Chapter 133 - Willow in the Western Wind
Her chest heaving, Claire leaned back on a wall made of dirt and closed her eyes as she slowly caught her breath. It was almost evening. It had taken a full day’s worth of combat for the Cadrian to finally retreat into the underground, a trick she hadn’t exploited since she last struggled to ward off the ravens.
“Isn’t that enough for one day?” Sylvia, the tunnel’s chief architect, cast a worried frown in her companion’s direction. “You’ve been fighting since morning, and the cycle’s gonna end in like an hour!”
“Maybe.” The lyrkress scanned her log and looked over her status before nodding in agreement. “They’re not giving any experience anymore.”
The mirewulf alphas had never been very threatening. Reaping their lives provided only the slightest bit of growth. But what they lacked individually, they made up for with numbers. The ten-odd hours of slaughter that ensued came with over a hundred kills apiece; her log’s entry count surpassed 5000 by the time her exhaustion took hold. Accompanying the rampage was another ten-odd levels in each class, with most of them clocking in before noon.
Ending a mirewulf was by all means a more involved task than killing a borrok. It took an almost disproportionate amount of effort to destroy each given individual, and a tiny mistake could lead to a potential victim slinking out of sight, recovering, and returning to the battle with its vigour renewed. Despite the need for precision and power, she felt less taxed by the mirewulf horde than she did the one she had faced in Borrok Peak. She didn’t have to watch out for fatal spells or dodge every heavy handed attack that came her way. The beams of scathing light they fired had no effect on her heat-resistant scales, and the attempts they made at stealing her mana were paltry at best. It took little to no effort to weave through their lines, dance through their attacks, and sever their buds. The task was so repetitive that it brought a sense of calm. She felt like she was weeding a garden of its weeds or planting flowers in a field—not that she knew what it was like to do either.
In the end, the person that Beckard had supposedly sent to check up on her never showed. She couldn’t tell if he had been lying from the start, or if they found themselves too short on manpower to spare the extra body, but she doubted that there was any point in reporting the kill to him in either case. The frog’s non-presence was more than enough to evidence its death.
“Do you want to go back?” Claire broke the silence as she grabbed the four-legged mace by the scruff, set her down in her lap, and played with her fur. The fox was the one on the receiving end of all the pets, but the bloodthief found her tension relieved all the same.
“I think we should… If dad shows up again, it’s gonna be at the citadel.”
“You don’t think he’s with your mother?”
Sylvia shook her head. “I checked while you were killing all the mirewulves, but mom has no idea where he is. The only thing she knows is that Al promised he wasn’t gonna do anything to him.” The domesticated forest critter was nowhere near as anxious as she had been earlier in the day. She had finally stopped fidgeting and playing with the tip of her tail.
“And you trust him?”
“Mhm.” Yawning, Sylvia snuggled into the nook of Claire’s lap and closed her eyes. “I know you don’t like him, but Al’s pretty honest.”
Claire frowned. “Honest? He is not honest. He’s the type to scheme. I can tell.”
Sylvia chuckled awkwardly. “Okay, honest might’ve been stretching it a little, but he doesn’t really blatantly lie all that much either. I know he’s trapped and killed lots of people, but he’s really not a bad person, just super goal-focused and narrow minded.”
“And a pervert,” muttered the bluescale.
“And a pervert,” repeated her pet.
Stretching her back and yawning, Claire slowly crawled over to the burrow’s entrance and raised her ears. Most of the mirewulves had already moved on, but some were still around, lurking about with sap running from their open maws. She couldn’t be bothered to confront any more of them, so she summoned Shoulderhorse and ordered it to tunnel in the direction that most of the wooden dogs had gone.
“Wait, you wanted to go underground?” The fox tilted her head.
“Was there another option?”
“I can put us in a bubble that’ll make us invisible, or at least really hard to see. Al might still notice, but we can sneak right past the mirewulves.”
“Why are you only bringing this up now?” groaned the half-snake.
“Uhhh… I dunno,” replied the fox. “I don’t really use it a lot, so I kinda just forgot.”
