Chapter 56: Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 38 – Sins of apathy – Part One

Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 38 - Sins of apathy - Part One

 

As I had suspected would be the case, initial attempts to pass through the doorway to the Mournbrent Labyrinth were unsuccessful. The failure by the Rangers recon squad confirmed that the Liche controlled at least the first five floors of the Labyrinth and was denying entry to anyone not bearing the correct marker or meeting some other requirement.

 

Unfortunately for her, I possessed Keys of my own and could contest the Liche’s control directly.

 

With no minions in the vicinity to contest the claim, the entrance to the Mournbrent Labyrinth came under my control after twenty-four hours.

 

The delay allowed the first wave of auxiliaries to begin arriving through the gateway in the western district. However, the necessity for organising the volunteers introduced further delays.

 

In the meantime, three squads of Rangers, accompanied by qualified Goblin Scouts, entered the first floor of the Labyrinth to begin performing reconnaissance.

 

When the Colonel began relaying the first reports, it came as no real surprise that the Liche’s forces were in the process of digging in and doing their best to fortify around both of the first floor’s portals. Almost exclusively limited to dirt and felled trees to create the fortifications, the defences were primitive but deliberately exaggerated to the point of becoming robust despite the limitations of the base materials.

 

Most of the first floor’s vegetation had been harvested for one means or another. This left the floor desolate with the exception of the Giant Rats and packs of Hungry Wolves that stalked the open ground in search of food, tearing apart the Zombies and Skeletons that normally formed the undead element of the ecosystem.

 

Contrary to all expectations, the Zombies and Skeletons showed no signs of being controlled by the Liche’s forces. The Colonel had two primary theories on the matter. Either the Liche felt no need for controlling them, knowing they would fight anyone who provoked them and serve as a passive defence. Or more likely, the Liche’s minions felt no need to waste their Abilities controlling such weak undead when they had access to those spawned on higher floors or through Class Abilities.

 

In either case, it didn’t change the overall plan much. The tokens taken from the Adventurers’ Guild headquarters were rendered useless due to the exit portal being controlled by the Liche. This meant that the invasion of the first floor, and each floor thereafter, would be attempted in a far more random and scattered fashion than I had otherwise anticipated.

 

In some respects, it would be like a large-scale paratrooper invasion behind enemy lines. With allied forces scattered to the winds, regrouping and attempting to form battle groups of sufficient force to avoid being wiped out by enemy search parties. The upside, of course, was that the soldiers wouldn’t be facing anti-air and flak batteries. The downside was that there was every possibility of appearing next to an already hostile enemy and being cut down before being able to react.

 

Unlike the portals inside of the Labyrinth, there was no telling when the designated location on the other side would change. There was every possibility that any or even every one of the Colonel’s carefully formed units would be divided into two or more groups after walking through the portal.

 

Two dozen Serpent-Kin’ and Forest Goblins all painted in dark grey, black and white warpaint had silently begun following me as I wandered the former headquarters of the Adventruers’ Guild. There was no need to ask them who they were, even through the warpaint I could recognise their faces despite not knowing their names. The burning hatred in their eyes and hunger for vengeance made it obvious.

 

Wearing armour similar to my own, it prioritised mobility of movement over protection. A few of the Goblins wore leather armour, but the rest wore segmented plates of iron. Their weapons were a medley of javelins, bows, slings, maces and spears, although none of them appeared to be carrying shields.

 

Fully aware of what choice in armament entailed, I was somewhat disappointed in myself that I approved of the decision. It made no sense to forgo the added protection, but the significance of the choice itself...

 

“ENEMY ATTACK!!!” I roared and began running towards the fortified hall containing the portal.

 

My call to arms was answered a few moments later by the shouts of Human soldiers and cries of injured enemies.

 

Bursting into the hall containing the portal, I found the soldiers’ barricades under assault by pale-skinned, reddened eyed, men and women in crude leathers and iron breastplates.

 

With the benefit of a running start, I leapt up and over the barricades crashing bodily into pressed ranks of the enemy. Thrashing my arms and fists as I struggled to my feet, I felt a sick sense of gratification as I felt their bones break.

 

With no room to draw my weapons, and more enemies spilling through the portal with each passing moment, I continued thrashing and throttling them with my bare fists.

 

Soldiers behind the barricade continued firing their bows into the disorganised mass of enemies, either confident that they were unable to harm me, or confident their aim wouldn’t fail.

 

Howling like crazed madmen, the Goblins and Serpent-Kin scaled the barricades and joined the melee.

 

Not wanting to crush them by accident, I was left with little choice but to press forward towards the portal.

 

Taking hold of an enemy by their arm, I began thrashing them to and fro like a flail, their broken body crashing into the thick pillars supporting the vaulted ceiling as often as the enemy. When their arm tore apart I grabbed another enemy by the leg and renewed my assault.

 

Visibly panicking under the onslaught, it looked like the enemy forces were going to try and flee back through the portal. However, the sudden appearance of a tall Vampyr with a feathered tricorn hat instantly renewed their morale. Rather than trying to flee, the pale-skinned enemies began trying to swarm me like ants.

 

Letting go of my improvised weapons, I began bodily ripping the enemy off of myself by any handhold I could manage. With those I removed immediately attempting to return to the fray, I began deliberately dashing them against nearby pillars before letting go.

