“The Overlord is…quite an enigmatic person. Although the people of The Steppe are solitary in nature, Batu Khulan revels in his isolation. I don’t even know what he looks like; he refuses to meet with any of the other Rulers and instead chooses to hide away within his domain. I’d love to learn more about The Steppe’s culture, but sadly the gates to his realm are closed and I doubt they’ll be reopening anytime soon as long as he remains their Overlord.”
Arch Magus Virgil, Ruler of Augurium
———
Xeros
The Grand General sets his eyes upon The Overlord’s domain, his gaze stretched outwards to the endless fields of muted grass before him. The scorching heat of the sun beats down on his entourage as they travel through the vast terrain, and the dry air parches the throats of all in the company. It is a harsh, barren land with no vegetation in sight. Only the encompassing horizon accompanies them along their long journey, stretching out indefinitely into the orange-hued horizon.
“How much longer before we reach the Khulan tribe’s headquarters?” Xeros questions while atop a bulky, mechanical construct, its hulking size casting an ominous shadow around its surroundings.
Unlike the elegant transportation golems from The Futurum, Nox Caelum builds their vehicles for war. The metallic frame of the exterior is covered in a grimy iron plating, embellished with symbols of the corvid, while a sickly, grey smoke escapes from exhaust pipes on top—leaving behind a ghastly cloud of fumes along their trail. The apparatus groans and creaks as its powered pistons and gears propel it forward, creating an unearthly mechanical reverberation that rings through the air.
“According to the directions sent by The Overlord, we should be around half-way there,” his aid replies, climbing out from the underbelly below. “However, we’ll soon enter the territory of a rival tribe protesting his rule. We can either: Pass straight through and risk being attacked; or take the long way around which will extend our excursion by another day or two.”
“I see...This is a test, Luxanne. The Overlord does not tolerate weakness. If we are to avoid those savages, then we will be seen as cowards amidst his eyes once we reach his lair; blood must be shed in order for this covenant to bear fruit. Do not be like your mother. Do not avoid conflict for it is necessary if we are to build a better world.”
“Understood, General. I shall inform the operators to continue moving forward,” she salutes, hiding a clenched fist behind her back.
“Very good, very good. We shall proceed then. I trust that I need not be involved in the coming skirmish?”
“Of course, sir. You may leave everything to me.”
“Excellent. Now go.”
Luxanne bows before him and descends below the deck. Xeros casts his gaze once again to the horizon and scans the surrounding area. There is nothing to be seen except boundless plains, so just how will the tribes of The Steppe attack? He chuckles to himself, excited at the imminent ambush. This encounter will be of great use to study their methods of warfare, and The Overlord will regret administering this trial once The Grand General is ready to invade his lands.
The people of The Steppe are isolated from the rest of the world, living a solitary existence within this empty plain. Not much is known about their ways, and an unknown danger can not be allowed to stop Xeros’s conquest. He will watch. Study their traditions. Familiarize himself with their cultures. And when the time comes for the corvid to claim its prey, they will be helpless before his takeover.
The soldiers below surrounding the construct begin to collapse from the heat, the hostile environment finally claiming their consciousness. They are unable to wear their mechanical suits due to the scorching blaze of the sun, so they must traverse the land armorless and gearless. The only respite from the heat is within the vehicle where a cooling sorcery is spread within.
Xeros tuts as the soldiers are replaced by others from inside. If he is to invade these lands, then he must find a way to deal with this unbearable blaze. Perhaps outfitting the suits with a miniature freezing enchantment? No…too much aura will be needed in order to continuously power the sorcery. What about using only large war machines and foregoing the powered exoskeletons altogether? But then that will leave them too vulnerable, cooped up in one area…
Xeros shakes his head, abandoning the conundrum for another day. Polus must first fall, and he will worry about invading The Steppe once the winged kingdom is within his grasp. Gravitas’s death is a significant loss, but there are many willing to take his place. Many eager to prove their worthiness.
The same can not be said about Lorelai. None can match her strength, wit, or experience amongst Polus’s elite. Without her, it’s only a matter of time before Ascalon is forced into a corner, and Xeros will finally be able to move onto the next step of his plan.
But suddenly, while Xeros is ruminating over his next course of action, he detects a faint hint of bloodlust emanating from the surroundings. It is hidden well, but it can not escape his perception. They are here, but how? There is nothing in the distance, and Xeros cannot sense any sorceries or incantations being used in the vicinity.
“All personnel,” he commands. “Prepare for battle. The enemy is here.”