The rogue pressed a hand against the side of her face. “Is there anything else you’re forgetting? Anything important?”
“Hmmmm…” The fox pressed the tip of her tail against the bottom of her chin. “Oh! There is one thing, but I don’t think it really counts as important.”
A silent tilt of the head prompted the overgrown cub to continue.
“I uhmmm… just remembered I can make food taste different.” Sylvia averted her eyes and laughed nervously.
“Taste different?”
“Yeah! Like really different. I can make you think you’re eating steak no matter what you’re eating.”
Claire’s right eye twitched as she recalled all the awful meals she had endured over the past few weeks. Everything but the monopus meat had been completely devoid of the deep, complex flavours she was accustomed to, and the ingredients that went into their making were so poor that she doubted any could even make it to market.
“You could do that?” The lyrkress’ neck creaked as she slowly turned her head.
“M-mhm.” The fox slowly backed away with a gulp.
“You could do that, this whole time? And you never told me?” mumbled Claire. Her voice trembled, but remained clear enough to send shivers down her pet’s spine. “I tasted almost nothing but stale bread for weeks. The only other things I tasted were swamp and lava. And the lava came from a communal toilet. Do you know how that feels?” Cold sweat began running down the fox’s brow as the lyrkress laughed, her voice as dark as it was psychotic. “Can you even begin to imagine how that feels?”
“C-Claire? C-can you ummm… please calm down?”
“Oh, you silly fox.” Another chilling giggle. “I’m already calm.”
“N-no you’re not! C-come on, Claire! I know you’re mad, but it’s not my fault! I-I’m not supposed to help you!”
One of the two halfbreeds took a step forward, while the other took two back.
“I-I’ll make it up to you!” squeaked the vixen. “I-I promise I’ll make everything you eat taste like the best steak you’ve ever had from now on!”
“Not good enough,” mumbled the moose. “Suffering can only be repaid with suffering.”
“Oh crap!” Sylvia stepped to the side in an attempt to evade the incoming lunge, but they were underground. There was nowhere to run.
A pair of clawed hands grabbed her by the cheeks and tugged her stretchy face in all sorts of directions without the slightest hint or mercy or remorse. Seemingly forever, the assault continued. She wasn’t released until a mirewulf caught on to all the commotion and poked its head into the subterranean shelter, but by then, she was already plagued with the worry that her visage had been permanently deformed.
___
The pair returned to Sky Lagoon’s entrance after an hour of floating. Within Sylvia’s bubble, they were imperceptible to all that relied on their eyes and ears, not that there were many monsters to perceive them in the first place. The marsh was quiet, empty. Few of the creatures that typically wandered it had remained. Occasional straggler aside, the alligators, the frogs, and the ravens were all missing.
Just like the keep.
Upon arriving at the fortress’ location, they found not a single trace of its use or construction. There were no broken walls, no dead monsters, and no defeated golems. Everything was gone, gone because the environment had been reset to its default state; the fort had fallen so long ago that it had already been marked and cleansed by the dungeon’s janitorial mechanisms.
“I don’t think the citadel stands a chance,” said Claire.
“I-I know that things aren’t really looking up right now, but it should be fine…” said Sylvia. “Remember how strong Dad is?”
“He’s missing.”
“Right…”
The distinct lack of sound continued even as they entered the water column leading to the archipelago. None of the mutated turtles were present. They too had vacated their homes and sought the citadel’s destruction.
Emerging from the corridor’s exit, however, put the eerie silence to an end. Sky Lagoon was filled with noise. Loud shouts, feral howls, and the pounding of flesh were all immediately apparent. They were all sounds that stemmed from the battle unfolding before her eyes; the cliff that doubled as the domain’s entrance provided a view that came with both an excellent summary and a clear conclusion.
The citadel was on the verge of collapse.
The floating rock had already been overrun. There were eels, hogs, and mirewulves flooding the streets and tearing the buildings to bits. Owls made of sand and whales made of magma hovered in the sky nearby, and talking monopusses dotted the ocean below like lilies in a pond. All of them were lords. Every single monster present was in a powered-up state, fueled by what she could only assume was Alfred’s magic.