 

“I suppose quantity has a quality all of its own, eh?” The Vampyr chuckled, now standing horizontally on a nearby pillar while lazily clapping his hands. “I don’t see what everyone is so worried about,” he sneered contemptuously, “To be bogged down by a bunch of lowly Thralls is downright embarrassing!” For all his bluster, the Vampyr was forced to retreat when a hail of projectiles arced through the space he had been occupying a half-second before.

 

One of the Thralls reached into my mouth with a clawed hand and tried to take a hold of my tongue.

 

Without even thinking, I bit down hard and severed the limb at the forearm and swallowed it whole.

 

Frustrated by the mass of bodies trying to weigh me down, I gathered mana into my fists and then forced it into a pair of thralls.

 

*Boom! BOOOM!*

 

Moments later, a pair of explosions rocked the hall and sent the thralls toppling to the ground.

 

A scattered hail of arrows and stones ricocheted off my exposed hide and chest armour, but I paid it no mind. It wasn’t as if I had coordinated with the auxiliaries and soldiers to let them know what I was doing.

 

Using the momentary lull in the fighting to draw a mace with my left hand, I spared a moment to look for the Vampyr who had seemingly gone into hiding.

 

“GAH!!! YOU FOUL LOATHSOME CREATURE!!!” The Vampyr howled in a combination of pain and disgust.

 

Turning towards the defensive line, I was just in time to see the Vampyr discard a Forest Goblin auxiliary back behind the barricades. He had obviously intended to impale the Goblin on one of the protruding stakes, but the Goblin bounced off with no visible sign of injury.

 

Leaping back from the barricade, the Vampyr was clutching at its now smoking face and seemingly blind to events taking place around it.

 

Activating the Human Racial Ability to amplify my own stats, took hold of my mace in both hands and carefully lined up the Vampyr’s trajectory.

 

*CRACK!!! CRUNCH!!!*

 

The flanged head of the mace connected with the Vampyr’s back, shattering his spine and pulping the nerves and muscles before sending him flying back into the far wall. He struck the wall with enough force to send spiderwebs of cracks through the solid block of granite.

 

Before the Vampyr had the chance to scream, the soldiers and auxiliaries were upon him, dousing his mangled body with buckets of holy water.

 

Stronger than most of the Vampyr’s I had encountered thus far, he made one final desperate bid at freedom. With his lower body reduced to nothing but a smouldering stump and his skin ragged and raw, the Vampyr clawed its way up the wall and out of the reach of its would-be pursuers.

 

Or at least that is what the Vampyr had intended.

 

The moment the Vampyr cleared the heads of its original executioners, a volley of arrows fired point-blank into his back and sent him toppling to the ground again.

 

Pinned in place by spears, the Vampyr was pushed into an impromptu well that had been created by removing flagstones from the floor and digging a hole in the bedrock beneath. With insufficient mass to leverage another escape and rapidly losing strength by the millisecond, the Vampyr couldn’t even scream to express its pain and frustration as it was burned alive.

 

All the while, the Thralls had continued their assault, although they were much easier to deal with now that I had a weapon at hand. Having expected the Liche to make the most of the Labyrinth and increase the levels of her forces, I was confused by the fact that none of the Thralls had even demonstrated they possessed a Class at all. They were worse than the Orcs I encountered on the first floor, seemingly content with rushing in with crudely fashioned weapons.

 

This was unfortunate for the Thralls because they didn’t seem particularly strong at all, barely above what I presumed was the unaltered human average.

 

Laying into the Thralls with my mace, I killed them in droves.

 

All the same, the Thralls tried rushing the barricades, swarming forwards like a hive of ants. Then quite suddenly, they lost their motivation and coordination, faltering and falling back under the withering hail of projectiles.

 

Wailing and seemingly quite terrified, the Thralls began fleeing towards the portal back into the Labyrinth. Unfortunately for them, only those already within arms reach of the portal managed to escape as the archers began aiming to incapacitate rather than wound and kill.

 

Assuming the archers were attempting to secure prisoners for interrogation, I stowed my mace and began throwing the crippled Thralls back towards the barricades. Impassively watching the first pair of relocated Thralls as they were executed by the auxiliaries, I sighed. “TAKE AT LEAST SEVEN OF THEM ALIVE FOR INTERROGATION!” I commanded irritably.

 

Somewhat cowed, the auxiliaries stopped lynching the Thralls and focused on the task of crippling them instead, breaking hands and feet before dragging them over the barricades.

 

For their part, the Thralls began gibbering in a language all their own and some of them even attempted suicide or began slitting the throats of their fellows.

 

Had they understood me? Or was this just a cruel contingency command of their masters?

 

In either case, it didn’t matter. The combined efforts of the auxiliaries and soldiers still managed to secure nine Thralls in relatively stable condition and the latter had already sent a runner to inform the Colonel of the skirmish.

 

Deeming another assault to be unlikely, I picked up one of the dead Thralls to take a closer look at what we were dealing with.

 

Besides the reddened eyes and sharp teeth, the Thrall had incredibly pale skin that seemed dangerously close to becoming transparent. As such, the Thrall’s veins and arteries stood out like deep blue tattoos against its skin. With the exception of those otherwise obvious differences, the Thralls appeared to be more or less human.

