Alistair, as expected, won the tournament for the fifth wave, reaching level 64. He opened seven more meridians each time. Compared to the surge of power and utility that came with reaching level 60, it wasn’t very large, but everything added up.
Leveling to 64 meant that he had added 2-3 levels each month of [Armageddon]. A far cry from his earlier leveling, and actually worse than some of his elites. Most of his closest allies were level 60 or level 61, Bartholomew even getting to level 65. Alistair just leveled up slowly, which he attributed to his Subclass and his really high stats.
Alistair meditated in solitude. There were no distractions.
While the pain of his mother’s death was still fresh in his brain, it wouldn’t affect his performance. He would mourn and he would grieve, but he would move on.
When he exited his seclusion, he was as calm as an unperturbed lake. All his cards had been played. There would be no more tricks of the sort that delayed their battle to now.
Neither side had broken the truce. There were no loopholes and there was no ducking the fight. Both sides would clash in an epic final battle, with only one walking away.
Alistair was confident that he would win. He was also confident that George thought the same. It would be a clash of two opposing wills.
Besides all of his innate abilities, he had two trump cards to play. The first was the Heavenly Nectar Incense. The gourd still contained the concentrated power of a Mana Storm. The second was Drauku’s protective jade pendant. He had a strong feeling that he would need both of them.
Three hours before the beginning of the sixth wave, a prompt appeared in his vision.
> Wave 6: Armageddon
>
> At this point, factoring in the Pathfinder-approved agreement between George Moulin and Alistair Tan, a meaningful Armageddon will take place between the Northeast Order Freehold and the Cursed Lands.
>
> The full details will be explained in following Quest screen when Armageddon starts. For now, both sides will need to choose their thirteen participants for Armageddon. The final battle will require strength, guile, and a strong heart. Choose wisely.
>
> Both sides will be able to see the other’s selections, starting with the leaders of both teams. Selections shall be chosen every fifteen minutes, with each side locking in a choice within the allotted time frame, or a random citizen of their freehold shall be chosen.
>
> Selections can only be confirmed with an in-person touch. Best of luck to both teams.
While he wasn’t expecting those exact stipulations, Alistair was paranoid about something like that, so his people were already gathered. With his Agility and Fall of Fleet, he darted through his own capital like a blur to the Leading Domes.
Not that any stealth was required. It was a ghost town, with almost everyone in the world sucked up into The Tutorial. But his sneaky movements were so ingrained, he did them anyway.
The war room was more stuffed than he had ever seen it. Almost everyone of note had gathered there.
Alistair had in mind a list of twelve other individuals to make his ideal team, but if others wanted to volunteer, he wouldn’t dismiss them out of hand. The sixth wave was going to be deadly, and if anyone wasn’t fully committed, they could be a liability. It was better to have someone whose heart was all-in than someone who was 5% stronger.
Alistair saw all the familiar faces at the table. He knew each and every man and woman there, some better than others. They all waited for him to speak first.
“This is it,” Alistair said, closing his eyes for a moment. “It’s now or never. If you object to my choices, please, speak up. I’m always down to listen. That being said, I hope that no one can contest my first choice. Pharaoh, would you accept?”
“There is nothing I’d rather do,” the former #1 said, getting up from his seat.
Alistair and Pharaoh performed their brotherly handshake once more, though Alistair playfully used his martial arts to redirect the tall man into the ground.
“I told you I’d pay you back,” he said with a grin.
“I was expecting a lesser Dao Fruit or a Natural Inheritance.” Pharaoh’s body shifted into sand, reforming standing. “This will do, I suppose.”
The system took care of everything once Alistair touched the man with the intent to have him on the team.
A notification appeared to every person in the room.
> Northeast Order Freehold:
>
> 1. Alistair Tan
>
> 2. Pharaoh
>
> 3.
>
> 4.
>
> 5.
>
> 6.
>
> 7.
>
> 8.
