9.14

V9: Chapter 14

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Additional Words for Monthly Chapter commissioned by Chaosbrain

Additional Wordcount: 2000

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Interlude: Sirena

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Rita's arrow connected with my blade. With both hands, with my blade imbued with power and might, I am capable of striking bolts from ballistae without fear. However, Rita's arrow was perfected to slay Champions. The magics infused in it were breaking it apart, cracking its form, while I tried to toss it upward and away from myself and others. With a sound akin to metal cracking in twain, the bolt came apart into many pieces and the power it held exploded outward as pure-white flame.

I held out my hand and with blessings and miracles, contained the plume and directed it upward, but still I was harmed and my hand was nearly burned to the bone.

Thankfully, some flesh remained, and I healed myself as the newest transports of the King of Wisdom arrived from above. Unlike the boxy containers that were typically used, these secret weapons had smooth surfaces for wind to glide over and lift, their shapes were like those of birds as they glided on gusts of wind, and it was easy to tell that they could carry more troops and soldiers than the original transports.

But there was hardly any time to fret about such a thing.

"Archers! Prepare for aerial attack!" On black steeds, the King of Wisdom's elite soldiers dove at us with the sun at their back. A common, but effective tactic, but far more lethal against us. The Wardens of the Caverns were blessed with sight in the darkness, but that made our gazes all the more sensitive to the light. The archers moved swiftly, they knew they were the only defense against the aerial forces of the King of Wisdom, and they shot at the oncoming force. "Brace yourselves!"

If they were fighting against the sky-knights of yore, they would perhaps have been able to have given their lives for more, but such was not the case. The new sky-riders of the King of Wisdom did not crash into the enemy wreathed with magic whilst covered in armor. Instead, they unleashed death while beyond the reach of normal soldiers, typically in the form of fire.

I was ready to counter flames, but I made a critical error.

Instead of flame, the attack that came from the heavens unleashed upon us a green, viscous fluid that swiftly began to fizzle and turn into fog.

A fog that began to melt metal and skin.

None screamed at the attack, as the miracles and blessings given to us reformed our skin even faster than it could be consumed, but that was not the end. Another attack came and this time unleashed a pale gas… and I recalled with fear the rumors of a poison being used in the Ancient tunnels against the monsters that headed the call of the Death Lord. I acted on instinct, and called upon the winds to carry away the fog from the battlefield, while I felt Khalai's miracle wash over us to protect us from disease and poison.

The miracle did away with the green fog, but it did not repair the metal that had been consumed.

The King of Wisdom always worked to weaken his foes before he struck with all his might.

And, just as I expected, the next wave of attackers unleashed fire upon us. The bombs burst in the air, and scattered a thick, vicious black substance that caught alight with frightening speed and burned a bright orange. In but a few moments, the bombs scattered all over our position, and I moved swiftly to counter it with the High Justiciar's aid.

We've seen the attack before, and knowing its efficacy, we planned against it.

I and everyone else skilled with the blade cut through the flesh upon which the flame stuck, while priests rapidly healed the damage. It was gruesome, terrible work, but I did it swiftly to whoever was close and my own body. We instructed as many as possible to shield their heads, and to cast off helmets if the flame stuck, and it worked to great effect. None burned to death thanks to our strategy… but it cost us time.

Time that we could've used to prepare against the force against us.

Pure-white figures, the same creatures that assaulted us and waylaid our path since we found the Goddess of Death, slammed into the ground around us. Humanoid in shape, unlike the Guardians, they were fierce and terrible opponents. Unlike the monstrous Citadel Guardians, only capable of attacking the enemy, these ones worked together, learned from their mistakes, and prioritized targets.

I readied myself to slice through their upper chests, where their hearts lay, but a familiar sound reached me.

The sound of a massive blade being drawn.

I barely manage to raise my blade and divert the Sword of Wisdom's attack to the side, and when her sword connected with the ground, the blooded earth erupted upward like a plume of water rather than soil. Then, in an instant, my instincts told me to leap back and I did. Where my heart was a moment before, I saw an arrow pass, and then I heard Conquest's roar.

