Westford Kingdom Calendar, Year 1567
In the beginning, the ones that came up with the idea thought that it was sound, as ones that come up with ideas usually do. Why would they have not thought as such?
It was perfect, a solution born of ideals and bound by necessity. The region was filled with a smattering of nation-states, each weak on its own and desperately struggling to defend or repel invading expansionary forces from larger, well established kingdoms like Westford or Dragon Talon.
But together? By pooling their armies and supplies, they were able to create a collective force well exceeding any potential warring detachment that a kingdom could send. Invasion routes by land would be thwarted by the trained horseback riders of Rott. Kingdom soldiers travelling by way of sea would face the mermen folk of Aqua Isle. Even dragon riders, the most feared elite troops of Dragon Talon, would have to turn tail and flee when coming face to face with the massive harpy swarms of Featheria, so numerous that they would blot out the sky.
The collective had a perfect answer to conquerors by land, air and sea, and a combined size that eclipsed the largest kingdoms.
They called themselves the United Assembly of Nations, a thinly-veiled taunt to the monarchies of the age - as if to say, “Ha, not so easy picking on us when we’re the same size now, is it?”
They never saw him coming.
~
“Ice Spear, Times- hold on, lessee here… one, two, three- Times Eight!”
A gloved right hand raised itself high with that awkward chant, willing eight slowly coalescing cylinders of jagged ice spikes to suspend themselves high in the air, as a shambling group of moaning lavabeasts slowly surrounded a party of three in front of the caster. With his left hand, the caster pointed hurriedly in turn at each of the attackers to select them as targets, then swung down hard with his raised right hand. The ice spikes shivered for a moment in their suspended state, then snapped sharply to lock onto their intended recipient and buried themselves into the molten flesh of the monsters, impaling them with extreme prejudice. Immediately, the air was filled with a screeching hiss as liquid rock super-cooled back into a solid state, reducing the creatures to lifelike statues as their blood hardened in their veins.
You have inflicted 8,462 damage.
Experience gained! 200XP
Experience gained! 200XP
Experience gained! 200XP
Experience gained! 200XP
Experience gained! 200XP
Experience gained! 200XP
Experience gained! 200XP
Experience gained! 200XP
The caster, Edward Wert of the Flame, breathed a sigh of relief and turned his attention to the main battle currently raging on in front of him. He could still hardly believe that this was happening; heck, if he hadn’t felt the unmistakable sensation of mana drain just as he let loose the ice projectiles, he’d probably have thought that this was just an elaborate dream on the eve of the most pivotal fight of UAN’s rather short history. Edward slid down the dirt mound and jogged to meet up with his party members that had been skirmishing with the one that had started it all.
The big bad.
“Hey guys, did’ya miss me? How’s the fight going? Flame Tower!”
The mage quipped as he reached the backline, casually throwing out one of his go-to spells at the enemy who was currently parrying a heavy blow from the Hero Arthur’s Holy Blade of Torundo with an ethereal tendril formed from what looked to be shadow magic. The Hero glanced down momentarily at the magic circle forming below his opponent’s feet and mentally counted to himself as he pressed his blade down on the shadowy tentacle. He would keep the Demon Lord pinned down for as long as he could so that he would not be able to escape Edward’s spell. As soon as he counted to four, Arthur took distance by kicking the ground, propelling himself away just as the circle completed its initialization cycle.
The incantation, Flame Tower, did as one could reasonably infer from its name: it conjured a pillar of angry flames at the feet of whatever the caster targeted, and would last as long as the mana used to create it circulated through the spell. Edward loved this spell. It only took five seconds to activate and basically incinerated its target. It was multipurpose, too; you could set up rows of Flame Towers to act as an impromptu barrier, it had effectively infinite range as long as you could supply the mana to compensate for far-range casting and its damage was superb.
Plus, it was really, really cool.
You have inflicted 0 damage.
Damage has been blocked by arcane means.
Which hurt Edward’s ego quite a bit when it dealt zero damage.
He frowned at the result, but nevertheless began cueing up a shielding spell for Arthur with practised motions of his hands. They’d been warned about this, of course. This fight was the culmination of three years of preparation and intelligence gathering.
