The party trode on through the caverns, beak-lanterns in hand, until they were faced with their own shadows, long and quivering across the wall. They had hit a dead end.
“We’re here,” Viktor said, clapping his hands excitedly. The sound echoed like two tiny gongs.
They exited the vehicle, Grimli demorphed Vra’ta back into a pocket-sized orb, and they all approached the entrance to Viktor’s secret laboratory. It lay under a mass of rocks and vines, camouflaging rather effectively into the cavern wall. Viktor brushed away the foliage and located a beak-shaped indent in the rock, in which he affectionately shoved Baryte’s jaw.
“Good chicken,” he said, holding him there for a moment before popping him back out.
In response, electric runes came alight on the surface of the wall, beginning from the hidden door’s centerpoint and slowly appearing, letter by letter, in a spiral pattern. This continued until the entire wall was covered in golden symbols. It was an astonishing sight. Momo had seen a lot of supernatural shit since she came to Alois, but something about the circumstances of this—the complete darkness, the eerie quiet, the slow crawl of a foreign script across the surface of a cave wall—gave her goosebumps. She was truly living in a low-budget fantasy film.
“What language is that?” she whispered to Viktor. “The runes.”
“Dwarven script,” answered Grimli. “It’s a poem. It roughly translates to…”
His speech halted, his eyebrows furrowing.
“Banana… holy banana? This doesn’t make any lyrical sense.”
“Sure it does,” Viktor huffed. “And you’re reading it wrong—it’s a poem I wrote about chickens.”
Grimli nearly keeled over in laughter.
“Oh, now this is just grand—the great Viktor Mole, who claims to know more about dwarves than a real dwarf does, can’t even spell chicken right! You imbecile, that is the word for banana. This is a piss-poor poem about a holy banana. My mum’s pet donkey, born with only a quarter of a brain, could have done better than this if I were to give him him a pencil and an afternoon.”
Viktor looked like he was about to lob his chicken at Grimli like a javelin.
“Hello. Boys. Boys,” Momo said loudly, stepping between them. The previously hidden door to the laboratory began to churn open. “You can fight to the death over dwarf jeopardy questions later. Let’s deal with the important stuff first, please?”
Luckily, Viktor’s desire to show off overshadowed his need for violence.
"Your Highness," Viktor said with a flourish, guiding Momo into the concealed chamber. "Behold, my pièce de résistance."
In stark contrast to the dimly lit cavern, Viktor's laboratory blazed with the brilliance of a thousand suns, a frenetic symphony of invention in motion. Every corner of the room teemed with eccentric contraptions — arcane crystals shimmering, coils and wires buzzing with energy, gleaming metals, and every array of beak-powered accessory, from motorcycles to microwaves.
The crowning jewel of this spectacle was undoubtedly the Chickenductor, an immense, cannon-like contraption that sat in the middle of the room, illuminated by a halo of beak-lanterns. Viktor had invested substantial efforts to refine the device since Momo last saw it. It now featured wheels, allowing it to traverse the room and the cavernways with ease, and boasted a significantly enlarged central chamber, ensuring Baryte's comfort within its metal embrace.
Viktor proceeded to guide Momo through an exhaustive tour of the contraption, repeatedly shoving the bird in and out of the battery-chamber, an activity Baryte accepted with remarkable patience.
“This beautiful hunk of metal powers the entire city of Morganium,” he explained, gesturing to the hundreds of cables which laid at the bottom of the device, snaking along the floor and crawling up towards the ceiling.
“So if we disconnect it…”
“The city will be flung right back into the dark ages. No more elevators, no more microwaves, no more television,” Viktor chortled maniacally before Momo's stern, disapproving gaze quelled his laughter. "Not that such a prospect is amusing," he quickly amended.
“Frankly… I’m surprised,” she said. “I thought you’d be more resistant to putting your technology at risk. I know you care about this beautiful hunk of metal a lot more than any of those people shivering in the cave. You’re really going to let me put this thing to test against Sera?”
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
“Please,” Viktor scoffed. “Do you think I am that shallow? I am a High Engineer by title these days, sure, but in my heart, in my soul, I am but a mage. A goddess-fearing necromancer. A changed man, really. I didn’t see it before, but Baryte has woken me up. A device is just a device, but nothing is more powerful, more precious, than him… My avian son.”
Viktor raised his chicken up like a lion cub, looking at the undead fowl like a proud parent.
“He is my trade secret. My prized pudding,” he cooed. His eyes had gotten watery. “If he falls in this war, if he perishes by Sera’s wicked will—so too will I. To the Nether with both of us.”
Momo stared at him, speechlessly.
Did Viktor actually… grow as a person?
“So no. If it isn’t clear.” He cleared his throat. “You can do what you must with my creation to win this war. As long as my chicken stays safe.”
