Art of conquest chapter 1 : year 001
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Disclaimer: Art of conquest is owned by Lilith company, everything I am writing is pure fiction for entertainment only.
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I woke up at the sounds of trumpets blaring in my ears, the sounds of Men and horses roaring at the top of their lungs, my eyes seemingly used to the glaring light boring down on my helmeted head-
"What the fuck?!?" I screamed surprisedly, my voice booming like thunder in my ears, the sheer weight it had made me blink eyes in confusion.
That was not how I sounded, I am twenty two for fucks sake not a forty years old Man that sounded like a Voice actor for a character straight out of the Warhammer universe.
Oh and apparently I was in front of gathered army of silver-clad buff dudes that I am pretty sure could bend steel with those muscles I could see visibly tensing as if preparing for-
'Holy mother of Jesus Christ! Are those fucking undeads?!' I balked at the sight in front of me, a horde so large that bloated my vision was approaching us at speeds that would put a cavalry to shame.
I took a step back unconsciously only to have my body rebel against my will when a heavenly voice boomed all over the battlefield, a familiar voice At that, I am pretty sure I have heard it somewhere. I thought to myself as i turned my head towards the place where i saw the silver-clad warriors Open up a path for a Man atop a black horse, he had an Aura of pure Dominance to him, black hair left loosely to grow, blue eyes, a handsome visage straight out of fantasy book and familiar silver crown atop his head…
"Men Of Silverwing, the Army Of The Dead has come to ruin our lands." The Fallen Prince, Avalon, began his speech calmly, not worried at all at the encroaching enemy."The Evil Necromancer leads these fallen corpses and monsters to do his bidding, he sends them to cull our people and weaken us, to raid our farmlands and the peasants who take care of our kingdom's continued survival!"
Holy fucking shit its Avalon! Holy shit! This can't be for real bruh!
There is visible build Up I sensed all around me, the Gathered Men had a strange golden glow coming from their bodies as if being blessed by someone.
"I SAY NAY! WE SHALL STAND AND FIGHT FOR OUR FUTURE, FOR OUR PEOPLE AND THE CROWN OF SILVERWING ABOVE ALL WE SHALL STAND AND KILL EVERY SINGLE LAST PUPPET OF GAZUL UNTIL ALL THAT REMAINS ARE THEIR BONES UNDER OUR BOOTS! ALL HAIL SILVERWING!" There it is, the fervent belief of someone born to rule and blessed by the Heavens themselves.
The Men around him began Chanting their Leader's name while hitting their breastplate like a bunch of zealous fanatics who ate (admittedly) the most effective morale booster powered by the willpower of a blessed hero.
While I was not as shaken as I was before, the mindfucking Aura of the Hero did not affect me that much. Oh no, there was a far worse fate for me It seems, as I saw from the corner of my eye the Prince making a straight path towards me!
Take a deep breath me, you will need it to survive both this encounter and the horde coming towards you at speeds that Should trample everything in their path.
"Crusader Commander, it is time for you to take charge of your Garrison of troops and take position as the vanguard, glory to Silverwing Sir Valerio Lionheart!" the royal bastard ordered without missing a beat before going to the next garrison to do the same thing.
I gritted my teeth, we have at most ten minutes before the piles of bones turn us red paste. My lack of knowledge of the grander strategy had my brain running at mach 10 with each second that passed I felt my heart beat sound louder.
"Sir Crusader are you alright?" Asked on of the Swordsmen to his left, it seems his cover was blown, say something heroic and make it believable you fucker!
"I am Absolutely fine, knight. It's just the visage of the Undead that makes me very very angry." Yes eat that up you brainless NPC, let me contemplate my traitorous ideas in peace while a fuckin horde of bones trample you to red paste.
"Hahahaha! I feel the same, My father lost his life to an Undead fell blade. I can't wait to kill them for their sins."
Yeah no, fuck that noise. Those monsters rely heavily on their disorganized nature to exploit any weakness that might appear.
Historical facts do not fail me this day, I am counting on your wisdom.