 

Dropping the body unceremoniously to the floor, I scaled the barricades and headed for the exit. However, I paused when something held by one of the soldiers caught my eye. “Let me see,” I ordered and held out my hand expectantly.

 

The soldier obeyed without question, bowing his head and depositing a palm-sized silver medallion in my hand.

 

[Holy Symbol {Orphiel/Ophelia}: Wards against hostile {Spirits} and {Undead} when visible. Hostile {Spirits} and {Undead} are driven away as if under the influence of a {Minor Ward}. (Special Condition): Casting a {Ward} Ability through the Holy Symbol deals damage to hostile {Spirits} and {Undead} within the {Warded} area.]

 

Reading through the item description, I was slightly surprised to find that each face of the medallion bore a romanticised likeness of each of the Fallen Angels.

 

“Where did you get this?” I demanded curiously.

 

“Majesty, it appeared shortly after we defeated the Vampyr Pureblood,” the soldier replied earnestly, briefly pressing his lips together and furrowing his brow as he concentrated, “Takesation reward, Holy Symbol. Accept reward, yes or no. That is what the message said, Majesty. I said yes and the silver medallion appeared in my hands, just like that! Beggin your pardon, Majesty.”

 

I nodded and considered the medallion for a few moments longer, “Do you know what it does?”

 

The soldier nodded and was about to speak again but I held up my free hand to stop him.

 

“You may have it back,” I handed the medallion back to the thoroughly surprised soldier. Given the weight of the medallion and that it seemed to be pure silver, it wasn't too hard to understand why. “Do you know of anyone else receiving a reward from Takesation?” I asked intently.

 

The soldier shook his head regretfully, “Sorry, Majesty, but I have not heard of anyone receiving such a prize as this.”

 

I nodded thoughtfully, “You may inform your superiors that you have my permission to keep the medallion. Try to put it to good use.” I continued on my way out of the hall and made my way through the building to the Guild’s auction hall. Already outfitted with all manner of restraints and cages, the auction hall served as a suitable dungeon and interrogation space.

 

An enslaved Vampyr was bound to a chair and in a miserable state, its overdeveloped canines were torn free of its mouth and scattered on the ground. Tears running down its face and blood dribbling from its mouth, the Vampyr was sobbing quietly while the Colonel and a Sergeant wearing a butcher’s apron and gloves conversed quietly nearby.

 

The Vampyr was one of seven still being held prisoner in the auction hall. I knew this without looking because they were all under my personal control. Three were Purebloods while the remaining four were Mixedbloods, a transitory evolution between the Thinbloods and Purebloods.

 

“Colonel,” I called out to make my presence known as I walked across the blood-caked floor. The undead had not spared the occupants of the cages when invading the city and left a charnel house in their wake. “Are you finished with the prisoners?”

 

The Colonel and Sergeant both knelt down on one knee and bowed, “Majesty!”

 

“I believe we have extracted all the information we can, Majesty,” the Colonel replied with forthright sincerity, eliciting a sobbing moan from the bound Vampyr.

 

I nodded and looked towards the cages, “I have an experiment I want you to conduct for me,” I elaborated, “A Pureblood attempted a skirmish on the portal room and was slain by a soldier manning the barricades. He claims to have received a magic item as a reward from Takesation, and I want to learn more about the factors at play.”

 

The Colonel looked pleasantly surprised and nodded eagerly, “How should we proceed Majesty?”

 

“Set Takesation to the highest value and put down one of the Purebloods,” I replied somewhat coldly, scowling as the Vampyr in the chair whimpered again.

 

The Colonel nodded, rising to his feet and drawing his backup shortsword before stalking towards the Vampyr bound to the chair.

 

“N-n-no!” The Vampyr wailed pitiably attempting to recoil away from the Colonel but convulsing in pain as he defied the standing orders to remain still.

 

As the Colonel descended upon the Vampyr, he suddenly came up short as Shady materialised atop the chair and bared his fangs while releasing a low threatening growl.

 

Frowning, I stared at Shady for a moment and then at the Vampyre cowering beneath him.

 

“Marco, Archer, Pureblood Vampyr...” None of it sounded particularly relevant, but Shady gave me a brief pleading look before aggressively warning away the Colonel.

 

For his part, the Colonel seemed inclined to wait while I made a decision.

 

“They made me this way...” The Vampyr sobbed.

 

“Shady...move aside...” There was something familiar about the Vampyr’s voice.

 

“Shady?” The Vampyr moaned weakly.

 

Shady reluctantly hopped down off of the chair, making sure to place himself between the Vampyr and the Colonel.

 

Moving closer, I took a proper look at the Vampyr.

 

With dark hair and distorted feral features, I didn’t know what I had expected to discover with my investigation. All the same, there was something familiar about him.

 

“Vampyrs are made, not born, we know that already,” I explained slowly, “So who were you before you became one of them?”

 

The Vampyr flinched. “My name is Marco...” He insisted weakly, “I was an adventurer, I lived here in the city...”

 

I looked to the Colonel.

 

“We can check the registry of adventurers against the city registry of citizens, Majesty,” The Colonel suggested.