I managed to dodge the lightning bolts that surged from the sky to strike me down… and then I felt two knives enter my back and through my lungs.

Morgan slunk away, an obscuring cloud of smoke hiding her instantly, as I felt poison course through me from my lungs.

This was it.

Conquest, Ilych, Rita, and Morgan were all arrayed against me. I could see the other creatures they dropped onto the field ravaging our soldiers with speed and precision typical only of truly elite troops. Our people were being torn apart, shredded by bladed limbs, and thrown away far from the reach of our priests. Poisoned daggers were in my chest through my back, while four individuals I could consider peers bore down upon me.

This was the moment where gave my life for my people.

If I could bring these four low, if we can hold their lives hostage with the offer of resurrection, we could end this war in an instant.

All I had to do was swing my sword.

I emptied my mind, closed my eyes, and focused inward. I broke down the seconds, finding my place between heartbeats, and dulled all my senses. Darkness ruled me, while I ignored the pain, agony, the deaths of my fellow warriors, and all other concerns.

There were only four targets.

Conquest.

Rita.

Ilych.

Morgan.

In the darkness that was my world, they were bright outlines. Their souls gleaming gems in an abyssal sea. Gems of immense might and power that contained unwavering souls filled with dedication to the King of Wisdom. Warriors that dedicated their lives to a singular cause and so were undoubtably fit for Paradise a thousand times over.

Today they would meet their end.

I raised my blade with both hands, filled my body with power, and abandoned my own life. An arrow tore through my heart, lightning struck me, and more poisoned knives found their way into my vitals. My neck, my head, my innards, and all were filled with blades coated in poison.

But I already abandoned my body.

It was just a vessel, while I was within my blade.

When they awakened me, they thought that I was called the Saintess of Swords.

They were incorrect.

I am the Sword Saint.

My flesh was my prior vessel, while the sword was my true self.

And, so, I swung myself at them, expending all that I had.

In my mind's eye, I saw my strikes land. Faster than they could react to. Faster than they could see. Nothing more than a flash of light glinting off my body, then they are cut.

I saw Morgan swiftly retreat and lose only an arm.

I saw Rita try to leap above the strike, only to be cut in twain, as I predicted her leap.

I saw Conquest's heart and skull pierced with the tip of my blade, and swift rotation upon withdrawal turning both organs into naught but eviscerated flesh.

But that was only my mind's eye.

I had to surmount their guardian.

Ilych, the Sword of Wisdom, who placed herself before me with eyes unclouded by fear and a calm heart.

Her life-consuming blade weathered a hundred cuts and thrusts without breaking, but her skill was lacking. I caught its hilt on my back and pulled it out of her grasp with strength she could not hope to match. However, instead of running after her weapon, she took the weapons at her hips and fired at me. The two revolvers sped towards my former my vessel, the anchor that I used as leverage to wield my true self, and the twelve bullets had to be cut apart. She moved to reload them, but I cut them apart out of her hands.

Then, I aimed to kill her.

She surged forward, away from the tip of my sword, and into the range of my blade proper.

I thought that I could cut through her.

I was wrong.

I felt the parting of flesh across my body, I felt the rending of armor and metal, and the overcoming of enchantment. I went through her shoulder, carved into her lung, tore through her heart, and then left through her side to cut through her liver in one single motion. One blow amongst dozens went across her body, one after another, I kept striking and breaking through flesh and armor whilst spraying blood and flesh in every direction.

But she kept advancing.

I understood that she was healing herself, that the armor was feasting upon her blood and assisting in her effort by knitting together her and bone with tendrils of metal. With every blow, I was cutting through more and more metal instead of flesh. Interlaced strands of metal faced me, instead of plates of black armor, like a mass of metal vines covering a towering Descendant's form. I kept cutting through them, until suddenly… there was resistance.

I kept striking.

She took one step.

I kept cutting.

Another step.

