6. Offensive

The Cahov Demons had taken the city of Sumar and pressed the Urir Earth Demons to help the invasion from the south.

“Urir can control Fortus.”

“How generous ambassador,” Amalkur the high priest said, “you offer us one city, that is very well defended.”

It was a different ambassador, as it turned out Cahov had designs for the entire continent, for the entire world. They already sent a fleet toward the perilous sea in the west; troops awaited to attack Arar and Lin and Ilar. The ambassador in question pursed his lips and tutted, the smell of sulphur.

“I hate how you Earth Demons have become so cautious and bookish, you are against everything Demons stand for.”

“Ah yes we are grounded and reasonable…” Amalkur said aloud, perhaps taking things too far, “and you are ambitious. You will not get our aid. Sorry. The prize of Fortus is all yours to take.”

The mocking voice was followed by a slam by the Cahov ambassador.

“You will regret this!”

Amalkur shut off the transmission, and then sat down; he was a skinny orange coloured gentleman, his eyes shared his kinsmen’s for being rugged like any other earth Demon. They could portal just as much as the Cahov, and yet they focused on defending themselves.

“Regret?” Amalkur whispered, “Ibal, do you know why we came to these lands?”

“No sir,” the other orange Demon answered honestly.

“Fleeing their tyranny.”

“Their sir?” Ibal asked.

Amalkur stared at his servant to be a little more understanding, and the servant nodded. Amalkur stared ahead of him, not looking at Ibal, before speaking. Ibal looked at Amalkur with captivation, wanting to hear this story.

"Perhaps it should be taught more, the kings always wanted us to be closer to the Cahov, to our fellow Demons. But like Humans or anything, different ideas, makes different societies. We can always create our own destiny. Don’t you think?” Amalkur explained carefully, staring down as he did so.

“Earth Demons are grounded, cautious and perhaps even stubborn. Did our society make us like that, or were Earth Demons always like that?” Ibal asked, “we have always been different, isn’t that why we separated from the Fire Demons.”

“There is always a choice Ibal. Always…” Amalkur said softly.

“And yet so many don’t choose.”

“And yet so many don’t,” Amalkur repeated.

They both sat down wistfully, a butler brought tea. The butler was dressed smartly, a tight dark orange robe befitting an Uriri official, laced with perfume, a pampered servant by all accounts.

“The King has formally abdicated,” the butler said, “the monarchy is abolished.”

“I thought he would be a bit more subtle about this,” Amalkur muttered, “but fine as he wishes.”

“What do you plan to do with him?”

“He can retire and live a peaceful life, now the priests of Urir will rule,” Amalkur said, he tapped the tabletops after what he said, shaking in his voice.

Amalkur sat on the polished marble temple steps, looking down at the city. The temple was shaped like a pyramid with steps on all four sides leading to a flat top. Amalkur unlike his temple was humble, his actual living space was a simple place; a small house with few furnishings, simple amenities to cook and wash. He went down the stairs, and soon into a public street, he knew the consequences of what he was about to do. Different shades of orange all the way to almost brown, that was the ethnic composition of Earth Demons.

“The high priest is here?” Was the murmured hubbub that many repeated.

Amalkur alongside other Uriri priests stood on a platform to address the market crowd. Amalkur stared at the citizens before him, now his citizens. Parents held their children, regular citizens ate pretzels, artisans worked on their goods.

“Great citizens of Demona, for many years the King wanted to protect you from the truth. The truth of our origin,” confused faces absorbed the voice of the high priest, nearly drowning him out. Other priests calmed the masses as all paid attention now, “he was not a bad man, we left because they were controlling, ever expansionist and maniacal. Cahov, our fire Demon cousins, they want war and conquest. So we fled to these lands, fortified ourselves and waited. Cahov did not come. Until now.”

“The King betrayed us!” A voice bellowed from the crowd.

“No he did not,” Amalkur said graciously and angrily, “we didn’t tell people so they wouldn’t be scared. And yet we prepared anyway. Hatred is often a pointless emotion, but fear, well fear can be extremely rational. I’m not telling you this to be scared. Urir is preparing for defence. Many eons ago we fled the Cahov, but they are back, and who knows what they’ll do. I will fight. But what about all of you, will you fight with me?”