"MEN, FORM FORMATION BEHIND ME! SHIELDS FORWARD AND SWORDS READY FOR THE KILL, EACH LINE SUPPORT YOUR COMRADES, FRONT SHIELDS POINTED, SECOND LINE AND THIRD LINE SHIELDS UP, FOURTH LINE AND FIFTH LINE COVER THE SIDES, ONE STRIKE PER WAVE TO CONSERVE ENERGY!" Phalanx don't fail me now, new body you above all do not fail me or we are screwed.
As a response to his booming commands, the well equipped warriors formed a half-moon formation behind him. They looked confused but still submitted themselves to his orders. After all, he was their high officer and this wasn't the 21st century where soldiers could talk back, no sir this was a feudalistic era with absolute monarchies as governments.
He pulled the golden pommeled blade from its silver-scabbard and raised his golden-tipped shield forward, the monsters were but a few step away from making contact.
He tensed his muscles and pushed his body forward to break the momentum of the undead, the first contact was the key to victory after all.
"CONTACT!" He boomed and braced himself as a three meter tall humanoid undead slammed to his shield head first with wild abandon.
It did not even push him back one inch, he was expecting to be flung back like a bloody cannon ball or be stepped on like an ant by the larger monster. Instead the undead's head splattered all over his shield that seemed to be glowing with holy power which caused the rest of the undead to halt momentarily which he did not plan to not exploit.
"FORWARD MEN, FOLLOW ME!" He ordered, it came so naturally to him now that he thought about it, a near instinctual feeling that flared on his subconsciousness like a star.
And so began the carnage, he carved a straight path forward like a hot knife through butter. Slash, block, dodge and rinse and repeat. Bark a command that caused the formation behind him to shift like a living organism.
The vanguard garrison he commanded shifted into an U shape around him which allowed the foolish undead to spill inside and be slaughtered in such quantity that allowed him a brief moment to glance over the battlefield, he saw a cavalry line making a Beeline towards them, their spears glowing gold as a an aura of pure powered surrounded them.
"Spread! Five lines straight! Shields ready to support the cavalry!" He barked, turning back towards the enemy that deployed strange scorpion-like infantry armed with you guessed it crab-like limbs.
Once more complying to his orders the Swordsmen formed five vertical lines and spread widely to allow the mounted units to pass without slowing down.
He did something he would never do in his previous world, raise his sword above and Pray to the Gods and any Divine entities out there.
And he knew for a fact that they would answer his call. The Lore of the game hinted at a pantheon which only needed heartfelt prayer to answer.
"TO THE HEAVENS I BESEECH THEE, GRANT ME YOUR HOLY POWER TO SMITE THESE HEATHENS DOWN! LET THIS MORTAL BODY BECOME YOUR DIVINE CONDUIT AND ALLOW ME TO KILL THEM FOR THEIR TRANSGRESSIONS AGAINST THE INNOCENT! LET ME SHOW YOUR WRATH!" He prayed out loudly, dark clouds gathering where he was pointing with his Sword.
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
All over the battlefield, warriors stopped to observe the sky, the dark clouds showed signs of charging. Mana began gathering around the lone human with his sword raised high, sparks of white, gold and Crimson danced around him, runes and glyphs of power appearing and disappearing around him like wild spirits around a blessed tomb.
From the clouds a single lighting strike flew at him and struck the tip of his sword with enough power to turn him into nothing but a charred corpse-no. It invigorated him, empowered his cells with awesome power of a divine entity that had answered his call, his bones felt stronger and tougher, his muscles ballooned and grew to push the armor he had equipped to the point he heard it crack yet it did not, the power he had been blessed with influenced the metal to expand and relent to the sudden growth spurt he had experienced. Streaks of red now appeared on the gold plate he was wearing as the influence of his patron God left his mark on the champion he had chosen.
"RAAAAAGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!" He roared at the sky victoriously, the noise that left his mouth could be seen with the naked eye as it rippled on reality itself."FOR BEHEMAT THE LORD OF WAR AND VICTORY! I SHALL SLAY TEN THOUSAND ENEMIES TO SHOW MY GRATITUDE TO YOU!"
