“That's what I've been waiting to hear!” A gallant figure cantered into the midst of the struggle, an officer whose upright bearing inspired admiration and the hope of victory. Evening Best!
“Who are you?”
Rather than answering with words, Evening Best set himself to performing noble deeds. He reared on his hind legs, whinnied, and charged Imus Terminus, who punched him straight to Yoerbla.
“I begin to regret not joining the others in Vigilant Patrol,” Saptres Muria said upon witnessing the inevitable fate of every level 1 Rare.
“We need everyone except him to participate,” Ulrik shouted.
“That's just what I've been waiting to hear!” A stolid figure strode into the middle of the struggle, an officer whose plain steel armor and halberd inspired speculation that he was a trash enemy who had wandered out of his proper chapter. “Ouch!”
“Don't wait to start fighting, stupid!”
“Aw, give me some time to explain at least, Tramda. I was doing something important. See?” Burmin Trivvis pointed his halberd over his shoulder at a host never seen before, serried ranks of people whose faces and armaments could not quite be made out. Counting figures that deny the eye's attempt to resolve them into a clear picture is difficult, but they amounted to more than all the officers combined.
“Who are they?”
“Wait a minute. That's the poor Perandran whose house is always on fire.”
“I'd recognize the owner of the restaurant that's always short on help anywhere!”
The construction foreman, the harbor master, the owner of the oversized lawn, and the random bystanders. All the Public Service background characters were there, and NPCs from the story and events as well, both the generics and ones who had a chance to become officers at some later date. “And they all came to lend their support when I asked for it,” Burmin explained.
“What support? They're just NPCs.”
“Yeah, it's true, they don't have unique Skill Stars. I wondered about that too, so I asked what they did have, and it turns out they're all straight copies of Cadmos until they get fleshed out and implemented.”
This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
“What!” Shock and horror seized the assembled officers, far more than they had felt when the unthinkable enemy Imus Terminus, the genius of annihilation, manifested, to say nothing of their indifference once they had gotten used to being slapped around by it, as continued happening during those strange and terrible revelations. The game's entire roster was staggered except for Evening Best, who had other things to worry about, and Ulrik, who was performing some sort of Reaper dance that involved tossing a scimitar and cackling.
“Oh, uh, well, that's . . . that's really great. Yeah. The feelings of the common people are our greatest strength,” Cadmos managed to say.
“Right. Everyone is my ally who loves justice. Or doesn't. Anyone at all, really. You're all my allies too,” Ulrik shouted in the midst of his celebratory gyrations. “I want you all to give us a chance to prove it. To prove that Rares love this world as much as anyone else.”
“There isn't any question about that. Is there? What are we talking about?”
“Hush, Tiboleus. Let a little Rare give a little speech and help a little bit. Keep talking, my darling little table leg.”
“Thank you, General Anstralia. What about the rest of you? Will you let us fight? Accept us as allies?”
“You'd better fight! You should be doing it right now!”
“Now, now, Tiboleus. It seems to me these Rares aren't so bad. Not worse than the rest of us.” Clazdius Oranio winked at the crowd.
“Thank you. I know that together we can accomplish something truly special.” The SRs and URs, moved by his words, shouted that they should allow the Rs to participate and that Tiboleus needed to cram it.
Cadmos nodded and addressed the host. “Well said, Ulrik. This is the final battle, everyone!”
The officers cheered, and the under-detailed background characters raised their voices and shouted as one, “Challenge Blade!” The cheers wavered a bit then, but revived after the Cadmos clones ran out of active skills and fell silent. Blow after blow of swords and spears landed, and lures too, plus there were some guns in there, and a drum set, a harpoon of course, a sack of presents, the usual. The cheers waned again when the Reapers readied their Novas and had to wait for the rest to catch up. Some harsh words may have been uttered that were lost in the cacophony of actives and attack lines, and some might have been stored in uncharitable memories for later reprisals.
Cadmos surveyed the horde and judged the time had come. “All right, on zero! Three!”
“Three!” The earth shook with the roar of the combatants.
“Two!”
“Two!” The heavens themselves shook.
“One!”
“One!”
Imus Terminus roared, flattened as many officers as it could, and wished genii had Novas of their own instead of relying on their equippers to do everything.
“Zero!”
“Dopramndination thofdelation Swoncerto!” The effect of so many Novas might have been spectacular had their visual effects not been drowned out by over a hundred Eclipse Overflows, the Nova Cadmos used before the story upgraded it to Dominion Imperia. Silver light blinded everyone there, and when their eyes regained their sight, Imus Terminus no longer existed for them to behold.