>
> 9.
>
> 10.
>
> 11.
>
> 12.
>
> 13.
“We’re going to be sitting for three hours,” Alexandra said. “Should we try to decide who’s going to be on the team now?”
“Probably a good idea,” Alistair admitted. “I have a list of a full team, if nobody has any objections.”
Alistair handed used Celeste’s eyebeam projection system to show the room what he was thinking.
Besides himself and Pharaoh who were already officially selected, he had Alexandra, Alfred, Caren, Sally Ryder, William, Bartholomew, Whimsy, Marzhan, Brigid, Jesse, and Oliver.
It was a solid team, if Alistair said so himself. A good combination of offense and defense, long-range and short-range, information and reconnaissance. A team he could be confident in when everything was on the line.
“I can’t.”
Alistair turned to a woman that had vexed him in the past with her reticence to join the Northeast Freehold despite the imminent dangers. Former President Sally Ryder, who had officially renounced her American office.
“Why not?” Alistair asked. He was thinking she would be an important asset. If she had kept her cultivation, her unified form should have been even stronger than Pharaoh, if only for a few minutes.
“The same reason I failed at the tournament,” she explained. “The limit is thirteen people, so I would need to absorb everyone beforehand. Even with my improvements, I can only hold the fusion for one hour in non-combat situations, and fifteen minutes in combat situations. I don’t think they would even allow me to go in with the people fused, in which case, I’m useless. I can also only fuse with people who I’m closest to, and there’s a limit to how powerful it can be, so using someone like you or Pharaoh would be a waste.”
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“Can’t argue with that,” Alistair said. “Then we have one spot. Any volunteers?”
There wasn’t an obvious replacement for Sally’s spot. He had a number of candidates, but there were all around equal in his head, so anyone who really wanted it would rise by that factor alone.
“Boss. If you go with me, you won’t be disappointed.” Blaise Blanchett stood up. The powerfully built man’s hair had grown into long brown tussles, making look like a wild man that hadn’t seen the light of civilization in decades. He tapped on his enormous compound bow, which had a draw weight dozens of times the highest ever used by archers in the before. “I’m long range. You don’t have too much of that. Marzhan and I together can offer suppressive fire better than just one.”
He wasn’t the only one.
After Blaise broke the floodgates, over a dozen more people volunteered.
There was Fasha binti Iksandar, Alistair’s ally during the second trial of [The Game of Life]. She had the Entropic Healer Class, allowing her to heal wounds by reversing entropy. She wasn’t ranked in the top 100 and might be a liability in combat, but her healing was considered the best in the world at the moment.
There was Carlos Garcia, the #10 ranker. In raw power, by all rights, he should have been on the team. The only issue was that his abilities mirrored Alistair’s own. He relied on an incredible sense of smell, tied to a danger sense second to, as you might expect, only Alistair. He was a close combat fighter who had also taken Magical Pugilist, but evolved it in a different direction based on wild instincts, where he copied the forms and spirits of animals.
There was Celeste Mendoza. The raven-haired woman had dozens of ports all over her body. Eyeballs that could project holographic video. A memory surpassing even Caren and Skills that were top-notch in the world at long distance communication. Like Fasha, she was no fighter.
There was Robert Oakland. Alistair had known that guy since the beginning of initiation. He didn’t even have any special powers. He had one of the basic common Classes. All that was going for him was his level and his gumption. Alistair had to respect him for that.
There was Ramesh Sambasivam, the #13 ranker. He had kept his low teens position after falling from #8 earlier on. Alistair wasn’t too familiar with Ramesh, but knew he had an artisanal Class and was responsible for bringing humanity valyrik and then ambrosic glass. He was the guy in Asia to have upgraded the Soulnet. Also, no fighter.
There was Allegra Wood, cousin to Alfred and Bartholomew. A Beast Tamer of considerable might. Alistair could tell she was dealing with her uncle’s disappearance poorly. A strong candidate, but the glint in her eyes worried him. Would she be a team player?
