The Zwaray Keep was at war.
The stench of blood and death filled the air, as Ultaf Shimizu and his army of spiritists, warriors, and monsters tore through its outer defenses. The svartalfar pillars, massive structures of an unknown metal which were said to be able to guard against the finest of armies now lay in melted pools of sludge.
“Give up and open the Well for us,” said Ultaf. “Or you’ll die like… Well him.”
He cackled madly as his soldiers lynched a Svaltalfar, not seeming to care if they actually would give up.
“You crazy bastard! The well is damaged. WE DON'T KNOW WHERE THE GIRL…”
The soldier who shouted quite literally exploded an expanding ball of wind replacing where his head once was.
“Tell me,’ He cackled madly. “Does anyone else not know where the girl is?"
The air screamed as aeromancers summoned pulsing spheres of compressed wind at the towers. The svartalfars responded ,disorderly pointing their weapons from the top of the towers and mostly missing. As a whole their race was not for long range combat.
Neither their strength nor honor duels helped them in a war.
“I… I surrender,” An old svartalfar who looked like a leader came to the front. “Please don’t kill me.”
“So you’ll resist to the end?” Ultaf sneered. “Summon Tier 3 Kami.!”
“W-wait. That's not what I said!”
“Filthy animals, eh?” He turned and patted Zuken on the shoulder.
Zuken for once had no words. This was not how one waged war.
Ultaf wasn’t taking prisoners. He nominally was asking for Tanya but was more than happy to slaughter them regardless of answer. There was no purpose to this and the depraved smile on Ultaf’s face made him wonder if he needed to worry about his own safety.
Ultaf wasn’t particularly bright and Zuken had been contemplating his escape based on that. This massacre was a reality check that showed him that that could very well backfire. Plans were always made on the basis that the opponent wasn’t crazy.
The Keep that once stood proudly, now lay in ruins with only some large fragments among the rubbly to hint at its former size and grandeur.
The broken walls, the shattered cantonments, dead svartalfar children. An ingenious civilization fractured by a tempest.
It was hard not to feel bitter and useless.
An image rose in Zuken’s head. His mother. Himself. Standing at the gate of their capital city. Her final words to him.
You have no power, no talent with mana. Your soul capacity is pitiful, and your faith in the Pantheon is a flickering flame. You are weak, and only the strong can stay as the Earth King’s son.
Even his mind, his greatest strength, was worthless here..
Still, all was not lost. He was alive as was Elena. Tanya was safe with…
He frowned.
Tanya was safe with—
Zuken smiled as the name escaped him. It might not do anything in the long run but small resistances made him feel better.
Despite his situation he was starting to feel better. But was this really the most appropriate reaction?
Ultaf’s army destroyed his castle, captured him, and detonated his hill. He psion raped his mind, found whatever was useful, and came to the svartalfars, demanding they hand over the Well. His one solid way to gain true power — featherglass — was now in shambles.
Wasn’t he supposed to feel anger at being tortured? Shouldn’t he be sad that all his developments and research were gone, and he was back at Square One?
Perhaps he had just become so accustomed to his own suffering that he felt it was inevitable.
The mind was a strange thing and not very understood. Perhaps it had endured too much and therefore simply decided to stop caring.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
Despite the fact that his brain was yelling at him to give up there was a persistent itch that told him otherwise.
He had overcome being thrown out of his clan, his powerlessness and dealt with numerous political opponents. Losing to this buffoon… The sheer indignity of it would push him forward.
Any kind of negotiation with someone insane risked being killed and he would never match Ultaf in power.
But could he make him weaker?
That felt more reasonable. Weakening the enemy wasn’t necessarily dependent upon your own strength. Ultaf did not lack power or authority. Having a Warlord, an entire army and the status of a Sacred Eight did all of that for him.
That left two options.
The first was to use his fear against him.
And the second, to use his pride against him.
Fortunately, Ultaf had both in spades to spare.
“You know, my grandfather always prefered the bitch,” said Ultaf.
