalda continued with her usual air of amusement.

“But he's shacked up in that fucking church!” Liz spat bitterly, “Even I can’t last more than a minute in there!”

<So lure him out?> Amalda replied simply, <Taunts will almost certainly prove sufficient, but I suppose dangling some of your blood bags in prominent display would serve well as a backup.>

Liz instinctively cringed, a primal need making her loathe the idea of risking her precious blood supply, “yeah, taunting should work,” she agreed hastily.

Liz could picture Amalda smirking at her despite her disembodied state.

“The Ogre’s hide is thick,” Liz complained exasperatedly, throwing herself backwards onto an opulent sofa, “I could barely make him bleed at all!” Mentioning blood, she licked her lips subconsciously.

<So wear him down.> Amalda advised sagely, <A death by a thousand cuts and all that.>

Liz smirked, “That was meant to be a way to torture people you know? Although I guess if I throw enough of the fodder at him, it could work...” She detested the weaker Vampyres, even those she had personally created. Their presence and dark hunger disgusted her. Very much aware of those faults in herself, Liz did not like her flaws being held up to the proverbial mirror.

She had been a heroin addict in life and was a plasma addict in death. Liz had lost track of the number of people she had killed in order to get her fix. It wasn’t until she met Amalda that she gained some semblance of control over her new addiction. Partly because of her personal charisma, but mostly because Amalda had an Ability to sway the emotional state of undead in her presence.

Tapping her foot irritably on the arm of the sofa, Liz sighed and stared at the slowly receding sunlight filtering through the heavy curtains on the window.

With Amalda, temporarily indisposed, Liz only had immediate control over a third of the greater undead within the city. Most of which were Vampyres like herself and their respective Thralls. She was not particularly comfortable with the idea of their army sharing the same weaknesses. One of the reasons Liz tolerated the foul-smelling Crypt Stalkers and Night Haunters, was because their presence forced the enemy to use a more diverse range of tactics.

<Don’t worry, the Bone and Flesh Golems will do their part.> Amalda reassured her. <You can even ride Bonedaddy into battle like you keep swearing you will.>

Liz’s cheeks flushed, “It was a joke!” she choked out defensively, “And if you also recall, I mentioned something about a pair of machine guns! And I don’t see any of those lying around! Do you?!”

Amalda said nothing in reply but Liz could sense her laughter all the same.

“Sire?” A young male voice purred from the distant doorway.

Liz’s mood immediately soured, “What is it, Justin?!” She snapped irritably.

A young man with short dark hair and pouty bedroom eyes slouched into the room, “The other covens are refusing to act without Lady Amalda’s support. Fielding all of our-”

Liz curled her lips and revealed her fangs in displeasure.

“-your forces,” Justin corrected without missing a beat, “Will leave your holdings vulnerable and amount to only a couple of thousand bodies. Furthermore, while most of those bodies would be Thralls and Thin Bloods, little more than fodder, we won’t be able to replenish those losses on consecrated ground and there isn't enough livestock to replace them either.”

Liz glared coldly at him for a moment, “I’ll sacrifice every damned one of you if it means killing that Ogre.”

Justin maintained a calm facade, but she could feel his hatred of her intensifying.

Grinning maliciously at Justin, fully aware that he couldn’t raise a finger against her in retaliation, Liz threw an empty wine bottle at his face.

As Justin attempted to dodge out of the way, Liz paralyzed his body with a single thought. The bottle smashed against his face, momentarily marring his handsome face with a multitude of small cuts before accelerated regeneration closed the wounds. Dark eyes flashing in anger, it took Justin a few moments to bring his anger back under control.

<That was petty.> Amalda mused.

Liz shrugged, “He deserves it, trust me, I’ve been inside his head and seen all the bad shit he got up to before I turned him. Justin was a real piece of work.”

Justin struggled against her control but failed to break free.

“You don’t like it, do you?” Liz taunted, “That someone knows all your dirty little secrets? Not that they matter anymore.” She quickly lost interest as the final shreds of daylight disappeared. “Gather the troops, we have an Ogre to kill!” Liz removed Justin’s paralysis and shooed him from the room with a backhanded gesture.