Claire reached for her spear as she began stepping forward, but her hand grasped nothing. The weapon mounted on her back was gone.
Searching through her memory, she recalled that she had forgotten it inside of the frog. The wooden dogs had distracted her and stopped her from retrieving it.
“Why is it always the spear?” Fighting back the urge to curse, she took a deep breath and played with the tail hanging from the side of her head. “Can you bring us a little closer?”
“Mhm! No problem,” said Sylvia. “How close do you wanna get?”
“Close enough to see what’s going on.”
Flying directly above the battlefield revealed that the priest and his men were gathered in and around a rectangular barrier large enough to encase one of the town’s sectors. The church, the forge, and all of the residential buildings sat inside the four-sided veil.
At each of the square’s corners was a large post made out of engraved metal and a massive swarm of monsters. Defending the barrier had clearly been slated as the citadel’s highest priority. Three of the four were guarded by Zelos’ companions, none of whom had even the slightest bit of trouble.
Beckard protected his post with a pair of oversized gauntlets, each half the size of his body. Most of the enemies he encountered were dealt with traditionally; a light jab to the gut would detonate whatever he struck. But on occasion, he would switch it up. A new weapon would often spring forth from the bizarre contraption and see a moment or two of use. He fired several darts from its fingers to slay one group, launched an explosive arrow from a bow that popped out from his wrist to kill another, and released a toxic gas to end a third.
Frederick’s approach was much more straightforward. His foes were dispatched with a simple enchanted trident. Everything he stabbed would be lit with a scorching flame. His targets would be forced to endure the heat either until they jumped into the water below or turned to ash. The former option was often explored, but never did it succeed. Anything that turned its back on him would be hit with a projectile, a hammer that returned itself to its sheath after every throw.
Surprisingly, Archibald, who she assumed to be inept, was doing even better than his peers. His area had as many corpses as both of theirs combined. Anything that came within a hundred meter radius of him would either find itself impaled by a magical bolt from his crossbow or mauled by the ravens and golems that served as his arms and legs.
Though the first three devices were safe, the last was clearly at risk. The group defending it was a rag-tag bunch. The dozen or so people took more time to defeat a single lord than it did for any of the other three to disassemble a score. Among the ensemble was a disturbingly high number of familiar faces. The musketeers, the centaurs, and the werebears were present and accounted for. They weren’t quite up to par, and they would have easily fallen without the support that the artificer’s golems provided, but they were better off than they were since she had last seen them. Even Lova seemed somewhat useful; the Kryddarian was no longer lacking the strength to wield her shieldlance.
“U-uhm… Claire?” The fox looked up at her.
“What?”
“Aren’t you going to help them?”
“No.”
The fourth point of defense obviously needed to be reinforced, but Claire refrained from jumping into the fray. Frankly, she didn’t want to help. She knew that her mother would have been greatly disappointed with the heartless decision, but she didn’t care. There was no point in flying to the citadel’s aid if it was all but sure to fall. And more importantly, she had far too many grievances to air to even consider extending a helping hand.
“I see no reason to.”
Lova annoyed her to no end, and the other locals had done little but ask for her assistance with minimal repayment. She was aware, from the bits and pieces she overheard, that they had served as the ultimate source of her divine spark, but knowing that did little to convince her of their worth. They hadn’t worshipped her out of gratitude. Because they had none of it to begin with.
Zelos and Beckard were the only two that had ever done anything for her. One was missing in action, and the other had just tricked her into a long, grueling battle with an oversized pack of mirewulves. Her interactions with Lova and co. had come with nothing but irritation, and her relationship with Frederick was strictly one of business; he hadn’t even cut her a good deal.
Of those present, she cared for none. There was no goodwill, nor a quest that enticed her to extend a hand.
So she didn’t.
She did nothing but standby and wait as the lords threatened to overwhelm the settlement’s defenses.
