Unchosen Champion

The Xyl’thari Brood was a faction that spanned hundreds, but not thousands, of planets. Grand periods of conquest earned the faction a fearsome reputation with their galactic neighbors, but it was to their great shame that they had yet to extend their reach further across the stars. A series of unfortunate clashes with multiple greater factions had prevented their World Swarms from expanding beyond their current limits, putting them at an impasse that had lasted tens of thousands of years. Still, even those that bested them in individual faction battles refused to disturb the swarm by challenging them for territory in return.

The Brood periodically sought to continue their expansion effort, despite being boxed in, as was their nature. The Xyl’thari were a species that had one defining instinct from before their integration. To swarm and spread.

Each generation gained the opportunity to form a World Swarm and seek new land, but the time in between was growing greater and greater. The cost to the faction escalated with repeated failed declarations as a sort of protection against ineffective harassment of other factions. After a thousand years, the quantity of credits necessary to redeclare would have been better leveraged in countless alternative ways, but the Xyl’thari Brood existed to expand. They could not be denied forever. They simply accumulated more credits while seeking smaller conflicts for easy victories to reduce the prices imposed upon them.

As they waited to accumulate the credits for the more advanced declarations that would allow them to actually spill the real blood of their rivals, the First Broods kept an eye out for other openings. Faction events were a constant source of experience and resources, but they often required individual participation. The Brood preferred large-scale conflict. Swarms were how they had always existed.

Sometimes the rewards for claiming isolated territories were worth the penalties that came from losing adjacency bonuses. That was actually when they were at their best, swarming upon those who had never met a Broodling. Even if they lost the territory later, the victory itself helped reduce other tolls, and there would be time to seek reimbursement by harvesting local resources and sending them back to their protected Core before abandoning the territory.

Kyl'raxi was the leader of the current Fresh Brood. The Soulblood of Kyl'raxi echoed with the great conquerors of the early generations, preordaining his dominance. The day that their Soulblood awakened, they were presented with class options that made the First Broods shake with anticipation. Since that day, Kyl'raxi trained with the Fresh Brood for the sole purpose of conquest. The day of their first blooding was highly anticipated among the others of the Xyl’thari, for the entire faction’s future would benefit from their success.

It had been nearly two Grand Cycles, 500 standard days, since Kyl’raxi’s training had begun. It was just the beginning. Hundreds more cycles would come in the future before they would be unleashed. They had also gone on two individual excursions and held the highest level of the Fresh Brood thanks to relatively high placements on the temporary leaderboards. Few other factions had such a promising candidate, even among the distant stars, but it should have been some time until a true conflict would arise.

When a surprise opportunity appeared, with a new faction forming on an unassimilated planet, the Xyl’thari Brood couldn’t help but enter a bloodfrenzy. A swarm had to be formed immediately. The limitations presented by the newborn faction meant that only the Fresh Brood was eligible for combat, but that didn’t matter with Kyl'raxi at the lead. It took them seconds to decide.

A quick victory over primitive beings that had stumbled into the community unprepared would result in hundreds of cycles to establish their own territory and compete with the planetary sponsor to steal their prize away. It would be a planet acquired for an enormous discount with plenty of guaranteed time to collect resources and experience.

Kyl'raxi just hoped that the infantile faction had managed to claim enough territory to sustain the entire Fresh Brood once they were projected into the planetary shield. It would be an astronomically rare chance for outsiders to an assimilation to be able to participate at all, let alone the early stages, and they would take every advantage they could get.

As the Fresh Brood manifested on the neutral battlefield, Kyl'raxi grew feverish with excitement. The thin air stung their facial sensory sacs; it was a dry, metallic tang unlike anything they had experienced on their nurturing Core planet with its limitless humid plains and the plentiful natural resources that their pre-mana ancestors soaked within. Squinting through nictitating membranes, they surveyed the dry, hostile, and alien vistas.

The landscape stretched into a desolate tapestry of rusty reds and dusty oranges. Jagged rock formations, like stained ribs of colossal creatures, breached the surface of the dry valley between the two factions’ staging points. In the distance, an enormous mountain loomed like an imperfection in the general shape of the planet. A weak wind whipped through the hollow in front of the Xyl’thari’s forces, naturally eroding the surface layer and smoothing the ground as it carried small puffs of dust, hinting at the remnants of a thin atmosphere.

