Half an hour before Linlin was sent flying for the first time, the lamia village was experiencing round after round of madness, with both sides amply involved.
Colonna had already reaped more than half of the invaders’ lives all on her lonesome, while they, in turn, decimated her people until only she was left unchecked.
In addition to the already existing baggage on her mind, this, too, was something she had to put up with powerlessly. There were just too many invaders compared to lamias schooled in warfare. After all, their army had been sent away. Those who remained were either in their twilight years or untrained.
In the past, this had never been much of a problem. Peace-lovers turned to weapons only when absolutely required. They had never truly waged war if not challenged by others.
Yet the Lost Woods weren't kind to peaceful folk, nor was the entirety of Central for that matter. The lone warrior didn't care. All considerations had already been thrown out the window.
Under the influence of eternal wrath seemingly defying anything physically possible, she caused almost as much damage to the human camp as they did to hers.
While everything else besides inflicting the greatest destruction and highest death rate upon her enemies lost all meaning for her, Colonna's powerful force of will survived, seemingly defying reality at times.
The humans also contributed to her victory streak. With arrogant higher-ups behaving much like incompetent cretins who knew little about how to expertly counter her madness, the shamaness’ skilful assassinations racked up a scarily high rate of success that outperformed even her best records by far.
However, there was a limit to the efficiency and subtlety of what one single lamia could output. The numbers gradually worked against her.
While in the beginning, she’d reaped lives faster than she could breathe, their dwindling numbers demanded of her to search and destroy which cost increasingly more time and effort.
The incredible death toll, evident on the Lifescroll in First Elder’s hands, made it so his arse was suddenly found on fire, inconsolable.
Even though each name engraved on that scroll was that of a core disciple, the selfish elder didn't flare up because of the upwards trend in vanishing names.
All First Elder cared for was his own hide. Nobody else came close to the importance of his safety! By mobilising the remaining troops and barking orders worth less than stinky farts, the wannabe commander wished to suppress the losses just to keep his stellar achievements unblemished and safe to claim.
He'd tasted the fruits of victory, already allocated and used up all the resources he was bound to gain as promised. What awaited him after all the daydreams was... this.
His achievements slowly melted away under First Elder's exasperated watch. This was not a good feeling!! Not even his proud goatee survived the mere thought of what'd become of him if he failed Elder Shadow.
For the sake of his own skin, he’d even set out personally more or less an hour ago, dragging his unwilling aide along in ploughing through bloodstained mud, fiery plains and a wrecked village. Yet the culprits they so dearly sought for different, very personal reasons eluded them still.
With no clue on where to begin their search, little geographical understanding, and no knowledge of lamia culture, the difficulty of their emergency undertaking wasn’t something desperate hurry and a burning desire could make up for.
In retrospect–––due to a deadly lack of concrete and trustworthy information they never learned the importance of–––both continued to cease phantoms all over the place.
Such as the roaring fire’s flickering shadows, a dark corner where some severed tails twitched still, their own troops behaving like scared hares seeing a rabid dog, some wobbly buildings on fire and much gimmickry, products of their taut nerves.
Whenever they came to discover dispersed soldiers hiding for dear life, they hadn’t time enough to furiously reprimand the gutless for refusing to do their duty. In their situation, no amount of tongue-wagging would change a thing–––and they knew it.
So the duo continued their fruitless search, leaving behind but an annoyed snort. After God-only-knows how many failed attempts, First Elder popped a vein and almost shredded the Lifescroll to pieces.
By then, the death toll had reached heights no prior stellar performance could salvage any longer, trashing his sweetest daydreams as he broke out in cold sweat instead.
There was no longer a glorious return separating him from greater reward, but a maddening dwarf known as Elder Shadow and his unimaginable ire. This understandably made him even more irascible.
Yet even if he swore, yelled and scolded some more, turned into a rocket or razed the remaining huts to the ground, the dead returned not to former splendour nor did his situation change.
If anything, the vengeful ire grew worse, since all he accomplished was sowing fear and anxiety in his own ranks, helping Colonna instead. But he truly felt it, the creeping dread–––so much that the old man almost wet his expensive pants.
The thing was, to even reach this location fast enough for the lamia warriors to helplessly find themselves in the middle of two nasty bushfires, Elder Shadow had injected some of his terrible conceptual power into every soldier.
They’d act like they were on steroids for some time before all servants eventually died off as a matter of poor constitution incapable of keeping that force from eroding them from the inside out.
