ALL NOVEL Chapter 351 - A father's eternal regret.
Through clouds of smoke smelling of charcoal and sulfur, a proud-looking man with an unmistakably regal bearing and dressed in what looked to be an ancient British artillery uniform could be seen shouting orders to several batteries of highly modified 24-pounder cannons equipped with equilibrators and recoil systems, all of them mounted on turning platforms, all of them manned by obvious human Classers and orcs whose beady, piggish eyes glimmered with unusual intelligence.
“Fourth battery will increase elevation by two degrees! Fifth battery will orient three degrees leftwards! All other batteries will maintain position! On my mark, fire!”
The commander flashed a cold smile as his eyes gazed out into the distance, past the shimmering barriers between reality and dream as the distant sound of explosions and screams reached their reinforced location as dozens of long guns all aimed at his command before the air roared with the sound of dozens of shells streaking through the air, thick white smoke making half the soldiers cough even as they immediately began reloading their artillery while the commander looked off in the distance, eyes glowing with esoteric magics as the conductor’s wand he held gently arced through the air, as if he himself were guiding the charges.
Before being abruptly jolted out of his focus.
“Lord Crevpost! Urgent news!”
The man glared in the direction of the panicked young soldier, literally trembling in the boots of his uniform, silhouetted as he was against the shimmering rift on the opposite side of the camp leading to a realm enjoying the midday sun overlooking a massive military fortification occupied by thousands upon thousands of soldiers standing at attention, as if breathlessly awaiting the orders to march forth under their lord’s banner.
Lord Crevpost’s eyes tightened with the promise of retribution at an interruption that caused his wand to twitch as multiple copses of trees between their distant location and the castle several miles away exploded with the release of multiple shells scewed off course. Yet still he kept his wand slowly descending until the arcane ward that any true mage could make out at this distance prostecting the castle was dispelled for the merest instant it needed for his barrage of cast iron shells to make it through.
He gave a smile of icy satisfaction when one of the many sky blue minarets of the distant manor exploded in a shower of rubble.
Only then did he turn to the young man trembling before his gaze who immediately began choking and gurgling as the commander before him reached with one black-gloved hand, lifting the young runner up, the young man fruitlessly struggling against the air itself, now wrapped tightly about his neck.
“By who’s authority do you dare disturb me in the middle of our assault, Private?”
Lord Crevpost let the young man’s gurgling features turn a deep shade of purple before releasing him to wheeze and gasp on the elevated dais he stood upon.
“Well? Speak, boy. Or forever hold your peace.”
“Please my lord!” The panicked lad who couldn’t have been over 15 gasped. “Captain Teal’s orders! I come by Captain Teal’s orders!” The lad wheezed for fresh breath, hurriedly speaking once more. “We have lost contact with our scouts!”
In that instant, Lord Crevpost’s features went from cold disdain to wide-eyed dismay. His features paled. He bent down fast as an adder. “Speak slowly and carefully, boy. Your life most definitely depends upon it. What, exactly, did Captain Teal say?”
The boy trembled. “We have lost contact with our scouts. Get the commander at once! That is all he said. I wear it—”
The boy blinked, gazing about confused, yet clearly grateful just to be alive as he took a wheezing gasp of air, rubbing his neck, completely oblivious to the puff of shadow lost in the mask of cannon smoke, shouted orders, and growing confusion just a heartbeat behind the racing lord.
You have successfully used Stealth in the heart of an enemy encampment!
Stealth is now Rank 16!
Lord Crevpost didn’t bother do anything but glare at the pair of hard-eyed guards kitted in half-plate with poleaxes at the ready that were guarding the tent flap before them. Both men stiffened through the opened visors of their helms, holding their polearms ramrod straight and saluting, fists to chest, as their obvious commander raced inside the command tent.
“What’s the meaning of this?” Crevpost roared, not bothering to hide his Bronze-tier killing aura as the pair of rotund officers awaiting his pleasure before a well polished hardwood table covered in a topographical map and stacks of paper paled and stepped back, both of them bowing low in their officer’s uniforms, their light, near ornamental fencing sabers more suited to salon fencing than brutal no-holds-barred melee combat.
