Over the course of a week, Fikre, Minah, and Caterina had managed to sway Nitocris to their side after she finally conquered the King and Queen of the Oasis States. Unfortunately, Barbatus and Oleg refused to help them. The Lich had not attempted to cast The Far-Distant Lance on Fikre again, as the group of gods was too alert to get any more samples from after the attempt on Fikre's life. He stewed in his tower instead, raising more and more clay soldiers and undead by the day. The Word of Knowledge was potent in its abilities, and since Astrid had no experience with erecting divination wards, he knew they planned to attack today. "I may have to call in a few contacts..."
"Are you ready, Fikre?" Minah asks him. Fikre was lost in thought; after informing their people of the rising threat of the Bleak Reach, most of their soldiers agreed to take up arms against them. After all, how could a single country withstand the combined assault of 5 countries?
"Yeah, sorry," Fikre responds. "All of our armies rallying to the edge of the Bleak Reach is just a spectacle. 10 million soldiers... it's incredible."
"You just being here is providing them all with a massive morale boost. Your figure is inspiring," says Minah. Fikre nods in appreciation.
The soldiers of Vissio, the Oasis States, the Ulstang Skerries, the Howler's Golden Wastes, and Ancalia march towards the large stone-walled city, gifted with swiftness by Inge's gift of Mass Exodus.
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The Lich has the two men sit down at his table. "Oleg... Barbatus. My country is under attack. I request your aid in this time of need. I don't expect something for nothing, however, Barbatus, I can offer you a plethora of divine artifacts ready for conquering Dulimbai. Oleg, I can offer you something your country desperately lacks: Sorcery. If you help me, I will send a few of my apprentices to act as court wizards."
"Hm..." Oleg ponders in a mechanical voice. "Almost nobody in Nezdohva knows sorcery. It's hindered our military force and manufacturing quite a bit. I will provide you with one million warriors of steel."
"I can fend off the invasion alone," says Barbatus.
"I have no doubt you can, Barbatus," says The Lich. "However, we are dealing with other gods here. The Words of Sword, Command, and War are extremely potent, but you may find trouble engaging with powerful single targets that rely on magical ranged attacks."
"Leave it to me. I don't even need to sacrifice any of my own soldiers. Call your automatons back and send me out alone."
"...Very well."
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[WEEK 20: ASSAULT ON THE BLEAK REACH]
The armies are about a mile from the wall now. Fikre notices something troubling.
"They've recalled all of their forces," he says.
"You're right. Wait... there's someone out there! Just one man! He's a fool!" Says Nitocris.
"It's... Barbatus," says Inge. Her mount reigns backwards. "Easy!"
Fikre flies over to Barbatus.
"Why are you here, Barbatus?" Fikre asks.
"Have you come here to kill The Lich? To imprison him? After he gave us his hospitality and help!?"
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
"It's not that simple," says Fikre. "He's trying to-"
"You told me that already! I don't care! He helped us! Now leave. Before I kill all of you."
Fikre huffs smoke through his nostrils. He swings his claw at Barbatus.
"Gift of Sword: Nine Iron Walls!" Barbatus shouts. He effortlessly deflects the claw swing, which by all means should have been far too powerful for him to protect against otherwise. Fikre is shocked, and takes off to retreat back to the armies. Barbatus is not done, however. "Gift of Sword: Shattering Hand!" He jumps before Fikre leaves his reach and pierces his sword into Fikre's soft underbelly. The strike causes Fikre so much pain that he is forced to crash land behind his allies.
"Fikre! What happened to you!?" Minah shouts.
"Be careful... he's incredibly strong..."
Barbatus starts advancing towards the 10 million-strong force. "Gift of War: General's Escort!" A massive battlement of 50,000 soldiers appears around him, presumably created from the soil around Barbatus.
"What the hell!?" Inge says, bewildered. "Where did they all come from!?"
"It doesn't matter! They're vastly outnumbered! Charge them!" Shouts Nitocris. A chain reaction of war cries ripples through the massive force as they begin their charge.
"Gift of War: Pavis of Blood and Iron!" Shouts Barbatus. His 50,00 soldiers gain an ominous gold glow around them. The two forces clash.
After 15 minute of fighting, Fikre flies around the battlefield and notices something worrying. Barbatus's soldiers... they're all still alive! He watches in horror as the 50,000 strong force protects Barbatus in the center of their formation and are completely unphased by the combined forces of the gods. He lands and informs the others.
"What? It must be a gift!" Says Astrid. "Even my undead warriors aren't harming them!"
Fikre thinks back. "Remember our training? Most gifts only completely work against creatures that are weaker than the person using the gift. That means we should be able to hurt the soldiers! Call our forces back! I'm going to torch him!" Fikre takes wing again and flies over Barbatus a few times. When his forces retreat, Barbatus laughs.
"Cowards! What happened to your fearlessness!?" Barbatus taunts.
Fikre unleashes a wave of fire upon the soldiers, which all scream in agony as they go up in flames. Barbatus looks up, angry.
"Fine! I'll do it myself!" He shouts. He runs towards the once-again advancing combined force of the gods, drawing his sword. "Gift of Sword: The Path Through War!" Fikre looks down at watches as Barbatus trades blows with the millions of soldiers, and one by one cuts them down, with seemingly nothing being able to harm him.
Shit! This must be another gift he's using...
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"Winter. Look there, upon the horizon." Leviticus points forwards. "Can you see? Ten trillion sparks of steel spring into the air as steel meets steel. Can you hear? The cries of fallen warriors rise into the air as a needless tragedy unfolds, a needless evil occurs. The Goggles of Revealing show me that there are almost ten million wise souls in that battle. I see a few noble souls, too. And..." Leviticus takes off the goggles slowly. "A doomed soul. One of only seven across the infinite omniverse. That is our target."
"Leviticus," says Winter, "our minds are overtaken by warp. Millenia spent in the Emptiness have made us insane, and yet I still harbor hatred for our now-dead master. Please, I beg of you, find whatever scraps of humanity are left within yourself and let us find a quiet place to die. We were not meant to live this long."
"Winter... do not speak ill of him. He accomplished what he set out to do. Most of the ones we picked up were saved. He was a saint. It is our duty to revive him."
"Listen to yourself, man!" Winter shouts in his mechanical voice. He grabs the tail of Levititcus's horse and stops it. "He may have rescued a few hundred lost souls, but at the cost of how many innocents!? So potent was Nefarium that he still kills millions by the second! Realities are constantly expanding and infinite! The chain reaction is still causing trillions of innocents to burn to-" Leviticus slaps Winter's metal skull with the back of his hand.
"Shut the fuck up. The ends justify the means. We will continue on our course. Do not speak again until we reach the battle." Winter's eyes flash red and he lets go of the horse, the pair now trotting towards the raging war.