He calmly descends into the command room of the construct and makes his way towards his personal abode, the operators and soldiers within quickly preparing themselves for the coming attack. Luxanne begins to leave the vehicle, but is stopped by Xeros on her way out.
“Remember Luxanne, do not panic. Do not falter. Assess the battlefield with a cold gaze and a steady hand, no matter the situation.”
“Thank you for your words, General. I won’t let you down.”
“I do not want to be disappointed in you, Luxanne. Do not fail me.”
She leaves and Xeros returns to the comfort of his personal room. Dark red energy begins to crackle at his fingertips, but it is different from before. The energy twirls and twists as its malignant form changes shape, becoming a grotesque imitation of aura’s appearance. This energy is not a product of Creation, but of something more sinister. Something far above the realm of humanity.
A faint shadow of a figure appears before him, its appearance malformed and distorted from clashing with the power of Creation around it. The thing does not belong in this world, and its very existence is being actively rejected. Xeros cannot look at the manifestation or else the nonsensical layers of metaphysical madness will erode his mind into insanity. It mutters only a single word to The Grand General before being ejected from this dimension.
“Remember.”
It disappears and Xeros is left back alone in his room. He signed a pact long ago and he must uphold his side of the bargain, but the thing will not manipulate him for long. He is the master of his own destiny, and nothing shall use him as a puppet.
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
However, now is not the time. He still has use of its abnormal power, and he will take full advantage of it before the day comes when he must break free from its shackles. For now, he has more pressing matters to attend to.
He manifests The Corvid’s Eye above the battlefield and examines the world below. Luxanne and the rest of her soldiers have formed a defensive array around the vehicle, tensions high as they await for their foes to make the first move.
“Now,” Xeros mutters under his breath. “Let us bear witness to The Steppe’s might.”
———
Luxanne
Luxanne steps out into the scorching air of The Steppe, her demeanor muted and rigid. The sun beats down on her pearly white armor and helm, but the heat only serves to fan the smoldering rage buried within her. The very sight of Xeros disgusts her to her very core, but she must persist. She must keep up her facade until the day comes when she’s able to slice off the tyrant’s neck.
The weapon by her side is a combination between traditional armaments and mechanical innovation. A long, curved blade etches out with a serrated edge, but at the hilt of the weapon lies a small muzzle filled with bullets enchanted to contain multiple sorceries and incantations. It is powerful, frighteningly so, but it requires a significant amount of aura to wield, and the common soldier will only be able to fire the weapon once or twice before they collapse from the burden.
It is a new invention designed by Xeros himself, and he gifted the blade to her on the day he struck down her mother. Luxanne loathes the weapon, but she cannot deny its strength. It is not the creation itself that is evil, but rather what one chooses to use it for.
“Commander Luxanne, what are your orders?” the platoon leader asks.
“We will form a defensive formation around the war machine for now,” she commands. “I don’t know where the enemy will come from, but if Xeros says to be alert, then alert we shall be. We will adapt to the situation so tell your men to be on guard.”
“At your command, ma’am.”
The soldiers surround the perimeter of the vehicle and wait as anxiety begins to take hold over them. They are not as disciplined as The Polus knights, but for what they lack in quality, they make up in number. Nox Caelum boasts a much larger population than other nations due to their expanding conquest of the surrounding areas, and they take in the people they’ve subjugated and force them to enter the army. In a way, she's glad that her mother isn’t alive. If she witnessed the nation’s current state, ruined by Xeros’s baleful ambition, her mind would have crumbled from madness.
Luxanne and her soldiers guard the area in silence. Nothing. Not even a whisper in the wind. Has that old man finally gone senile?
But before she can call out to The Grand General, a quiet snapping sound alerts her attention. Where did that noise come from? She scans the surroundings, but fails to find anything of note. The snapping sound occurs again, this time behind her, but still…nothing. The soldiers look around in confusion for a moment, unsure of the source of the sound, but the platoon leader suddenly lets out a loud gasp.
“Commander Luxanne!” he cries out. “W-we’re missing two soldiers. They were just here a second ago, but…they’re gone. As if they’ve disappeared into thin air.”
“Damnit, all eyes on the people around you! Don’t let a single person out of your sight!” Luxanne instructs the group, a slight tone of panic rising in her voice.
“Damnit, damnit, damnit!” she rebukes herself in her mind. “Just where’s the attack coming from!? There’s nothing out there!”
Xeros’s words begin to invade her mind like a disgusting leech that refuses to let go. “Do not panic,” the voice reminds her. “Do not falter.”
As much as she despises the voice, the words are true. She cannot let herself be overwhelmed like this. She needs to stay calm, stay focused, and think. If an enemy is attacking the group, just how are they able to accurately sense where their positions are? There’s no one in sight, so that can only mean…
Aura.