Not as heavy, however, were the repercussions for trained disciples. As they were of higher cultivation and would at most faint and later feel weak for some weeks, it was an acceptable trade-off.
However, the prerequisite for a happy ending was the many sacrifices to be worth it. Nobody questioned the outcome! Now the lack of proper preparation and essential information made a dead man on the run out of the spooked elder.
During their various attempts, Fourth Elder happened to show scorn and contempt as he gleefully took note of First Elder’s change of character.
Seeing his greed and suffering derived from a hurt ego, the man had even sneered every now and then–––but that saw an end too.
Being the second in command and given First Elder’s wits, it wasn’t impossible to be made a scapegoat and target for any lashing, making it of paramount importance he kept his eyes open at all times... or so he'd thought.
Well, now he was just as exasperated as his colleague, for losing more than half an army became a potato so blazing even he’d be scalded if given the peel.
Then again, two raging supersonic aircraft ramming brittle houses head-on in a straight line gave miserable testimony of their problem-solving skills.
The duo simply were no commander material. Were Pansy given the position as an onlooker, he’d surely show his usual scathing cynicism and mention how a barbarian-styled village became Roman-styled all of a sudden, as in standing at one end gave insight at what happened on the opposite corner.
If anything, it showed just how dedicated they turned out to be if their necks were at stake. Night still embraced the fuming ruins by the time First Elder really incinerated the Lifescroll in the nearest fire pit they happened to pass by.
No words were spoken between the two and tacit understanding coordinated their actions to the fullest. There was no need, really. Though not bright, both had at least a defective brain sitting atop their crooked necks.
At long last, they made a useful discovery. Fourth Elder hastily pulled up a sizzling corpse of a soldier as he’d done so often as of late, the only apparent change this time was the fire in his ominous eyes as he growled hoarsely, “still bleeding,” before joining First Elder in piercing the smoke wall in front.
“Aargh!” “Uiiihhh!” “Rockfist, that way!” The terrifying screams still clung to their ears when First Elder already appeared there, two huts behind him collapsing loudly. Between primitive mortar and wood, his head turned out to be harder.
Fourth Elder was close on his heels. The one-armed man should’ve at least shaken his head or muttered something in his beard if the current situation wasn’t this particular.
So, he only got rid of the mixture of dust and ash in his mouth and joined his companion at staring daggers at the evildoers. Well, the evildoer.
They both furrowed their brows in amazement, for in their mind the assaulters had always been a patient group with impeccable training and cooperation.
But the half-dead lamia in front didn’t look that way, which only underlined their incompetence in catching one single warrior amidst a flock of sheep. A burning slap with far-reaching repercussions, in other words.
The fact she was more dead than alive did little to ease the impact that revelation had on them. Now Elder Shadow would surely wring their necks clockwise upon their return, no doubt.
Looking at her for longer, the duo shuddered uncontrolled. The lamia's ongoing frenzy not only called for a wet grave in the medium run, but it also left obvious deep marks and many serious injuries on the suicide warrior.
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Where her left arm was once dangling down, a deep hole extending till her plump left breast came into view. On that note, there were many cuts crisscrossing on her bare assets, leaving little skin intact.
A mixture of grime, blood, and partially minced flesh covering her body had transformed the beautiful shamaness into a nightmarish creature native to the depths of hell.
Her tail was sheath for many blades, some broken with only the tip etched deeply in her body, some intact and bloodied all over. Arrow shafts stuck out and countless shards were embedded in her flesh as they told a bloodcurdling story of bitter vengeance.
Colonna’s wounds were simply too many to count, some deep enough to catch a glimpse of her internal organs and bone structure.
Her once charming face–––the only part where scars were marks of dishonour to even the wildest lamia warrior–––had not been spared either.
But none of the ghastly wounds could overshadow the hellish glimmer in her only remaining eye. With pride and arrogance glowing from within, much like the setting sun, she sovereignly looked down on the two men blocking her way to the next victim.
“Monster…” First Elder muttered, his face deadly pale. Now he was truly afraid of returning. For he recognised the young man lying in his own pool of blood and looking up to heaven with reproachful eyes, his face an excruciating mask distorted by pain.
A promising candidate for the vacant Sixth Elder’s seat. A genius who should’ve basked in admiration and glory, not lying there and only adding to the commander’s misery. His misery.
Though, how would somebody selfish like him feel as he stared at a dead clan genius? Nothing much, really. Only the fact he now shouldered a death sentence made him furious beyond comparison. “Like the view, honoured guests?”