“Are you going?” she asked the fox as she watched a mirewulf crush one of Lova’s arms and steal her weapon. The moth was nearly caught by a second attack, but a centaur, the mare, dashed in and retrieved her before the alpha could finish her off with its vines.
“I want to,” said Sylvia. “But I can’t.”
“Because it would mean defying Aflred?”
“Mhm… I’m already doing as much as I can without really getting on his bad side. I don’t want to get into even more trouble, especially if this whole plan doesn’t work out.”
“Oh, rest assured dear child. It most certainly will not.” Cackling with laughter, the celestial appeared right next to them. His body almost seemed to faze into existence, forming in the air like a ripple in the fabric of reality. “It unfortunately appears that I’ll have to cut them some slack for this to be any fun.”
“A-Al!?” Sylvia nearly jumped out of her non-existent pants. She was so startled that she flew right out of Claire’s arms and bumped her head into the top of her bubble.
“Stop doing that,” said Claire.
The old man grinned as would a child. “What? Appearing out of nowhere? I’ll have to refuse. It happens to be one of my favourite tricks.”
“It’s creepy.”
“Yeah, I know, right!” jeered Sylvia.
“You shut up. You do it too.” A swift chop was delivered to the fox’s forehead.
“Ow! What the heck! That doesn’t mean you need to hit me!” complained the hat. She rubbed the spot where she had been tapped and held a lengthy pout before suddenly clapping her front paws against her snout and standing up straight. “Wait! Al! What the heck did you do to Dad!?”
“Zelos? I wouldn’t be so worried. I haven’t hurt him.”
“Oh whew…” the fox pressed a hand to her chest and breathed a sigh of relief.
Alfred paused for a moment and scratched his beard before tapping his cane against the empty sky beneath his feet. Despite the lack of substance, it made a solid thunk, as if it had struck a hollowed log. “That reminds me, Claire.”
She cast him a sidelong glance. “What?”
“You really need to be clearer with your intentions. I thought you were going to fight for the citadel, not waffle along the fence.” He spoke as would a professor lecturing a less-than-eager student. The tone reminded her so much of Allegra’s that she almost managed not to hear any of his words.
“I was.”
“Nonsense. You said you weren’t going to be doing my quest last night and spent almost the entire day whittling down my forces.”
“I said I didn’t have any intention of doing your quest. I never said I would join them.”
“But you killed the strongest lord.”
“Because I wanted to. It gave me over ten levels.”
The celestial scoffed. “Levels. It’s always the levels with you, isn’t it?”
“Two fifty.”
“Bah! You aren’t getting them anyway,” he said, with an annoyed huff. “I should have left Zelos where he was. With you out of the equation, the scales are far too unbalanced.”
“I think they might be able to hold out, but I dunno…” said Sylvia.
“Perhaps, perhaps not,” said the celestial. A loud explosion went off right as he breathed a sigh; one of Arhicbald’s golems had reached its operational limit and subsequently self-destructed, taking a large group of lords with it. Of the three chatting away in the sky, only Alfred was affected. He had to hold down his hat while the other two casually sat around in their windproof bubble. “But at this rate, I won’t be having any fun unless I put your father back in.”
“Do that, and I’ll help him kill you,” said Claire.
The declaration sent the old man spiraling into a fit of laughter. “Good luck,” he wheezed. “It isn’t possible for you, any of you, boosted by ether or not.” Tapping his cane against the non-existent ground again, Alfred stepped out in front of the citadel right as the sun finished making its way beneath the horizon. “Now if you’ll excuse me, ladies, I have an announcement to make.”
A magical tremor erupted from his core and rippled throughout the realm. Every monster that sensed it stopped at his command. A hellhog poised to dodge a fatal blow allowed it to reach, a frog escaping an explosion stopped in its tracks, and an owl in the midst of the sky stopped flapping its wings and plummeted to the ground.
“That will be all for today.” His voice boomed through the archipelago. “Congratulations, for surviving the first wave. The remaining monsters are free for you to do with as you see fit. We’ll resume first thing tomorrow morning.”
With one more laugh, the malicious demigod vanished, leaving only the wind in his wake.