“Lord Crevpost! Thank goodness you’re here. We just got word from the Dream Wardens that contact has been lost with all three scouts.”
In the blink of an eye, Lord Crevpost was before the portly man now trembling in his slick black boots, looking up into the eyes of a man who could kill him in the blink of an eye.
“I need you to explain in precise detail, Captain Tilgoth, how the hell your Dream Wardens managed to lose track of my children!”
The man trembled before his master’s gaze. “We don’t know, Your Grace! Certainly there is no cause to fear. We’ve been planning this campaign for weeks. We were given dossiers on the habits of the royal pair of children we are to treat with silk gloves, and there have been absolutely no signs of any Bronze-tier Contenders. Your daughter is no doubt securing our beachhead within this world with minimal fuss. Perhaps Her status as a Bronze elevated slightly above certain parameters merely caused the protective envelop to… disengage early?”
The man blanched as Captain Tilgoth’s glare hardened.
“Please, my lord. We did alert you to our concerns long before you agreed to this gambit!”
Lord Crevpost’s glare froze the terrified Captain Tilgoth where he stood, the air now reeking with the shorter man’s fear-sweat. An observer could see how the Bronze’s fists curled with the urge to slaughter, yet Crevpost kept his clipped voice carefully controlled.
“Where, precisely, did the Dream Wardens loose contact with my children?”
The terrified-looking man somehow managed to grow even paler as sweat dripped off his brow. “Before the palace, my lord, in pursuit of her primary objective.”
“To secure Elonia Silver, presently lost in coma, and thus completely helpless before us.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Where is the boy?”
“According to our last report, he was preoccupied with one of his female associates, daughter of Lord Drevyn.”
“Did you verify that claim for yourself?”
The man swallowed. “Um… no, my lord. My spy failed to report directly. There just wasn’t—”
Lord Crevpost’s lips curled in a snarl as he grabbed the man by his collar. “You’d best pray that my daughter suffers no worse mishap than the glory of claiming Aurelia’s sleeping heir as her future lady-in-waiting, Tilgoth.”
He tossed the man side, before glaring at his counterpart.
“Is the crystal matrix secure?”
The slimmer, more powerfully built advisor snapped a quick salute. “Yes, Lord Crevpost. The orb is secure. The portal will remain open till first light, as per the System Talisman you have put into my care. The Grand System itself has reaffirmed that we may proceed with our invasion without censure, so long as we can claim Queensland in its entirety before first light.”
Lord Crevpost gave his first smile to either men. “And that is exactly what we will do. Aurelia is no fool, and war has been formally declared. So long as none of your men are so foolish as to attack her directly, and secure her scions carefully, we may proceed with our invasion unimpeded. And that is why I am holding you personally responsible for the actions of our soldiers, Johan. Assuming the riffraff we have been hired to expunge haven’t already been obliterated by my artillery fire which I sincerely hope that they have, we need offer quarter only to the Sylvan nobility we encounter, along with our primary objectives. They will instantly ping as such on your Interface and you will obey the conventions of war. Are we clear?”
Johan instantly snapped a salute. “Yes, Your Grace!”
“Good.” Lord Crevpost’s glare hardened. “Assemble the troops. We go now to finish this, and Aurelia better pray that I find my children in pristine condition if she doesn’t want me to soak her territory in her daughter’s blood.”
Lord Crevpost turned to face the trembling Tilgoth as Johan darted out of the tent. “Now, you and I are going to have a chat with your Dream Wardens, and they will show me precisely where they lost contact with my children.”
The trembling Captain’s quick nod turned to a panicked yelp when a startled cry could be heard just beyond the tent entrance, followed a heartbeat later by the triple thud of three corpses falling to the ground in tandem.
Yet even as Tilgoth cried out in horror when Johan’s decapitated and still wildly blinking head rolled within, his commander had already spun around, now radiating a shimmering blue aura as a shield of crystalline ice appeared in his left hand while a cavalry saber covered in icy blue flame was unsheathed in the blink of an eye.