It was soft spoken, but it echoed in all the spectators heads, one man on a lizard was the first to scream for Urir, but soon it spread to another and then like one big infection everyone was shouting for Urir. Amalkur wiped tears from what his words had created.

“They can beat me. They can beat you,” Amalkur said pointing at a soldier, “but they can’t beat all of us! As one spirit, we can fight!” Amalkur paused, a loud silence pervaded as his words sinked in, “we will make them bleed for every town, for every fortress, for every house, we can make them bleed for every pebble! You, all of you, have the power to punish them for ever setting foot in our country! Every centimetre is a battlefield. We will chase them away with whatever we have, and they will be so tired of us that they will beg us to let them leave. You have that power! You all have that power! Fight and keep fighting, and don’t stop! And Cahov. No. The entire world wouldn’t be able to invade Urir! You have that power!” The last words were said in a tremble, but it was the spectators who trembled in delight.

For a brief second, there was silence. Tears welled up in every eye. The crowd had a current running through it, roaring electrically. The whole thing had been recorded, soldiers and agents themselves moved to tears, moved beyond emotions. The local market vibrated. Amalkur walked down from the platform and was immediately talked to by a soldier.

“There is a large battle at Fortus. A spy has shared his vision with us.”

“Not here,” Amalkur said, “let’s not scare the people.”

They went to a barracks, soldiers immediately crowded around, word of what Amalkur had said had been propagated endlessly throughout Urir, they all stared, a humble skinny man who had done little politicking. Many faces were shocked at the man they saw, wondering how he in particular had managed to animate the crowds. They unconsciously clutched their weapons, whispering, and making faces that showed obvious doubts.

“I’m going to fight too you know,” he said softly.

That produced even more awe.

“Say that again?” One soldier said, recording what was to be said with a magic crystal, he was not obvious with it, but perhaps his tone betrayed his intentions.

“I will fight too you know,” Amalkur repeated, more resolutely, “I know I am not strong, but it’s not because of strength that we fight, is it? Fight for each other, and never give up hope.”

The soldiers were almost wailing, Amalkur calmed them down with soft words. An intelligence officer calmly surmised his leader in his head.

He leads with softness in a way that is most unusual, and yet every person in the country is touched by it. A thousand edicts, ten thousand laws would not have produced the result he just accomplished.

The soldiers faces were full of quiet respect and admiration. One of the spy chiefs with great respect and newfound admiration, showed their latest intelligence gathering operation.

“This is the attack on Fortus…”

The magic crystal had four men putting magic into it, and the image was clear as it was incredible. A blonde woman commanded metal Golems that were slicing through the hordes of Cahov Demons, hissing Fire Demons that swarmed her citadel were being butchered by the lady commander. The Golems varied in size, but they were sturdy 1.5 metre or even 2 metre tall models that feared nothing, and so were fully suited for combat against Cahov Demons.

“She is a brave woman,” Amalkur whispered, “and?”

“Our spies report that said woman is Elana of the fourth fleet, apparently the third fleet commander Roderic has returned and taken the city of Suno, or rather prevented it from being taken by Cahov.”

“The nation of Sumar is left with two coastal cities,” Amalkur summarised the situation, “prepare all the fortresses, everyone should be on maximum alert!”

A soldier burst through the wooden door, making the entire barracks stare. Sweat crinkled down the man’s face, his lip ends thawed by cold weather, his eyes stared at Amalkur and the barracks.

“We are under attack!”

“For fucks sake,” Amalkur winced, “get the soldiers together, Cahov must pay!”

He got his magic crystal communicator and immediately began screaming orders to anyone who would listen.

“Mobilise everyone, do not let them enter our country. And if they do, fight.”

Cahov had already done that, Devils not just any old Demons had invaded, stormed border fortresses, and killed scores of Uriri soldiers, and many civilians; Cahov had no mercy for the Uriri Demons, their fellow Demons were mercilessly butchered, burning with no regard.

“Burn the traitors! Extinguish their bloodlines!” One distinct raspy Cahov officer shouted.