A yellow star baked the planet uncomfortably while two small moons drifted in orbit. Though the planet had been integrated into the galactic community, an assimilation was unnecessary as it was unsuitable for life. Most of the neutral battlefield planets were similarly barren. This one was near the outer limits of the community, closest in proximity to the contested planet Earth, as was suitable for the faction that challenged first. Somewhere nearby in galactic terms, their prize awaited them.

It was clear that this would be a small conflict. Greater factions could command frontlines that expanded across an entire battle planet, but the Fresh Brood was limited to an initial expedition of merely 25,000, not counting the massive ranged siege creatures that lingered behind their formation. The implication was that the baby faction was small and weak. Pathetic even. They would be unprepared to meet the Xyl’thari Brood.

Since the assimilation of Earth had barely exceeded 100 standard days, the Brood also expected that their opponents would be at a significant level disadvantage when compared to Kyl’raxi and the other broodlings. Nothing would be in the favor of the so-called Lighthouse faction. The countdown before the Xyl’thari Brood’s default victory began ticking down and the Fresh Brood waited with thirst and anticipation.

Kyl'raxi was content to get the first battle over with, whether through a proper bloodletting or disqualification, for the real challenge would be in maintaining the conquered Core settlement throughout the assimilation. They would be subjected to all of the regular limitations imposed on newcomers to the community, but they had the collective experience and galactic knowledge to maintain a foothold and expand in ways that were impossible for simple-minded Chosen.

The Fresh Brood would pierce the veil of the assimilation and claim the planet for themselves while having a rare chance to develop themselves in ways that were only offered to the newest of assimilated creatures; opportunities that were seldom leveraged by newcomers to their full extent.

After Earth was assimilated into the galactic community, the Xyl’thari would rejoice in Kyl'raxi’s name just as they did the First Broods. The Fresh Brood would become a massively powerful swarm the likes of which would echo throughout the galactic community. This red planet battlefield was their launching point.

The anticipation of leaving the battle victoriously and arriving on Earth distracted the Xyl’thari until the telltale sign of their enemy’s arrival brought their focus back to the present. Kyl’raxi adjusted his bulbous pike, taking a ceremonial ready stance, and his party followed with appropriate discipline. The rest of the army settled on their own, gradually realizing it was beginning.

A singular beam of blue light pierced the thin atmosphere. It should have been tens of thousands of beams, but the Lighthouse had sent a lone agent. Kyl'raxi’s broodmates rattled their scales in amusement at the embarrassing display.

After a heavy pause, ten smaller beams appeared, sending a paltry set of stragglers behind the initial representative. The late additions made the presentation seem even more pathetic, disorganized, and worthy of rattling mockery.

Kyl'raxi had the sense to squint and see what sort of enemy they would face. It was possible that these Humans of Earth misunderstood the challenge they faced, but there was also a small chance that the one able to establish a faction had done so through virtues beyond lucky providence. A lone figure with barely more than 100 days since awakening their Soulblood, bolstered by a sad set of supporters had miniscule odds of rivaling Kyl'raxi, yet it wouldn’t hurt to confirm before they declared victory. If the founder of the faction had arrived, they would certainly be battling a burgeoning powerhouse yet to be claimed by a faction, based on the leaderboards, but it would be a good opportunity to show him his place in the broader universe. A few Grand Cycles worth of extra levels was nothing in the grand scheme.

Before Kyl'raxi Identified their opponent, the creature began a bizarre ritual that ceased the rattling scales among the Fresh Brood. Their Soulblood ran cold as their enemy smashed itself in the face with an enormous stained club, sending shockwaves through the thin atmosphere, and shaking bits of sediment on the ground like the start of an earthquake. It hit itself hard enough to draw its own blood, once, then twice, three times, before smashing the ground with a one-armed slam. A wave of dust blasted across the battlefield, revealing an amount of Strength in the unarmored, thin-skinned biped that Kyl'raxi had never witnessed before, even during the ceremonial demonstrations from the First Broods.

“What-” Kyl'raxi began signaling before the wind buffeted against their chest scales, nearly toppling the entire frontline onto their tails.

The lone figure, obviously much larger than any of the Xyl’thari, ignored them to face the sky, leaning backwards with tensed muscles, and roared. It was a challenge that was meant for something greater than the Fresh Brood. Instead, the creature thirsted to destroy the heavens, upset that its slumber on a baby planet had been disturbed. Kyl’raxi’s confidence was already gone.