The Demon Lord Masquerade was immune to all magic – save one.
Holy magic.
“Party Heal!”
You have been healed for 456 health points.
“Edward, keep an eye on your mana pool. You don’t use Ice Spear much, so you’ve probably already forgotten that the consumption relates to affinity and-“
“You think I don’t know that, Aura? Fire’s hardly going to do a thing to beings formed of molten rock. Don’t lecture me on affinity theory, priestess; I’m the mage here, not you. Stick to your lane. Greater Shield.”
You have deployed a Greater Shield.
Arthur Grale has been shielded.
Edward brushed off the nagging remark from the High Priestess Aura Ovo with a biting rebuttal of his own. As he reached for a mana potion looped into his belt, he felt that he could have worded that differently. He knew she meant well, of course. But the party needed her full concentration on the battle at hand, not misplaced concern for a backliner that was going to do a total of zero damage throughout this fight. That meant having her heal the frontline damage dealer Arthur and damage sponge Slate Cist, and dispel status effects that the Demon Lord might slip in here and there.
“Foolish humans. Do you not know that your struggling is ultimately futile? All will fall to my reign. The world will be ruled by Demon Lord Masquerade!”
A deep, booming voice echoed all around the four, the imposing words seemingly pressing down on them with formless weight. In fact, Edward could literally feel something holding his limbs in place. He wasn’t even able to let go of the glass vial of mana potion his hand was closed around. And judging by how the other three had stiffened up, so could they. Any mage worth their salt knew what this was.
“Aura!” He shouted frantically, watching as the hooded Demon Lord advanced on the immobile Hero. “Dispel!”
“What? But… there’s no notifica-“
“DO IT!”
Aura bit her lip and called out, “Dispel!”
Almost immediately, the invisible bindings wrapping themselves around the party vanished as if they were never there.
Special effect, “Demon Lord’s Cry” has been dispelled.
“Good job, Aura!” Arthur called out as he lunged forward, thrusting the point of the Holy Blade towards Demon Lord Masquerade, who grunted and leapt back, narrowly escaping getting skewered by the condensed mass of Holy Magic.
The priestess in question felt a layer of cold sweat form on the surface of her skin as she shakily prepared another Party Heal. They’d almost been wiped on the spot – just because she wanted to wait for the status effect to pop up.
Aura had been a late addition to the group. Slate, after all, had a sizeable health point pool and the advanced skill Damage Link which allowed him to just plop himself on the floor in the middle of the party and down health potion after health potion to give Arthur and Edward effectively infinite health, a strategy that trivialised previous battles against the Demon Lord’s forces.
She’d volunteered near the end - after the Holy City Bastion had been liberated - to provide additional support. Edward had argued for her inclusion even though Arthur insisted that the party they currently had was sufficient; Slate didn’t have any status resistances, and his chugging of health potions were a huge drain on party finances.
Maybe Arthur had been right.
She’d only volunteered out of gratitude, out of the misguided notion that she had to repay them for their heroic deeds. But her inexperience nearly snuffed out the last chance humanity had of ridding the world of the great evil that was Demon Lord Masquerade. If she hadn’t spoken up, hadn’t mentioned that she could help, maybe they could have found armor effective against debuffs, or some sort of talisman-
“Breathe.”
Aura jumped a little as she felt a hand clap onto her shoulder.
“You did fine. We’re in the home stretch now. Don’t lose your nerve.”
She forced a large grin as Edward pulled away from her to recast Greater Shield on Arthur. “Who, me? I’m fine! And for that matter, when did someone like you get so considerate, huh? Stick to your lane, Mr Know-it-all! Party Heal!”
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
Edward responded with a smirk as he fell back to replenish his mana. Aura kept the smile up until she was sure he was no longer looking, then let her face harden into one of grim determination. She wasn’t about to be the one that future historians wrote about as the crucial factor for the rise of the Demon Lord and the enslavement of all humanity.
“I’m fine.” She repeated to herself, quietly.
