Chain had a plan. That plan had mostly fallen apart with the death of its original body, and changes had to be made. Clone had a vast amount of information available; and, well. Had been adept at using thousands of bodies to store and process it all. Chain... wasn't. Chain needed to hide, establish a headquarters somewhere, build up more bodies, and, well. Practice. There wasn't an overpowered magical artifact paving the way anymore.

A modest cargo ship Clone had a single crew-member on had already been cleaned out; Chain taking over just in case it could use the boat against the locals somehow. The Clone aboard had tied himself to an anchor and jumped in when the imminent death of Chain's body became apparent; so it was empty. If Chain could grab it first; well. The cargo was intended for an arctic expedition. It included insulated tents, packaged food, that should have ended up offloaded onto a smaller boat for its intended customers...

Customers who were now, likely, dead.

As a team of Chain's bodies moved through the docks, the locals didn't pay too much attention; the dockyard was mostly empty. People were looting whatever they could and going home; the russian oligarchs who owned all of it were likely dead, there was no government to enforce order... and nobody knew what was going to happen tomorrow.

A team of armed soldiers in masks had no-one to stop them as they advanced into the yard, boarding the boat; checking it over. A few of Chain started sweeping the boat, making sure nobody was left; and that the original Clone hadn't somehow gotten free of the anchor; it hadn't had much time to tie the knot, and... Ahh, no. The body was actually visible, in its life vest, floating face-down... among other bodies.

Nobody even seemed to care. In fact... there were more bodies scattered around. Security guards who were foolish enough to stand their ground against looters, among them.

The sweep was clean. Chain found someone had a pet dog onboard that Clone had allowed to live; Chain saw no reason to kill the animal, and had one of its bodies release the frightened creature down the ramp as the others took inventory. There we are. Prefab structures for the arctic; mostly designed to have ice and snow packed in for structural support and keep the occupants nice and comfortable. Battery and chemically operated heaters, boxes of rations... perfect.

The cargo meant for other destinations included... cheap commercial electronics, mostly third-rate cell phones in packages meant for retail sale. Toys. Ahhh, nutrition bars, those could be useful.

Didn't really matter too much. Chain relocated the boat, just in case one of the originals managed to reach here in time to check... and brought all of the available copies to it. The equipment was intended for arctic survival; but would work just fine on a nice, sandy beach on some isolated island where temperature control wasn't so important.

Most of Chain's bodies all came from the same 'nursery', but there was another that a bit further away; one where a bitter struggle between Chain and Clone had led to a bloody mess on the ground. As this second, smaller batch started to approach the docks; also gathered together like a swarm of armed soldiers... one of them... coughed.

The whole group stopped. Assessed each other.

A few passerby were watching as a group of armed soldiers in the middle of the street all stopped in unison without a word; one of them examining the one that coughed, who pulled his face-mask and shirt down; to reveal a vivid red rash expanding from the eyes and mouth, down the throat.

Chain assessed the progression. Engineered in one of the various labs Clone had been aware of... and Chain had disrupted using other bodies.. Redscale had no vaccine, and no cure, only treatment. Carefully rupturing and cleaning each of the pustules as it formed would prevent a fatal infection; once the pressure inside such a pustule grew large enough it would begin eating its way into the victim's circulatory system; but the subject would need constant medical attention for weeks. If any of the pustules were allowed to fully develop, the subject would almost certainly die. The idea was simple; an extremely infectious, non-fatal, treatable illness that if someone important acquired they could be saved... but would absolutely overwhelm a target nation's hospitals as each patient would need to be checked at least every hour or two. Even a four hour span would result in death, if it happened too long. The scientist responsible had been praised, congratulated; and alongside the rest of his team, infected and sent to Siberia to die in isolation.

Recommended treatment... isolation. Bathe the victim in antiseptic, and check for pustules once per hour. Extremely contagious; the subject becomes contagious within 4 hours, and symptoms appear at around 12. If you can see symptoms... Chain looked over the remaining bodies in that group. It did not have the supplies to handle more than a couple of infected. It would be most productive to simple liquidate these bodies and make more.

The family watching from a nearby building, concerned about what these soldiers might be doing, looked on in horror as the soldiers, in unison, turned the safeties off of their rifles; that horror blending with confusion when they turned their weapons on themselves... and as a group, all opened fire. Their bodies would fall, limp, to the ground; and while their presence, and mass suicide, would confuse those who found them... it wouldn't stop the looters from removing weapons, body-armor, and anything else they could find.... and helping the illness spread.

On the boat, they knew there was no reason to wait. In fact, staying meant further risk of exposure. The engines they'd used minutes before to relocate in the docks were now turned to purpose; and within minutes, they were making their way out of the docks. Some of the boats were being stripped and abandoned; but it was only one of many fleeing the docks that day, lost among the crowd.

