“You know,” Quasi exhaustingly exits the study after a beaming Cleopatra, “Infinite undead stamina is unfair,” he says, squinting momentarily at the bright light. “Also, your body is really cold. Does this make me a necrophile?”
Cleopatra smiles but refuses to comment on the all night exertion. Instead, she clutches affectionately the crystal faintly glowing in her hand.
“Come, we must descend.”
Quasi yawns and follows the lich as she returns to her palace.
“By the way, why did I need to sleep with you for an alliance?” Quasi asks. “You’re dead, so you can't exactly give birth, if that was what you were thinking.”
“How much do you know about alliance skills?”
“Very little.”
Cleopatra continues down the hallways with measured steps that clack on the marble floor. “Hm. Alliance skills form a binding contract between two [Rulers]. The penalty clause is the same for both parties and depends on how the Alliance was made. A simple verbal alliance is trivial and carries few if any penalties. Written alliances are much stronger and by far the most varied; penalties often include a temporary loss or downgrade of skills. Breaking a marriage alliance can result in permanent loss of skill, castle, and even a class downgrade.”
“And the one we formed?”
Cleopatra smirks. “[Lover’s Alliance] is one of my most powerful and oldest skills. The one who breaks it will die.”
Quasi groans. “You’re undead! You can't get any deader! How the hell is that fair?”
Cleopatra smiles. “You asked for an alliance. It’s not my fault that you didn’t specify what type.”
The [Hero] shakes his head in dismay. “So, what exactly does this [Lover’s Alliance] entail? What did I unknowingly agree to?”
The [Empress] takes a turn and starts walking down a circular flight of stairs. “I agreed to your alliance of protection, so our nations will join into any defensive war that either of us engage in. You also agreed to free trade, the free passage for my people through your lands, full rights to access any dungeons you control, full rights to utilize any ports under your control, and several thousand more minor concerns. I will have the whole list available for your perusal later.”
“Did I just sell my nation to you or something?”
“I cannot own your nation or your people, but I can obtain extremely favorable deals. You may study the fine print later. Right now, we are nearing my crown.”
The two rulers arrive at the bottom of the staircase and enter a single, large, heavily warded room. At the end of the room is an altar with a crown on top of it, and behind the altar is a large, circular patch of sand.
The [Empress] walks confidently towards the crown. Faint glints of mana vanish, signifying the protective enchantments deactivating at her approach. She stops in front of the altar, picks up the silvery crystal crown and places it on her head.
Quasi takes a moment to check the item.
“Huh, you’ve got a [Divine] item too.”
Cleopatra quickly turns around. “too?”
Quasi smirks. He releases a pulse of mana and his shadow turns violet. A cane rises up to his hand. He grips the cane and spins it in the air like a baton before extending it out so that Cleopatra can see it.
Her mouth widens in surprise. “You created that!” she exclaims. Then she realizes the connotation.
“[Mimir’s Spine]? Is that actually his-? Is the [Demigod] not alive?”
“He’s dead, and yes,” Quasi wiggles his cane, “this is indeed his spine.”
Cleopatra falls to her knees at his words. Tears start to stream down her cheeks.
“He’s actually dead. That monster is dead.”
Quasi stands before the [Empress] and watches her cry for a good minute.
“So, uh, I'm guessing you have a history with Mimir?”
She sniffs, wipes her teary eyes and stands up. A smile is on her face, an actually genuine one.
“History,” she sniffs, “you could say that. What of his dungeon?”
“Currently inactive,” Quasi answers, “and before you ask, I’ve already taken all his stuff.”
Cleopatra chuckles. “Then you are wealthier than the entirety of my Empire. I can only imagine the quantity of materials and items he had been hoarding.”
Quasi doesn't answer, only smiles in return.
“Can you tell me how he died?” she asks.
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“Rapeball.”
“Rapeball?”
Quasi nods seriously. “He was killed by a giant, floating, soul molesting eyeball named Rapeball.”
“I… see.” she frowns, or at least tries to. But fails. Mimir’s death remains at the forefront of her mind.
“So, about Mimir…” Quasi begins, but pauses as the ground rumbles. A moment later an Armored vermis rises from the sand. It stops right next to Cleopatra. Quasi looks at the monster and gapes at the metal boxed carriage chained to its back.
“I’ll explain on the way. Come aboard.”
She enters through the single door. Quasi shrugs and follows suit. To his surprise, the interior, though small, is quite comfortable. Cleopatra closes the door and Quasi feels that floaty sensation in his stomach as the worm starts descending.