Tilgoth sputtered at the youth covered in shimmering mithril spattered in blood, hand on the hilt of his nodachi, coolly entering the command tent to stare down both captain and commander like a seasoned soldier ready for slaughter.
“So, you’re the asshole behind this invasion,” Eric said as he gazed coldly at the startled Lord Crevpost radiating a Bronze-tier’s intensity, just like his children had.
Eric ignored the cold prickle racing down his spine as he gazed upon yet another ascended monster, his blade infused with the same icy doom as his daughter’s had been.
Eric could sense the desperately racing thought’s behind the man’s eyes, now wide with dismay, fury, and desperation.
“You. Aurelia’s get!” The man hissed.
Eric dipped his head. “Correct,” he said, his word turning tinny and slow as he lowered his balance, shifting his hips, readying himself for what was to come.
The horrified commander shook his head in abject denial. “No. There’s no way you could be here. You were supposed to be at the party. Your location was known! Your appearance, attire, and habits were all accounted for! We are cloaked. Hidden!”
Eric said nothing, embracing the sheer glorious terror of facing a Bronze tier monster in the heart of his territory, surrounded by enemies on all sides who, for a few precious seconds, knew absolutely nothing of the nightmare in their midst. In that moment, even as he locked gazes with a desperate general a heartbeat from attacking with panicked fury, Eric had never felt so alive, so free.
As he always did when dancing on peril’s bitter edge, savoring how sweet and precious all of their lives were, even as they spiraled to the inevitable conclusion where only one would be leaving this tent alive.
Captain Tilgoth raised his hands, stepping back. “Please, I want no part of this! Just let me—”
“Fragor,” Eric said as calmly as asking for tea, the rotund officer not even having time to blink before his skull exploded, splattering Crevpost with bone, brains, and blood.
Tilogth’s cheek twitched, eyes letting loose a single bloody tear washing a rivulet through the crimson patina now covering his skin. His thoughts desperately racing for any bastion of hope, any path that would lead to reunion with those he clearly regretted ever sending to this world.
But he was a Bronze-tier commander.
The farthest thing from a fool.
Just a desperate father willing to do anything to turn back time.
“Please, tell me they live. Tell me that my children are safe, captured, that quarter was accepted, and I’ll swear my men to your service for a dozen years! I will feat you and your sister with half of my treasury and honors that will make this planet the tiniest of footnotes as you ascend to the heights of Bronze, by my childrens’ sides! I’ll give you anything. Anything it is within my power to give!” he pled with desperate tears in his eyes, his hand trembling on the hilt of his blade.
Eric gazed at the man for long seconds as his crimson orb began circling about his head. “Draw your blade, Tilgoth. We both know how this has to end.”
Eric could sense it, when a military commander’s hope, fierce dreams, and eternal discipline cracked, and he was facing a berserking monster who wanted nothing more than to end the pain tearing at his heart and soul as his sword blazed with the essence of Winter’s fury
Tilgoth charged forth in the same unstoppable charge that had no doubt seen him through a hundred battles. A pristine technique he had taught his daughter well.
“NO! IT WASN’T SUPPOSED TO BE THIS WAY! I WILL KILL YOU, YOU ABOMINA—”
His words cut off abruptly as blood shot from his mouth when Mithril steel covered in bloodfire tore right through multiple wards. A coldly focused Tilgoth did no more than roar his hate before launching a furious rebuttal from his blade of Winter Woe, monstrous vitality allowing him to push on despite the ugly blow to his kidney, Eric now finding himself genuinely fighting for his life against a monster far more experienced than him, whose shield radiated a bitter cold he already knew his blade had no ability to counter.
“Icy Redemption,” the man wheezed, and suddenly Tilgoth was covered in sea-blue scales of pristine ice that Eric’s mithril weapon had no hope of penetrating whatsoever.
Eric recognized this, just as he recognized the tactician’s mind going over countless tactical ideations to determine how best to eliminate the reviled threat before him.