***

Aside from the destruction of her grandmother's tomb, Emerald hadn't had many issues dealing with the war. For the past several months, she'd been focused more on building up her island, preparing her people for the future, and trying to increase her influence with Japan. After her heart-to-heart with Aziz, she'd also begun looking into religion; she'd met people who the books claimed were gods, and who instead turned out to just be powerful mortals. But when it came to stories of Moses, Jesus, and Mohammed, these ancient figures didn't seem willing to say too much; except for one offhanded comment she'd found from Hephaestus that seemed to imply he'd met Jesus in the flesh.

Most of her family considered it a bit odd; but chalked it up to her experiences with all of the death in the family; especially of her brother. Regardless, until the swords had burst up from the ground, she'd mostly remained isolated in her new home, dealing with internal affairs; acting as if an alien invasion were simply going to wash over them.

And... after watching the news... this seemed like the prudent course. Bio-weapons were out there. Invisible, deadly agents, spreading from person to person. The best way to keep her island safe would be if she were to stay here, at home, and forbid anyone else from landing. Especially since it appeared the battle was already well on the way to being won. But.... contributing could be useful, politically.

Even better if it was someone that could be viewed as a direct representative of her... but she wouldn't care if never came back should they come down with one of the various horrific diseases running around.

Time to give dad a job. Assuming that these things Hephaestus had put into orbit really worked, she should be able to reach him.

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

***

Gabriel studied the phone for a moment; his wings almost immediately fluffing out and glowing for a moment as if he were anxious; a few stray feathers ended up scattering. It was an irritating habit; one of the secretaries was a bit obsessed with him, and he was reasonably certain she collected the feathers. He had been a bit disappointed at Eyeball rushing off and leaving him behind as he ran off to fight the Jotun; but then again, he probably wouldn't have been able to do much good. He'd actually been ready to fight the Jotun assault on La Famiglia... only to be surprised by the ruthlessness and competence of the US navy. He barely even got to see any Jotun before the locals killed the ones that made it through... and now the island was starting up a quarantine. Everybody who tried to enter was being stopped at gun... or devastating metahuman power...point until they'd been checked out.

He was... a bit nonplussed about that. Engineer had apparently whipped together a scanner that could use a tiny amount of blood to filter folks out, with the help of a few of Eyetech's other scientists, and find any illnesses, artificial or not. Enforcers had stopped the first person about two hours ago; apparently he had some genetically engineered strain of super-malaria; and the woman had actually ended up attacking them and getting killed.

There would likely be more casualties from the quarantine than there were from the Jotun at this rate.

Regardless. A phone message from his daughter. Offering to help retrieve the swords, if he wanted to represent the Dragon Empress for the final step of the invasion. She herself would be staying home and shutting down all access to the island due to the quarantine; but there was a ritual in place to summon the swords at need. Granted, he knew the ritual, but it required a drop of the Empress's blood, or that of one of her descendants,, to perform. In theory, her offer; likely to give him a vial of her own blood to perform the ritual; was made in good faith. Even an offer to get it delivered via drone, if he flew somewhere close.

The truth? Her uncle's corpse was on ice in the basement of Eyetech, along with dozens of other metahumans they'd been studying over the years. He could go pick up a lump of frozen blood, thaw it, and summon the swords anytime he needed to.

He'd seen the recordings of the meeting. Honestly, this war was likely going to be over swiftly. As soon as the navy reached the shores of Antarctica, and was close enough that its railguns and cruise missiles could reach the Jotun landing site... a battle would start the Jotun simply could not win. And those swords were... evil. Not just radioactive, and heavily so, but containing the essence of hundreds of thousands of the vengeful dead.

Honestly, the likely wouldn't be needed. Might even fatally irradiate some allies if they were used inappropriately. But.

He could survive the radiation far better than most, and fly far enough away to be... mostly safe. And this was the first time she'd contacted him since he left. He tapped the 'call' button on his phone.

"Hey, sweetheart. Its dad." "Gabriel. Do you want the blood, or not?"

Gabriel sighed. "Look, Emma. I don't need the blood, I can do the ritual just fine. I appreciate you letting me borrow the swords, and I can say that it's a gift from the Dragon Empress, if you want. Everybody saw what they did to the Chain of Eternity, so I'm sure it'll be appreciated. I'll handle the ritual in a few minutes. I just wanted to talk. I'm your dad. I know I fucked up, but I want to talk."

"... Missing a soccer game would be fucking up, dad. You abducted me and dragged me to a cage match with that crazy old skank because you were reasonable sure I'd win. If I ever decide to have kids, maybe I'll look you up so they can meet grandpa. Maybe I'll have forgiven you by then."