Another strange quirk. The girl. Bitch. Lowborn. Traitor. Creature. Ultaf called Tanya anything but her given name. “A soul capacity so high, she was given a goddamn tier 5 kami. My kami.”
He grabbed Zuken hard. “You see? That's why I need to get her back. I’m stronger now and the kami will see that too. And anyone that dares stand on my path will end up like that.”
He stuck a thumb and pointed to a pile of dead svartalfar. “All that in less than an hour.”
Zuken stiffened, but refused to show fear on his features. “Do you — do you realize what you’re doing? Svartalfars are endangered. And they’re the only ones that forge Wells in the Empire.”
Does he truly not understand how much he is escalating things?
“Then they should’ve just surrendered the Well in the first place. These insects should know better than to test the resolve of one of the Sacred Eight.”
Ultaf smiled. The madness of being drunk with power shone in them. “They need to learn that actions have consequences.”
Such pointless malice. Zuken thought. It’s like he has no goals beyond just making everyone grovel before him, and he doesn’t care how many enemies he makes in the process. Has Mujin Shimizu intentionally ruined his own grandson?
“Always attack the enemy’s weakness,” said Ultaf proudly. “That’s the secret to victory. Your compassion is your weakness. Their population is theirs.”
Threats were powerful as leverage, a gentle pressure to get what one wanted. To show that you were serious, people often made some showings such as a kidnapper cutting off a finger to prove that he was willing to cut off the head.
It was as if someone had taught the oaf basic concepts but without any ability to use them practically. Attacking the enemy’s weakness was important but at the same time… Who the fuck did that in public?
His shoulders squared.
Do you really understand what sort of reprisal you’re inviting right now, Ultaf Shimizu?
“Banksi,” said Ultaf with the air of a grown-up asking a toddler to make a first step by himself. “You said you know them, yes? Make them gimme the Well. Try to get information about the girl as well.”
Zuken stared at him. Did he really think negotiations were possible after burying over half their population?
“Oh, and don’t tell them I’ll kill them after they hand the stuff over.”
“...”
----------------------------------------
The news of the massacre spread like wildfire. While Havishkali was a fringe city and therefore not of interest to most, the svartalfars were the ones who crafted the Wells that connected to the other side, where the people would gather their kami.
They were given a pseudo-amnesty to live on the fringe of the desert and in turn, forged all required needs for the Asukan Empire.
The first to bear the brunt of this was Lord Naowa.
The glass of wine dropped from his hand and tumbled across the floor. “He did WHAT?”
Several reconformations and multiple headaches later, he was still stuck in the bad dream where Ultaf Shimizu randomly waltzed into the Svartalfar Colony, the only one in the entire Empire, and chose to eradicate them.
If it had been anywhere else he would have spectated eagerly watching the flames burn between the Empire and the Shimizu clan who he was quite sure had no future after this.
Unfortunately, it happened in Haviskali. Which meant that this entire mess was his problem. The bastard would be lynched, no doubt about that. But he wouldn’t come out smelling like roses either. For another Sacred Eight clan to just waltz in, butcher the endangered species that held amnesty even from the Army, and were one of the prime contributors to the commerce in his kingdom would be portrayed as weakness at best, and incompetent at worst.
There was blood in the water, and the sharks were coming.
“Sir, Strogen is calling from the Empire.”
“Put him on hold.” Naowa replied curtly.This was the 16th message in the past 20 minutes from nobles confirming the news and more importantly, trying to figure out if Mujin would take the fall for it and the subsequent gap in political capital that would be left in its wake.
“Lord Straff wants to know if this is true. He says its urgent and is demanding—”
“Later.”
A few minutes passed.
“Sir we have received another urgent—”
“I said put it on HOLD, GODDAMMIT. I can’t deal with this now. I need to figure out what happened and these stupid politicians are something I cannot placate at the moment.”
He needed to figure out who to assign blame to and what actually happened. In that order.
“Well?” He asked his staff member who was standing at the threshold hesitantly. “Just tell them I’ll call them later.”
“It’s the Emperor’s brother, sir. The Fire King.”
Lord Naowa put his head in his hands.
----------------------------------------