Chapter 133 - Willow in the Western Wind
Her chest heaving, Claire leaned back on a wall made of dirt and closed her eyes as she slowly caught her breath. It was almost evening. It had taken a full day’s worth of combat for the Cadrian to finally retreat into the underground, a trick she hadn’t exploited since she last struggled to ward off the ravens.
“Isn’t that enough for one day?” Sylvia, the tunnel’s chief architect, cast a worried frown in her companion’s direction. “You’ve been fighting since morning, and the cycle’s gonna end in like an hour!”
“Maybe.” The lyrkress scanned her log and looked over her status before nodding in agreement. “They’re not giving any experience anymore.”
The mirewulf alphas had never been very threatening. Reaping their lives provided only the slightest bit of growth. But what they lacked individually, they made up for with numbers. The ten-odd hours of slaughter that ensued came with over a hundred kills apiece; her log’s entry count surpassed 5000 by the time her exhaustion took hold. Accompanying the rampage was another ten-odd levels in each class, with most of them clocking in before noon.
Ending a mirewulf was by all means a more involved task than killing a borrok. It took an almost disproportionate amount of effort to destroy each given individual, and a tiny mistake could lead to a potential victim slinking out of sight, recovering, and returning to the battle with its vigour renewed. Despite the need for precision and power, she felt less taxed by the mirewulf horde than she did the one she had faced in Borrok Peak. She didn’t have to watch out for fatal spells or dodge every heavy handed attack that came her way. The beams of scathing light they fired had no effect on her heat-resistant scales, and the attempts they made at stealing her mana were paltry at best. It took little to no effort to weave through their lines, dance through their attacks, and sever their buds. The task was so repetitive that it brought a sense of calm. She felt like she was weeding a garden of its weeds or planting flowers in a field—not that she knew what it was like to do either.
In the end, the person that Beckard had supposedly sent to check up on her never showed. She couldn’t tell if he had been lying from the start, or if they found themselves too short on manpower to spare the extra body, but she doubted that there was any point in reporting the kill to him in either case. The frog’s non-presence was more than enough to evidence its death.
“Do you want to go back?” Claire broke the silence as she grabbed the four-legged mace by the scruff, set her down in her lap, and played with her fur. The fox was the one on the receiving end of all the pets, but the bloodthief found her tension relieved all the same.
“I think we should… If dad shows up again, it’s gonna be at the citadel.”
“You don’t think he’s with your mother?”
Sylvia shook her head. “I checked while you were killing all the mirewulves, but mom has no idea where he is. The only thing she knows is that Al promised he wasn’t gonna do anything to him.” The domesticated forest critter was nowhere near as anxious as she had been earlier in the day. She had finally stopped fidgeting and playing with the tip of her tail.
“And you trust him?”
“Mhm.” Yawning, Sylvia snuggled into the nook of Claire’s lap and closed her eyes. “I know you don’t like him, but Al’s pretty honest.”
Claire frowned. “Honest? He is not honest. He’s the type to scheme. I can tell.”
Sylvia chuckled awkwardly. “Okay, honest might’ve been stretching it a little, but he doesn’t really blatantly lie all that much either. I know he’s trapped and killed lots of people, but he’s really not a bad person, just super goal-focused and narrow minded.”
“And a pervert,” muttered the bluescale.
“And a pervert,” repeated her pet.
Stretching her back and yawning, Claire slowly crawled over to the burrow’s entrance and raised her ears. Most of the mirewulves had already moved on, but some were still around, lurking about with sap running from their open maws. She couldn’t be bothered to confront any more of them, so she summoned Shoulderhorse and ordered it to tunnel in the direction that most of the wooden dogs had gone.
“Wait, you wanted to go underground?” The fox tilted her head.
“Was there another option?”
“I can put us in a bubble that’ll make us invisible, or at least really hard to see. Al might still notice, but we can sneak right past the mirewulves.”
“Why are you only bringing this up now?” groaned the half-snake.
“Uhhh… I dunno,” replied the fox. “I don’t really use it a lot, so I kinda just forgot.”