“GAARGH!” It was a guttural, inhuman roar that nobody present could have produced – not one that was on the side of good, that is. Aura looked up in surprise. Arthur had finally landed a blow on the Demon Lord, sending a spray of black goo into the dirt around him. The embodiment of all that was malevolent clutched his right shoulder in an attempt to stem the flow of lifeblood oozing out from the wound. It was at this point Aura noticed the appearance of Demon Lord Masquerade. His hood had been torn away with the accurate slashes Arthur had been flinging out, and after eight years of shadowy terror, his true form had been revealed to the Hero’s Party.
Pitch black skin like that of murky tar. Claws with red four inch nails on each finger. Matted, short white hair that covered the top of his head. But above all else, the most striking feature of the Demon Lord Masquerade was a gaudy, golden mask that covered the top half of his face.
“Oh, so that’s why you call yourself Masquerade.” Arthur grinned as he maintained his stance, blade at the ready. Now that his hood had been removed, it was clear to see that the so-called Demon Lord, in spite of his previous bravado, was scowling.
“You four will not be the end of Demon Lord Masquerade! I will overcome this trifling challenge and-“
“Um, Arthur?” A gravelly, unconcerned voice interrupted the Demon Lord's monologue. “You told me to tell you when to do it, right?”
Slate Cist who had previously kept his mouth sealed tight throughout the fight which had so far lasted three days and three nights, was now speaking in a rather carefree manner. In this last, crucial fight, he had another hidden role besides tank; relating to a skill that was kept secret from all but the upper echelons of the UAN resistance.
The Inspect skill.
“His HP is in range. You can do it now, Arthur.”
Arthur’s grin widened. He changed his stance, placing both hands on the hilt of the Holy Blade Torundo and bringing his feet together. “Hey, Demon Lord. You said something earlier, about how humans were foolish and it was meaningless to struggle, right?”
Arthur lifted the blade high, even as the Demon Lord roared once more and lunged at him.
“Guess you’re about to lose to a bunch of foolish humans.”
YOU HAVE INVOKED DIVINE JUDGEMENT.
All at once, a pillar of solid light descended from above. And despite it being the middle of the night, the skies turned a pure white as what could only be described as God’s fury rained down onto the position where the Demon Lord had once stood.
You have inflicted 9,999 damage.
You have inflicted 9,999 damage.
You have inflicted 9,999 damage.
Holy Magic had not been researched much in this world; there had been no need for it, after all. But ancient texts had recently been unearthed of what past civilisations called the Mercy of the Heavens, a tactical class Holy spell that could be invoked with the sacrifice of “an object of great significance”.
You have inflicted 9,999 damage.
You have inflicted 9,999 damage.
You have inflicted 9,999 damage.
An object like, say the Holy Blade that slew thousands of an occupying, evil force, and saved the citizens of the UAN from a life of suffering under the rule of an objectively irredeemable monster.
You have inflicted 9,999 damage.
You have inflicted 9,999 damage.
You have inflicted 9,999 damage.
Experience gained! 9,999,999XP
Level up!
Level up!
Level up!
Level up!
Arthur held the hilt of Torundo aloft, even as he felt the shattered pieces of spent metal plink onto his head. He held it aloft, even as he was bombarded with messages of his level increasing to a frankly absurd number. He held it aloft, even as he felt his knees give way, and his comrades rush to his side to support him.
His hands were still squeezed around the hilt even as he was placed on his side, and his armor slowly pried off his body so that Aura could examine his body for lingering aftereffects from the solo casting of what should have been a spell activated by a squadron of twenty sorcerers.
He kept his eyes trained on the spot where the great evil had once stood, scarcely able to believe what had just transpired, as if expecting his body to reform and for phase two of the fight to begin. But all that remained of the one that had tormented humanity for eight long years was a single gaudy, golden mask that lay on the ground.
Demon Lord Masquerade had been vanquished.
~
“So, what are you guys going to do after this?” Edward nonchalantly asked as he bit off another bite of his protein bar. “I think I’ll go to the Institute of Magic in Dragon Talon; coast off my title as one of the vanquishers of the Demon Lord. Maybe do a lecture or two and boast about how I definitely did a lot in the last fight.”
