Unchosen Champion

A lonely track, made from the footprints of a single individual, was gradually being swept away. Dry, scouring winds erased any evidence of travel, preventing anyone from following, not that there was anyone that would be brave enough to try. At the end of the trail, a solitary figure slowly trekked across rippled sand dunes, unhurried, and confident that they would arrive on time. They followed a perfectly straight line with the destination never in doubt despite the lack of landmarks and the hypnotic repetition of sandy dunes.

From head to toe, the figure was draped in thick cloth coverings, completely hiding their form from the baking sun and dry air. The distinct rattling of metal rings hanging in the loops of a salvaged khakkhara staff accompanied every other step, dispelling any effort of stealth. The staff was repurposed into a reliable walking aid, deceptive weapon, and a unique perch. The jingling sounds were carried by the wind like a warning to any that would challenge the traveler, but even the Primal Constructs were sparse in the regions they frequented.

The alien invaders struggled to contend with some of the more extreme environments on their continent. In particular, the robotic aliens’ joints tended to be weak to corrosion, leaving them as easy prey for those that were capable of hunting them down. It seemed as though the range of the weaker monster variants was more limited than the planet’s terrain was diverse. Ignoring the occupants of Earth, the environments themselves proved resistant to alien conquest.

A sharp call from above drew the wanderer’s attention. They stopped to gaze at the sky, adjusting the face-covering hood to reveal crystal blue eyes with needlepoint pupils framed by naturally long eyelashes and deeply tanned, freckled skin. She adjusted the thick cloth to only cover her short hair, receiving the message from her animal companion before lowering her hood back down. They were drawing close.

Wangmo Thaye lifted the staff up into the sky and her companion swooped from the clouds, landing on the end, ready to roost. The Saker Falcon companion used his beak to pull at the jingling metal rings for a few minutes before settling in as the wanderer returned to her solitary march.

Despite her position as a high-ranking general in what they understood as the largest military force on the planet, the real powerhouse between the two was the falcon. He had already reached level 200, doubling her own. She may have been at the top of the leaderboards at one time, but she couldn’t keep up with the falcon. That was fine with her. They had come a long way together and they had many days ahead of them. She wondered if he missed the Himalayan backdrop of their original home as much as she did.

She spent the next half day reminiscing of the frigid mountains from beneath her cloth coverings. Her solitary journey went uninterrupted.

As she crested the last set of dunes, the sprawling temporary camp that had become home for the last month presented itself. Over a million communal huts dotted the bright desert, each home to up to a dozen individuals. A significant portion of the same army she belonged to had been protecting a peculiar attraction while others delved into its limits.

It was already uncomfortably dry by nature of the environment, but the heat above the gaping fissure in the center of the camp exacerbated the temperature. Even from a distance, the warmth caused the air to shimmer above the hole in the ground, warping the visible features of the various warriors that encircled the gorge protectively, already joined by the various bands that had arrived at the meeting point early. Flames licked the air, as if the canyon was meant to be a massive fire pit, but it was nothing so inviting.

As she descended the final dune, the last excavation crew climbed straight through the flames, mana shields flickering as they joined the others in waiting among the white canvas huts. No one paid her approach any mind, leaving her to return without distraction. The scout-general was well-known among the forces. She was one of only a handful of carefully selected sentries that made sure their enemies couldn’t catch them by surprise, so if she was unbothered, so were the guards.

Individual grains of sand vibrated as the army she preceded drew closer. Small waves cascaded across the dunes, and soon, everyone would be aware that the reunion of all parts of their army was upon them.

When she found her shared hut among the sea of others, a handful of the other leaders of the Grand Horde were already there. “You’re back?” The boisterous turk named Alp asked as she stopped outside. “We should celebrate!” He decided quickly, slapping the communal table and grabbing a canteen before holding it out for her.

“Can’t.” She responded before he could get the others started, accepting his offering politely without taking a seat. “The rest are almost here.”

“Ah. Then we should welcome them.” He grew serious, standing up and wiping his hands against the faded blue, now mostly gray windbreaker he kept tied around his waist. He was someone that clung to the past more than others.

She just nodded as Alp stood up and took a deep rejuvenating breath. He had clearly only rested for a short period himself after returning from the depths of their excavation. The dark stains on his skin created by the fires were clear evidence of his efforts. Despite being another general, he was a faceless member of the trench team when he was underground among the flames of the pit.

Together, with the other generals, they visited the lip of the central cavern. Alp explained all they had gone through to make it work, speaking for his own benefit more than anyone else. Countless tiny fires burned in an eternal vigil along the walls of the collapsed crater, lighting the way down, but escalating the temperature to uncomfortable levels. The flames had been the greatest challenge, stifling the air and threatening to burn them while they endeavored to fulfill their goals.

He, along with the rest of the hundreds of Earth Shamans, had worked tirelessly to establish the stairway to Hell. They had only returned to the surface after completing their task, still looking like humble miners despite the magic that leaked from their fingertips, just in time to receive the final sections of the army.