 

“Do it,” I replied before turning my attention back to the Vampyr.

 

The Colonel motioned to the Sergeant who then promptly left the room.

 

“Commoners lack last names, so they are going to need more information,” I growled, irritated that the Vampyr should be so familiar and that the reason remains unknown.

 

The Vampyr nodded feverishly, “Yes, yes, of course! Ah, um, my mother, she worked in the bakery on shepherd street, and my father was a guard in the east district fifth patrol squad-”

 

“Names!” I snapped, “Their NAMES!”

 

The Vampyr flinched, fresh tears running down his face, “L-Lauretta and C-Carlos!” He stammered meekly, before falling silent.

 

“Carry out the test on one of the others!” I ordered while wracking my brain and trying to remember why this Vampyr seemed familiar.

 

The Colonel nodded and approached one of the cages.

 

Unlike the Vampyr in the chair, the Vampyr chained up inside of the cage snarled defiantly as the Colonel unlocked the cage door and stepped inside.

 

“I’ll kill your whole fucking family for this!” The enraged Vampyr swore, “Every single one of them! See if I-GURK!” The caged Vampyr stiffened as the Colonel’s shortsword impaled its heart. Gasping as if out of breath, the Vampyr’s body began to rapidly age.

 

Removing a waterskin from his belt, the Colonel removed the plug and upended the contents over the gasping and increasingly frail Vampyr.

 

Eyes bulging, the Vampyr thrashed against its chains in silent agony as the holy water burned through its flesh and bones, leaving nothing but smoke and ash in its wake.

 

When the Vampyr expired, the Colonel retrieved his sword and cleaned it with a rag tucked in his belt. “Majesty, I regrettably did not receive a notification. Shall I try again?”

 

I nodded.

 

The Colonel dispatched the second Pureblood in a similar fashion to the first, only this time he seemed much more excited with the results. “Majesty! I have been rewarded with a Ring of Enervation Resistance!” The Colonel hurriedly approached with a thin silver ring in his hand.

 

Composed of a thin silver band and a delicate clasp containing what looked like a tiny pearl, the ring didn’t look particularly special. However, my opinion quickly changed upon taking a hold of it myself. Growing significantly larger, the ring would now be able to fit around any of my fingers without difficulty. Recalling how the jackal-man’s items had done much the same, resizing to suit the user's needs, I wondered if it was the nature of all magic items to do so.

 

[Ring of Resistance {Enervation}: While worn, increases effective {Toughness} against {Enervation} Spells, Abilities and Effects depending on wearers Level. (Special): Increases effective Toughness by {1} against {Undead} and {Spirit} Abilities.]

 

Reminded of the withering effects that had been left in the wake of the Liche’s attack, the ring immediately skyrocketed in value. “Have this sent to my wife immediately!” I ordered, pressing the ring back into the Colonel’s hands.

 

“Majesty!” The Colonel proudly saluted with his free hand and then left the room at a brisk jog.

 

I needed more of those rings...

 

Subconsciously, my attention drifted back to the remaining Pureblood in our custody. Determining why he was familiar was just an indulgence of my curiosity, if nothing came of it, he would be put to death just like the others.

 

The Colonel returned a short while later with the Sergeant in tow.

 

“A runner under guard has been dispatched to deliver the package, Majesty,” the Colonel reported proudly, “And the identity of our prisoner appears to match our records.”

 

“What else can you tell me about him?” I asked dryly, still wondering if putting the Vampyr to death might be the more prudent decision regardless of why he was familiar.

 

“Aherm,” the Sergeant cleared his throat and raised a piece of paper, with scribbled writing on it that served as a reminder that I still hadn’t made a serious effort at learning to read this world’s language. “Firstborn son of Carlos and Lauretta, Marco joined the Mournbrent branch of the Adventurers Guild six years ago, and was pronounced dead three years ago after exploring the sixth floor of the Mournbrent Labyrinth-”

“That would be when he was turned presumably,” I muttered and motioned for the Sergeant to continue.

 

“Appeals by the family for the retrieval of his body were denied by the Mournbrent branch of the Adventurers Guild on several occasions, claiming unacceptably high risk despite substantial rewards having been offered to the Adventurers Guild and Mercenary Guild.” The Sergeant paused for a moment to flip the page over. “Both Carlos and Lauretta are being questioned by the local authorities in their new Settlement and their answers are expected within the hour-”

 

“Wait a minute,” I held up my hand signalling the Sergeant to stop, “His parents survived the invasion? Both of them?” I demanded incredulously.

 

The devastation had been almost entirely indiscriminate, how had they both managed to survive?

 

“Were they amongst those I rescued at the guard station in the Western District? Or the Western Cathedral?” I asked distractedly while trying to remember faces from amongst the crowds of civilians.

 

The Sergeant shook his head, but before he could reply the Colonel beat him to it.

 

“They were amongst those we rescued here in the central district of the city, Majesty,” the Colonel explained, “Rescued from the same nest we captured the Vampyr.”

 

You are reading story Ogre Tyrant at novel35.com

Now that was interesting.

 

I could tell the Vampyr had been listening so I wandered over so I could see his reactions.

 

“I-I-I d-did w-what I c-could t-to s-spare them,” the Vampyr stammered weakly while averting his eyes guiltily.

