[Alpha Strike - Book 2]
[An Interstellar Weapons Platform's Guide to Being a Dungeon Core.]
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Book 2 - Prologue: "Loose Ends."
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The Captain roared as he reared back and threw his spear with the last of his strength. It spun through the air, a small vortex forming in its wake, then struck the zombified Elder Grand Elk in the chest. Its rotting flesh and bone, which were harder than the finest steel, parted, and the spear made contact with the black core where its heart should have been. The core cracked, then shattered, as the spear continued, exiting the massive creature’s lower back. It traveled for several dozen meters and slammed into the field beyond. Its haft snapped in two by forces it was never built to withstand.
The zombified Grand Elk, larger than even some mansions, gave a mournful cry, then collapsed to the ground with a rumble. The Captain paused to catch his breath, then drew the shortsword at his side. He was far less proficient with the blade than he was with the spear, and he was thoroughly drained, but that made little difference at this point. The Grand Elk had been one of the last genuine threats left on the battlefield, while those remaining few fell one by one even as he watched.
Despite the protest from nobles, the Captain had rallied nearly 80% of the remaining Guardians for one final push against the invading undead. It helped that the vast majority of the Guardians were, for all intents and purposes, just normal citizens. Most had family they would lie down their lives to protect.
With no immediate need for his intervention, the Captain turned to the small hill of bodies and charged toward the undead, still climbing over their fallen. He crested the top of the pile and swung his sword at the snarling zombie… only for the creature to be split in two from behind. The Captain’s blade clanked against an axe as wide as he was tall, and he stared wide-eyed as a mountain rose from the other side of the corpse hill.
No… not a mountain… a man.
A giant, rough-looking man who fit the stereotypical ‘bandit’ look so well, the Captain wondered if it was intentional, took the last first steps up the corpse pile and stared down at him. The giant man lifted the axe up with seemingly little effort and holstered it on his shoulder before speaking. “Oye! You the one who took out the big ol’ deer thing? Normally, I’d beat you for stealin’ a man’s target, but I’ll admit, that was a fine throw.”
The Captain didn’t respond, instead glancing to either side, where many of the other Jadewalker forces were also cresting the top hill, only to be met with unfamiliar faces from the other side. All around them, the last of the undead were being cut down.
The Captain turned back to the giant man in front of him, breathing heavily. His sword slipped from his hand as all the pent-up tension in his body released, and the Captain fell backward, only for a finger as thick as his wrist to hook his armor, pulling him back up. The last image the Captain had before the darkness overtook him was the giant man frowning down at him.
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When the Captain awoke, he did so with a gasp, sitting up in a small cot under the open sky. Someone had pried him out of his ruined armor and dressed his wounds, as most of his bare upper body was wrapped in clean bandages. His head pounded, his throat felt like he’d swallowed sand, and he could feel a few wounds reopen from his sudden movement, but he was alive.
They were all alive.
He sighed and eased back into his cot. The Captain lay there for a while, observing his surroundings. For the most part, the people gathered around him were cheerful. Dirty Guardians, in various states of inebriation, danced and sang arm in arm with their neighbors, many of whom he didn’t recognize.
Not all were so cheerful, however. Among the celebrations, a few knelt next to grass blankets, weeping. Mothers, fathers, spouses, and children. Far too many had lost someone over the last few days of fighting. As others fell to their wounds, more would be lost over the coming weeks. Even the Jadewalkers, with all their families specializing in alchemy, couldn’t produce enough to treat everyone.
But each one was someone who had given their life to protect their home. Someone who had stood in the gap when others wouldn’t. True Guardians to the very end. That wasn’t a sacrifice that would be easily forgotten.
A familiar voice caught his attention, and the Captain turned to see General Westgate talking with the same mountain of a man he’d encountered before passing out. Beside the large man was another older man dressed in pure white robes with the crest of the Origin Sect stitched above his heart. All three men laughed, and the mountain man, maybe sensing the Captain’s gaze, looked at him from over the general’s head and smiled. General Westgate, seeming to notice, turned his way and smiled as well, yelling, “Ah! Nergüi! Good to see you’re back among the living!”
