The circular runic inscription was surrounded by hundreds of thousands of smaller ships, all with the crests of hundreds of houses and clans, all waiting for the titan blade to open the pathway to the citadel itself. He stood in front, Moyo, surrounded by his Shieldborne, their numbers renewed, standing in their Aserite armor inlaid with painted gold and all manners of weapons. Josh at his side, the Valoris a silent sentinel as he gripped his hammer, the weapon glowing softly with power. Above the clouds, the entire armada of the combined forces waited with baited breaths.
From the coalition of Gaian forces, to the houses of the Thousandblades, the Kairos, the Khemet, and all other forces with capital flagships, humming silently. The legion of the titan, sporting upgraded flagships waited as well, aware of just what was at stake its entire force brought to bear. Moyo gripped Oro tightly, the blade whispering in his mind as he gave an imperceptible nod and began marching forward, his boot crunching against the sand of the area, aware of the near millions of eyes on him.
For as far as the eyes could take, figures decked in purple armor, showing traces of Aserite in one form or the other waited, weapons brimming as he got to the front of the inscriptions, feeling the pull. The Shieldborne, a constant reminder at his side, his masters forming the second line, Ashira within their midst, waiting with bated breath as Moyo stood still, a silent sentinel, the pressure of an entire cosmos resting on his shoulder.
Eyes bent low, he watched the runes glow, calling to him, but he waited, the instructions had been clear to him, he would wait, he would wait till he felt the pressure, and his entire armada would wait with him as well. Hundreds of thousands had said goodbye to their children and loved ones, millions more had prepared their minds and bodies, aware of just what they were about to throw themselves into.
He said nothing more, merely observing, bidding, eyes shut as he concentrated and watched, he watched, his eyes seeing all, the title of the aether blessed connecting him to the entire system that was the Archailect, he was one with it, he was the Archailect, or at least, a simple, singular mind within its near infinite oceans. He swam to depths none would dare, he had seen things best left forgotten in the annals of time and memory, he had seen the beginning and by the Archailect, he would see the end.
He felt the shiver course through him, saw the tenseness of his Shieldborne, felt the primordials lock their presences on him like a damp cloth, and he spoke.
“It begins,” he said.
**************************
The first signs of chaos were once again the stars dying out, this time though, the citadel was in complete preparations. Brigadiers, jades, and Runebearers stood together, along with the hosts of messengers from all aspects of the Archailect, hundreds of ships, brimming with legendary ranked lethality waited behind each circular line of defense, staring grimly ahead at the incoming horrors, aware that they were the only thing between complete destruction of the Archailect.
The moment it passed through into real space, reality gave one loud wail as all color around them was bleached away, sucked into the ever-hungry maw of the great destroyer that was coming. The shrieks could be heard, even in the expanse of space, the cries of ravaging hunger, of death, true death, the end of everything and nothing.
The very reality around them died slowly, being leeched of its very existence, the forces, watching as the planet and the infinite hosts that followed in its wake ate reality, opening their eyes to the madness that was chaos itself. The weakest ascenders, diamonds from the various forces, and golds as well fell and simply died of terror, nothing could be explained about the sheer horror of what was coming for them.
The moment they got within the hundreds of thousands of targeting distance of the first lines of defense, they opened up, all the weapons of the Archailect, every terrible weapon ever created, all in the need to stop the incoming horrors. It was a stop-gap, the world of chaos itself, the world of the reaper was a presence that could only call to itself the hosts of chaos based on the amount of reality it had been able to consume. And when reality lit up, or what was left on the side of the Archailect’s’ forces, it was a terrible symphony of explosions.
Then they appeared, the powers of the Archailect in such strength that reality stabilized with a resounding thump. Leading their charge stood Lucirion himself, his presence swirling with arcane runes, symbols left unspoken lest the speaker burn away at a single utterance into nothingness. A staff in his hand, he stood shoulder to shoulder with Eses, the cosmic dragon herself, shedding her human form for her draconic form, a large dragon of silvery white scales and burning golden eyes staring at the incoming darkness.
Then stood the harbingers, the Xerxes, Zane, Draulr, and the rest brimming with power as they also stared in silence, no words need be spoken, no directions given. Their forces had prepared over and over, each faction melding their forces together in such fluidity as never seen before in the Archailect. There was no such thing as factions nor great games any longer, not when the faith of the entire cosmos depended on this battle, Lucirion flicked his eyes to the first circle, floating forwards as Eses roared, her cries echoing as every single ascender on the first circle bursting to life with burning white flames, runes glowing on their bodies.