I searched for lethal points… but with every passing moment they ceased to be.

Then, finally, a third step.

The Sword of Wisdom reached me, a body kept together by healing magic and cursed, writhing armor embedded into flesh and bone, and she took hold of my vessel and caught it in her arms.

Trapping my anchor's limbs in place as a living, unbreakable vice.

In moments, Conquest, Rita, and Morgan were upon my anchor and cutting it apart and breaking my connection to it. They crushed bone, turned innards to pulp, and set it aflame.

Leaving me within my true self, held by the Sword of Wisdom, while the three moved on to kill my liege.

I was defeated, and I watched as the innumerable, writhing mass of metal retreated and turned into rudimentary plate. I watched as bone healed, as flesh returned, and skin formed upon the Sword of Wisdom, until Ilych returned… haggard, gaunt, and pale from sheer expenditure.

Then, she looked at me, as I truly was, and spoke.

"Well fought, Sirena."

At those words, I understood my mistake.

I thought I faced a normal mortal.

Not someone who only saw their mortal form as a vessel, as I did.

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"What a mess." I sent in close to five hundred Iterants and only three hundred came back. They could double in a few months, sure, but they still needed time to learn and train. Then, there's all the Iterants we placed in the Wardens' lands. Most of them were planning to support the replacement leader that we were setting up, gathering intelligence from towns, and generally doing clandestine work. It was our biggest espionage project and investment, with over two thousand spread across the region. Over half were now dead, since they had to slow Khalai down. "Make sure that all the bodies are accounted for. Within reason, of course. Make sure that their progeny is informed and they receive our gratitude."

Iterants say that they didn't have any connection to the Iterants that they produce, but we kept track just in case and gave them the same benefits as soldiers who died in battle. Also, their names were recorded in memorials beneath the Citadels. Not open to the public, since they were a secret, but that was going to change soon. I'll have them placed next to the proper memorials in a month or two.

People were going to put two and two together.

"Any luck hunting down the survivors?"

"All leads have been followed and we've given chase. Many have been hunted down, but some were fortunate and commandeered horses from local villages. The villages had militia that slowed us down." That meant that by my order, some villages were probably destroyed, but I had to try and keep the Iterants unknown. There were plenty of them out there in other nations. Now, I was sure that they had to be recalled, otherwise I'm going to lose a lot of skilled people for no reason. This was really a shitshow. "Your majesty?"

"We've done the best we could with the time we had and the people we had on site. I only wish that we could've done better and lost less lives." Ayah gave a nod at my words, while we surveyed the battlefield. It was like a carpet of torn off limbs and bodies across a hilltop. Khalai and his people took the top of a hill on a nearby road and tried to repel the latest Iterant attack on their caravan. After multiple attacks from the moment they found the Death Goddess, the Wardens abandoned their all-offense tactics in favor of defense. Unfortunately, during the last ambush, the Warden's main force was hit by five hundred more Iterants and four Champions. Khalai and Sirena, an army that's been harried for weeks on end, against four hyper-specialized Champions and a fresh batch of troops. The outcome was predictable. "Make sure that we have as many torsos with us as possible. Keep them frozen and stored away before we bury them. If they start breaking apart, make note of it. That probably means that they've been resurrected."

You need a sizeable chunk of a person to revive them. The whole body with many wounds was preferred, as it's just calling back the soul and restarting the body after fixing it up with magic. However, with a lot of magical power and reagents, you can rebuild a person's body with magic from a sizeable chunk. The Warden's cathedrals of resurrection massively decreased the cost. In the flavor text, the Tier 1 version of the faction wonder could revive people from just a hand. My goal was to try and deny that by gathering up parts and pieces and storing them away.

It probably wasn't going to work, but it was worth a shot.

There weren't many prisoners.

Khalai was though, and only because Morgan managed to bind him up and heal him after he tried to off himself to respawn.

Dude was metal as fuck.