 

“Whenever your masters wanted someone to feed on, you would just give them someone else?” I guessed with disgust.

 

The Vampyr hung his head lower in shame, his silence as damning as any confession.

 

“Should I continue, Majesty?” The Sergeant asked respectfully.

 

“Go on!” I waved dismissively and began pacing to try and work off my sudden flare in aggression.

 

“The city registry has a record of a younger sibling, another adventurer, by the name of Tobi. he is currently in an, aherm, undisclosed location and unable to-” The Sergeant fell silent as I raised my hand.

 

“Did you say Tobi?” I asked quietly.

 

The Sergeant nodded.

 

“Reow!” Shady yowled and looked purposefully at the Vampyr.

 

“Tobi...” The Vampyr looked up, an expression of stark surprise and disbelief on his face, “Tobi is alive?!...Ahahahah! He’s alive! He’s-”

 

“Barely alive,” I corrected dourly, the revelation that this abomination used to be Tobi’s brother hardly seemed worth the effort.

 

“Barely?” The Vampyr’s exuberance over his former sibling’s survival choked and died in an instant.

 

“Your Liche master almost killed him,” a part of me enjoyed seeing the despair take root in the Vampyr’s eyes as I twisted the metaphorical knife, “Drained his lifeforce to the point his arm blackened and turned to ash,” I wasn’t sure whether that was actually what happened, but seemed about right.

 

The Vampyr’s mood took a sudden turn, despair turning to anger, and then anger to fury, “I’LL FUCKING KILL THEM!!! NOBODY HURTS MY BABY BROTHER!!!”

 

I could feel him testing his will against mine and felt little real cause for concern. He was accomplishing nothing besides harming himself. Tuning out his enraged cries of pain, I wondered if it would perhaps be better to put him out of his family's misery. Then I remembered Tobi, the marks of the withering on his body. He had shielded one or more of the others with his body and lost an arm for the effort. Nearly lost his life.

 

Accounts of the battle were scattered and disjointed, and most of the witnesses were in trauma-induced comas. Tobi might have been injured shielding Lash, there was no way of knowing at the moment. Would Tobi see it as a kindness if I put his Undead sibling to rest? Or would it be like spitting in his face? I couldn’t come up with a good answer.

 

Crying tears of blood, the Vampyr, Marco, continued struggling against my control.

 

“You want revenge?” I asked rhetorically.

 

Teeth firmly clenched together with veins protruding from his neck and forehead, the Vampyr stiffly nodded, “YESSS!!!” He hissed.

 

“Then I have a use for you,” I turned to the Sergeant and Colonel, “Cut him loose, he’s going to help us hunt Vampyrs and destroy that fucking Liche!”

 

No doubt shocked by what I had said, Marco’s struggles against my control abruptly halted. “W-What?” He gasped breathlessly, shaking from the lingering pain or exertion generated from his attempts at resistance.

 

“You're going to be our spy,” I explained grimly, “Feed the enemy bad information, sabotage their defences from the inside! Help clear the way so I can hunt down the fucking Liche and DESTROY HER!!!”

 

The confusion quickly disappeared from Marco’s eyes, “I can do that!” He agreed hungrily, “I’ll make them pay for harming my family!”

 

So long as Marco remained useful I decided I would forestall his judgement. “Beat him and make it look convincing. We want the enemy to think he barely escaped in the chaos caused by that last skirmish. Losing his token will explain the time discrepancy.”

 

Marco stiffened for a moment and then nodded determinedly at the Colonel and Sergeant as they approached, “Do it,” he agreed grimly, perhaps unaware of the fact that the officers weren't looking for his permission. Or perhaps he knew that and was denying them a small sense of satisfaction by going along with it. In either case, it didn’t really matter.

 

Reduced to a handful of hitpoints, Marco was then dragged through to the portal and allowed to stumble through under his own power, toppling face-first through to the other side.

 

With the BDSM fetishwear adjacent wardrobes of the Vampyrs collective accessories, it was unlikely Marco’s Slavery Collar would draw much if any attention. Even if it did, and its true nature was discovered, there was a very real possibility that the sadistic Vampyrs would just assume another stronger Vampyr had managed to collar him.

 

Unfortunately, Enslaving Vampyrs provided no synergies.

 

The Colonel provided the theory that perhaps the undead held a separate series of internal qualifiers to the living, preventing their Abilities from being synergised. With my own special Racial Abilities remaining exclusive to myself, it made enough sense that I was willing to let the issue go for the time being.

 

Unfortunately for the remaining Mixedblood Vampyrs, this meant that they no longer had any use.

 

The Colonel and Sergeant put the four Mixedbloods to death and managed to earn a single reward in exchange.

 

“A Magic Dagger, Majesty,” the Sergeant explained, offering a rather plain-looking stiletto hilt first.

 

Knowing very little about effective weapon design, I was only mildly impressed by the dagger resizing to fit my hand.

 

[Magic Dagger: Resistant to damage.]

 

“Is that sort of thing common?” I asked curiously, lacking a personal frame of reference.

 

The Colonel nodded, “Amongst magic items, this is considered the most common kind of enchantment, although magic items themselves are exceptionally rare.”

 

“Really?” I found that a little surprising in the current circumstances.

