In the Ash Heaps
Without their leader, the Dread Legions were bereft of purpose, and Edgar found them trivially easy to defeat. Then again, that might have had something to do with how much he outleveled them. Each of his wind abilities tore through them like they were made of air, and he had killed hundreds of thousands by this point. None of them had seemed interested in salvation, instead fighting to the bitter end. He was all too happy to oblige their wishes.
As he flew across the previously endless plains of ash, he meditated on just how small this world had become. At his top speeds, he could probably cross the realm in a few days. This speed allowed him to chase down the last remnants of the Dread Legion, bringing justice to these lands. When the last traces of Granath’s taint were excised from this world, he could finally leave to join Jonathan in Mire. A few days with sufficiently leveled monsters, and he would be on the cusp of Tier 3.
He was looking forward to ascending beyond his wildest dreams, in search of his true destiny. He would prove the gods, his family, and everyone who had ever doubted him, wrong.
In the Fetid Plains of Mire
Such a large group of high leveled fighters dissuaded the local monsters from attacking, but there were still a few that tried. Many high leveled creatures lurked under the ooze, waiting for prey to walk into their maw. On the second day of marching, a massive leech exploded upwards, threatening to devour an entire half of the company in a single gulp. For the first time, Jonathan got to see the power of the captain.
Before he even knew what was happening, she had cut a rift into space before her, summoning what looked like an avatar of light. Ten feet tall, and outfitted with seraphic wings, it wielded a sword easily as long as it was tall. As the leech rose, it slashed forwards, a spectral blade of light slicing through the leech, but leaving the fighters unharmed. Foul blood rained down, but it was a far sight better than being devoured. The specter vanished a moment later, leaving everyone gaping at the captain in awe.
She paid them no heed, and picked up the pace once more, letting them follow.
“Gods be praised, that was a massacre!” Andra exclaimed as she walked, awe in her voice.
“Glad she’s on our side,” Branth added.
Jonathan simply felt unease, afraid of what would happen if the captain ever turned on him.
As they progressed through the plains, the monster attacks were few and far between, but the captain promised that there would be far more work on their hands the further they went from the civilized belt.
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Jonathan had learned a bit more about the geography of Mire. They were in the center of the world now, called the Fetid Plains, and the further one went afield, the more the world became corrupted by the rot and decay.
There were five different layers to Mire, with the Fetid Plains being at the center. Each layer was larger than the last, extending out to the edge of the world. Next came the Rot-trunk Copses, a massive expanse of gnarled trees and bogs that hid monstrous creatures waiting for unwary travelers.
After that was the Spillway, a realm so steeped in corruption and pollution that it was toxic on a conceptual level. Oil, waste and sewage mingled together in a morass of filth, birthing monstrosities from the raw elemental energy concentration.
The penultimate layer was the Waste Warrens, an underground expanse of filth, ooze and rats. The rats were tainted by the filth and they grew to sizes extreme for their kind. All manner of monsters dwelt there, from swollen brood-queens to the rare, but feared Rat Kings.
Finally was the Heap, which was essentially a massive garbage dump, filled with rotting materials, flesh, bone and the desolation of a thousand years of excess. On the very edge of the world, the trash dropped into the abyss, guarded by massive elementals of decay, at the peak of Tier 3.
The mercenary company was thankfully staying within the Fetid Plains for now, as only the most intrepid, powerful, or suicidal of adventurers went any further.
After a few days of traveling, Jonathan finally got the chance to whet his metaphorical blade. As they strode through the shadow of a large hill, it burst apart, revealing that it had been a gigantic egg sack. A tide of vermin erupted outwards, mostly insects but a few bloated rats as well. Jonathan wasn’t exactly sure where the rats had come from.
Without a moment’s warning, they were upon them. Jonathan slammed his gauntlets together and waded into the fray. He purposefully lowered his power, so as to not seem suspiciously strong to the others. Each punch was still able to collapse skulls and pulverize flesh though, and he made short work of the monsters. Others were not as lucky though, especially single target mages, who were beset on all sides. Although the monsters were all around low Tier 2, there were thousands of them, enough to overwhelm the reserves of most fighters at Jonathan’s level.
Beside him, Alastair and Branth fought, ax and claws carving a path of red ruin through the hordes. Alastair’s attacks projected blades of wind in front of him, not as a result of elemental energy, but simply through sheer might. Meanwhile, Branth’s attacks sent shockwaves through the enemies that he hit, eviscerating them from the inside out. Crackling bolts of lightning surged from Falnar, playing across his hands before they erupted outwards, flash frying anything that they touched. Andra projected beams of water from the tip of her rapier, her bluish skin glittering in the sun as she danced around, seeming to gain power from the movement.
All in all, the unit was well suited to fight together, and the superhuman dexterity that they were all blessed with allowed them to avoid friendly fire. Although they butchered the vermin by the score, a paltry sum of essence entered them. However, in the distance, a much larger form stirred within the remnants of the hill, and with shuddering steps, it rose from its slumber.
A rat the size of a carriage, it was limned in a cloud of rot and pestilence, its incisors rotting from the inside. As it moved, a buzzing legion of flies followed in its wake, their noise creating an orchestra of discord.