The Captain pushed himself up and moved to join them, but before he could, a small bundle of curly hair shot out from the other side of the general and charged him. The Captain’s eyes grew wide as it launched itself at his chest and wrapped thin arms around him. “Papa!”
The Captain froze for a split second, then gently patted Khutulun’s head, stroking his daughter’s wild mane while the bandages around his chest were soaked in tears. “There, there, my little moon. You did well. I’m proud of you.”
The young girl squeezed her father a little tighter as the man stared up into the sky. The dark clouds that had covered the sky ever since the undead appeared had cleared somewhat, and the Captain could barely make out the first rays of light peeking from behind the Sister above. “It’s all over…” he softly whispered, as much to himself as to the little girl in his arms.
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Artemis came too slowly. Bodily feeling returned first, as every cell in her body screamed at her for pushing herself so far. The Starry Sky Owl was a creature of ambush and quick strikes. It wasn’t meant for a rough melee, even bolstered by the bit of Blackroc Griffin she’d collected and the Akh’lut’s natural physique. It was something to shore up her personal weaknesses, but not something that could truly overcome them.
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In contrast, her aunt Hera had plunged deep into their family’s lineage and refined the Shadow Plague Drake bloodline within. It wasn’t a true dragon, but it was the closest thing possible without it being a sapient creature and nearly unstoppable once it began its rampage.
Even with her aunt’s mysterious resurrection and the resulting strange, animalistic behavior handicapping her, Artemis questioned if she could have truly stopped her rampaging aunt alone.
Thankfully, she wasn’t alone.
With Alpha keeping her aunt’s minions busy and the human Guardians returning to deal with the vine creatures, Artemis could focus all her attention on her aunt. The battle had left Artemis in a sorry state, however. Overusing one’s bloodline was dangerous for any creature, but even more so for those to whom it didn’t truly belong, such as the Akh’lut. It would take her weeks, maybe months, to fully recover.
Her hearing was the next thing to return. It started as a low muttering, like listening to a banquet from the next room over. A chaotic mix of sounds she could identify as voices, but whose words she couldn’t make out. Slowly, the sounds became louder and clearer. They sounded… happy. Well, as happy as a room of hardened soldiers after a life-or-death battle could be. At least it wasn’t the sound of more fighting or, worse, the moans of the undead.
Her eyes fluttered open, and the blurry surroundings came into focus over the next few seconds. She moaned and sat up from her supine position, only for a hand to press her back down. Artemis frowned and turned to see a young human woman kneeling over her. Zolzaya, one of the companions of the Prima’s chosen. Artemis’ frown flipped into a smirk. She liked the young girl. She reminded her of herself when she was younger. So full of fire, ready to lash out and burn anyone who tried to control her. Yet uncontrolled and undirected.
Zolzaya was just learning how to kindle those flames in her soul, but she still had a lot to learn. Hell, Artemis knew even she herself was just a scrappy up-and-comer in the grand scheme of things.
Artemis’ eyes suddenly went wide as memories returned to her. “Athena!” she yelled as she pushed the young woman’s hand away and stood on shaking legs. Zolzaya protested, but Artemis ignored her. She wasn’t in great shape, but the Akh’lut weren’t such delicate creatures. She was more than capable of walking on her own, even if it would be difficult.
Zolzaya sighed and pointed toward another group. The older Slatewalker Grassreader knelt over a still form. Artemis’ heart sank further with each step closer she took. The young pup looked… fragile. Almost skin and bones. If it weren’t for her chest’s rapid, shallow rise and fall, Artemis would have thought they were too late.
As she stopped a few meters away, another of the Slatewalkers, one of the Guardians named Ulagan, looked in her direction. Kallik noticed and turned to look at Artemis, then turned back to Athena.
The Grassreader’s voice was soft as she spoke. “I… don’t know what that insane woman did to her. It’s like the child has been sucked dry. She’ll live… maybe, but there’s not much we can do for her here.”
Artemis clenched her fists. She opened her mouth to speak, but someone else cut her off.
“The child will be fine… in the long run.”
Artemis turned to see the Prima walking toward her. This was the first time she saw the First Earth Elemental separated from Alpha. Though instead of being made of the flowing sand and white marble, as she was often depicted in the artworks of the Akh’lut; she was made of the strange blue-grey metal stuff of Alpha’s armor. The ‘Lord Protector’ himself had yet to move from the position she’d last seen him in before she passed out… strange.