 

“Yes, Majesty. It would be considered fortunate to find a lesser magic item such as this after killing a few hundred monsters of the fifth tier and higher,” The Colonel explained.

 

“Why fifth tier?” I asked curiously, “Do lower-tier monsters not drop magic items?”

 

The Colonel nodded, “That is the accepted wisdom, Majesty.”

 

“Still...Three kills out of seven produced magic items...That seems far too high, doesn't it?” I mused aloud, “Unless...Unless the percentage increase is additive rather than multiplicative...”

 

The Colonel looked confused.

 

“I mean, that the thirty-eight per cent increase in drop chance from Takesation isn't one times one point thirty eighty, but is instead one plus thirty-eight. Meaning roughly thirty-nine out of every hundred or so monsters should drop some form of magical item.” It seemed way too good to be true. To say nothing about tanking any existing economy that relied on the sale and resale of such items, it made pushing to the fifth floor the best chance of allowing my people to better defend themselves.

 

The Colonel and Sergeant both looked profoundly shocked.

 

“Majesty! With your permission, I must inform the Lord Regent of this development immediately!”

 

“Go,” I motioned for the Colonel to leave and continued considering the dagger. “Sergeant, what would you say is the prime benefit of weaker magic items like this one?” I asked curiously while holding up the dagger.

 

Shaking off his earlier surprise, the Sergeant straightened his back and squared his shoulders, “May I speak plainly, Majesty?” He asked with some uncertainty.

 

“You may,” I agreed, growing more curious.

 

“For a soldier like myself, Majesty? Peace of mind,” he replied sincerely, “The confidence in knowing that blocking an enemy’s blade or striking their shield won't make the blade of my sword snap and leave me in a compromised position. That isn’t to say there aren't other benefits, because there are, but I think the added durability in and of itself is profoundly powerful.”

 

I nodded, “I think I see what you mean,” I agreed, “But what other benefits come to mind?”

 

The Sergeant was thoughtful for a moment before pointing to the dagger in my hand, “Because the blade is reinforced by magic, you can sharpen the blade to a sharper edge without losing that edge nearly as quickly. It can make a big difference when fighting stronger monsters with thick hides. The durability, and knowing the blade can take more punishment means you can use a weapon in ways you otherwise shouldn’t. Such as deliberately striking an enemy’s shield or armoured limb in order to throw them off balance. Likewise, magical armour can be relied upon to take a real beating without becoming compromised, Majesty.”

 

“That makes sense,” I agreed thoughtfully and returned the dagger. “One final question before I leave you to your duties Sergeant. Is the style...the appearance of the magic items...is it random? Or is it related to the monster that was killed?”

 

The Sergeant shifted his weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably, “Forgive me, Majesty, but I don't know the answer to that question,” he admitted humbly, “Ah, but Quartermaster Gerbits might. Should I fetch him, Majesty?”

 

I shook my head, “It’s not that important. If you bump into him later, then by all means ask, but otherwise go about your duties. Thank you, Sergeant.”

 

Leaving the auction hall, I made my way to one of the empty offices I had claimed as my sleeping quarters. It was big enough that the auxiliaries and Shady easily had enough room to themselves and left me enough space to think without feeling crowded.

 

The issue regarding the Thralls still bugged me. Why had the Liche left them without Classes and levels? It could have made them so much stronger, made their earlier skirmish stand a chance of inflicting actual damage.

 

The Vampyr Pureblood had been so confident in spite of the Thralls’ comparative weakness. Surely they didn’t believe that outnumbering their enemies would be enough to win the war?

 

That particular thought reminded me that I hadn’t seen what happened to the Pureblood that convinced him to try and retreat.

 

“Which one of you injured the Pureblood, made him try to run?” I demanded, eyeing the huddle of Goblin in the corner of the room.

 

“Me do,” Jeek claimed boldly, thrusting out her chest and grinning savagely, “Choke me, try bite me! Me hurk face!” Jeek’s grin widened briefly before mimicking puffing up her cheeks before opening her mouth wide and sticking out her tongue.

 

“Right,” I couldn’t help but grin in response, “You ‘hurked’ on his face, after drinking nothing but holy water all day. No wonder he was terrified.”

 

It was just another reason not to underestimate Goblins. With little to no shame, nothing was off-limits if they thought it would improve their chances of winning. With nothing left to lose, Jeek was as dangerous as they come.

 

Settling in to rest, I continued puzzling over the Liche’s decisions. There was something I was missing, something that would make everything begin to make sense. I could feel it.

 

Why attack Sanctuary? Why murder innocent children?!

 

Jacque’s explanation seemed profoundly hollow in the wake of all I had seen. Choosing bad people and making them worse? Hardly. So far, the Awakened I had encountered seemed to be using this world as their excuse to be as fucked up as possible. Living out their sick fantasies at the expense of everyone and everything around them.

 

Was that all this was? Was that why the Liche had attacked Sanctuary? Just another item to cross off the psycho bucket list?

 

Or was there a method to this madness that I just couldn’t see yet?

 

Or was it because of my title?...

 

I felt a familiar tug at the edge of my mind, “PORTAL!!! ENEMY ATTACK!!!” I roared and burned mana to Shadow Step to my feet outside in the hallway.