The phone disconnected. He looked down at it, and sighed.. before heading down towards the elevator. One of the guards nodded at him as he walked by; the glorious-looking, winged figure was well-known here as the head of the 'Magic' division Eyetech had started, as well as a sort-of friend of the boss. And considering his appearance, he attracted quite a bit of attention; especially given his habit of wearing either no shirt at all, or, as he was now, a simple black tank-top with the Eye-tech logo on it.

The elevator gave a slow beep with each floor as it descended. Cadaver storage was deep below-ground; when someone with powers died in the arena, or somewhere that Eye-tech was able to nab the corpse, they would end up down here, inside an armored, frozen coffin; there was an entire branch working, with very limited success, on copying mutations, or some of their effects. So far the best they'd managed was to graft parts of one person onto another and give them partial abilities, and give one person radiation-emitting powers... for about five minutes, before they died of radiation sickness.

When he arrived on the proper floor, he frowned. There was... rattling. Quite a bit of it, actually. It sounded like a motor running, rattling and clanking. Nothing down here should be this loud... as he stepped in, he focused on his... aura, as it were. A vivid, golden glow extended from his body; his strength and durability magnifying dramatically, just in case... as he stepped out.

This entire floor was storage. There should be a whole hallway that vaguely resembled a morgue; a refrigerated room with even further refrigerated coffins; off to the left; and various heavily locked and secured rooms full of different types of equipment. Instead, after turning left and opening the door... He stopped, shocked, staring at the nearest chamber. Inside the closest coffin... the corpse was shattered. What had once been a mostly intact corpse was in pieces, scattered around; and in several of the coffins, the same thing had happened; the rattling came from one coffin near the end where one of the corpses had actually broken free of the coffin... and was putting itself back together.

He thought for a moment, before remembering... the dead. All of them who'd died fighting, that the Valkyries hadn't managed to nab. Which... would include some of these people. They were willing to fight the Jotun, so had been brought back... into frozen bodies, which were unable to move without breaking. Why was this one different?

He stepped up, examining the naked, broken form... that, as it thawed, was reforming, reshaping itself; and looked up at Gabriel. "Hello. Mind helping? Regeneration working again as the flesh thaws, but... doesn't seem to work as quickly now that I'm a zombie. Apparently." The figure was lying in a pool of blood, but... whatever had killed it, it looked mostly intact now. Would... it be genuinely alive once it was finished? Did Odin's magic legitimately ressurrect the ones who could heal fast enough?

"Yes, of course. I came down here for a blood sample from one of the corpses, needed it for a ritual, summon some family swords. Who are you?" Gabriel hesitated at first; but dragged the broken, thawing legs back over to the torso and its currently one working arm, before looking around for the other... which didn't seem to be there.

The man chuckled. "The other arm was incinerated, and I was decapitated. Thankfully they had me in about the right position in my coffin. Names Reese. Died in the arena, fighting on my feet... I was called by Odin for one last battle, but, well. If I hadn't broken the freezing mechanism in there before my body completely shattered, I wouldn't be getting anywhere useful. Feel sorry for the ones in graves, digging their way out. For most of the other guys in here, they struggled for a bit, then went back to the other side."

Gabriel nodded thoughtfully; as he walked over to the proper coffin, tapping a few buttons; and revealing a familiar, broken, frozen corpse. He picked up a single sliver; a bit of flesh attached to a single blue scale; and re-sealed it. "Huh. Don't suppose you remember what the other side was like? Heaven, hell, or something more mundane?"

Reese frowned. "...I was somewhere. Odin called me there, and I wanted to fight, so I answered. I... don't think it was a good place. I think... I want to stay here, as long as I can."

Gabriel chuckled. "Well then... I wonder how long that will be." He studied the animate corpse; and the fallen ones, broken apart. Reese might be the only regenerator in this vault; or he might just have been the only one lucky enough to break the freezing mechanism. But... he'd seen some of the other fallen corpses that revived, and he'd dealt with necromancy in the past. He examined the walking corpse as he rose to his feet.

"Hmm.. This is a temporary animation. Looks like once the body is broken, or you've used too much energy, it'll stop working. I.." He frowned. It looked as if these corpses might be able to prolong their undeath simply by being around when either other undead or the living fell. this was fairly normal for undead, but if that were the case, this one should have much more energy to it, as all the other undead tried and failed to rise. Except... it was a regenerator. It likely used up all that excess power converting itself back into a fully intact body. This thing might be able to go back to a normal life once it was fully healed. Or it might have to wander around killing to stay alive.

One thing was definite. If it weren't a regenerator, the latter would definitely be true. This... They wouldn't be making more zombies or anything of the sort, but these millions of zombies might very well be a plague on humanity as bad as any illness once they realized they could keep themselves around longer by butchering the living.

"I think you might actually end up able to go back to a normal life, after the battle down south. At least, if you kill a Jotun or two. Care to find out?"