She shook her head, disbelieving.
“Okay,” she said, laying her hand on Viktor’s shoulder. “Let’s do this, then.”
—
They carefully maneuvered the Chickenductor back to the main enclave, where Sumire and the others patiently awaited their return. Momo was startled by the resumption of the deafening booms overhead—she had almost forgotten they were in an active warzone. The quiet of the caverns had calmed into her a false sense of security. Solving this dire situation was no longer an abstract concept; it was her sole imperative.
With Baryte nestled protectively under her arm, Momo positioned herself near the doorway, feeling the weight of the citizens' collective gaze upon her. It was no secret that their primary interest was in the chicken rather than her, but Momo had come to understand that, in this critical juncture, what truly mattered was just getting them to pay attention at all.
“This weird looking hunk of metal over here—as I’m sure you guys know all about—is Viktor Mole’s Chickenductor.” She slapped the surface of the device, and it echoed through the corridor. “And it might be our only hope. We are surrounded by enemies on all fronts. Excalibur squidheads. Traitorous necromancers. Actual gods. My magic is no longer going to be enough. So our resident High Engineer, Mr. Mole, has kindly lended me both this device, and more importantly, his dear… your dear… chicken.”
The crowd immediately descended into chaos.
“You can’t endanger the holy one!” someone shouted.
“We’ll kill you if you even dare!” another added, brazen. The rest of the crowd seemed to agree with the statement. Sumire scowled, reaching for her weapon.
Taking no chances, Momo immediately mumbled, “[Crowd Control],” feeling no shame in doing so. It had an immediate calming effect. They all looked a lot less murder-hungry. She gave Sumire the signal to wait, then immediately followed the spell up with another, casting [Illusion of the Other]. She watched as dread replaced anger.
“If I don’t act now, if your god, this chicken, doesn’t help me—all of our fates are sealed, including his own,” Momo said. Brought forward by [Illusion of the Other], she watched as a hundred tiny apparitions appeared in front of each of Morganium’s citizens; the imagery in all of them was the same: the holy chicken being slew by Jarva. Cold-blooded avian murder.
As the seconds dragged on, a shift happened in the crowd. They began to stare at her not in suspicious anger, but instead… with hope. They dropped their scowls and their weapons, and began to chant.
“Show them who's the real boss of that stupid pantheon, Baryte!”
“Send ‘em crying back to the Nether!”
Momo felt an audio courier mumble in her ear. It was the Ruler System.
Critical Approval Surge: Approval Rate In Morganium At 99%
Momo sighed in relief. The mob had chosen her, finally… as the chicken’s rightful sidekick.
That was good enough for her.
—
“So, do you think it’ll work?” Momo asked.
“I’m certain it will,” Viktor replied. “They think this storm is to their advantage–ha! A truly unscientific conclusion. It will be their utter doom.”
A party of Viktor, Momo, Sumire and Nyk traveled up the stairs back into the desecrated church. They were traveling under the shadow of a Nether blanket—much like the one Momo had cast to get them there initially—only now Nyk was the one channeling it. Momo was conserving her Mana for later. Although she wouldn’t need any in order to operate the Chickenductor, (Baryte would be doing the heavy lifting) she didn’t want to expend it unnecessarily.
“As you know, Knights of the Sun are only operating at a fraction of their power when the sky is overcast,” Viktor continued. “Right now, with a storm like this, they are at their weakest. I bet that’s why they haven’t been able to crack the Nether barrier yet.”
Momo gazed up at the bubble. The Excalibur octopus from before was still standing there, only now he had company. Several others, including that squirmy knight Momo had seen before: Cyllindrel von Haus Cylinder. In total, there were seven now, looking like a rather intimidating squad of purple power rangers as they pounded on the Nether dome. All they were missing was their last compatriot: Gorim.
Good thing he’s buried under Morganium just about as deep as the Earth’s core right now.
“I know that part. But will electricity be able to hurt them?” Momo asked as she heaved the Chickenductor forward. “Or will it just bounce off of them? I know Nether can hurt them, but I know nothing about how electricity works in the magic system…”
“Electricity by itself, perhaps not,” Viktor confessed. “But Nether electricity… absolutely! Holy Knights and their ilk are weak to Nether attacks, as you say, but an attack like this—a combo between sizzling electrical current and diabolical Nether, and then supercharged by the wrath of the Gods—oh, it will do more than hurt. It will knock their tentacles off.”
The Chickenductor came to a screeching halt as they reached the center of the plaza. Hail pounded overhead, hitting the Nether blanket like an avalanche. Nyk’s spell was the only thing preventing them from being squashed like ants.
“Now, all that’s left, your highness,” Viktor said, unbuckling the seatbelt in the Chickenductor’s chair, then slapping the metallic seat with glee. “Is for you to put this baby in drive.”