 

The auxiliaries were right behind me, scrambling to keep up, snarling and howling like feral dogs. In a sense, I supposed that is exactly what they were.

 

Entering the hall behind the barricades, I was surprised to see that the enemy was forgoing the use of Thralls and sending Skeletons instead.

 

Supposedly fearless, the Skeletons charged in waves, some of them breaking their bodies against the barricades as those coming from behind pressed into those in front. Unfortunately, the tangle of limbs only slowed the Skeletons for so long before they formed a ramp leading to the top of the barricades.

 

Worse luck for the mindless Skeletons, soldiers began bucketing holy water onto them and causing the ramp to rapidly collapse. With larger pools of holy water forming on the other side of the barricade with each passing second, the Skeletons rapidly devolved into an almost non-threat. If it weren’t for the scattered presence of archers amongst them, then they would have ceased being a threat entirely.

 

Drawing a mace into my right hand, I used Shadow Step to move to the other side of the barrier and began swiping through the Skeletons like brittle twigs. Pushing through them with sheer bodyweight alone and crushing them underfoot brought me to the mouth of the portal. Ignoring the stragglers gathering on my flanks, I began determinedly swinging my mace back and forth in controlled arcs.

 

No sooner would a Skeleton step through the portal then it would be dashed apart by my mace or the ensuing impact with the wall. The pooling of holy water on the ground made short work of the remains, dissolving the bones like a sugar cube in hot water.

 

Losing myself to the rhythm, I almost didn’t notice as my mace struck something much more solid and sent it crashing into the wall. Before my brain even had time to process what it was that I had hit, the auxiliaries had pounced on top of it and were tearing it apart as they pressed it down into the holy water.

 

Listening to the creatures' screams, I felt no pity, I barely felt anything at all. Just one more rabbit after another...

 

*****

 

Having difficulty finding sleep, Lash eased herself into a sitting position and tried to resist the sadness she felt when her eyes lingered on the empty space beside her. Despite Tim having been gone less than a few days, Lash felt especially vulnerable with the egg growing inside of her.

 

The near-constant presence of Tim’s loyal Daemons and her own guards meant little when compared against the Liche’s ability to kill the unborn with its mere presence. It was only through a miracle that her child was still alive at all. Lash didn’t quite understand it herself, but the Daemons had insisted that her own body had acted as a shield against the Liche’s life-draining presence.

 

All the same, Lash couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something was wrong.

 

Getting up off the bed, Lash dressed in her best armour, taking special care to adjust the straps to accommodate her swelling abdomen.

 

The multi-armed snakelike Daemon, Senn, stirred from her position by the door. Never truly asleep, the Daemon cycled through periods of wakefulness and a trancelike state that seemed to rely purely on instinct. “Misstresss? Where are we going?” Since Tim left, Senn had appointed herself Lash’s head guard and was never more than a few feet from her side.

 

“The healing house,” Lash replied, groaning slightly as she used a thick low hanging root provided by the Dryad sisters to pull herself to her feet. Heading out the tunnel to the surface, Lash was still slightly bothered by the fact that Senn was considerably taller than her, and more than that if she felt threatened.

 

It was a stark contrast to her feelings for Dar who was close to Tim's size in terms of sheer bulk. With thick tree trunk-like arms and heavily muscled back, Dar was too heavy to stand upright and walked on all fours while using his knuckles to keep his claws sharp.

 

Between the two Daemons, Lash was literally covered from all potential avenues of attack barring the sky, although she was very much aware of an emaciated looking Daemon with wings that would trail her from above as well. Garn, Lash thought he was called, bearer of Tim’s magical spear.

 

There was a strange energy to Sanctuary and it had grown stranger since the grieving families had left. Caught between wanting to celebrate the new lives that would soon join the tribe, and mourning those who had been lost. Without the families present, it felt wrong to mourn their losses, to steal their grief. But it also felt wrong to celebrate so soon after such a tragedy without giving the dead their due.

 

Tim was the most intelligent and cunning man Lash had ever known, but despite his fierce loyalty and love for those close to him, Tim was poorly socialised at best. He missed more basic social cues than he recognised, and if he weren’t so huge it might have sparked a conflict for leadership. It was an oddity considering how well his female companion Clarice had adapted to tribe life, and even the quiet Emelia showed more social adeptness. Yet Tim was like his other companion, the healer, Nadine, intelligent but borderline socially incompetent.

 

Lash knew that if Tim were properly socialised he wouldn’t have given the grieving families the excuse to leave Sanctuary, not before they had a chance to publicly grieve their losses with the tribe.

 

Even so, Lash couldn’t bring herself to blame him for it. Tim was doing what he believed was necessary for the tribe’s survival, for the survival of their child. What frightened her was how emotionally unstable Tim had been when he left. Calm one moment, shouting the next, Lash could tell he was hurting but didn’t know how to make it stop.

 

It only made things worse when Lash was reminded that Tim had managed the feat for her when grieving her sister. Lash wondered if it was because Tim hadn’t lost a family member in the attack, but she knew she was just trying to find an excuse for her own failings. If anything, the death of the unborn had wounded Tim deeper than Lash had expected, much deeper by far.