The rogue pressed a hand against the side of her face. “Is there anything else you’re forgetting? Anything important?”
“Hmmmm…” The fox pressed the tip of her tail against the bottom of her chin. “Oh! There is one thing, but I don’t think it really counts as important.”
A silent tilt of the head prompted the overgrown cub to continue.
“I uhmmm… just remembered I can make food taste different.” Sylvia averted her eyes and laughed nervously.
“Taste different?”
“Yeah! Like really different. I can make you think you’re eating steak no matter what you’re eating.”
Claire’s right eye twitched as she recalled all the awful meals she had endured over the past few weeks. Everything but the monopus meat had been completely devoid of the deep, complex flavours she was accustomed to, and the ingredients that went into their making were so poor that she doubted any could even make it to market.
“You could do that?” The lyrkress’ neck creaked as she slowly turned her head.
“M-mhm.” The fox slowly backed away with a gulp.
“You could do that, this whole time? And you never told me?” mumbled Claire. Her voice trembled, but remained clear enough to send shivers down her pet’s spine. “I tasted almost nothing but stale bread for weeks. The only other things I tasted were swamp and lava. And the lava came from a communal toilet. Do you know how that feels?” Cold sweat began running down the fox’s brow as the lyrkress laughed, her voice as dark as it was psychotic. “Can you even begin to imagine how that feels?”
“C-Claire? C-can you ummm… please calm down?”
“Oh, you silly fox.” Another chilling giggle. “I’m already calm.”
“N-no you’re not! C-come on, Claire! I know you’re mad, but it’s not my fault! I-I’m not supposed to help you!”
One of the two halfbreeds took a step forward, while the other took two back.
“I-I’ll make it up to you!” squeaked the vixen. “I-I promise I’ll make everything you eat taste like the best steak you’ve ever had from now on!”
“Not good enough,” mumbled the moose. “Suffering can only be repaid with suffering.”
“Oh crap!” Sylvia stepped to the side in an attempt to evade the incoming lunge, but they were underground. There was nowhere to run.
A pair of clawed hands grabbed her by the cheeks and tugged her stretchy face in all sorts of directions without the slightest hint or mercy or remorse. Seemingly forever, the assault continued. She wasn’t released until a mirewulf caught on to all the commotion and poked its head into the subterranean shelter, but by then, she was already plagued with the worry that her visage had been permanently deformed.
___
The pair returned to Sky Lagoon’s entrance after an hour of floating. Within Sylvia’s bubble, they were imperceptible to all that relied on their eyes and ears, not that there were many monsters to perceive them in the first place. The marsh was quiet, empty. Few of the creatures that typically wandered it had remained. Occasional straggler aside, the alligators, the frogs, and the ravens were all missing.
Just like the keep.
Upon arriving at the fortress’ location, they found not a single trace of its use or construction. There were no broken walls, no dead monsters, and no defeated golems. Everything was gone, gone because the environment had been reset to its default state; the fort had fallen so long ago that it had already been marked and cleansed by the dungeon’s janitorial mechanisms.
“I don’t think the citadel stands a chance,” said Claire.
“I-I know that things aren’t really looking up right now, but it should be fine…” said Sylvia. “Remember how strong Dad is?”
“He’s missing.”
“Right…”
The distinct lack of sound continued even as they entered the water column leading to the archipelago. None of the mutated turtles were present. They too had vacated their homes and sought the citadel’s destruction.
Emerging from the corridor’s exit, however, put the eerie silence to an end. Sky Lagoon was filled with noise. Loud shouts, feral howls, and the pounding of flesh were all immediately apparent. They were all sounds that stemmed from the battle unfolding before her eyes; the cliff that doubled as the domain’s entrance provided a view that came with both an excellent summary and a clear conclusion.
The citadel was on the verge of collapse.
The floating rock had already been overrun. There were eels, hogs, and mirewulves flooding the streets and tearing the buildings to bits. Owls made of sand and whales made of magma hovered in the sky nearby, and talking monopusses dotted the ocean below like lilies in a pond. All of them were lords. Every single monster present was in a powered-up state, fueled by what she could only assume was Alfred’s magic.