Before the thunderous growl faded, the creature's aura physically manifested in the sky above its head. Kyl'raxi had never witnessed anything like it, and nothing of the sort had been described by the First Broods. A broadcast of what should have been, at most, a personal notification, condensed in the thin air, forming a script as the lone primary fighter highlighted his own presence. The script translated into a proclamation while the monster beneath it lifted the club over its shoulder, striking a gladiator’s pose.

[Vronk the Worldbeater has entered the battlefield!]

A tentative inspection of their opponent’s aura caused Kyl’raxi’s blood frenzy to completely cease. The war leaderboard confirmed his overwhelmed aura senses just as the monster began a slowly escalating solitary charge toward the organized front of the Xyl’thari Brood’s youngest army. Each step caused the ground around its massive feet to bulge, forming liquid waves in the dry gravel and red dirt that scattered across the battlefield.

“Level 47,311.” Kyl’raxi unconsciously vocalized with a scale rattle. A faction forming on an unassimilated planet was already an abnormality to the greatest degree. For the faction to also possess a sleeping veteran of this magnitude was completely nonsensical. How could this untamable beast be claimed by any at all, let alone an Unchosen that had a few extra levels? This was an actual Worldbeater, one capable of ending factions and decimating planets. Even factions like the Xyl’thari Brood would negotiate before challenging this one in direct combat.

Before the monster had crossed halfway across the valley, the Fresh Brood was already breaking from the waves of bloodlust emanating with each stomping step, but those too close were trapped as if they had settled for too long on top of quicksand. The rest scattered in different directions in an effort to avoid his wrath.

They retreated, but there was nowhere to go. The war had already been declared and they were stuck until the battle was over. It didn’t matter that defeat wouldn’t result in permanent death, the penalties and the trauma would mean that the Xyl’thari Brood would need to wait for the next generation before a World Swarm could be formed. The Fresh Brood would experience an annihilation that would scar them forever.

—

The snapping of a new living wood staff cracked across the ice-covered battlefield. The army of crystal covered biped mechanoids flinched at the sound. Ledwidge laughed boisterously as his arm grew back while his other wielded the fresh weapon. It had genuinely been a long time since he was on an actual battlefield. He didn’t bother to recall the millenia.

“Don’t worry!” He shouted at the 25,000 metal soldiers. “My bark is much worse than my bite!” He turned to the 25 phantom soldiers at his side while his living armor thickened on his limbs, making sure he used the human expression correctly. They seemed amused enough.

“Hozanek!” He yelled, letting his voice boom across the planet as was befitting someone who had taken the role of human drill instructor.

The top performing phantom soldier straightened. “Yes, Knight Marshal?”

“Lead the charge!” The Treant announced, letting their opponents hear his orders as clearly as his own small group of soldiers.

“Yes, Knight Marshal!” Hozanek repeated, letting his Ghost Reef Standard Issue armor transition into the shock trooper mode, helmet ominously covering his head and visor obscuring his face. The other soldiers followed suit, reacting with discipline befitting the most elite in the galaxy, unbeknownst to them. Ledwidge thought it was cute that they were so nervous.

Hozanek vanished without disturbing the frosty staging area, not letting his unease put any hesitation into his actions. The other phantoms followed his lead a split second after, and the entire group disappeared with gentle pops as the frigid atmosphere did its best to fill the vacuum created by their teleports. They left Ledwidge behind as the confused enemies, he believed were called Rotaks, shifted in confusion. They had been completely focused on him, which he had to admit was fair. He was nearly 20,000 levels beyond what they could have ever expected to find on any baby planet, so some surprise was reasonable.

However, Ledwidge believed the real surprise would be the human phantoms. That’s why he let Hozanek’s squad take the lead. They would make their mark for the entire galactic community to see. If it wasn’t for all of the factions attacking at once, Ledwidge was of the opinion that the Lighthouse would have been able to defend itself without the help of the contracted residents. He had been the one to train them, so he could assess them better than anyone, and his expert opinion was that no one following standard tactics would beat them in a fair match.

