studiobondurri Chapter 184: B2: C84: Evil City Sky
Chapter 184: B2: C84: Evil City Sky
Chapter 184: B2: C84: Evil City Sky
Wallenberg and many other young men had once gone through selection tests as children. The Crossdeath Captains would call them out of their shanty homes and have them report their stats and conduct some exercises.
These events would usually happen for those between the ages of eight and twelve, who were usually Level 1s. Anyone who was a Level 2 at that early age would’ve already ended up in the militia’s young cadet program.
One time, there had been a Level 3 ten-year-old, and he ended up as a direct servant to a Death Lord’s child. But such cases were rare exceptions to the norm.
For the most part, the lowest of commoners stayed at Level 1 and might rise as far as Level 9 over their lifetime before dying.
Joining the Crossdeath Militia would usually guarantee them a chance at more levels, stats, power, and status. Having all of that would lead to better treatment and having their needs met more consistently.
Thus, those occasional visits from the Crossdeath Captains turned a bunch of poor Level 1 children into animals.
Wallenberg always hated seeing that, which was why he’d taken advantage of his parents’ decent work as hunters when they were still alive. They were among the few commoners who were in the Level 20s.
Because of them, he’d once had a measure of safety that he wouldn’t get drawn into the militia. But he’d still ended up in those vicious exercises as a practice partner even though they always turned into brutal fist fights, sometimes to the death.
Wallenberg was still Level 1 when he’d nearly had his head caved in by a rock from a bigger and beefier boy who had more points in Strength. Missing the rock blow, Big Piggy Pete had jumped on Wallenberg and went for the neck choke as they grappled in the mud.
The children with more physical stats back then had the biggest advantage, since nobody had skills or magic while under Level 10.
The other three stats that weren’t physical – Willpower, Wonder, and Mysticism – had seemed useless in those times, especially in wild melees and grapples amid desperate children
Wallenberg himself had low Strength but an abnormally high Wonder stat back then, which he’d lied about just like his parents told him to. The lie hadn’t protected him much from nearly dying to Big Piggy Pete.
The hammy boy had locked a neck choke while staying heavy on Wallenberg’s chest. When everything had nearly gone black, the situation changed drastically.
The Destruction Wizard, Commander of the Crossdeath Militia, War Lord Isaac Dementes had appeared from nowhere. He’d sent a magic bolt into Big Piggy Pete’s head and blasted it open like a hammer hitting a melon.
The commander had paid Wallenberg no mind after the death of a child. Instead, he’d turned to scolding his captains.
Nobody had helped Wallenberg as he struggled to keep from crying and pissing and drowning in mud, not when his parents were busy hunting outside the wall. He’d pushed and squirmed and pushed and squirmed to get from under Peter’s bulky body.Nôv(el)B\\jnn
When Wallenberg had finally gotten free of the dead child, he looked up and up into the sky as it rained on a rare day where it wasn’t acidic. He’d beheld the same gloomy and darkened sky that had covered his home for countless years.
He’d wondered if there would ever come a day when he would see the suns, the moons, the stars, and such instead of hearing about it from passing travelers. He’d wondered for the first time what it would be like to escape Crossdeath and become a new person.
Finally, he’d looked down at the dead child at his feet for a few seconds before glancing across the mud pit and over the brawling between desperate children. He’d paid proper attention to the War Lord’s appearance for the first time.
Nearly a decade later, Wallenberg still felt like he was that shaken child who had mud, blood, and the brain bits of Big Piggy Pete all over him.
He still felt like a child who wondered about the world outside of Crossdeath and what the real sky looked like. Then he crushed those wandering thoughts and reminded himself of the true nature of old and harsh reality.
He ignored the fact that he was held in a princess’s caring arms. He looked straight ahead at the scarecrow of an old and harsh man who ran the Crossdeath Militia with a cold iron fist for the past two hundred years.
The commander hadn’t killed Peter to save Wallenberg. He’d only killed Peter to make an example of any child who disregarded his rules.
Peter hadn’t stopped when he should’ve. Peter had wanted to impress the captains and elevate his family to a higher status like most common children and was desperate to do so.
Wallenberg was pretty sure all of Peter’s family was dead now.
Wallenberg was also sure that the War Lord had remained the same since ten years ago, like a fossilized relic of the past who refused to die because of blood magic or pure and utter spite.
The War Lord was older than the current Death Lords. The War Lord had so many myths and fables surrounding him that Wallenberg could barely believe himself capable of describing the overall mountain of lore representing the War Lord.
It was easier to say that War Lord Isaac was unbeatable.
“He’s unbeatable,” Wallenberg got out with a strangled cry. “We cannot win this!”
“Indeed,” said the War Lord, his voice a raspy, hard thing, like steel sharpening steel.
He walked with a black wooden staff that was as hard as metal and struck the street with a ghoulish and echoing clack. He had on a heavy black and purple robe with leather shoulder pads that curved at sharp angles with his boney frame.