Claire reached for her spear as she began stepping forward, but her hand grasped nothing. The weapon mounted on her back was gone.
Searching through her memory, she recalled that she had forgotten it inside of the frog. The wooden dogs had distracted her and stopped her from retrieving it.
“Why is it always the spear?” Fighting back the urge to curse, she took a deep breath and played with the tail hanging from the side of her head. “Can you bring us a little closer?”
“Mhm! No problem,” said Sylvia. “How close do you wanna get?”
“Close enough to see what’s going on.”
Flying directly above the battlefield revealed that the priest and his men were gathered in and around a rectangular barrier large enough to encase one of the town’s sectors. The church, the forge, and all of the residential buildings sat inside the four-sided veil.
At each of the square’s corners was a large post made out of engraved metal and a massive swarm of monsters. Defending the barrier had clearly been slated as the citadel’s highest priority. Three of the four were guarded by Zelos’ companions, none of whom had even the slightest bit of trouble.
Beckard protected his post with a pair of oversized gauntlets, each half the size of his body. Most of the enemies he encountered were dealt with traditionally; a light jab to the gut would detonate whatever he struck. But on occasion, he would switch it up. A new weapon would often spring forth from the bizarre contraption and see a moment or two of use. He fired several darts from its fingers to slay one group, launched an explosive arrow from a bow that popped out from his wrist to kill another, and released a toxic gas to end a third.
Frederick’s approach was much more straightforward. His foes were dispatched with a simple enchanted trident. Everything he stabbed would be lit with a scorching flame. His targets would be forced to endure the heat either until they jumped into the water below or turned to ash. The former option was often explored, but never did it succeed. Anything that turned its back on him would be hit with a projectile, a hammer that returned itself to its sheath after every throw.
Surprisingly, Archibald, who she assumed to be inept, was doing even better than his peers. His area had as many corpses as both of theirs combined. Anything that came within a hundred meter radius of him would either find itself impaled by a magical bolt from his crossbow or mauled by the ravens and golems that served as his arms and legs.
Though the first three devices were safe, the last was clearly at risk. The group defending it was a rag-tag bunch. The dozen or so people took more time to defeat a single lord than it did for any of the other three to disassemble a score. Among the ensemble was a disturbingly high number of familiar faces. The musketeers, the centaurs, and the werebears were present and accounted for. They weren’t quite up to par, and they would have easily fallen without the support that the artificer’s golems provided, but they were better off than they were since she had last seen them. Even Lova seemed somewhat useful; the Kryddarian was no longer lacking the strength to wield her shieldlance.
“U-uhm… Claire?” The fox looked up at her.
“What?”
“Aren’t you going to help them?”
“No.”
The fourth point of defense obviously needed to be reinforced, but Claire refrained from jumping into the fray. Frankly, she didn’t want to help. She knew that her mother would have been greatly disappointed with the heartless decision, but she didn’t care. There was no point in flying to the citadel’s aid if it was all but sure to fall. And more importantly, she had far too many grievances to air to even consider extending a helping hand.
“I see no reason to.”
Lova annoyed her to no end, and the other locals had done little but ask for her assistance with minimal repayment. She was aware, from the bits and pieces she overheard, that they had served as the ultimate source of her divine spark, but knowing that did little to convince her of their worth. They hadn’t worshipped her out of gratitude. Because they had none of it to begin with.
Zelos and Beckard were the only two that had ever done anything for her. One was missing in action, and the other had just tricked her into a long, grueling battle with an oversized pack of mirewulves. Her interactions with Lova and co. had come with nothing but irritation, and her relationship with Frederick was strictly one of business; he hadn’t even cut her a good deal.
Of those present, she cared for none. There was no goodwill, nor a quest that enticed her to extend a hand.
So she didn’t.
She did nothing but standby and wait as the lords threatened to overwhelm the settlement’s defenses.