The Knight Marshall slowly strolled toward the battlefield, letting his mere presence provide the support necessary to keep Hozanek’s squad from being overwhelmed. Ledwidge was a heavyweight, but he wasn’t one of the few real monsters that had joined the Lighthouse, and yet he was the one helping create an entirely new batch of monsters. The residents of Ghost Reef would be a formidable challenge for the assimilated factions, if they could even get that far.

—

“I don’t see why Coop insisted that so many of you come along with me.” Balor Rockshaper grumbled. “The others only had smaller squads at most.”

The grandmaster stonemason was full of nervous energy, still in a state of astonishment that he had been able to convince any of the others to join the Lighthouse, let alone all of them. Battle would certainly be one way to release his jitters.

The rock elemental had fully expected to be alone, or among just a handful of the contracted residents to commit their lives and livelihoods to the humans. Most of them had more to lose than he did, considering what they had gone through to earn their freedom, but the wily creatures of Earth had embedded themselves into the hearts and minds of the foreign residents far more quickly and deeply than he could have ever imagined. Natural bonding and hospitality seemed to be one of the many fearsome characteristics of the uniquely diverse Earthlings, and he wasn’t only talking about the humans.

“The Champion just wants to make sure we get a chance to help as well. You wouldn’t let him personally participate, so this was his reasonable compromise.” Rear Admiral Gideon responded while 5,000 of Ghost Reef’s original phantoms took positions on a flat plane of soft gray dirt lit by twin blue suns. Clearly, this battle wouldn’t be taking place on Earth or even within their solar system.

On the other side of the flat-topped plateau, 25,000 jelly skeletons dripped with sizzling acid, engulfing bones and other structural cores that belonged to hundreds of different species. The asymmetrical army faced the representatives of the Lighthouse in organized columns, typical of system warfare, waving dark oval shields and jagged, chipped swords forward, swaying their implements as if to ward them away.

“It’s just embarrassing to be the only one with such a large escort. I’m not one of your princesses” Balor continued grumbling. “Especially because it was my idea for us to join you in the first place! I’m telling you, I could handle this lot in my sleep.” He declared, shaking his enormous two-handed hammer in the air. “This set of equipment isn’t just for show!” He bellowed at their enemies, who remained respectfully silent, fearing the hints of his aura even from across the battlefield. Meanwhile, the phantoms at his side just chuckled at him, completely disrespecting his formidable level, just as humans tended to. Balor still hadn’t decided if they were defiant or aura-blind, but it was refreshing, in a way.

Outside of Earth, everyone inherently understood the default hierarchy of the system, no matter what they called it. No one would be openly honest when it came to disagreement with someone of higher standing. It was exhausting, and ultimately what led to his own forced retirement. Even on this battlefield, as soon as he entered it, he would have a significant advantage in aura alone. The bravest soldiers would understand they had lost as soon as they recognized his level while going through the motions. The less brave would run. Unless they were excessively disciplined, talented, and invested, a duel with any one of their parties would have his victory be a foregone conclusion, and unlike humans, they would struggle to adapt to the gap. If the sides were reversed, Balor suspected the humans wouldn’t even acknowledge their disadvantage.

Gideon nodded consolingly, agreeing that the dwarf-like alien was probably right about his ability to take on the enemy himself. Their opponents appeared relatively weak, even to the phantom admiral. Ghost Reef’s phantoms hadn’t kept up with Champion Coop’s leveling speed, but they had been diligent in their efforts regardless. Their constant training was being rewarded by the system, as they were quite a bit higher level than their opponents. The skeletal jellies were mostly leveled into the early 100s at their best, but the phantoms were pushing 200 at a minimum.

“You’re escorting us more than we are escorting you. The fact that we phantoms are able to participate is a welcome surprise.” Gideon responded. “I have to admit, being stuck in the fort exclusively while battles raged elsewhere has been quite frustrating.”

“Aye.” Balor agreed, having been in an even more limited position before joining the faction. “As integrated beings, we are limited in the same way until the assimilation is complete, but at least now we can work together to keep the Core shard and faction holdings safe until then. It was worse when I had to sit in my workshop during any conflicts.”

Gideon chuckled with understanding, commiserating with the feeling. “Shall we get this over with then?” He formally suggested.

“Let’s do it.” Balor agreed. “There will be so many enemies, we may end up eating our words.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry.” Gideon confidently stated. “There’s nothing quite as satisfying as being underestimated. We’ll teach them to fear the underdogs in a way that the system doesn’t seem capable of.”