All fury and despair had already burned away. There was a cold awareness in Prevost’s eyes that made it clear to Eric in that instant just how outmatched he was.
Yet as much as Eric reviled the necessity of what he must do, he summoned forth the only equalizer he had, meeting his opponent’s gaze with a ruthless smile, determined to collapse the probility wave of a thousand tactical possibilities into the certainty of one.
Crevpost’s eyes widened in horror. “NO! Impossible! You monster!”
Eric said nothing as time stretched and slowed as his screaming foe charged forward for all he was worth, blade in hand lashing out against the shield Eric had dared to pull forth.
The shield that had belonged to Tilgoth’s beloved daughter Zofira… who, for just a heartbeat, shown so bright and beautiful in the ether before them, all dolled up for an imperial gala by her father’s side, dimpled cheeks grinning impishly as she danced for her family’s pleasure just the night before what was to be the easiest of conquests, only a footnote earning a much sought-after perk and title to assure a well-rounded pedigree before she married the mysterious man she had been betrothed to, whereupon she would rule a nation of her own.
A horrified flash seen in a father’s desperate gaze as he crashed into Eric, who was bracing himself with the breakthrough he knew he was on the cusp of, desperately trying to catalyze a shield who’s chill intensity he could almost but not quite embrace as bitter HORRIFIC Cold suddenly swelled into his body. Freezing his ribs. Stilling his heart.
The promise of bitter oblivion as icy darkness and howling snows became his final moments.
Before the air BLAZED with fire.
You have suffered CRITICAL DAMAGE from the Essence of Cold.
You have saved versus Sudden Death!
You have saved versus Cardiac Arrest!
TRANSCENDENT STRIKE STUNS YOUR FOE!
Lord Crevpost is STUNNED by transcendent flame!
Wide, horrified eyes gazed into Eric’s own as a burst of potency from one of his oldest skills shot Eric’s Strength to an astounding 816 for the split second he needed to slam his shield against Crevpost’s own, forcing the surprised tactician stumbling back as Eric POUNDED the man’s suddenly exposed left kidney with pristine fire. Instantly shattering Ice’s counterpart as his opponent buckled before the blow.
Eric, taking absolutely no chances, trapped the wicked blade that could so easily kill him between their shields before unleashing transcendent flames with a howl. Pounding the everliving shit out of his foe just as he had the man’s daughter, desperate last-second pleas ruthlessly ignored even as the dying man’s final despairing cry for the lives of a dozen beloved children somehow flashed before both their eyes.
“Be at peace, Lord Crevpost.” Eric thought, still fighting just to breathe after his diaphragm had been near frozen solid. “I have no desire to harm any more of your kin. In fact, I pray our paths never cross in a thousand years.”
For the blink of an eye, Eric thought he sensed actual gratitude as the distant alarmed shouts of camp sages and wizards filled the air. Loyal soldiers who must have sensed the peril to their commander.
And before their lord could say another word, activate any last-second artifact, or trigger some final retributive strike, it was over.
FIRE FIST!
You have critically struck your foe!
You have killed a Level 20 Bronze-tier commander! Lord Crevpost, Son of Duke Nalbain, Ruler of Gaian, the Green Jewel of the Commonwealth Cluster!
Eve approves of this battle! Even with the use of Essence-based attacks, your opponent was capable of much the same!
You are now a Level 34 Cultivator.
Strength/Vitality/Quickness/Spiritual Energy have all increased by 3 points!
NOTE! Lord Crevpost is NOT a Contender. No stat boons have been absorbed beyond standard experience!
You have achieved Level 69 as a Primal Adventurer!
You have achieved Level 70 as a Primal Adventurer!
(All point totals have been further increased by previously earned titles and boons!)
Unarmed Combat is now Rank 22!
Fire Fist is now Rank 18!
Windfire Strike is now Rank 16!
Essence Infusion is now Rank 4!
You have achieved enlightenment in that which you have always feared to face
All potency pools and weapon feat charges have been fully restored!