________________________________________________________________
“The world of Orbis, this world of classes, skills, and levels, was very different when the first humans came from Earth. It was untamed, untrammeled, and so dangerously full with mana. Beasts and monsters that could shatter mountains roamed the continent and swam the seas. We humans were weak and pathetic. Without intervention, we would have been destroyed and annihilated, but weak and desperate, we forced ourselves to grow. With help from the gods, the greatest of us were able to level and ascend to a point where we could rival the strongest powers of Orbis. In those first few centuries, four bastions of humanity were founded.”
Cleopatra raises a finger.
“The first and oldest bastion is Alfheim. The city is built upon the branches and roots of the world tree Yggdrasil. It is the home of the elves, who are supposedly native to Orbis, but I have my doubts considering they are able to mate with humans and create half-breeds. Regardless, the tree is immensely powerful and has deterred the deadliest of the monstrous races.”
She raises a second finger.
“The second oldest bastion is Jotunheim, the City of Giants. The construction of the city was started by [Frost Jarl] Aurgelmir, a man with thousands of wives and the [Greater Strength Bloodline]. All of his children had obtained his bloodline and were thus ten feet tall at the very least. They constructed Jotunheim atop a fountain of mana, which fuels the entire city’s ability to repair any and all damage.”
She raises a third finger.
“The third oldest bastion is the city of Svartalfheim. The city was built inside the corpse of a great dungeon that was conquered by [King] Dvalinn. Unlike most dungeons whose destruction would weaken the walls over time, the walls of Svartalfheim never do thanks to its location directly on top of a mana font.”
She raises a fourth finger and Quasi sinks into the cushioned loveseat as the vermis changes direction and ascends. In a splash of sand, the vermis rises into a massive underground cavern.
As though having planned it all, Cleopatra smiles and gestures with four fingers to the singular window. Outside is the mother of all worms, a huge, massive worm of crystalline glass covered from head to tail in subdued runic engravings.
“That’s,” Quasi begins but is left speechless as Cleopatra opens the door and hops out. He follows her silently. When he steps out, his senses are overtaken by a heady concentration of mana. The last time he felt this much mana was in Inaequo.
Slightly buzzed on the excess mana in the air, Quasi stares, fascinated, at the humongous, city sized, glass worm.
“When phoenixes hunt, they melt the sand and turn it into glass. The glass then slowly sinks through the sand to where Royal Vermis live. They consume the glass, grind it up within their bodies, and then add it to their skin. The glass stores mana for the vermis. With stored mana, they can ascend to the mana poor desert surface and hunt above for short periods of time.”
She hops over a rock and continues to the massive beast. “But, though they have a long life, it is not infinite. Eventually, they will die.”
“It's dead,” Quasi blurts out in realization as they near the worm. He senses flesh and crystal melded together, but little else.
“This Royal Vermis, in the throes of its impending demise, had risen above the desert and then beached on a stone outcropping. It died on that outcropping which kept itself from being lost to the shifting of sands.”
She stops a foot away from the crystal worm. She places her hand on it and the crystal shines. It melds away and creates an opening with stairs leading inside. She heads inside and Quasi follows.
“My people and I found the beached Imperial Vermis. We entered it and excavated the inside. We removed the internal flesh and then, with the assistance of the Egyptian gods, we began applying runes, though calling what was wrought mere runes is akin to calling a palace a hovel. Only the knowledge of the gods, shared with us piecemeal, allowed us to create this,” she enters the inner sanctum of the worm and spreads her hands at the thousands and thousands of crystalline homes inside.
“Holy shit,” Quasi curses in complete and utter surprise. “Ten out of fucking ten,” he exclaims with mouth agape. “This is insane. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
He continues looking around in wonder. His words, though vulgar, give Cleopatra a great deal of pride at her people's creation.
“This,” she raises both her hands, “is Muspelheim, the fourth bastion of the world and the greatest city in all of Orbis.”
“It can move, can't it?” Quasi asks with an eager smile.
She smiles and raises the power crystal. The crystal below their feet rises up as a slab. It floats in the air and glides toward the front of the worm. It presses against the forward wall and melds into place. A passage opens.
“It can now. Now follow me.”
She enters the passage and Quasi follows. They reach a domed chamber with a throne in the center. Cleopatra walks to the throne, smooths her dress and takes a seat. The crystal in her hand glows, her eyes shine gold with mana. The room bursts into light as billions of runes reactivate from their slumber. Holograms of the surrounding cavern made by three dimensional sonar pop up, followed by a floating, glowing message:
Know thyself deathless and able to know all things.
The words disappear a second later… and then the city moves.
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