[CONDITIONS MET: Congratulations Crusader Commander You have been promoted, New Hero Divine Champion of Behemat - Valerio Lionheart. A+→ S+ tier achieved.]
[Special achievement unlocked: Master of War, Call of the Warlord, Phalanx Commander. Rewards granted, Armour of Fate, Sword of Victory, Cape of the Warlord, Aura of The Conqueror - Unlocked.]
He heard that familiar voice he thought he would never hear again now that he had no access to technology, the deadpanning voice an automated system.
"RaaaaAAAAAGGGHHH!" He screamed loudly as he began running forward at speeds that broke the sound barrier at least a couple of times judging by the sonic booms left on his wake.
Blessed-Shield forward and Sword cocked behind he tore tore through the army of the dead by himself, he could hear a kill counter count each of the slayed he turned to black mist, the effect of his blessing and the empowered sword that feed on the mana of slayed to build up even more criticals.
He was making a Beeline for the larger golems made of twitching black flesh and iron-bone that acted as the siege engines of the undead, he did not flinch at the sight of these Titans, no he jumped like a cannon ball towards the nearest one and decapitated it with a single strike of his sword which resulted on a a lot of smashed undead troop around the undead titan.
"Die! Die! Die!" I chanted, the effect of my patron's power showing itself as My anger caused my aura to flare around me like mist that caused undeads to flinch.
He did pay attention at the invigorated morale boost he gave to his troops that followed him into the thickest battle, he had left a bloody trail of corpses and slaughtered mutants in his divine wake, nor did he pay attention to the rest of the human armies who were being now leaded by Prince Avalon himself who capitalized on the broken charge of his enemies.
'What in the hell is this?! What is going on here?!' I am truly flabbergasted at what I was doing, While my call to the Gods was purely my will this…carnage I was doing…
[It is you, your elevated soul is channeling my power at a terrifying rate my champion and that is causing your emotions to run wild. While such a scenario would be a bad thing in most cases your Martial instincts and self-discipline it seems are just too effective for your emotions to do any true harm. Keep it up and watch out for the liches and acolytes of the necromancer.] An unknown voice spoke directly to his mind.
No, not an unknown voice, he was…
'My lord Behemat.' Clarity was coming back to him, his rage fuelled carnage came to a sudden halt at the chilling voice of his patron God.
[Indeed my Champion, at long last I found someone worthy to be my Herald in the mortal world. Now do not stop!] Behemat declared thunderously, the sky itself shaking at the divine entity's declaration.
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[Pov: Prince Avalon, future King of Silverwing.]
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"Follow the path which the Archduke is carving and do not relent! This is a sign from the Gods! They are on our side today Men!" Avalon commanded, his eyes never leaving the back of his once-childhood best friend he had grown up with before that great catastrophe happened which caused a wedge to appear between them.
Valerio Lionheart, First Son of the former Prime-minister of Silverwing, Lionheart the First. Older brother of the once royal knight Captain Virion Lionheart and currently a grieving Son and a brother who barely held any loyalty to anyone except…him who had forced him out of his self-exile.
Which had earned him the ire of the wrathful Lionheart, Rank be damned he feared the Man. He was once lauded as the Only human in their once-empire to be able to challenge heroes and beat them even with their blessings active.
He was a bonafide Super-human capable of toppling Goliaths with his own strength and martial arts.
judging by what he just saw in front of him those boasts were not made up.
'The blood of Champions indeed. From father to sons they all bear his gifts.' Avalon thought to himself, vocalizing those words would cause unrest amongst the troops and the nobles, His reinstating as the archDuke had not been without political consequences for his power base but having his best friend on his side did bring some comfort to him, he could use his friend's sheer presence as a tool to cow the nobles that like to scheme against his wishes.
His familiar steed was galloping ahead of the army, following the scent of Archduke who had carved a path towards the backlines of the enemy and judging by the flashes of gold, white and Crimson he was still alive and well which had him worried at first, he did not want his friend to throw his life away at the first battlefield he fought, he shivered when he remembered how he found the once proud Lionheart broken on that small hut close to the port.