Lucirion slammed his staff into the invisible ground where he floated, a loud gong echoing through the air as more runes burst to life around the same forces. Lucirion spoke, his voice loud and clear.
“Stand firm and strong, the supreme beings are with you,” he said.
It was a command, it was an edict, it was everything each ascender on those lines wished for, it was their hopes and prayers come to life. Above them, a large rune came to life, its shape ever changing, transforming as it shifted in shape continually, glowing in the ever-darkening reality around them. Still, the planet of the reaper came, still it pushed forwards, consuming everything leisurely in its path, like it had all the time in the world, an irony as the concept of time grew useless with chaos’ arrival.
The planet stopped, weathering the blows of power from the first circle, the hails of attacks that were enough to wipe out a system, no, a hundred systems in one fell swoop continued to bite into the numbers of the chaos forces. From the planet itself, came the reaper, the floating skeletal figure, disposing of its former host and once child to retake its form once again, scythe in hand as it stared down the forces of the Archailect.
“Too long” the voice of Azael the reaper said.
“Too long have I dreamt of this day, this hour, and this moment” he continued.
“Too long, have I watched from my prison, watched as you all reigned supreme, all thanks to your false beings,” he said.
“And yet, where are they?, these beings of yours, your exalted Supremes?” the taunted.
“Over and over and over again, I have proved my strength, and yet, like children hiding in the dark, whispering to themselves, you deny my strength” he chuckled.
“I drove you from your homes, I scoured your galaxies, billions have died, nothing but feed for my forces, the forces of the one true supreme being,” he said.
Raising his scythe, he drew deeply from his aspect, the forces of the Archailect watching as his once white bones became wreathed in black miasma, oily dark chaos aspect, covering his form, creating flesh and sinews, forging a body of pit blackness with no facial features, only a smooth black humanoid form.
“You, the vaunted aether blessed, the cosmic dragon, the chosen of Lotes, the brutal jades, and the bearers of the runes, all left to come together to defend one last piece of the Archailect,” Azael said.
“Like empires, I have brought you low, one piece at a time, stretched you so far, greed and ambition broke your forces before I did. And oh, how much I relish it!” he said.
Eses had heard enough, she raised her head high, mouth opened as she gave a loud roar, a golden ball of raw cosmic aspect coalescing above her, growing larger and larger till it became the size of a small moon. Lucirion moved, one hand tapping the ball as it was wreathed in pure runes, the power crackling with meter-long lengths of lightning, crackling with raging fury gathering power. Azael growled, rage as he swung his scythe with all his strength, partitioning reality in two.
Lucirion held reality together with sheer willpower, whispering words of power, his very presence holding the seams together as he didn’t budge an inch. The two attacks collided, pure energy rampaging around as they clashed in a system-wide explosion, tearing itself apart. When it cleared, the first line of defense still stood, a large spiritual form that burnt away in their front.
It was a shield, a mythical ranked one, created by the harbinger of Filvux herself, Tixuhl, burning with her aspect as the prime messenger of the supreme being herself, Anzu, stood as well, a presence behind Tixuhl. The shield cracked and then dissipated to pure mist, fading away as Tixuhl sagged, the prime messenger ferrying her away to recover. The forces of the reaper had been burnt to almost nothing, showing the roiling chaotic darkness behind them, the reaper himself half charred, one half of his body, wiped away to bare white bones as he stood up back. He gave a chuckle, his voice loud enough as he stretched both hands out, his body shimmering as the same oily blackness covered the charred half, returning him to pristine conditions.
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“I am the harbinger of Apophis,” he said.
“Chaosborne, chaos king, prime reaper, lord of the depths of oblivion itself, I am everything your supreme beings have ever wanted in their followers” he continued.
“And so, I give you this one chance, a sweet fading into nothingness, no pain no regret, simply let go,” he said.
The forces of the Archailect burned stronger at those words, their aether a bonfire of rage and pure eagerness, even as they faced their end, the end of all things, they never faltered. Azael nodded.
“Very well, I would expect nothing less of true warriors, now, let us begin,” he said, raising his scythe upwards.