Luxanne gathers a tiny bit of aura within her and concentrates it a small distance away. The size is just enough to resemble a regular soldier, and she puppeteers the aura so that it appears as if a person is walking away from the group.
“Come on,” she mutters. “Take the bait…take the bait…”
Suddenly, a small hand appears from the dirt, confused at the lack of touch from the aura’s location.
“The enemy is below the ground!” Luxanne roars to the other soldiers.
She fires an explosive bullet at the hand’s location and it detonates in a massive explosion, filling the sky with a large cloud of dust. The other soldiers quickly set their eyes towards the earth and attack at the swarm of hands below them. The assailants quickly disappear back into the ground and emerge a distance away, their cover now blown.
Colorful fabrics of cotton and linen cover the entirety of their bodies. Shotels and katars line the hands of the attackers, and they circle around Luxanne and her company with strange, dexterous movements, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike.
Finally, the warriors let out a deafening war cry and charge at Luxanne’s group with fervent zeal. Although small in number, they quickly overwhelm the soldiers with their prowess and Luxanne is forced to take the brunt of their attacks as the troops behind her begin to fall. Their movements are slippery, but Luxanne has honed her abilities to near fanatical levels in an effort to slay Xeros. She cuts them down one by one, utilizing her bullets to control the crowd, and closes in on the warriors separated from the rest of their group.
One of the warriors impale themselves on her blade—their arms severed from their body—refusing to let go and blocking her vision as their allies follow up from behind. Luxanne quickly fires a bullet on the ground, the impact causing wild, aggressive roots to grow and snap at the surroundings around her, which forms a protective barrier that gives her time to free her blade and slice the martyr in half.
They circle around her as she shelters herself within the barrier of vines. She struggles to remain standing, exhausted from the constant assault, but she must not fall here. Not today.
Eventually, the roots decay and the warriors rush in at her from all sides. But before they're able to attack, Luxanne shoots a bullet into the air which explodes into a dazzling flashbang of light, blinding the eyes of the pursuers around her. Luxanne doesn’t waste any time and quickly dashes into the group, cutting down as many as she can before they regain their vision.
A trail of bodies fall before her as she continues her assault, and soon, only a handful of The Steppe warriors remain. Luxanne’s group has suffered heavy casualties, but they can always be replaced. Xeros will receive the blood he so desires, built upon the bodies of his fellow countryman. That man’s soul is as empty as the void, and although Luxanne wishes to let the remaining warriors go, the giant eyeball in the sky prevents her from showing any mercy.
But maybe… they will be able to keep their life if they listen to her words.
“The battle is over!” she cries out to the remaining warriors. “Surrender yourselves to us, or else your lives will end here. I implore you to choose wisely.”
They freeze for a second, unable to understand her words. One of the warriors translates for the rest of the group and they whisper in silence for a moment before returning Luxanne’s plea.
“Death before dishonor.”
The remaining warriors slit their own necks and fall upon the bloodied ground below, their corpses joining the rest of their fellow kin. Luxanne gazes at their bodies, her eyes shaking, and struggles to close the lumps in her throat, silencing a despairing cry rising up from her being. She can’t show weakness. She can’t show empathy. That damned eye is watching her every move, and she must remain indifferent to the warriors’ final words if she is to maintain her facade.
Xeros emerges from the construct and coldly glances at the field of bodies before him. He clicks his tongue and walks over to the silent Luxanne, placing his hand on her shoulder.
“That was a marvelous display, Luxanne,” he beams with pride. “It is a shame that those warriors chose death. Their savage martial ability would have been a great addition to our forces, but much has been gained from this encounter. Be proud of this day.”
“I-I thank you for your kind words. I am simply fulfilling my role as this nation’s servant.”
“As you should, but your efforts have impressed me. Excel, and be rewarded. That is Nox Caelum's core principle Luxanne, a principle that must be spread to every corner of this land. The skilled will prosper while the complacent decay. Tell me, what would you like as a reward?”
Luxanne struggles to contain the surging fury within her. She wants to slash at him, to cut him down this very instant, but she knows it will not work, and her years of painstaking effort will vanish instantly if she is to attack him.
“…I’d like to have my gun-blade modified to contain stronger bullets. The current incantations on them are too weak. I need more power.”
“Then it shall be done.”
Xeros walks over to the corpses of The Steppe warriors and slices their heads off, piling them into the construct to serve as a welcome gift for their host.
“Come Luxanne,” he commands as he wipes the blood off from his hands. “The Overlord awaits.”