The lamia smiled seductively, or at least intended to, as the gashes on her face gave the expression a rather diabolical air. “Personally, I’d have liked to add some much-needed dressings, but you can’t have everything in life, can you?
Why though,” she said indicatingly, “this swine required two hits,” Colonna nodded her head reproachfully at the puddle of blood. Immediately after, her burning stare returned to the place where a beautiful villager lay dead on the ground, clothes ripped apart and body displaying… certain obvious marks.
“This heroic pig sure knew how to oppress the weak. Must’ve been an intelligent little minstrel the way he squeaked.” “Shut up, you executioner!” Thundered First Elder, each word accompanied by rising blood pressure.
While his taciturn colleague stared maliciously at the dying lamia as the dead genius was from his camp, First Elder could no longer take it and flared up. Yet... all things considered, there was one more creature that absolutely had more reason to brawl out her eyes.
“Me, a cutthroat?” The shamaness laughed eerily as bitter tears cascaded down her cheeks once more. “An executioner?” She frothed, her voice a diabolic crescendo as she slid slowly towards the charred temple, not caring about the trail of blood she left behind.
“To observe is to ask too much of menspawn. Rejoice, at least here it doesn’t matter where you look at. As long as you have eyes, everywhere is the bloody same. I present to you the results of your herculean efforts.
Raped priestesses, chopped up elderly, tortured sisters, fire, death, misery.” Then she added joyously, “maybe hidden slaves somewhere to exchange for a month of good ale, a feast or two?”
The tenderly smiling lamia had truly chosen the most impactful stage for her last play–––which only sent shivers down both men’s spines.
It didn’t matter she was half-dead and of cultivation comparable to one of them and there were two of them in prime condition present.
The secret sign they’d settled upon to initiate an assault in unison was long forgotten. There was something in their mind admitting to her words, a voice totally out of their expectations and control–––the voice of reason.
This made matters truly worse. Then, as if only her death would allow for inner peace to return, they attacked. Yet the shamaness made no attempt to block them, she merely hopped backwards at a calculated angle and met fist and blade with upper and lower body respectively.
Everything below her hips was severed as a result, while the fist landed squarely on her breastplate, shattered it and catapulted her backwards like a ball leaving a trail of gore behind. “Ack!”
Colonna landed hard, blood gushing out of her mouth as her lungs failed her. “What the...?” “This…?!” Only now did both elders fathom things weren’t as simple as they seemed.
Something was definitively going on here, for it was impossible the lamia gave up on her revenge and chose death so readily. Were there any helpers nearby?
They immediately stood back-to-back, ready to face any wave of assaulters. But little did they know that their overcautious behaviour based on false assumptions was exactly what Colonna had hoped for. “Arrogant human breed.
Deem yourself intelligent enough to look down on all that differs. You aren’t even the oldest race in the world, bloody idiots. Even they retreated to the underground, tired of having to live with all the repetitive mistakes.”
After Colonna squeezed out the last of the remaining air in her lungs, her body began to glow chaotically–––changing in quick succession, first pink, then red, blue, purple and finally chromatic white.
“Stop her!” shouted First Elder in horror, a terrible gut feeling compelling him to lunge out. ‘Too late! There are only free lamias... or dead lamias!’
With her cultivation base as fuel, the detonation released a shock wave disintegrating everything in her immediate vicinity–––including the stele both elders had originally protected and were led in a cycle to return to just on time.
Although the fire did little harm to it, the same couldn’t be said about the incoming abuse. A faint shudder, a crack, a glimmer and… nothing. The village and most parts of the meadow disappeared entirely behind a white wall.
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“And so it begins...” The ancient orc gazed through the octagonal window with an inscrutable smile on his wrinkled lips. He slowly lost himself in the distance with an unfamiliar flicker crossing his eyes that seemed to penetrate space and time yet again.
The wrapped-up parcel in the air became vivid, a spark of horror and suspicion in his eyes as he tried to liberate himself from his shackles. His inexplicable, instinctive reaction astonished the hardened killer very much until amazement faded into anger and lastly shame.
He was just about to close his eyes again and shrug it all off when a bright column perforated the sky like a titanium spear and created such a powerful blast wave it–––notwithstanding the obvious distance–––tore him rudely from the ceiling that even had the impudence to collapse over him.
Before he was able to get a thought straight under the rubble, he was paralysed by the impressive sound wave that followed thereafter, making his head ring and nose bleed.
It took a few minutes for the dust-covered Supreme Commander to shift stone slabs and wooden logs weighing tonnes to the side, allowing for a proper breather. What an unlucky day!