Gathering their forces wouldn’t take long. The fodder would do whatever they were told, and the heavy hitters knew better than to cross her or test her patience.

Cinching on her sword belt, Liz drew her cutlass and gave it a few practice swings, “Death by a thousand cuts eh? I reckon I can do that!” She grinned and hungrily ran her tongue over her lips.

Strutting into the centre of the city, Liz could feel Justin and her other Lieutenants gathering their minions in the deeper shadows of their respective fortresses. Within a half-hour, the sodden parklands were packed with the hunched and skulking bodies of the living dead.

Much to her surprise, Liz had watched the living take up formations of their own in the open grounds surrounding the towering cathedral. Either they were ignorant of the protection afforded by the cathedral’s walls or foolishly believed they could take her forces in a straight-up fight at night.

If it weren’t for the lesser debilitating effects inflicted on the grounds of the cathedral, Liz would have believed it was the former, but something didn’t feel quite right. As much as she was spoiling for a fight, Liz couldn’t shake the impression that the enemy wanted one more. It should have made her happy, but Liz only felt more nervous.

Liz and her forces outnumbered the soldiers three times over and had Abilities that made their effective numbers twice that. The only advantage the human soldiers had going for them was the mild damaging effect of the consecrated ground, and Liz had no intentions of the fight lasting long enough for it to be a real factor. The degeneration caused by the consecrated ground wasn’t strong enough to counteract the full effects of her Lieutenants' regeneration let alone her’s. So in the worst-case scenario, the battle would be determined by a matter of attrition well in their favour.

Even so, Liz didn’t feel right. “Send in the fodder,” she waved her hand dismissively and slowly began walking forward.

Releasing inhuman shrieks and wailing like banshees, the Thin Bloods and Thralls rushed forward towards the cathedral.

“You too boys,” Liz waved her hand again to signal the misshapen Flesh Golems and Bone Golems forward. The sight of their distended stitches and deformed bodies disgusted Liz, but Amalda liked them so Liz made an effort to keep it to herself.

<And I appreciate it.> Amalda chuckled. <And they are beautiful, in their own way.>

“Mhm...” Liz began to roll her eyes and stiffened as she caught Justin eyeing her, “You too Justin!” Liz snarled threateningly, “And don’t you dare think about skulking back here without my permission!”

“As you say...” Justin’s calm outer demeanour was directly at odds with the anger raging beneath his skin. However, he obediently began charging forward all the same.

Smirking in self-satisfaction, Liz turned her attention back towards the cathedral.

Curiously, the Thin Bloods and Thralls were falling in droves from the soldiers' arrows. This was odd since Liz had witnessed Thralls take a half dozen arrows and crossbow bolts at point-blank range and continue fighting. “Do they have magical arrows?” Liz wondered aloud, “Or are they just really high-level Archers?”

The losses weren't enough to slow the horde by much, but it forced the Thin Bloods and Thralls to begin scaling the walls to avoid the concentrated fire directed towards the broken gate.

Liz snapped out of her musings when she noticed movement up on the roof of the cathedral.

Hunched over and standing beside the belltower was the Ogre, his brutish body and crude armour illuminated by the moonlight. In one smooth motion, the Ogre raised his arms and threw something in the direction of the horde.

With her superior senses, Liz could see that the projectile was an iron banded barrel. Suspecting some sort of explosive or perhaps flammable liquid, she was surprised when all she could smell was water. The trailing liquid leaking from the barrel was perfectly clear as well, confirming her assessment that it was just water.

*Crunch*

The barrel was blown apart as Justin intercepted it with his fist rather than dodge or alter course.

Continuing his charge, Justin bayed like a madman, his rapidly pumping arms and legs displacing splinters of wood lodged in his clothes. However, after only a few steps, Justin’s laughter turned to howls of pain as smoke began streaming off his body. In a matter of seconds, Justin fell to the ground screaming in agony, thrashing in the shallow water as his flesh melted off his bones.

Justin wasn’t the only one, those who had been caught in the initial blast of the barrel’s contents had crumpled and were little more than half dissolved puddles of smouldering goo.

Watching as another barrel crashed into the horde of her minions, Liz finally realised what was happening. “That Donkey Kong son of a bitch is throwing barrels of holy water!”