From raw chaos itself strode out the renewed forces of chaos, all humanoid, all exact copies of the reaper, all made up of the very aspect of chaos itself. They stood, in their thousands, more and more coming out by the second, the full might of chaos brought to bear against reality. More shapes faced through, terrible creatures that shifted between nightmare fueled visages to terrible contorted shapes, all slavering at the chance to be let loose against the assembled ascenders.
Even with the barrage of the first defensive circle continuing to offload their weapons, all it did was delay the inevitable, and the forces of the Archailect knew that, and they were prepared. Lucirion snapped his fingers, no words spoken as he received a mental reply, the defenders of the first circle were ready.
****************************
Mardar scourge rune, commander of the first circle of defense watched from the command room as the black dots converged on his lines, thousands upon thousands coming down all at once as he maintained his calm. He could feel the tension in the room, from the heavy looking modified Promethean battlesuits they had cloned from the forces of the titan, each of them modified by their master and ruler ranked jades for their specific uses. Innovation gave birth to even more innovations, and the hundreds of Ija tanks that lined the decks as well were a testament to that fact.
The brigade, the Runebearers, and the jades had silently requisitioned them as well, imbuing these techs with the runes of their respective forces and then some. He now belonged joint Archailect force, a high-ranking commander with access to all the secrets of all its forces all at once. At his side stood two arcane generals of the force, along with elder jades and rune bearers.
“Our defenses can hold for at least a few hours” the a.i that was infused into the first circle spoke.
She was a holographic image in the room, projecting the weakest points of the entire circle.
“The forces Ijas and Prometheans have been directed to those positions, they await your orders lord commander,” she said.
“And our paths for retreat?” Mardar asked.
“Secured along the southward tunnels, reinforced by an entire host of faction firepower” she reported.
Mardar nodded, breathing deeply as he allowed his frayed nerves to smoothen, he had been told to buy as much time as possible, but he wouldn’t sell the lives of his fighters needlessly, not against an enemy that literally had the supreme numbers in hand. The entire circle shuddered as the enemies clashed with the runic barriers that encircled the circle, more cannons and weapons pounding on and on as Mardar produced an axe, its very edges alight with purple and golden flames, the aspect of the titan himself.
It had been a closely guarded secret, one known only to him and Lucirion himself, and it was why he had been deployed to the frontlines, to give the enemy a reason to hesitate. Despite his reinforced robes and arcane runes that blistered around him, he was decked in armor steeped in Divinium, the same as every other fighter here. Consecrated in the blessings of Lotes herself, along with the other supreme beings, and with his axe personally forged by the prime messenger of Alastor himself Sharur, Mardar had allowed a bit of the aspect of the titan to infuse itself into the metal, bathing it in its powerful wrath.
He turned to the Runebearers, old faction names still persisted, but Mardar honestly doubted any factions would survive what was to come. They nodded, a large device in their hand they placed right in the middle of the command room, its reinforced Divinium walls humming with raw power, a conduit built for this exact purpose. Then they brought out six powerful crystals, burning with the purest of aspects, bestowed to the defenders of the citadel themselves by the supreme beings.
The machine was to be what allowed the citadel to hold, it was to be the lifeblood of the entire first circle, and orders were given that if it looked like all hope was about to be lost, the crystals must be ferried to the second ring itself, were even more protection awaited them. The machine opened up, seven slots opening as the six crystals were placed into six slots, the seventh slot vacant for a second. Mardar turned to the a.i, speaking.
“Connect me to the entire force of the first circle” he ordered.
He felt his presence expand across the first circle, and watched the stoic lines of thousands of defenders waiting silently for the barriers to fall and hell literally breaking loose.
“Defenders of the first circle,” he said, his voice echoing around as heads faced upwards to where his face was projected for all to see.
“It is the appointed time; the enemy is at the door and my words will be short” he continued.
“We will hold till we can hold no more, we have been given the means to do so. For every one of us they take, we shall take a hundred of theirs, we shall make them bleed for every piece of the circle they conquer in pure obliterating power” he said.
“Ours is the mandate of the supreme beings, so hold, for they come,” he said again.
He knew deep down they weren’t coming, even with things as dire as it was, the supreme beings coming would mean a total reset, he had been taught enough to know nothing would survive their arrival, and he knew that was what the enemy wanted. And so, he cast his thought to another, to the one they all prayed would make it in time.
