Mass Destruction

The sweltering heat forced Barion to wipe his forehead. A cloud of pitch-black smog enshrouded the cavernous reaches below him, but the uneasy feeling in his chest told him that he was headed in the right direction.

The Gate connecting Gria and Aelf'ahlnohma had proven indispensable in ensuring smooth diplomacy between the two cities. Negotiations were already underway to organise such conveniences between Fleecia and Khazman as well. More than anything else, Barion was relieved that he didn't have to spend months slogging through the countryside just to reach Kahrein-Du'em once more.

In one hand, he held the Elven Queen's sceptre, once more using its power to protect himself from the dangers of Mu'un, and in the other was a spherical object barely recognisable in the low light. Its hard casing and long fuse, however, conveyed its purpose well enough. To Barion, it appeared to be little more than an Alchemist's bomb, but Fusala had assured him that it was anything but. A lump formed in his throat as he considered the possibility of it detonating prematurely, and so his paces were both deliberate and slow while descending into the mine.

Manyu had declined to accompany him on that second expedition. The former Demon King had been dragging his heels ever since his battle with Barion, claiming that there were others more capable of handling tasks in his stead. It was precisely the kind of attitude one would expect from the man who once desired to end the world.

Barion's descent was relatively short. He already knew the way, after all. When last he had bore witness to the truth of Demonkind's origins, his mind was muddled with questions, but as he breached the wall of smoke into the grand, subterranean lake beneath Kahrein-Du'em, he could at least attempt to make sense of what he was looking at.

The countless pillars of flesh erupting from the water's surface like the tentacles of a Kraken were not Demons, per se. Witilla had been rather insistent about precisely when Black Luna's creations could be given the title of 'Demons'--or 'Angels', as she so righteously named them.

The pillars were only templates of creation. Biomass. As they rose towards the ceiling, full-fledged Demons would split off from the central mass and begin tunnelling towards the surface, allowing for specific types of Demons to be created on-demand. As more biomass was recycled from the corpses of surface-dwellers, the pillars would grow and replenish lost flesh, creating an endless supply of Demons.

Knowing the truth didn't make them any less repulsive, Barion thought. In fact, his anger only grew as the pieces of the puzzle were put together. More than anything else, he desired to know the purpose behind such atrocities, but that was the one question Witilla remained incapable of answering. He knew that any remaining mysteries would be answered within the all-powerful observer known only as Black Luna. The only question was how they ever planned to reach it.

Setting the bomb down as carefully as he could on the cliff overlooking the lake, Barion reached into his pack and retrieved a discoloured sheet of parchment. It was a scroll for the Gate spell--quite a rare commodity. He would be using it to avoid annihilating himself along with the Demonic facility. It was only a matter of lighting the fuse and releasing the scroll's stored magical particles in time to escape.

He muttered a basic incantation under his breath. Tried-and-true sorcery was something quite unknown to him. Whenever Dorma was absent, he much preferred to rely on the more accessible applications of dark magic, but only a small spark was required to light the bomb's fuse. Embers flew from his fingertip as an almost-invisible flame sprouted from his nail, dancing in the humid air. Placing it to the scroll, he quickly threw the smouldering paper some distance away, and watched as an undulating vortex of magic crept up into the air as it burned away. The throne room of Aelf'ahlnohma could be seen on the other side.

"I really hope Fusala's gotten this right…" He muttered, once more tentatively retrieving the bomb, "Only one way to find out."

The fuse was impractically long for a thrown weapon, but it was never designed to be a projectile. Fusala had assured him that the effects of the bomb would be felt from as far as the Elven Capital. Throwing caution to the wind, he watched the fuse carefully while sticking his finger towards it, immediately lowering the bomb to the ground after confirming that it was lit and hopping through the Gate without a moment's hesitation.

An Elven court sorcerer--one who had been briefed on the situation, stood at attention as soon as Barion appeared in the throne room.

"Close it! Close it, for the love of the Goddess!" He ordered, throwing his arms aside.

The sorcerer's staff rang sonorously as the crystal atop its wooden length glittered with cyan light. With a terrifying sound, like the very air being ripped apart, the Gate's muddied visage shimmered and changed to display the fields outside of Gria, indicating that the third connection to Kahrein-Du'em had been severed.

"Phew…" Barion sighed, "Nice work."

"Were you able to deploy the weapon, Lord Barion?"

"I lit the fuse, if that's what you're asking." He replied, "Fusala said we'd know if it went off or not, so I suppose it's just a matter of waiting. If it doesn't-"

The two of them were suddenly thrown off-balance, steadying themselves against the floor of the Spire as tremors caused the very ground beneath their feet to vibrate. Following shortly thereafter was a distant sound--an explosion audible through the thick walls of the throne room. A chorus of screams could be heard from the hallway leading towards the chamber, where nobles seeking counsel with Larion had been caught off-guard by the occurrence.

"L-Lord Barion!?" The Elven sorcerer exclaimed.

"That couldn't have been it…" He muttered, "...Could it?"

The duo proceeded at a quickened pace through the silver halls, marching towards the entrance alongside a troop of guardsmen who had been rallied by the earthquake. As they emerged onto the chalk-white plateau overlooking the city, their eyes fell upon the distant horizon, where gargantuan plumes of smoke were rising from some unremarkable stretch of the Aelven Weald.