Finally, there was Evangeline Tan. Alistair’s sister. A Spiritualist who could manipulate the souls of the living. Alistair wanted with all his heart to say she couldn’t join. That she wasn’t allowed. But she was her own woman. If she was the most qualified, he could not deny her.
The major candidates debated amongst themselves, and with the other guaranteed members of the team on his list. Alistair mostly stayed out of it. He wanted to hear everyone else’s opinion.
Slowly, the teams accumulated. After the eleventh member, there were only thirty minutes left.
> Northeast Order Freehold:
>
> 1. Alistair Tan
>
> 2. Pharaoh
>
> 3. Alexandra Lykaios
>
> 4. Bartholomew Wood
>
> 5. Oliver Cambry
>
> 6. Marzhan Suleimenova
>
> 7. Whimsy
>
> 8. Brigid Mwangi
>
> 9. Jesse Waterfall
>
> 10. Caren Locasta
>
> 11. William St. James
>
> 12.
>
> 13.
>
> The Cursed Lands:
>
> 1. George Moulin
>
> 2. Morgana
>
> 3. Shadow Twin Dark
>
> 4. Jakk
>
> 5. Hephaestus
>
> 6. Heavyset
>
> 7. Pride Lord
>
> 8. Vritra
>
> 9. Flesh Golem #1
>
> 10. Flesh Golem #2
>
> 11. Flesh Golem #3
>
> 12.
>
> 13.
There was a quite a heated discussion both for who the thirteenth spot should go to, and the nature of the “flesh golems.” Alistair had been wondering how the Devil Kings were going to fill their spots, and besides the Pride Lord and Vritra, who had been given demon blood, they circumvented that problem entirely with the flesh golems.
Alistair used Oracle’s memories to make an educated guess. With Hephaestus having similar powers to John Desmond, it was possible that they combined his forging with some dark arts of Morgana to create supersoldiers. But that wasn’t the only possibility.
As for the debate on Sally’s replacement, there were two main candidates. Blaise Blanchett, and Alistair’s sister.
That was mostly why Alistair recused himself. Because as much as he tried to be impartial, he couldn’t. Not when it came to Angie.
“This bow was half-constructed from the remains of the Daywalker Ape,” Blaise said. “This item is one of the highest quality on the planet. My rank is slightly lower than yours, but my utility makes up for that.”
Evangeline opened her mouth to speak, but then she made eye contact with Alistair. A knowing glance passed between the two of them. She took a deep breath. “I won’t challenge you anymore, Blaise. Take the spot. You earned it.”
Blaise looked taken aback, but nodded. “Thank you.”
Alistair clapped. “That settles it, then! Blaise, you’ll be our next member.”
He mouthed “thanks” to his sister, who winked back. By patting Blaise on the shoulder, he anointed him the twelfth member of their squad. That left the last member. Alfred.
However, something felt off to Alistair. He turned inward, filing through his senses. There was a current of Fate, perhaps. The thread grew and grew under his nose. He didn’t believe it at first, not until the others began to realize. Someone was at the door.
“You’re alive,” Alfred said, wiping tears from his face.
Bartholomew rushed the man entering the room, Allegra joining him.
“Children, niece,” he said. “It’s so good to see you.”
Lucius Wood was alive.
If Alistair was expecting him to look like Blaise, as if he had been living in the wilds for the nearly six months he was missing, he would be dead wrong.
Lucius was radiant. He wore a tailored suit, his blond hair buzzed against his head. There were a few new scars marring his dark skin, ones that still felt cold even from afar.
While his aura was nothing special, he bent all the threads of Fate around him like a black hole of fortune. He had depth that was lacking before, and Alistair could tell that he had not been unoccupied for the months he was gone.