It was only a few more minutes of rest before the steady rumbling thunder of approximately 50 million hooves marked the return of the main cavalry band of the Grand Horde. The stampede caused the flames in the cavern to vibrate and the early arrivals to take notice of what Wangmo Thaye had already observed.

A storm of dust appeared on the horizon, rising above the dunes that she had crossed. The timing meant that all was going according to plan.

In the heart of the Karakum Desert, the hiss from the fiery pit was finally drowned by the return of the defining feature of their united force. The Shamans slowly returned to their feet in order to join the others that had protected their camp. Together, they would greet the portion of the army heralded by rolling thunder.

Wangmo Thaye quietly observed the millions of varied individuals that already surrounded the crater, their faces painted by a tapestry of lightly colored caked dusts. They waited in silence as millions more returned from expeditions to keep their enemies cowering behind the walls of their strongholds. Her falcon took flight, rising high enough to be lost against the darkening sky. He would warn her if anything was amiss.

Their war with the elitist Abundant Grasp had reached an insurmountable stalemate in the month prior, but the Grand Horde wished to avoid losing ground while they went deep into the earth. The Darvaza gas crater would provide the access they needed to the Underlayer, but their absence from the surface would put their vast network of settlements at real risk of conquest.

While the Earth Shamans excavated, protected by the infantry, the various cavalry bands had been harrying the enemy settlements. The raids should have given the impression that the mountainous strongholds weren’t as secure as they seemed. Hopefully, that would be enough to discourage their enemies for long enough to engage with the upcoming settlement event.

The mixed nomadic army of the Grand Horde may have adopted principles inspired by the descendants of the Mongol Empire, but it was composed of countless ethnic groups, transforming it into a modern army that reflected the matured dynamics of humanity. They had formed a coalition that was successfully defying the basic Primal Constructs conquest throughout the region without the aid of expansive system-created territory. The invaders had no chance of establishing strongholds, or even evolving to more advanced versions of themselves, with the highly mobile bands of warriors patrolling across the land. Wangmo Thaye had been one of the earliest to find purpose in the Horde.

Before the apocalypse, their warriors had been regular people who lived all across the entire continent, from the Russian far east, throughout Siberia, the deserts and plateaus of China, and well into Central Asia. They had united people from as far as Turkey with those from Korea through a common cause. She and her falcon had wandered from Tibet until meeting one of the first cavalry bands.

The Grand Horde’s declared territory abutted some of the largest settlements on the planet, including the enormous Gangcheon founded outside of Seoul, and Can Gio in the Ho Chi Min district of Vietnam, both of which had spheres of territory with radiuses expanding over 500 miles. While they weren’t aligned, they had open communications with both settlements. The Horde had even welcomed those who fled from the Chosen of the Abundant Grasp, expelled from the Indian subcontinent for being a part of unwanted castes or adherents of religions that no longer mattered in the face of alien invasion.

As the cavalry crested the dunes, sunlight glinted off the polished leather armor of the warriors and Wangmo Thaye found herself smiling with the comforting reassurance that they had become strong together. The cavalry wore a blend of traditional lamellar cuirasses with hints of gleaming light steel. Helmets adorned with feathers and horsehair plumes signaled their membership to the Horde as they swayed in rhythm with the thundering hooves.

Standards emblazoned with the symbols of a thousand different groups whipped in the wind, rising from the backs of the horses. They represented original nomadic tribes, various indigenous peoples, and their diverse ancestral connections. They sometimes displayed hometown emblems, or even football clubs and fictional nations. Even her communal hut displayed a series of five colorful rectangular cloths, strung along the poles that she had salvaged from her own home. It was all a direct refutation of the single jagged green and white design flown by the Chosen of the Abundant Grasp.

Approximately 120 settlements flew their own various banners within the Grand Horde, and they were all represented in the temporary city that had been erected around the path to the Underlayer. None of the Grand Horde’s settlements individually climbed the settlement leaderboards, but that was only because their populations were diminished by joining the nomadic armies that kept the entire empire safe. They were residents of none, but welcome in all. The temporary camp would be the largest gathering anywhere within all of the Horde’s territory, and maybe the world.

Their actual combined claims established the largest contiguous empire in human history, but it wasn’t reflected in the leaderboards. Their territory wasn’t even technically official as the system didn’t recognize the sections between their settlements, and their settlements weren’t officially aligned outside of regular human organization. The unofficial nature of their territory didn’t prevent the bands from sweeping the lands on a regular basis.

The settlements did their part, crafting for and supporting the army in every way possible. The Grand Horde was treating the alien invasion of Earth with the regard it deserved: absolute resistance and Total War.

If not for the impenetrable physiographic features of the strongholds that remained along the borders of what had previously been India, they would have liberated and incorporated the nearly two dozen settlements held by the Abundant Grasp as well.

None of the Abundant Grasp’s holdings were high on the settlement leaderboards either, but that was due to the nature of their division. The strict residency requirements naturally excluded the vast majority of their population, forcing them to live in the outskirts of their territory, causing the settlements to appear smaller than they were. They sacrificed their rankings rather than taint themselves with the presence of those they deemed unworthy, using them for undesirable tasks with the vague possibility of elevation into the faction in the future. The mistreated had the option of joining the Grand Horde, but a majority seemed to prefer their lower standing in what they saw as a superior organization.