"They're going to try and retake him." I walked over to the makeshift runway. The gliders were in alright shape, but alright shape for a flying vessel wasn't something I was willing to take a chance with. We were all going to board normal transports on the way back, while the gliders were going to be towed back without any passengers. Just a mage and a pilot with some parachutes. "And, I don't think the coma strategy is going to work. He's resisted everything we've thrown at him."

Ayah followed me as we got to the makeshift camp. It was all Iterants and they were fixing themselves up using parts and pieces from those who fell in battle. Cores were put aside and gingerly stored away, but the rest of the body they didn't bother caring about.

"Lady Morgan has suggested severing his spinal cord at the neck down. The body will persist and nourish the brain as he does."

"May as well just restrain him completely… but in all honesty, we could use him. He's the entire reason that the Wardens have managed to get this far." The Wardens are the last ones to get a Citadel. Under my protection, they only developed one army and got one Champion online. Only after the Death Lord's demise, and their joining of the alliance against me, did they start investing in their own military… but that came in the form of Citadel Guardians. Their troops didn't receive enough veterancy, they didn't have enough industrial output, and overall ended up weaker because of my protection. A few wars would've fixed that, especially with the Death Goddess, but I intervened before it happened. "But we'll see how he feels about that."

We reached the containment area for the Wardens, and I received a lot of harsh looks and yelling from all the people in chains that we captured, but my interest was the transport block right in the middle.

Khalai was bound up and restrained in a chair. Everything from the waist down was strapped up in a medical chair made by the Citadel. It was a medical device that allowed patients whose bodies needed to be kept still to stay mobile with their thoughts alone. We removed that functionality, but kept the padding and its ability to deal with defecation and urination.

"Hey there, Jackie. Time to make use of your new toy?" Khalai's words were as flirty as ever, but his eyes told the real story. Plain, simple fury filled his gaze. Without a doubt, in his head, there was no negotiation to be had. Only a way for him to get out of this and return to his position as High Justiciar. His zeal was unbroken… and I doubted if it could ever break. As different as the Dark Elves were in this world, they were still family to the regular, genocidal long-term planners that were the regular Elves. "I promise that I'll be good, as long as you treat my people well."

Instantly, he offered himself as a hostage and as a plaything without any hint of shame.

Some would call him out as weak for doing so, but we both knew the score.

If you win, what you do doesn't matter.

Yeah, there's no way I'm getting him on my side, and putting him to sleep wasn't working… so, I had to get creative.

But I was going to make him an offer first.

"I intend to make you an offer, but first I'll tell you what I plan on doing to you if you refuse."

Normally, Khalai would say something along the lines of 'kinky' but he could tell that I was serious.

"I will house you in a sensory deprivation chamber within the Citadel. In there you will be restrained and unable to move. Food will come through to you on a small pipe to your arm. We'll gag you to make sure you can't bite down. In that chamber, there will be no sound, no sensation, and no light. You will be alone and isolated completely." This was super, extremely fucked up. I shared meals and drinks with this guy. If not for our circumstances, with my inevitable fight against him looming, I would've called him friend. I still remembered when I went to them to help them from being blitzed by the other established factions. However, in the end, I knew that was going to be the only possibility. "You're strong, Khalai, but with the passing of years, you'll lose yourself… and even if you hold on, it won't matter in a few years."

I didn't know that for sure, but as capable and strong as Khalai is, I doubted he could withstand absolute nothingness for years and years without breaking.

Anyway, Khalai picked up on what I was implying with the 'few years' comment.

I basically told him how I was going to get away with taking the Death Goddess without the rest of the continent pouncing on me.

"You're going to let my people be slaughtered."

"Yes. Between the option of facing my nation and my Iterants for the Death Goddess, or taking the Citadel now without a leader, the choice is obvious." The best outcome would be if I took the Death Goddess and the Warden Citadel. However, that wasn't possible without immense losses. Even with Citadel Guardians swarming my borders, I couldn't afford to lose my armies. They were defensive in nature. You can't force policies of other nations to change with defenses. "I'll tell them your tactics, your secrets, and remove my Iterants from their lands, while giving them your Citadel to appease them."