Imps swarmed beleaguered Earth Demon soldiers, who tried their best to survive, large Fire Demons summoned meteorite sized flaming boulders to outright demolish defensive fortifications. Some Earth Demons chucked boulders back, but others were merely slaughtered, burnt to a crisp by the ravenous Cahov horde. Devil’s reviving dead Cahov soldiers to throw them back into the fray.

“The Warlock isn’t here? So why are we?” An imp asked aloud, the imp asking a question most profound, but it was lost in the cries of other imps, subsumed by the mass of infantry.

The other little imps carried pitchforks, hatchets, knives; short and tenacious but ultimately cannon fodder. Cahov’s red crimson flags were carried by enthusiastic Fire Demons. They created portals throughout the realms. Cahov Hordes burned crop fields and they fought Earth Demons who rallied to mustering stations, who built massive earthen walls and pushed back the Fire Demons at many points. Amalkur had successfully rallied many Earthen Demons in Demona to fight, his words recorded by some patriots; echoed across the whole of Urir. Futile defences were made, men, women and even children partook in the defence of their land, of their people; fanatical charges, ambushes. The massacres were everywhere, and yet the Demons of Urir fought against their Imperialist cousins. Earth mages tore up the ground, for every centimetre transgressed there was punishment inflicted upon them. The land of Urir was wet with blood, Demon steel clanged in every corner of Urir, children and women wailed, men groaned and choked with blood. An image of a more than regal figure. High Priest Amalkur, a thin man, armed with crossbow, pressed forward, albeit guarded by elite Uriri infantry, the Earth Demon galvanised every soul of Urir into action; Amalkur’s face was seen on communication crystals, his words rang from pockets of the dead. What seemed like dead Earth Demon soldiers rose up like the Undead to stab and kill their Cahov cousins; Devils were felled in this suicidal manner, and Cahov tasted Urir’s resolve. Urir would not surrender. Urir’s orange flag with a red flame would flutter still.

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Across the ocean, 50 Devils teleported themselves to the western continent.

“This must be it,” One of them said hissing in flames.

It had angular features, claw like fingers, teeth like razors and magma hot hands.

“Cahov is getting ahead of themselves trying to conquer this world,” another said, “I think the Warlock went that way.”

They teleported onto the continent, summoned Demons, and immediately began battling the Bacteria that infested the continent. Oceans crashed into oceans, Bacteria slashed and bit into Demon flesh, the chaotic melee accruing many casualties, both sides jostled for victory in a stalemate. Maras the Spectre Lord observed the nonsense battle from afar and squinted to observe what he was truly looking at.

“Why are those fools… why wouldn’t they use the big units? They invade the continent and now they’re here grinding themselves into dust. Devils?” Maras muttered to no one in particular.

Three ghost messengers appeared before Maras as he looked at them with disdain.

“The Dark council knows of your reckless actions, they wish to inform you that the Angels and the Demons have made an accord. As have we. Dina has signed a treaty with the Demons.”

“An accord?” Maras echoed indignantly, “what do you mean an accord?”

If his skeletal face could make expressions it would have, because every fibre of his soul was shocked. The Ghosts simply stared at him, hoping for the Spectre Lord to calm down.

“Why are Dina so passive? Explain to me what’s going on?” Maras growled at them.

“Dina wanted to kill the Warlock, but the Demons have emphatically said they will do so. Cahov noted your skirmish and if you don’t stop fighting them, you will be unaffiliated.”

Maras looked at them again with shock. One carried a communication crystal that lit up with the face of a Dina general, a Lich Lord.

“We have made deals with the Demons child. Unless you feel like leaving the fold of Dina Necromancers, do what is wisest.” The threat delivered in a most cold demanding manner.

The Spectre Lord clutched his skeletal nose bridge and chuckled.

These cowardly pricks.

Ildrid had commanded his skeletons to battle the Bacteria in the background, slowly he grew his forces while he observed the situation.

“I will do as you do Maras.”

Maras had a dilemma, he could follow the Dark Council of Dina and sit on the sidelines while momentous things happened, or he could act. Clutching his skeletal face, squeezing his skeletal hands, until he finally announced his decision.

