This morning was marked by a reckless charge by the invaders. It is possible that they noticed our issues with manpower or it is possible that they did it for another reason. But they swept through our defenses with only minor losses.

Azrezel’s undead army lay in pieces, at least those that wern’t turned into a fine mist. The volunteer army is down to a couple dozen soldiers. And what little other soldiers we had are routed.

Luckily we had evacuated civilians a while ago, but the city that Par had built from the ground up is now laying in ruin. Only a lone outhouse remains standing, an insult if it was intentional. It was several hours of their manic destruction before I managed to complete my project.

They destroyed so much. Willow’s mother tree is dead, the first mana berry bushes I planted so long ago destroyed, the trees those birds nested in my first year here reduced to ash and dust. The house that was built for me, the one I have slept and worked in almost every day for the better part of two years, trashed and burned to the ground. And I could do nothing but watch.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

When I finally managed to complete my project and finally had enough mana to destroy their enchantments I did so with a fervor I had never experienced before. I watched as their arms and armor let out sparks of failed magic as I reared up to strike the killing blow. And kill them I did, I painted the forest red with their blood and gore. Slaughtering them to the last and savouring their expressions as they realised that no amount of running, hiding, or teleporting away would save them for me.

They fled to the safety of their platform, their now useless platform. I might not be able to drill through it, but creeping vines moving over the ground slowly towards them had a certain effect, one that I rather liked.

And so they died, and I killed them. I know that I should feel bad about this, that it goes against my desire to not kill anyone, but I don’t care right now. They came into my home to defile and destroy it. They killed my people and they burned our homes. They looted and pillaged and now they are dead, and I do not regret what I have done.

And now I want to sleep. For the first time in several months I want to lay down in my bed, shut my eyes, and dream. And now my bed has been destroyed, along with everything else. I don’t feel like making anything right now, so maybe I’ll borrow one of the medical cots and turn off the Ergen inside of my body so I can finally sleep.

For the first time in a while this send off feels accurate,

Anyway, Good Night Diary.