“Lucius,” Alistair said. Their relationship had started with a temporary alliance, borne off of a common enemy. They had fought together against the Devil Kings, and then Alistair had outsmarted him. Now there could be no mistake. They would fight together as two humans who didn’t want to see their world overtaken by George and his demons.
“Alistair,” Lucius said, his intense voice drooling with charisma. “I see you’ve taken good care of my kin. None of them have died.”
“Only what you would have done for me,” Alistair replied. “We all thought you were dead. Your name was scraped from the leaderboards. Where were you?”
“It is a long tale, a long tale, my friend.” Lucius sat down at the opposite end from Alistair, where no one had dared sit opposite the head. “Better told when we feast after our victory. Suffice to say, after [The Game of Life] merged all the continents into a new Pangea, not all the land was incorporated into the main continent. On the exact opposite side of the world, there are a series of large islands, four of which I estimate each to be the size of Madagascar. While a third of the inhabitants come from Earth, the significant majority appear to be from another world. A much more primitive world. Using my wits and my abilities, I was able to unify this alternative continent under my rule. I only recently was able to return home after purchasing a Teleportation Circle with enough range to make it here.”
“Not sure what I can say to that,” Alistair said.
“Indeed.” Lucius grinned. “It is quite the story. There was a barrier that separated our two sides. I think the Pathfinder wanted us to develop separately. In that way, my archipelago was a petri dish, an experimental chamber where the strongest had to vie for a much smaller pie. That is why I was removed from the leaderboards after George almost took my life.”
“So that was what happened,” Bartholomew murmured.
“And I bring with that experience a warning,” Lucius said. “That man’s power is unfathomable. I was forced to burn the entirety of my drachma to survive. I’ve gained strength in strides now, but I would not be confident about facing the him of back then.”
Alistair nodded solemnly. “We know. We’ve been preparing for more than two months now. I’m making the teams now. There’s only one spot left.”
“It’s yours, father.”
While Bartholomew and his cousin had rushed to hug the Wood patriarch right away, Alistair had noticed Alfred staying his seat. Their relationship wasn’t always the best, he knew. The expression on the Spymaster’s face was hard to read.
“Come here, son.”
Alfred stayed still, not even looking at his father. Lucius got up from his seat, walking over to his youngest son’s chair. “Get up, damn it. It’s your father.”
Alfred finally got up, hugging Lucius tightly. The tears began to flow.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you and Imogen,” Lucius said softly. It felt like a violation to hear their conversation, but everyone was paying full attention. “But I’m here now. I’ll be taking that spot. There’s no need for you to be in danger.”
“I’m my own man,” Alfred said, the tears drying up. “I know how to handle danger.”
“You are.” Lucius nodded. “But this is for an old man like me. You may be smarter than me, but I haven’t taught you all my tricks yet. Alistair, you can choose me.”
While Alfred would have been an amazing team member, a lot of his capabilities were overlapping with Caren and William. Lucius’s abilities were unique in possibly the entire population. No one could replicate his reality warping.
Lucius claimed that Alfred was smarter, but Alistair wasn’t so sure. Maybe on an IQ test, but the Quaestor had a wealth of experience that the younger Wood couldn’t match. At over fifty years old, he’d be the most seasoned member of the team, though Alistair wasn’t exactly sure how old Pharaoh was.
With that, the team was fully assembled. Alistair knighted Lucius, who didn’t look amused at the copying of his country’s rituals.
Of the thirteen men and women comprising the final lineup, none of them looked scared. That was their prerogative. Alistair didn’t mind if they were afraid or not. Fear was a natural response to an overbearing threat. What he trusted was that they would overcome their fear. That they would fight with everything they had.
The clock slowly ticked down to zero. Alistair felt physically and mentally perfect. This was it.
He thought that nothing could throw him off. But when he viewed the finalized team lists for the Northeast Order Freehold and the Cursed Lands in the last second before being teleported to the Armageddon of [Armageddon], he realized something was wrong. Very wrong.