A Man who had lost his Family, failed his duty to protect his kingdom, had not fallen in glorious battle as his Father did but survived, buried under a mountain of corpses awaiting his death yet fate had other plans for him.
When the soldiers had been searching for survivors they had found him buried under a mountain of felled Undead, his golden Sword still gripped in his hand that had allowed the Men to identify him and pull him out of the mountain of dead corpses.
And there he was once more atop a Mountain of corpses, sword still swinging, dark blood flowing from each strike, heads flying around from his sheer power and…
"Die!Die!Die!Die!Die!Die!" He was different?
The personal Garrison of his friend had created a wall around the mountain of corpses and were slaughtering any straggler that came too close to their Master, judging by their expressions they were quite unwilling to lose him again now that he was leading them once more as it was his right.
"Form up wall-lines and do not allow them to halt out lord's path Men! Kill them all until none remain to challenge the Archduke!" Roared the Second-in command as he took position at the front of this mighty bulwark his friend had created.
He signaled his feathershots to fire a volley of fire arrows at the enemy, he needed a path to open up, he needs to know what had happened to his friend who had grown even bigger than he was before and the relics of the Lionheart the First which looked quite different then what he remembers.
The wall of arrows flew at the enraged undead who seemed quite different from the ones he had slayed beforehand, for once the bluish glow where their eyes were supposed to be seemed too intense, almost like spirit fire.
That was his cue to advance forward, the heavy infantry had finally caught up with him which will give him a few seconds to converse with the chosen of Lionheart.
He brought out his warhorn and blew a signal to the mounted troops to begin their charge, heavy infantry and the reserve feathershots will support their endeavor until he is done here.
He commanded his steed to walk forward, his eyes looking straight to the growing mountain of corpses and piles surrounding it.
"Captain Vargos." He greeted imperiously as his station demanded.
"My Prince, it is good to see you." The good Captain returned his greeting, bowing his head slightly once he found a moment to.
"Can you explain to me what happened to the Archduke? He looks different and way bigger than he was." he asked carefully, spying from the corner of his eye the Crusaders tensing slightly at his words.
"I…do not know my Prince, one moment he was at the front commanding us and acting as the tip of our formation and the next moment he was carving a bloody path like an enraged berserker until he stopped and raised his sword to the sky and uttered something in a language I have never heard before, the sky then darkened immediately and I felt the air tremble."
"Lord Valerio was struck by a multi-colored lighting strike and turned into that form." Added a bold Crusader, his compatriots glaring at him intensely.
"TEN THOUSAND ENEMIES I HAVE FELLED IN YOUR NAME, MY OATH TO YOU AS PROMISED O GOD OF WAR AND VICTORY!" Boomed The Lionheart at the sky like a Dragon unleashed.
'A God of war and victory?' Avalon thought to himself confusedly, he stared at the place his friend was roaring and saw something that made his heart stop for but a moment.
The Mana of the world gathered in one place to create an ethereal entity, its eyes were like volcanoes of the Wild lands, and they were staring at his friend with such intensity he feared for the Lionheart's life.
The entity nodded and turned towards the hordes, a magnificent two handed sword of such enormous proportion appearing in his hand.
"Brace for impact." The Lionheart Commanded suddenly, his chosen immediately complying with his order.
Shields were pointed forward and swords nailed to ground as they bent their left knee forward, a group of infantrymen came in front him and did the same thing, spears stuck head first to and their Tower shields making an impregnable wall around him.
The divine entity raised his sword above his head and tensed momentarily, ethereal muscles tensing up as he brought down the mountain cleaver at the undead hordes.
A flying slash flew from the sky towards the enemy, tearing apart giant monstrosities and strange humanoid beasts the size of primal spirit beasts of myth.
It did not stop until every single of them was turned to dust that disappeared away, the mana which had taken the shape of a God dissipated away and caused the sky to rain down a heavy dose of holy water that burned everything else.