"They will not be satisfied by one Citadel."

"It'll take them at least two years to take your lands with the armies that they have now, even if they all work together. They won't. I think that Celia will swoop in and take it all, while the Merchants play the Forgers like a fiddle." Khalai's gaze was steady and unwavering as I told him the truth of the situation. Or, at the very least, the truth as I could get it with the information that I had. Plenty of conjecture, but this wasn't entirely about facts. I'm trying to persuade Khalai to not be a zealot and work with me. "They'll redirect their attention to me after… but that won't matter. The foes of our ancestors will be here by then. That's when I want your help. Not as the High Justiciar of the Wardens, but you, Khalai, as a person working for the betterment of as many people as possible."

"After you give away my Citadel and have my followers killed." Khalai's voice was calm, but I could hear the zealous rage simmering in the very back of his throat. Beneath the cute mask, there is and has always been a zealot who would've launched a crusade at the living to bring them all into paradise. "Perhaps, I would consider it if you aid my people and see them retain the Citadel."

My answer to that was already set.

"No. I know you, Khalai, and I know your people. I've known all along from the moment you rose from your caverns and seized your Citadel." I took a step forward towards him, making sure to meet his gaze, as he sat strapped to a chair. There was no need to lean over and be all imposing. I just stood across him and met his gaze with arms crossed. "There was only one path forward for your people, after you realized the gravity of the situation, and after you completed another Cathedral of Resurrection and expanded your vision of Paradise. Past the plains where the recently deceased lay, past the forests, but before the crystal spires where legends await the call."

Suddenly, through all the fury in Khalai's gaze, a spark of surprise came through and a sharp exhale left his lips.

The Wardens never wrote down what paradise looked like.

But I knew.

"It is not solely a place for Wardens. It is for all mortals and peoples that come from the Ancients. The Ancients, when all their enemies came for them, opened paradise for every soul… to save everyone." This was it. The core of the Warden's ethos later in the game. They accepted no other religion now, moving to convert everyone to theirs by making them family or just carnal relations… the knowledge I shared now led to their change. The change from people who converted others to those who'll just kill and send people to paradise. "Tell me, Khalai, in this world filled horrific foes and old grudges, what would you have your people do knowing that all who are slain go to paradise without exemption?"

I had to give him credit.

Khalai didn't hesitate to answer.

"I would have my people take on the sin and send all the paradise to save everyone." Ayah and the Iterants all stepped back at the words, at the simple, unhesitant, and unrepentant admission, and suddenly Morgan stepped out of the shadows with eyes filled with anger. I raised my hand before she could do anything. Khalai's eyes changed as he considered and ingested the idea, and it flowed over him and wreathed him in ecstasy and joy. "I see! Of course! Paradise would be granted to all by the Ancients if all our souls were at risk! We simply cannot see the souls of others, because we've only searched for ourselves and never with temples that we needed! Yes!"

It was validation.

No, it was something stronger.

Vindication.

In their eyes, it wasn't that they were just right all this time, but that they were always undoubtably and irrefutably correct through the Ancients.

Khalai's eyes shone at me with trust and joy, lacking in any fury whatsoever, and his smile nearly stretched from ear to ear with pearly white teeth.

Yet, with those same ecstatic eyes and smile, he'd carve my heart out without hesitation.

All to save me… and he didn't even have a shred of evidence that I wasn't lying to him.

I've seen enough.

I acted before he could speak.

"Gag him and prepare to inter him." I doubted it would work now. I shouldn't have asked, even if it validated my own decision to take the path that I did against the Wardens. "This knowledge doesn't leave this room if this truth is known to all the Wardens… there's only one path we can take with them and their faith."

The Iterants nodded, while Morgan glared at Khalai.

I took a moment to place a hand on her shoulder and take advantage of that strong reaction against the Wardens' endgame.

"All their texts and all their temples must burn during this war. That's your first, true mission as general, Morgan."

If a religion goes crazy, who better to sic on them than the Demon Lord?