Artemis narrowed her eyes and asked the Prima, “You know what that bastard Hera did to her?”
Jīshí sighed and shook her head. “It wasn’t Hera… it was your mother.”
Artemis’ eyes widened before narrowing back into a glare. “My Mother?!” she growled, her [Spirit Pressure] leaking out slightly. “That’s insane! Why would Metis do something like… this to her own--.”
Jīshí cut Artemis off with a raised hand. “Let me finish…” she said before walking over and gently stroking the pup. The elemental turned and looked at Artemis as she continued. “The details will have to come later, as this is all part of what happened here, and we’re waiting on… guests. But to make matters short, your mother made a gamble.”
She stood and stared up at the heart, once more free of any dark spots. “The Siphons, what you call ‘Earth Shrines,’ channel energy from the land to the Heart. To regulate this, five of my clones were given [Keystones], shards of the Heart itself, and assigned to critical points in the system where they could monitor and control it with the [Keystones]. Mortal ‘Protectors’ were assigned to protect these locations and pass down the charge through the generations so that the importance of this mission would not be forgotten.” Jīshí stared at the five head-sized crystals lying dead around the Heart.
She turned and looked Artemis in the eyes. “Your mother was one such Protector, as was every High Priestess before her. How Hera learned of the [Keystones] or gathered them without notice, I do not know, as worrying as that is. But your mother… she suspected something, even if she didn’t know what. Likely, when she finally understood, it was too late to stop it. So, instead, she did the only thing she could. She stole one of the keystones and hit it away in the last place anyone would suspect…”
The elemental paused and shifted her gaze. Artemis followed her gaze… and landed on Athena.
“No…” she softly whispered, an icy pit forming in her gut.
Jīshí sighed, “Yes…”
“Why?!” was the only thing Artemis could think to ask, her eyes snapping back to Jīshí.
The elemental stared at Athena for a silent moment and turned back to Artemis. “Because that was the only thing she could think to do. Because there was far more at stake than you currently understand. You saw what was sealed away in the Heart. If Hera’s plans had come to fruition, it wouldn’t just mean the end of the Radiant Sea, but all life on this planet.”
Artemis understood that… she really did… even so, her hands clinched tighter until they turned white and blood started trickling down. That her mother, the woman she respected above all else, who had taught her everything she knew… That she could do something like this…
Artemis was having trouble forming words, so it was Kallik who asked the next obvious question. Her eyes never left the pup, gently stroking her head as it lay in her lap, and asked, “So what is it going to do to her?”
Everyone’s eyes turned to Jīshí.
The Prima was silent for a long moment before shaking her head. “Honestly? I don’t know. Her beast core has been replaced with the heart of a Prima. That has never happened in all of recorded history. Ever. There’s no telling what the consequences of such a thing will be. Maybe it’ll cripple her, never able to grow further…”
Artemis’ heart dropped… crippled… at such a young age… Even for humans, that would have been a heavy blow… but for an Akh’lut, it would be even worse. Awakened Beasts weren’t born sapient. If two Awakened Beasts had a child, that child would be born as a base animal, only gaining true sapience as they aged and matured. The more powerful the Awakened’s bloodlines, the longer this took and the higher cultivation they would need.
For the Akh’lut, the point of sapience was [Bronze Spirit]. Athena had been close… so very close. Now, to be told that had been taken from her… it was cruel beyond words.
Maybe sensing her dark thoughts, Jīshí continued. “That is only one possibility, however. This is something that has never been done before. With the proper support and training, it’s possible she may learn to incorporate the keystone and use it to her advantage. Only time will tell.”
Artemis frowned, then walked closer to Athena. Kallik moved away as she knelt down and pulled the not-so-small pup into her arms. Athena squirmed in her sleep, then nestled into the crook of Artemis’ arm like she used to when she was younger and smaller.
Artemis made a promise to the child as she watched her baby sister sleep. A promise to herself.
If there was one thing she could be proud of, it was Artemis never broke her promises, no matter what it might mean.
No matter what it might cost.