All his plans had been read like an open book and countered, then he landed in captivity before the elder knew it, had to watch on powerlessly as he hung from the ceiling like a gift according to popular human tradition, endured ego-scratching abuse, only to–––after he had finally come to terms with his predicament no less–––crash to the floor together with the crumbling ceiling.
Unfortunately, the swearing guy did not connect the event with the old orc’s loose words. Elder Shadow was reminded nonetheless. “The die’s cast.” ‘That’s it, the decrepit orc starts yapping useless rubbish again.
Better use this commotion and hide somewhere. I'm free and he's lost the element of surprise. Maybe his conceptualisation demands charging up. Anyway, as expected from inferior species,’ or so Elder Shadow thought with glee. But what happened next only taught him better.
One moment he was engulfed by exotic energy, the next he flew skyward where he met the already assembled, deeply terrified forces, waving their weapons randomly in the air in utter panic.
What divine sorcery produced such condensed energy? And allowed people to airwalk no less? The answer approached him with steady steps.
“Damn,” sighed the creature littered in countless cracks from where fumes and pure drops of energy spilt out, “forgot, almost. Age sure is cruel.”
A hand movement and a numbing crack later, a mysterious rune-covered stele joined the heavenward crowd. The being of pure energy that not long ago was still seen staring in the distance, was no longer the same as before.
It looked down one last time at its beloved family donning faces filled with unmistakable surprise, smiled mischievously–––as far as the many wrinkles and cracks allowed it to–––waved goodbye with both hands, muttered a stifled “bye, dear ones,” and the whole gang disintegrated at once as if they were but a nightmare one had awakened from.
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A few miles to the east, misfortune befell a certain somebody yet again. After bouncing off the even surface of 7 chitinous plates like a flat stone on water, Linlin understandably shook his dazed head and stroked his new collection of bruises. This was the third time now.
After today, half his back might end up purple-blue! Then, a loud sizzling noise made him look back, where he just saw the lowest blocks of the stele collapsing as if they were but a brittle house of cards.
So much for the energy supplier. That thing could’ve broken down much later if possible, but... at least his job was done, the mission over.
The high efficiency the outwitted fools revealed was beyond Pansy’s best prediction and made some of his contingency plans no longer a necessity.
Yet our hero cared not about petty details. Linlin massaged his stinging forehead and swore to sleep through the coming few days was he to be graciously left alone to do so! And even that may not be enough sleep to offset this headache.
Yet first came a whole truckload of problems he'd like to solve. As he coincidentally looked up to the dawning sky heralding a bright new day, he was surprised by a swiftly multiplying number of sawtooth-like cracks from which a murderous aura blew him right in the face.
“Fuck the ants. Fuck the orc. Double fuck the lamias. Fuck mankind. Fuck them all!” Without wasting another second on meaningless thoughts suggesting him to flee from whatever would come soon ploughing through said cracks, Linlin unceremoniously threw himself to the ground, where he remained motionless.
In his beaten state, our hero sure as hell wasn’t going to bounce around like a headless chicken nor would he put up much of a fight. He had definitively enough of this merciless, super-stressful world! To think he resolved to only study alchemy in peace!!
Judging by the impossible quake of thunderous steps, there were not just a few multi-legged heavyweights tumbling through the openings, but an entire army. Much later, it finally quieted down–––in an extreme way.
No chirping insects, no singing birds, even the wind seemed to have frozen solid. But how come he wasn’t disturbed already? ‘Something’s… wrong?’ Remarked an equally exhausted Pansy. ‘Turn ‘round and open yer peepers.’
‘You do it, I handle this bomb.’ The System announced something yet again, but both paid no heed to it at all. It wasn't necessary either. They knew what was going on.
‘C’mon, I’m tired too!’ ‘Pah.’ Suddenly, someone of little weight approached with obvious hesitation–––judging by the vibrations transmitted from the moss-covered, ruined plaza–––and sat down crouching so close our hero could literally smell a soothing mixture of mud and dried flowers.
What splendidly fragrant herbs… Wait, didn’t he know that from somewhere? Atop a certain rug pile called royal bed he woke up not long ago?
And speaking of suspicious stuff... where had that aura of murder and destruction reminding him so much of criminal war veterans going bonkers gone to?
Linlin wasn’t left brooding for long, before pleasantly warm, soft fingers nudged probingly at his cheek, providing ample answers. “You still move?” Asked an innocent voice, heavy with utmost care and sweet fear.
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End of Part III