This event would be called the Rise Of the Chosen Champion, The Lionheart's Rebirth.
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'There we go…first time in a war zone and I turn into a raving lunatic with a killcount that none can match in a single day.' He thought to himself as he sheathed his mighty blade on its scabbard and mounted his shield on his back where the locking mechanism kept it securely.
He observed his transformation, his skin glowed with power, his armor turned fully gold with red stripes here and there, he had gained a purple coat that signified his ascension as Warlord and if his vision was to be trusted his body was expelling Aura, divine Golden Aura.
His short-lived awareness also told him that he was mightily tired, his carnage came at the cost of fatigue and the bloody god-summoning he caused had consumed a shit ton of stamina which translates into…falling backwards unconscious and if his ears are to be trusted nearly smash his loyal men into red paste.
His descent was only halted by a full squad of fifteen heavy infantry blocking his fall with their tower shields.
"MY LORD!"
The Chosen of Lionheart rushed hastily to their liege side, to make sure he was not in danger of dying.
Avalon watched it all, completely numb at everything, he even ignored his aides' calls as they tried to get his attention from the place he was left staring.
He had seen a God take corporal form and strike down a horde of undead with his mighty blade, the chasm left on the ground was a grim reminder of his might which proved his existence.
"God valley." He mumbled loudly, blinking his eyes as he felt someone tug him.
"My liege please snap out of it!" someone pleaded next to him.
"What?" His awareness was coming back, the feeling of being a passenger in his own body was going away.
"My Prince, we must return back to the capital!"
He took stock of his surroundings, his aides and Men seemed desperate for some reason, they should be celebrating this Victory they had achieved.
"What is the problem?" He demanded, his natural affinity for leadership forcing itself back at the front of his mind.
"A great chasm has opened at the front, tremors have been felt going off at the same time and news of civil unrest amongst the populace-" his aides fired one after another.
"A God was on our side today and you dare deny it?!" A Chosen of the Lionheart unsheathed his sword and pointed it at the bureaucrat.
"At ease, there is no need for blood to be spilled. Please calm down and act civilly for you now represent your master." Avalon reminded the warrior. he did not want to deal with a political backlash of one of the Chosen slaughtering a noble right now.
"But my Prince, he dared to call The Archduke a possessed madman when he was clearly elevated by a God! You saw it yourself." The warrior explained his side of the story as he continued to glare hatefully at the scrawny noble who had tried to capitalize on a moment of weakness he had shown to upstage his ally of the place at his side.
"The God Of War Behemat has chosen me as his Divine Champion." A Voice boomed from the place where the chosen of the Lionheart had gathered and were acting as a wall for any foolish noble trying to enter.
The previously unconscious Champion stood up, now that he was close he could say for sure that his friend had grown even bigger, standing at two meters and a half he was the tallest human present and Towered over the rest like a titan of old.
"Valerio it is good that you are okay, when we saw you fall backwards we feared the worst." said Avalon.
"I expended too much mana and stamina, my fatigue was far above my limit." I admitted to him, I forgot how the "Heroes" were limited here to make sure they don't go full god-like on the common masses.
"And your new form? Is it permanent or can it be reversed?" Asked Avalon curiously, being that large has consequences, amongst them being passing through doors made for your average humans.
"I can turn it off." I replied as my body shrank down to my Previous state, instantly I felt my mana and fatigue go away.
"That is good, I am not sure we could adapt the doors of the castle to compensate for you to pass through them. The Senate room would need to be expanded as well." Joked Avalon as he let out a sigh of relief, it seems this body has a good relationship with him judging by the fact he was not coming down at him with furious demands for explanation on how I achieved demi-god status.
"Well then let's return back." Commanded Avalon as he turned around and began barking orders at the onlookers who I didn't care enough to name.
"My Lord Valerio Lionheart, congratulations on becoming a Chosen of The God of War." The knight who had conversed with him when he opened his eyes here declared as he fell on his knee who was then followed by the rest of the garrison who had surrounded him when he fell unconscious.