On his chest dangled numerous rows of medals that overlapped each other tightly, barely finding space to fit. On his head was a grand, sharp, and conical wizard hat with dark bird feathers circling around the wide brim.
From under the darkness of his wizard hat, the War Lord’s eyes glowed a murderous red. The faint light of a nearby fire from Lady Hannah’s explosive barrages revealed his scarred, thin, and corpse-like visage that was surrounded by shadows.
He was a walking nightmare. He was too old, too powerful, too deadly.
Wallenberg thought about breaking free of the princess and escaping. But he knew there was no point.
They were doomed.
Yet, there was one man and his talking cloak who hadn’t realized that.
“Wow, I have to admit, the guy has that scary old man swagger on lock,” Lord Zarian said, still speaking utter madness in the face of certain destruction. “He’s just staring me down, wizard fingers twitching like it’s a standoff. I think this might end up being perfect for me.”
“If presentation was the winning factor, then we are certainly at a loss,” Lady Para ascertained. “I, too, am impressed.”
Wallenberg gawked at the ridiculous black lord and his cloak. He looked up at Princess Bianca and saw her face pinched with dangerous focus.
Surely she understood the gravity of the situation.
“Don’t you dare let him beat you in fashion! You are associated with me. And when I’m glamorous, all my friends are glamorous!” Princess Bianca shouted.
Growing more desperate, Wallenberg turned to Lady Hannah, who was splitting her attention from observing the standoff between wizards and Wallenberg himself. Then there was Lady Naomi, still busying herself with her ridiculous sword project.
Wallenberg wanted to explode.
They aren’t taking this seriously! Why aren’t these Floridians ever serious?!
Wallenberg nearly yanked at his hair.
Instead of self-harm, he watched Lord Zarian act out even more with his utter madness. The black lord walked casually toward the War Lord.
“Most would run,” said the War Lord, all rasp and steel. “Thank you, young man, for making this easier.”
“I just remembered I can’t punch you, so I honestly started walking your way for no reason other than it makes me look cool,” Lord Zarian said merrily.
“Perhaps my flapping would raise our glamorous approval under Bianca’s eye. Let none dare think I lack prestigious flair!” Lady Para said boastfully.
Wallenberg wriggled to test the Strength of the princess. He found he was too tired, and she was too strong. He was stuck in her hold.
Lord Zarian continued his ridiculous death march with Lady Para flapping with more gusto than prior.
In return, War Lord Isaac summoned his hideous and infamous destruction grimoire, a giant book of spells with covers made from small knives and arrowheads welded together. Embers and smoke wafted off the spine. Blood poured from the pages and flowed onto the floor like a miniature waterfall.
The horrifying grimoire hovered next to its wizard.
Almost predictably, Lord Zarian remarked in favor of his foe with the word “Badass” before the Destruction Wizard gave the wizard duel a proper start.
The stormy clouds and coils of lightning faded.
The ground firmed up, cooled off, and stopped shaking.
The War Lord was shouting like a man in torment. His grimoire continued to blinker in and out of reality.
“Who is it? Who gave you such power?” the War Lord begged. “Why are you so strong?”
“My family gave me power when I was born. I got the ultimate nepo start point despite all the trouble it comes with, so yay, me,” Lord Zarian said. “But if you want to know who taught me mastery over aura and pushed me to be a real wizard, I will not say. Her name is not yours to know, because you won’t know much of anything anymore.”
“Is it her?” the War Lord begged. “Is it the Chosen One who taught you? Please! I’ve called and reached for her for all my life, and she has refused me an audience! Give me a chance!”
“No,” Lord Zarian said.
“Please!” the War Lord pleaded again.
Lord Zarian didn’t answer anymore. He merely turned away, letting someone else take over.
“Shush, feeble morsel, and welcome your destiny,” Lady Para said in a monstrous voice. Tentacles and lengthy arms reached out from the cloak and stroked over the humbled War Lord. “Now ... feed me all you know!”
The War Lord screamed and screamed despite no injury being done physically to his person. He fell backward and squirmed on the ground while under Lady Para’s cruelly gentle touches.
His destruction grimoire blinked away.
The War Lord fell silent, pissing and shitting himself as his eyes rolled into his head. Just like that, the battle between wizards ended.
Lord Zarian remained hovering in the air. Lady Para returned to being wholly a cloak flapping behind the black lord.
Wallenberg gawked at the defeated commander. The old man was still alive, but Wallenberg suspected he’d suffered a fate worse than death.
Lady Hannah confirmed it with a casual question. “How much did you gain from eating his mind, Para?”
“Quite a lot. There are some enchantments and uniquely written runes you don’t even know. Once I categorize what’s useful and do away with the rest, I shall write you reports for your reading.”
“Gracias, Para. I appreciate that a lot.” Lady Hannah turned toward Wallenberg. “As for you, child ... have you still not figured out who we are? Don’t you know who Zarian is?”