“Ildrid!” He screamed, “how does the life of an outlaw feel?”

“So be it,” the ghost messengers said, “Dina will hunt you like a dog.”

“Rather that, then live like one…” Maras snarled.

The ghosts promptly left, seemingly not willing to talk with the rebel Undead any longer, leaving Ildrid and Maras alone.

“And I shall bark at my own discretion!” Maras said, clasping his cloak, turning to Ildrid “never have we been more alone, I became Undead to enact true justice, not be some dog. Now Ildrid, here. We will need these to better coordinate our forces.”

Maras gave a communication crystal, white see through crystal, this one in particular even had the option of a primitive hologram to see the face of the person talking to you. Ildrid nodded. They both began a ferocious attack on the Bacteria, now more than ever they needed to gather resources in order to fight. Maras got his Ghouls together and put them to collect death mana, they flayed and tore the Bacteria in front of them to pieces, which would allow Maras to grow his Undead army. Ildrid produced phalanxes of spearmen, axemen and archer skeletons which soon disappeared into a din of battle. Maras summoned five more Spectres.

“Ildrid gather your forces, you can survive against these bastard Bacteria right?”

“Most probably,” the skeleton said.

“Then do so, I will go after the Demons. Stay away from the coast, Dina will likely try send units to hunt us down,” his voice had the ominous tone of a Spectre and the kindness of a comrade.

“Sounds like a plan,” Ildrid said.

The ghosts had left likely to give news to Dina about the intransigence of Maras. A bodyguard unit of Wraiths chucked knives at fantastic rates, while ravenous Ghouls bludgeoned and behaved like animals. Maras moved forward, he saw Demons 50 kilometres away from him. He slaughtered and slaughtered, 100 Reapers twirled their blades forward, Bane worked as mobile healing stations. Ildrid crept deeper into the landscape of the continent, there he fought pitched battles all by himself. The din of battle was all that could be heard, as blades hacked, and stabbed, arrows constantly flew overhead; battle raged and Ildrid’s endless spear walls protected him from endless hordes of self replicating Bacteria. He gathered the death mana and raised more forces, the perfect battleground for his Undead army.

Meanwhile a continent away, Uther had established a military port for the Cahov. There were umpteen different kinds of ships. Thousands of Cahov soldiers in orderly ranks, and monstrously large Demons armed with long glowing blades and axes, and of course imps armed with pikes and spears. Supplies had been teleported in, but their future plans were to use the western continen: ‘Bacterium,’ for resources. The port had metal buildings, otherworldly wood that was darker and more menacing. The smell of Demon sweat, Demon food, Demon fornication and Demon shit.

“The most important element in controlling this world, is having lots of places to station our troops. The western continent is rich and we can use this land to send our troops for resources and to eliminate our rivals,” Uther said ominously, “the Demon Lord could fall over or something.”

Cahov soldiers and officials stared at Uther’s obviously seditious words. Spies lurked behind, noting down what was being said, taking stock of the obvious factions forming, but not necessarily reporting anything; the spies eyes glanced from underneath cloaks, their faces glinted in grins, or kept completely expressionless.

“Uther, your designs in Cahov politics are foolish, but loudly proclaiming them is even more foolish,” a Demon officer said, “wagging your tongue like this has to be some special kind of stupid.” The officer seethed so much that magma hot spittle flew out his mouth, "I am not part of your moronic plots. Even if I were, I don’t know if you remember-” the officer was suddenly interrupted by an admiral.

“Uther, many of our ships were destroyed, unfortunately we can’t portal ships into this world. We need to avoid these kind of naval battles where we get destroyed, the officer is correct.”

“Yes concentrate on what you can control you big fucking moron,” the officer said.

Uther stared at the officer, and eventually the officer lifted his arms and walked away.

“Correct admiral, but the most important thing is that we eliminate the Warlocks, if they are around they can hold our invasion at bay,” Uther mused, “we need utter elimination of them, and subjugation of the continent.” Only then can my other plans take shape.

Shipwrights hammered wooden planks into place, others put sails up, others carried barrels, crates of food, hemp turned into sinews of rope. What was transpiring both east and west was familiar yet unknown.