"Rise knights." He commanded, a question at the back of his mind coming to the forefront when he heard that familiar last name.
'Lionheart, like Virion Lionheart? The Paladin of justice? Are we perhaps related?' he thought to himself as he nodded at the knights who brought a horse for him, it had his name on its saddle inscribed with gold at that.
Archduke Lionheart Valerio. Holy shit that is one hell of a high rank to have, what sort of bloodline did this body have to have such a rank granted to him?
Wait, aren't Archdukes usually a rank that can be only granted when you are part of an empire?
He pondered these questions to himself as he rode in front of his men who were following him like a well-trained hound does with his owner.
He glanced at the barely concealed name that he could see on their flags, Lionheart's Knights read one at the front, the Chosen of Lionheart the center flag and the last flag had something that made him truly appreciate this body's ability to name things that sounded cool, The Lionheart shield. Simple titles yet held enough weight to make even someone from the 21st century appreciate it.
They were making quite the fast progress judging by how he could see the walls of the Humongous kingdom ahead.
"Sir Archduke, you have been sent a letter by your personal butler as per your request beforehand." One of his "chosen" strode forward, an Eagle on his shoulder having brought this message for him.
"Give the messenger a treat for his diligence." He smiled outwardly, yet inside his head a whole war was going on, he didn't know what he had ordered this butler to do beforehand.
He opened the letter and skimmed through it, apparently the fucker who had owned this body is One hell of paranoid asshole, he had made sure his personal territory had been secured and defended by half of his garrison troops incase any inbred noble decided to grow a pair of balls in his absence, three idiots had decided to sent mercenaries to his territory and try to sow chaos and civil unrest, keyword being Try.
The garrison had rounded them up into the cells and tortured the answers out of their broken bodies, truly the most effective way to rule a domain it seems is to have a professional "Interrogator" ready to break bones at your beck and call.
Vargas, Castigar and Vespador, each of them holds the rank of marquis in the kingdom.
He forgot that the most common type of noble in most stories is usually a scheming greedy scumbag, be it real or in fiction they are always the same. He is gonna fuck em up for their transgressions, he was after all a lawyer in the making before he was suddenly thrown here in this feudalistic time period…wait a damn minute.
'I am an Archduke and if my gut feeling is correct I am the counterpart of Virion who became the guardian of princess Elena in the game! That means I am the second most influential Lord next to the King himself, and In the game the Only human to ever appear with that title is Lord Iron-blood Avalon from a different timeline.'
I can simply overtake them via good old subterfuge and manipulation of their descendants via political marriages…
In the current Era it is to be expected that a High ranked Lord must have many children to continue his name and bloodline. Which translates into concubines.
They arrived at the main gates, ahead of them The Heir of Silverwing raised his spear and barked something that sounded like "Open the gates" but with a few extra steps to be expected of the guy who rules this domain.
As they marched forward he saw many common peasants gathered at the sides, they looked at them like saviors…which isn't false to be honest but it still felt wrong to call yourself a Savior, it just left a bad taste in your mouth.
"People of Silverwing today we have been blessed by the Heavens themselves, a new Hero has joined our ranks, a champion of The God of war Valerio Lionheart, the Archduke has ascended to the honored rank of Guardianship of this Kingdom! All Hail Lionheart!" Boomed The future King to his subject, a glance told him enough of what he was planning and what was needed.
He wanted to give them a show, Well I will give them a show they will never forget.
He raised a hand up and signaled his Men to free the space around him as he jumped from the warhorse, poor beast won't be able to keep him on his back if he transforms.
He grasped the golden pommel of his sword and concentrated momentarily, to touch that fire that had been planted within him, a fiery lance of light exploded from his body towards the sky as he grew exponentially into a titan of a Man that once more towered over the Humans while his very presence made them chant his name fervently.
"Hail Lionheart! Hail Lionheart! Hail Lionheart!" They chanted as he overlooked them, his towering form allowing him to see the farthest place where the nobles lived.
Lets see if this world lives up to name it bears, Art of conquest huh? How deep do your in-game mechanism reach i wonder.