“We hold for the Archailect, we hold for the supreme beings, and we hold for the titan blade” he completed.
A loud roar echoed after him.
“Barrier integrity at 50%,” the a.i said.
Mardar wore his helmet, his Hud configured with it as he gripped his axe tighter.
“Take us to the frontlines,” Mardar said, his voice a mechanical baritone coming from his helmet.
A flash of light later and he was in front, watching through the reflective glass metal of the first circle as a large nightmare creature with white orbs for eyes and a large figure, larger than even the humanoid shapes that came in the thousands behind it. It sported six arms that ended in black sharped talons for hands, slamming itself into the barrier even as the runes scorched its form, its body healing rapidly due to the raw chaotic miasma that powered its very form.
It crashed into the barrier repeatedly, hundreds of its lesser brethren selling their lives to bring down the barrier, the cannons still firing away. Mardar raised his axe, the power of the mythical weapon burning into the air.
“Conduit ready?” he asked the a.i.
“Ready, awaiting your order, barrier at 20%” she reported.
“On my command” he replied tersely.
Then he began to gather his runes, reality around him steaming as the runes melted their way into existence, raw words of power that shook and heated the room, the Runebearers around him adding theirs to the mix. The jades spoke, an icy chill clashing with his runes as their frostlike runes poked their way into existence as well, power ran rampant in the room, and yet, short of blowing the circle, Mardar knew it wouldn’t be enough, not against the chaotic hosts arrayed before them in all their unholy glories.
“Barrier at 5%” the a.i warned tersely.
“Barrier will fall in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1” she counted down.
“Now!” Mardar roared.
He felt the entire first circle shudder the moment the barrier fell, along with the power that tore through the entire circle empowering every single ascender to ruler status and constructs to peak legendary rank. The power, the combined aspects of the supreme beings flowed through him like an electric current as he roared his Defiance, hundreds of Ijas behind him offloading their terrible ordinances as mages, swordsmen, and warriors all rushed into battle all at once.
It was pure pandemonium, realms upon realms slammed into place and dissolved when clashing with the raw aspect of chaos. The Archailect needed no more ranks, no more hierarchies, not when its existence was on the very line, and when Mardar clashed with the creature, the unnamed being whose very presence threatened to dissolve him into non-existence, he did so as an empowered ancient bothering on the rank of primordial.
His axe sliced through before getting stuck within the body of the creature who shrieked in pure rage and agony, its hands blitzing for Mardar to dissect him in two. The rune bearers and arcane generals were there, his personal defense, aether blasters converted into raw runic blasters that shot blistering power pounding into the creature. All around him, he heard the cries of ascenders as they clashed with the forces of chaos, entire areas blotted in inky darkness before the blistering aspects of the Archailect that ran rampant scoured it from reality, showing clumps of dead bodies left in its wake.
Mardar focused entirely on his battle, fortifying his defenses as an arcane general was cut down, his entire form burning to nothing under black flames as it took a blow for him. Mardar raged, a shout of arcane power and the axe unleashed the full might of the titan’s aspect within its frame, the creature engulfed in the aspect of the titan as it blazed to nothingness, the other creatures of chaos shrieking as they pushed backward, terror in their eyes.
With the creature gone, their de facto leader, the humanoid shapes began to rampage in pure madness, with no coordination as Mardar pushed onwards. The concept of time eluded him as he hacked and slashed and tore his way through the forces of the reaper, arms swinging with the axe, rage in his very eyes. His armor was stabbed, slashed, and even attempts to rip out portions of its frame, and yet, the scourge rune pushed onwards. Soon enough, the constant beeping in his ears drew his sanity back to him, the a.i speaking hurriedly.
“Capital cannons are failing; the order has been given to retreat!” she said.
“All ascenders, retreat, Prometheans and heavy artilleries, to the front, provide cover fire!” he roared.
And then he pushed back to the front, to the unceasing hordes that swallowed the light from the attacks around, his mouth never ceasing as he summoned attack after attack. A thought occurred to him, that the very line he held, was nothing but a blip in the entire structure of the first circle. Large enough to encircle a planet, its very form was a behemoth, built only by the raw technological strength of Liakya herself.
As the artilleries pounded and Mardar began his gradual withdrawal, seceding this particular sector to the forces of chaos, the barriers coming down to shield the next sector, its strength double of what protected this entire sector, he only had one thought left.
Where was the reaper?.