Maras finally caught up to the Demons. Grinning internally, he said the fateful words.

“Attack!”

Some Spectres assassinated some of the more prominent Demons, and even killed one Devil before Ghouls and Reapers rushed forward ready to do battle. The Demons faces quivered in rage and confusion. One Demon general managed to blast through a Ghoul only to have his head sliced off.

“What the fuck…” Another general said, “weren’t we supposed to have peace with Dina? What is this madness?”

A Demon in the back, unaffected by the commotion, watched the madness as his communication crystal lit up and began sparkling in front of him.

“I was just about to call you and ask you what’s happening. This transgression of the treaty is so blatant it’s comical.”

“That wasn’t us…” the Undead voice on the other end said.

“Wasn’t… you?” The general said, flabbergasted not understanding anything.

The slaughter still visible to the Demon, he truly did wonder if this was some sophisticated psi-ops, incredulity was in the Demon’s every facial expression, he tightened his grip on his blade, readying for battle.

“He has been excommunicated and we will hunt him. That is Maras, a Spectre Lord, he also has a skeletal ally.”

“He does?” The general said, looking around, but not seeing Ildrid anywhere, “So?” The tone demanded answers even if he didn’t outright say it.

“I am, not going to dally with you Demon. But suffice to say, he’s a traitor who has deliberately disobeyed orders. He is not affiliated with Dina,” the Undead voice said coldly.

“Ok,” the general said with slightly lighter spirits, he hung up and then addressed his compatriots, “kill these Undead scum! That traitor is wanted by the rest of the Undead!”

Fire followed, fire magic burning some Undead fighters, but nonetheless Reapers were remarkably adept at dodging, dancing away from the flames and parting flames as well as parting heads from shoulders. Maras hopped around the battlefield, Bacteria interspersing the battle with their own savage battle they seemed to be having with everything. Maras noted a Lich Lord and a Zombie Lord carrying the Dina banner.

Damn it, of course they have a small base on this continent don’t they. This is where they harvest death magic, using the Bacteria as a resource. I should withdraw northwards. There is no profit facing Undead soldiers.

Maras headed northwards, the Zombie Lord slowly plodded away, but the Lich Lord and his underlings were casting long range attacks, which after about the fifth time missing him, Maras decided he had enough.

“Ah no, no more Dina,” he muttered.

His Spectres hopped and hopped, destroying both Lords, and making the underlings devolve to aimlessly fight the Bacteria.

“The Undead are fighting each other!” One overly naive and hopeful Demon shouted.

“Were,” Maras whispered in correction.

The Black flag with orange stripes that the Dina commanders held flopped to the floor. Maras nonetheless headed northwards, conscious of the fact that he could not actually slaughter the entire Demon army, nonetheless he used Spectres to hop and take out commanders while his Reaper’s engaged the bulk of the army.

“Die Necromancer! Die! Die! Die!” A more proficient Devil screamed.

50 Devil’s revived their comrades, but this didn’t stop Maras raising more Ghouls and creating an endless stalemate, which was only broken when three portals opened and thousands upon thousands of Cahov Demons came from their realm and pushed him back. One of the Devils had found where Madakos had gotten to. So excited he merely waltzed through a portal.

“We found the Warlock!” The Demon screamed, before being hushed by their superiors.

They went through a portal, unwittingly being fried by towers on the other side. Maras clasped his head.

Why was I even? I was just a pawn. For so so long, I was nothing but a pawn for other’s designs. But I can become so much more. So much more.

Ghouls and Reapers pounced on the exposed flanks, and they won the reward of dead Demon flesh, but soon Maras withdrew into the endless sea of Bacteria.

“Ildrid, are you alright?” Maras said frantically.

“Yes, just collecting.”

“I see,” Maras sighed in relief, “good, good. Stay where you are, I’m coming to you.”

“Sure.”

Maras fled from the Demons, who crossed their arms in frustration and anger. Some even screaming their damnations at him, others just staring angrily.

“Bastard,” one seethed, fire coming out of his mouth.

“Shouldn’t we give chase!” A soldier said, clutching his spear.