“I can’t really leave Bastion,” Aura said, a little glumly. “My pledge is to the Church of Seven Truths, so there’s not really much else I’ll be doing after this besides that.”
Then she brightened up. “But if you guys ever stop by, I could show you around!”
“I think it’d be nice to settle down in Rott. I could be a swordsmanship instructor for the next generation of Heroes. Probably’ll get this thing framed and hung in my training grounds.” Arthur tapped the hilt of Torundo, now nothing more than a bladeless nub. He nudged Slate. “How ‘bout you, big guy? Any plans?”
“Jail.”
Arthur faltered slightly. “I’m sorry, what?”
“I’ll be going back to jail. This adventure’s shaved off three quarters of my sentence, though.”
“What the hell did you do to get yourself jailed? Don’t you come from Kolo? The law’s basically non-existent there!”
“Illegal purchase of illicit drugs. Didn’t have enough savings for the bribe.” Slate looked up at the sudden silence to his party members staring at him, slack-jawed.
He shrugged. “I have a potion addiction.”
“Right,” Edward got up from the ground, popping the last of his protein bar into his mouth as he pressed his hands together to initiate the teleportation incantation. “Guess first on the agenda is getting Slate into rehab, then getting his charges dropped in Kolo. You guys fine to get back home from Kolo? Good.”
“Hey Edward?” Arthur pointed at the golden mask hanging from the mage’s belt. “You’re still keeping that? Get rid of it, man. What if there’s some sort of curse, like the next person who wears it becomes the second Demon Lord Masquerade or something?”
Edward scoffed as he finished up the preparations for the teleportation chant. “This thing? I had Slate inspect it while you were in shock. It’s just an ordinary mask. There's a little something strange about its properties. One of the lines doesn't make much sense to me. I’ll get it checked out more when I reach Dragon Talon. But for all intents and purposes, there’s no sign that Demon Lord Masquerade survived your last attack. We all got a bazillion XP when he died. Teleport Times Four!”
With that, the four members of the Hero’s Party disappeared from the Albion Plains, the scene of the final fight for humanity’s survival.
For a moment, there was complete silence, punctuated by the crackling of the campfire that the Hero’s Party had left behind.
Then an invisible left hand brought a thumb to a middle finger, and snapped.
"Mask Generation. Dispel Invisible Status. Dispel Disguised Status."
You have created a "Masquerade Mask"!
Invisibility has worn off.
Disguise has worn off.
"And that," the figure spoke out loud to nobody in particular as he brought the mask back to its home on his face. "is a wrap. All's well that ends well, as they say."
Demon Lord Masquerade, known to his friends as Zachary Altair, was most certainly not dead.
In fact, he'd hardly been singed at all.
It took quite a lot of work to put this play on; keeping an eye on his summons and attributing XP gain to the one that had defeated them, pretending he didn't have full Bladed Weapons Immunity, or that he was weak to that so-called Holy Magic spell, or getting someone with Inspect on the Hero Party.
Speaking of which, it had been a challenge getting that forgery of an ancient "Holy Scripture" into the hands of UAN management in the first place. He had to bribe a couple of translators working in the Holy City Bastion into lying about the provenance of the "Mercy of The Heavens" scroll. Then he had to shadow the transport of the scroll to ensure that some parties profiting from the continuation of the war (mainly UAN spies sent by the weapon production nation-states) wouldn't assassinate the couriers while they were making their way to the relevant individuals.
The final count was twenty eight spies.
Eh, they deserved it.
The rest was easy in comparison. Play the role of an overconfident Demon Lord, adjust his health points down to match the supposed full potential of The Mercy of The Heavens, then cast a magnified Light Tower while shattering the sword that boy was holding.
Easy peasy.
"Now," Zachary muttered to himself, adjusting his robes. "I'm probably asking for a little much, but surely Westford'll keep their end of the bargain, right? They're a big kingdom, that's gotta count for some points in trustworthiness, right? Really hate to have to jump ship after I've found the most perfect little cottage to settle down in. Even overlooks a view of the sea."
Then he sighed.
"They're going to double-cross me, aren't they?"
They were.