Of the slightly less than 250 total remaining settlements on planet Earth, nearly 150 of them were represented on one side or the other of the conflict in Asia. The Grand Horde was an unofficial grouping of humans, organized in more traditional ways, but the Abundant Grasp was intergalactic. Their Chosen believed themselves to be Gods among men and the supreme beings of Earth. The Grand Horde disagreed.

The leading contingent of the Horde’s cavalry, clad in dark colors and riding handsome black stallions, were the elite guard. They traveled through the center of the camp, guiding the rest of the cavalry bands in approaching the main entrance to the cavern, right up to the grouping of leaders. Alp openly cheered for them as they filled the throughway, escorting the chief of them all. Wangmo Thaye remained solemnly silent.

Their leader was the Great Khan, an older man who appeared grandfatherly, but had demonstrated a ruthless and strategic mind for conquest and whenever one of the settlements had been threatened. If it wasn’t for his tactics, the Abundant Grasp would have expanded throughout the continent. Instead, they were hemmed in, always forced to guess where the Horde would test their defenses next. The Grasp openly sacrificed their underlings, many of whom turned around and joined the Horde rather than die fighting when they finally faced the truth of the conflict.

Recently, the Great Khan had shifted his concentration away from the Abundant Grasp after the army defeated a Siege Boss that occupied the Xinjiang province of China, choosing to seek access to the Underlayer instead. The change in priorities had been rather sudden, but his generals followed their orders obediently.

Many who had witnessed the battle and its aftermath claimed that the change had been directed by their own divine intervention, counter to the Abundant Grasp’s claims of godhood. Rumors of western angels and more traditional demons spread, but the day-to-day life of most went unchanged. Wangmo Thaye continued to roam vast stretches of land until it was time to regroup.

The Great Khan had never clarified what had led to a shift in his priorities. He only openly called for defense of every corner of their Empire, and that included fully committed participation in the settlement events. It wasn’t exactly a refutation of the rumors, but it remained inline with expectations. No matter the overall purpose, not much changed when it came to their regular activities. The primary update to their missions was that every warrior in the Horde knew to be on the lookout for the person they called the Champion of the Unchosen, for the Great Khan demanded an audience with him.

The elite guard reached the crater’s rim, and the army fanned out, forming a semi-circle that reached beyond the city of camps. They dismounted, preparing to give their steeds a night to rest while they prepared to descend into the earth itself.

—

After night fell, halfway across the world, the Earth trembled beneath another stampede. This time rather than the rushing hooves of horses on dry sandy dunes, it was the stomping of millions of human warriors on extrusive igneous rock.

At the foot of Mount Ngauruhoe, recognized worldwide for its representation as Mount Doom, Sila Tupua roared. The volcano responded to the Champion of Aotearoa.

Bright orange magma splashed over the lip of the central crater while the other warriors stomped with a primal rhythm, crying out as they were inspired by Sila and their spirits were ignited. He turned back and gazed upon the braves.

A sea of Maori warriors stood shoulder-to-shoulder with their allies. Their dark moko tattoos were already filled with mana, as were the kirituhi sleeves of the rest of New Zealand’s vast army. The glowing mana beneath their skin stood in stark contrast to the backdrop of ash and magma-lit clouds. Bright blue, glowing green, and vivid red-orange sparked throughout the massive crowd before fading into the night.

Two million fighters crouched low, eyes ablaze with the reflection of the distant volcano peak, waiting in anticipation for Sila to set them off. The rangers from Australia’s final lost civilization shard watched from the side, wide-eyed as barely contained energy buzzed through the air. In total, a third of the surviving population of Oceania was present. They were all prepared to defend the last civilization shard in the region.

As the warriors rose with their chests flexed and weapons held high, the deep, guttural chant began. First it was a low rumble, but as it grew in intensity, the illumination of mana magnified. They stomped their enhanced legs, synchronizing the movement, and shaking the very earth.

Then, Sila’s roar exploded, setting the war haka off. The warriors challenged the volcano, the invaders, and the galaxy itself. They slapped their chests, letting the sound echo off the mountainside. The chant rose, a raw power enhanced by mana coursed through the ensemble. Warriors slammed their thighs with open palms while others threw their arms forward, fingers stretched, and all their faces were contorted in fierce grimaces, revealing the whites of their eyes and their tongues as their individual spirits were swept with the energy.

The effect was unmistakable. Geysers of mana exploded from their forms, climbing into the darkened sky. They were highlighted in the incompletely understood energy of mana mixing with their collective ideations. The dance became a physical manifestation of their spirit and an invocation of power. The system responded with group buffs that empowered them far beyond their not insignificant individual power levels.

Sila’s tattoos streamed with aquamarine colors, and a representation of Tumatauenga appeared from the channels, forming a behemoth at the head of their army, approving of their might. They were ready to enter the fumarole, weaving their way deep into the planet, to take on any challenge the system presented them.