“Do you think you will kill him?” An officer said, “besides look at all those Bacteria, I’m not going on some goose chase in that!” The officer said pointing at the immense horde of Bacteria.

The soldier pursed his lips and halted, nodding, realising his folly. They went through the portal, thousands at a time, when Madakos’s address was found, other Demons opened other portals into his world. It was afternoon, and the Demons made it all that much brighter with their flames. The Demons were immediately spotted by the camped Warlocks who instinctively shot purple flames. Towers shot rapidly, and Demon soldiers and beasts collapsed even more rapidly. The Demons gathered more and more intel, Devils teleporting into a sea of hostile Bacteria, but nonetheless began their assault on the set of fortifications the Warlocks had so diligently erected. Towers arced purple flames, fire should not have burnt Demons, and yet this fire did, frequently and without mercy. Hunila and Madakos arced shots at any Demon who dared to show themselves. The Bacteria bit into Demons who wailed and screamed.

“Damn it, this is fucking chaos,” one Demon winced, “all this to destroy the Warlocks.”

“They must be eliminated!” A Devil screamed, “kill them all!”

Meanwhile on the walls, the entire Technonim garrison was agitated. Guns prepared, artillery loaded, snipers readying, commanders frantically talking into radios, shouting over one another.

“Demons! Demons have invaded!”

“What are you on about soldier…” the officer said, clattering his gun as he looked at the chaos.

Demons were killing Bacteria, Bacteria killed Demons, towers and Warlock purple flames killed both with relative ease. The bells of Arala rang, but not even that was paid the slightest bit of attention to by the Demons or Warlocks, too busy killing one another to pay attention to anything else. Demons poured in from hell, some in organised marching columns, others in hordes ready to bore into the fortifications. Hunila immediately doubled the amount of towers, the towers killed thousands at a time. In this moment of sheer carnage five Devils disappeared, and then reappeared grabbing Madakos’s wrists and then disappeared again. Madakos killed all five, attempting to teleport back to the fortifications, but another set of Devils used some kind of anti magic spell, and whisked him away.

“The Warlocks are too powerful, let’s have them come to us!” A Devil said, in taunt.

It was destroyed by Hunila, Hunila still couldn’t see him.

In a fury she destroyed all the Demons on the field, and when more came, they too were obliterated. Her eyes lit up, but this was not lust, this was pure fury, the lilac colour beamed out as she massacred all the Demons who dared face her.

“My man!” She screamed, “give me back Madakos!”

“Calm down,” Korax attempted.

She swivelled her head the intensity of the purple flames all that much more seething.

“Calm? Down. Well of course. Aren’t I perfectly calm!” She said, still having time to do sarcasm, albeit in pure fury.

The bowls of hell were something. Cahov had their own continent, their own world to themselves, ruled by their Demon Lord. Madakos had chains on his arms and legs, bound like a convict and yet he did not struggle, he tried to play it smart. He saw the great Demonic realm. He had 15 super constructs funnelling Zira into him from afar, and he waited, worrying about his woman, and the consequences of all this. Grinning Demons and Devils carried him, battering him around with little care. The sky was orange red, the ground was molten, and Madakos could have been forgiven for giving into despair. The Technonim meanwhile stared aghast, seeing the true terror of Warlocks, only the sea of Bacteria were left, but even they were clearly dented by the magic of Warlocks.

“Where are these Demons?” A commanding officer said, “if this is a prank I will have the lot of you cleaning latrines.”

Instead of explaining, they simply handed him binoculars, not that it was truly needed. The corpses of Demons and Bacteria were visible even with the naked eye, they were spotted all around the Warlocks base.

“I see…” he whispered, “never ever antagonise them. I’ll tell all the generals.”

The Technonim were beyond shocked, they were all secretly impressed, scared, their hairs standing up on their arms and legs. They exchanged awed whispers telling each other to never mess with the Warlocks. Corpses turned to ashes in many cases, but even then, there were corpses left, corpses that could prove what seemed impossible, corpses showing who to never mess with.

“Yes sir, do tell the generals, they need to know… urgently,” a soldier said, awed into silence.