“Are you going?” she asked the fox as she watched a mirewulf crush one of Lova’s arms and steal her weapon. The moth was nearly caught by a second attack, but a centaur, the mare, dashed in and retrieved her before the alpha could finish her off with its vines.
“I want to,” said Sylvia. “But I can’t.”
“Because it would mean defying Aflred?”
“Mhm… I’m already doing as much as I can without really getting on his bad side. I don’t want to get into even more trouble, especially if this whole plan doesn’t work out.”
“Oh, rest assured dear child. It most certainly will not.” Cackling with laughter, the celestial appeared right next to them. His body almost seemed to faze into existence, forming in the air like a ripple in the fabric of reality. “It unfortunately appears that I’ll have to cut them some slack for this to be any fun.”
“A-Al!?” Sylvia nearly jumped out of her non-existent pants. She was so startled that she flew right out of Claire’s arms and bumped her head into the top of her bubble.
“Stop doing that,” said Claire.
The old man grinned as would a child. “What? Appearing out of nowhere? I’ll have to refuse. It happens to be one of my favourite tricks.”
“It’s creepy.”
“Yeah, I know, right!” jeered Sylvia.
“You shut up. You do it too.” A swift chop was delivered to the fox’s forehead.
“Ow! What the heck! That doesn’t mean you need to hit me!” complained the hat. She rubbed the spot where she had been tapped and held a lengthy pout before suddenly clapping her front paws against her snout and standing up straight. “Wait! Al! What the heck did you do to Dad!?”
“Zelos? I wouldn’t be so worried. I haven’t hurt him.”
“Oh whew…” the fox pressed a hand to her chest and breathed a sigh of relief.
Alfred paused for a moment and scratched his beard before tapping his cane against the empty sky beneath his feet. Despite the lack of substance, it made a solid thunk, as if it had struck a hollowed log. “That reminds me, Claire.”
She cast him a sidelong glance. “What?”
“You really need to be clearer with your intentions. I thought you were going to fight for the citadel, not waffle along the fence.” He spoke as would a professor lecturing a less-than-eager student. The tone reminded her so much of Allegra’s that she almost managed not to hear any of his words.
“I was.”
“Nonsense. You said you weren’t going to be doing my quest last night and spent almost the entire day whittling down my forces.”
“I said I didn’t have any intention of doing your quest. I never said I would join them.”
“But you killed the strongest lord.”
“Because I wanted to. It gave me over ten levels.”
The celestial scoffed. “Levels. It’s always the levels with you, isn’t it?”
“Two fifty.”
“Bah! You aren’t getting them anyway,” he said, with an annoyed huff. “I should have left Zelos where he was. With you out of the equation, the scales are far too unbalanced.”
“I think they might be able to hold out, but I dunno…” said Sylvia.
“Perhaps, perhaps not,” said the celestial. A loud explosion went off right as he breathed a sigh; one of Arhicbald’s golems had reached its operational limit and subsequently self-destructed, taking a large group of lords with it. Of the three chatting away in the sky, only Alfred was affected. He had to hold down his hat while the other two casually sat around in their windproof bubble. “But at this rate, I won’t be having any fun unless I put your father back in.”
“Do that, and I’ll help him kill you,” said Claire.
The declaration sent the old man spiraling into a fit of laughter. “Good luck,” he wheezed. “It isn’t possible for you, any of you, boosted by ether or not.” Tapping his cane against the non-existent ground again, Alfred stepped out in front of the citadel right as the sun finished making its way beneath the horizon. “Now if you’ll excuse me, ladies, I have an announcement to make.”
A magical tremor erupted from his core and rippled throughout the realm. Every monster that sensed it stopped at his command. A hellhog poised to dodge a fatal blow allowed it to reach, a frog escaping an explosion stopped in its tracks, and an owl in the midst of the sky stopped flapping its wings and plummeted to the ground.
“That will be all for today.” His voice boomed through the archipelago. “Congratulations, for surviving the first wave. The remaining monsters are free for you to do with as you see fit. We’ll resume first thing tomorrow morning.”
With one more laugh, the malicious demigod vanished, leaving only the wind in his wake.