Before Wallenberg could try to figure out anything, everyone became tense suddenly and turned in the direction further up the street – except for Lady Naomi. Her sword project kept her occupied still, which could be a grave mistake.
Through the smoke and haze, a strange and well-dressed man walked alone in their direction.
Wallenberg wondered who else would meet their doom at the hands of the unstoppable Floridians. But it turned out the World of Castles and Caverns hadn’t finished destroying Wallenberg’s expectations.
The lone figure was a drider, and everyone knew driders were the most unbeatable across the entire continent.
“Hello, I am Han the Realtor, also known as Baron Han. I’m the owner of the Crossdeath Region and other flourishing cities,” the drider greeted.
“Well, I can’t exactly say if it’s a pleasure or not to meet you. The city has its unique quirks, but the people can be a little meh. With that said, I’m going to give you a chance to talk since you’re not Ekri,” Lord Zarian said. “Do note, if you become too much of an annoyance, then I will act shamelessly and call in the big bad elf.”
The Carrowmore Baron laughed. “Normally, we would prefer a more reasonable approach to have you pay us an audience. And we would prefer the big bad elf to stay in her lonesome retirement and out of our business. But Baron Ekri has gone rogue as per usual and your actions are becoming too great a concern for Carrowmore and our many business interests.”
“So, what’s the unreasonable approach?” Lord Zarian rolled his neck around as well as his shoulders, prepared for another fight.
“We convince you to come straight to Carrowmore and have you chat with us.” The drider disappeared.
Lord Zarian yelled, “Naomi!”
Wallenberg somehow kept from becoming a human splatter in Princess Bianca’s arms as everyone turned toward their most vulnerable companion who remained in the back.
Before anyone could do anything, the drider hovered behind Lady Naomi and reached down with six grasping hands to snatch her away.
Lady Naomi spun one-eighty and intervened for herself. She swung her sword of mental magic and static upward.
She cut the sky in half.
Wallenberg heard a distant groan of a vast and dying monster. Two halves of the forever darkness split further and further apart. Then the cover that hid the moons and the stars for all of Wallenberg’s life and for the past thousand years disappeared completely.
The city of Crossdeath and the surrounding lands saw the Infinita Universe and all its cosmic glory for the first time in a long time.
The entire city stopped. Everyone looked up and beheld the impossible sight that a single black woman carved into the sky.
Wallenberg felt tears fall down his cheeks.
Lady Hannah interjected herself gently and said, “You missed killing Baron Han by a split second. A mythical device on his person activated and sent him home before I could stop it.”
Lady Naomi turned toward the others slowly, stiffly. The sword was gone. The expression on Lady Naomi’s face was tight and shaky. Then she fell over and shouted in pain.
“Aaaahhhhhh! My back! I freaking pulled my back! Dammit! What the hell?!!!”
With an expressionless mask, Lady Hannah looked down at the fallen woman and said, “You made the sharpest sword ever to sword. You won with the literal showing of mind over matter. You split the heavens in half. Be glad.”
“My baaaaaack!”
“Go ahead Wally. It’s okay to cry,” Princess Bianca encouraged. “That ugly, bad magic pollution must’ve been blocking your sky for way too long. Let the tears flow. Let them be free just like the pretty sky!”
“Fuck the sky, what about my back?!”
Landing next to the howling Lady Naomi, Lord Zarian chuckled. “Nice work! That was a whole ass secret monster that was half alive and half a curse up there. For a long, long time, it fed on people’s life energy by keeping the air gloomy and depressive over the city. And it tossed in the occasional acid rain here and there, too. But you did the bravest thing, sacrificing your back for the sake of everyone’s freedom!”
“Fuck you!”
“Ha! Fine then. One of these days, you’ll get your backshots of freedom. But I think we dilly dallied long enough. Let’s go finish up at the ball, and if it’s cool with you, Bianca, I think we should call the game finished.”
Princess Bianca nodded. “Yeah. I agree. Time to be all fully powered and OP. Dale! Let’s go and spread more freedom!”
Lord Zarian summoned his wizard hat back on his head and scooped the miserable Lady Naomi off the devastated floor, the living cloak wrapped in a reassuring manner around them. They floated toward the Death Lord Mega Manor.
Princess Bianca stepped on platforms made of light from the moons and stars. She moved at a brisk, breezy pace next to the black lord and black lady.
Hannah pulled out from her satchel some round, fist-sized orbs that orbited around her. Then she flew off along with the others while pulling out a journal and a feathered ink pen to jot down some notes.
Wallenberg still had tears in his eyes. He remained safe in Princess Bianca’s arms. The starry sky and three moons remained above them. The city of his birth rolled far under him.
It was colder and windier in the sky.
Wallenberg barely knew what to think. He was truly along for the ride until it finally came to a stop. Then the Floridians would decide his fate.
Then again, Wallenberg could safely assume the Floridians would first decide the fate of the Death Lords.