"That's where the mine was…" Barion deduced, "Just how powerful was that bomb!?"

"Lord Barion, it's imperative that the city guard are informed of this situation, lest they believe we are under attack by Demons." The sorcerer began, "I will handle the situation here. You had best report back to your allies in Gria."

"Right. Of course…" He responded, "...Well, I suppose the operation was a success? There's no way anything survived an explosion of that size…"

…

..

.

News was quick to spread from Aelf'ahlnohma to Gria. Diplomats and guardsmen both had been given explicit orders to report any strange occurrences as quickly as possible, so it was no surprise that by the time Barion had finished reporting the bomb's effectiveness to Fusala, just about the entire castle knew of its power.

"Perhaps it would have been wiser to limit the yield to some extent." The Homunculus began after a moment of silence, "I did not consider the reactions of any observers while developing the weapon."

"Well, it did its job well enough. If that facility is still standing after an explosion like that, then we'd be better off directing our attention elsewhere for the time being."

"Though it may be possible to stifle the production of new Demons, it could take decades to eradicate every individual site." She explained, "Therefore, I believe such weapons should only be used when necessary. If we bother ourselves with retaking the entirety of Tor, attention will be diverted from our efforts to reach Black Luna."

"How is that coming along?"

"As I am sure you can imagine, sending even a single individual to an object in orbit is no small feat." She replied, "Without considering the difficulty of navigating a vacuum environment or the challenge of travelling beyond our own planet, we are unable to ascertain Black Luna's defensive capabilities. Miss Witilla is insistent that we have nothing to fear on approach, but I would like to exercise caution regardless."

"Forgive me if this is a tired question, but couldn't we just use a Gate?"

"While magical particles are capable of operating within the vacuum of space, there is a maximum range sorcerers must consider when casting spells. We would require both a surplus of spellcasters and extraordinarily pure foci to consider such an option. To say nothing of the precision involved in summoning a Gate at a precise location several hundred-thousand kilometres away."

"You make it sound impossible."

"That would be…" Fusala blinked as she went silent, "...There is a non-zero chance of success."

"You don't have to let me down so easily." He replied, "I'm sure that the more we come to understand about Black Luna, the more opportunities will present themselves. We only need to be patient until then."

"Also, Lady Dorma wished to speak with you." The Homunculus reported, "Her request was not particularly urgent. I believe she is currently resting in her bedchamber."

"Thanks. Make sure to take a break yourself every once in a while." Barion recommended, "You won't get anywhere falling asleep at your table."

"I appreciate your concern, but please do not bother yourself with my wellbeing. I am maintaining an optimal level of rest throughout the day."

Recent events had spurred the castle's attendants to work harder than ever before. Despite having his passion for adversary rekindled by his battle with Manyu, even Barion was beginning to feel the effects of the sleepless nights spent strategizing against Demonkind. Even so, he knew it was for a just cause.

Dorma had secured for herself an abode long since entrusted to Gria's most prolific sorcerers--a spindly tower erupting from the castle like a parasite, outfitted not only with a private bedchamber but also a guest room, a miniaturised version of the alchemy laboratory, and a magical study regularly supplied with foci and crystals. It had been Dorma's home since her induction into the royal council more than a century ago, although Barion had never entered the tower himself.

Its entrance was comfortably hidden near the rear end of the castle. As he allowed himself entry through the tight antechamber, he immediately spotted Dorma tending to a bulletin of treatises and letters sprawled across the guest room's elongated table. A relieved expression made its way onto her face as she lifted her head to greet him, "Ah, Barion… I take it your mission was a success?"

"Perhaps a little too successful." He forewarned, "Fusala's bomb destroyed more than just the facility beneath Kahrein-Du'em. A gargantuan crater now resides where the mine once stood. I almost feel sorry for the monsters that would have been caught in the blast."

"Well--alchemy is alchemy." She handwaved, "These things can always be adjusted. If the facility is destroyed, then I would say it's an occasion worthy of celebration."

"Still working? I thought you might be taking a break."

"If only. Our recent agreements with Fleecia and Khazman have left me with more paperwork than I care to think about." She sighed, "And with trade restarting to the east and along Onaffor-Hen, the tide of merchants I'd so dearly enjoyed the absence of will be returning to His Majesty's court in spades."

"You've been putting up with it for over a century. I'm sure you'll be fine." Barion replied, "Fusala mentioned that you wanted to see me."

"I did." She smiled, "Give me a moment."

Saying that, she stood from her seat and disappeared through the door at one end of the room. Barion took the opportunity to sit down himself and have a breather from recent events. Moments later, Dorma returned, carrying a black bottle in her arms.

"Funny that you should mention breaks." She began, "I was wondering if you'd care to have a drink with me?"

"That bottle…" He muttered, "Mandrake wine?"

"Oh? Are you familiar?"

"I was born in the Steppe, Dorma. I know how rare Mandrake oil is." He clarified, "-And I also know how much of it you need to make a whole bottle of wine with."

"I've been saving it for a special occasion." She smirked, "What do you say? We've both earned a treat, I would think. And it's been quite a while since we were able to spend some time together, so why don't we take the opportunity to kick back a little?"

"...That's true." He considered, "I'd like that."