 

When they were alone, Tim had spoken often of his mother, Mum. He had been abandoned as a child, unwanted by his birth mother and left for dead. Tim would have died had Mum not taken pity on him and raised him as her own. Bizarrely, Tim had been an outcast due to his size and strength, ostracised and isolated at every turn. Lash hadn’t understood that part of his story very well, and the best he had been able to explain was that humans were different. They had hated him for being different.

 

Having spent a great deal of time around Tim’s companions, Lash wasn’t sure she understood what he had meant by that. The humans all had an immense amount of respect for him. Even the chieftain of the Asrus tribe bowed to Tim’s leadership. They had such profound respect for Tim that the warriors of the Asrus tribe extended that respect to all who dwelled within Sanctuary. Again, Tim had explained that the humans where he was from were not quite the same and that he suspected other human tribes would not be so friendly or respectful.

 

True enough, the Asrus tribe was at war with two of its neighbours and had been losing before taking shelter beneath Tim’s banner. That they had proven themselves worthy of such trust when she and Tim had been displaced by magic, it eased Lash’s worry that he was now so completely in their midst.

 

Entering the healing house meant Dar was left waiting outside, his immense bulk too great to fit through the large entrances. Senna was far more agile and followed Lash inside.

 

“Vissiting the Humanss again?” The Daemon asked with feigned annoyance.

 

Lash nodded, ignoring the Daemon’s tone, “They deserve respect,” she met Senn’s gaze and held it until the Daemon backed down and looked away.

 

“Ass you ssay, misstresss,” Senn agreed obediently while making sure to enter the room ahead of her and scan for threats.

 

“Ah, mistress!” The skittish rodent-like Daemon Wraithe hurried over from the bedside of the human male, Tobi, in order to greet Lash at the door. “You will be happy to hear that Ril believes the curse laid upon Nadine is weakening and might be able to break it soon with some assistance!” She seemed incredibly excited by the news, so lash took it as a good sign.

 

Walking over to Nadine’s bedside, she couldn’t help but stare at the strange thing embedded in her arm. The other humans had them as well, but Lash felt particularly concerned because Nadine had bodily intercepted one of the Liche’s attacks intended for Lash herself. It was a little strange that Nadine was the only one besides Lash herself to survive the fight unscathed.

 

“Ah, yes, the IVs,” Wraithe nodded and scurried over to prevent Lash from touching anything. “It slowly delivers Evolution Elixir into their body, steadily improving their mana so they can Evolve! It is our hope that in encouraging their Evolution that they will recover from the effects of the Liche’s enervative spells!”

 

Lash wasn’t sure what the Daemon had said, but she trusted the level of optimism and enthusiasm in her body language and tone. Brushing the stray hair from Nadine’s face, Lash trailed her hand down to the young woman’s hand and gave it an appreciative squeeze, “Fight hard,” Lash encouraged her before letting go and checking on Clarice.

 

“Nng...” Clarice stirred slightly at Lash’s approach.

 

“Back! Please stay back!” Wraithe insisted, gently pushing past Lash and urging her further back with her whip-like tail.

 

“Wha?...Where?...Nng...” Clarice was struggling to open her eyes, struggling to move at all.

 

“Stay still!” Wraithe insisted firmly, somehow managing to make her command sound gentle at the same time, “Your skin is...Fragile...It needs time to heal, and you need to recover your strength.”

 

“You're fragile...” Clarice wheezed feebly.

 

“This is a good sign,” Wraithe declared optimistically, “Tim says if they can make jokes, then they are on the mend!... Or on the way out...” Wraithe grew more serious and fussed over Clarice for a few minutes before growing confident again, “She’s mending,” she insisted.

 

“You're...Alright?” Clarice asked, looking determinedly at Lash through half-lidded eyes.

 

Lash nodded, “I am fine.”

 

Clarice sighed in relief before growing worked up again, “The...Baby?”

 

“Safe,” Lash reassured Clarice and took hold of her less withered hand.

 

“Dhizi?” Clarice asked quietly, sounding incredibly tired.

 

“Fed every day,” Lash replied with a small smile, “Feeding after you rest.”

 

“Nnn...Timmm?...” Clarice mumbled, barely keeping her eyelids open.

 

Lash wasn’t sure how to answer, and thankfully Clarice fell asleep before Lash was pressed to do so.

 

After spending a few minutes with Emelia and Tobi, Lash finished her visit by thanking the unconscious Fallen Angels. While they had not contributed much to the fight directly, they were both directly responsible for the four humans and two Dryads surviving the attack. Now understanding that the strange things attached to their arms were intended to help them get stronger, Lash could see the improvements it had made since her first visit. Lash had been worried that Tim had done something impulsive and out of character before leaving, so she was profoundly relieved to discover that it wasn’t the case.

 

Leaving the healing house, Lash headed for the cooking fires to secure food for Dhizi, just as she had promised she would.

 

Expecting Lash’s return, the giant lizard hungrily eyed her from the roof before settling down again.

 

Knowing she would encounter Toofy by the cooking fires, Lash was glad that the Goblin was making herself useful. After Toofy had spent a full day and night in the hospital alongside her daughter RIl, seeing her up and about was a vast improvement. The fact that Toofy was hanging around the pair of Gnoll matriarchs was a sacrifice Lash was willing to accept. For now...