What saved them was not the terrain, but what was built under it. The yokai territory was a vast labyrinth of walls and doors and shadows. Thick rock walls lined by Solana’s barriers were merely the first layer of protection, and beyond that lay a maze of passageways and corridors that could prove a challenge to navigate to those unfamiliar with its halls. After Lukas’s stunt against her, Solana had made it doubly sure to prevent terraportation within the territory, and the barriers prevented them from actively manipulating the walls. Added together, they made the yokai territory a natural fortress, not easily taken provided that there were defenders willing to guard it. And those inside were very much willing to guard it.
The first wave of terramancers and aeromancers poured into the corridors, crashing through the walls, shifting through rocks, relentlessly hammering against where the barriers were weak. Demons or not, they expected them to be frightened, unprepared, scurrying away in fear at the sight of a superior, more numerical foe. What they got was an alert enemy, dug in reinforced positions, well-prepared for the battle at hand.
But it wouldn’t matter.
For they were the Warlord’s troops. For they answered to the Earth King himself. What were some soul-sucking parasites compared to those armed with the blessings of the All-Seeing Great Goddess?
Confident in their victory, assured of their triumph, the soldiers surged into the territory and met a brick wall of resistance.
Metal-plated warriors hesitated at the junction between three hallways. The network of corridors was like a labyrinth to them, and they had already used a lot of Eternal Light crystals just to illuminate their way through this darkness. In the distance, the din of battle reverberated, echoing through the walls to reach them. It almost managed to mask the sound of footsteps until it was too late.
A lone man approached. Asukan, just like them. Wearing a blue set of fractals, with a metallic something coiling around his right wrist. Any feelings of elation died the moment they saw a demonic, metal-tailed feline standing behind him, but the Asukan did not seem conflicted at all.
The soldiers swiveled on their feet and pointed their Eternal Light imbued weapons at him. It did nothing to impede his progress in any way.
He took out a tiny vial and poured it on the metallic thing on his wrist. The substance frothed and then extended outward, forming a sharp scythe with a cylindrical hilt, connected by a long metallic chain that ended with another weighted hilt.
“That’s supposed to be my backup,” Olfric twirled his kusarigama expertly, showing off a bit at the soldiers. “I have no idea what it does.”
He and the feline took fighting stances against them.
“Let’s find out.”
----------------------------------------
A little further away, a group of aeromancers chased Maude and Zuken through the hallways. Spears and orbs of pressure and wind whizzed past their heads, with Zuken raising walls to intercept them before they could even reach halfway. The two of them led their pursuers through a maze of corridors before skidding to a halt. Dead end. They turned to see the aeromancers advancing on them, blades of wind ready to impale them in a hundred ways.
Zuken and Maude looked at each other.
“NOW!”
Yurei erupted out of the walls, and rushed into the aeromancers, penetrating past their defenses without care, their wind powers doing nothing to the ethereal creatures as they sank their claws into their victim’s souls and twisted them inside out. The next moment, eleven aeromancers dropped their weapons, their eyes now glowing a sinister red, and genuflected.
“All of them are Level-two’s,” scoffed Maude, crossing her arms. “All this running and not even a single Level-three? Talk about unfair.”
“Well, you have eleven two’s,” said Zuken, cocking his head. “Maybe they’ll get us a couple of three’s?”
Maude grinned. “I like the way you think.”
----------------------------------------
Fighting terramancers sucked, and Mizo was realizing that the hard way.
Whether it be in a straight brawl, or the manipulation of the elements, terramancers always, always held an advantage. Especially when one of them was a Level-3, and the commander of the group. It was why nobody in the territory ever directly challenged the Leader in a head-on battle.
There were two more with him. Aeromancers, if their fractals were any clue. The third was a beast tamer accompanied by a bison-like creature.
If bisons had eight legs, and two heads, and were double the usual size.
“Juicy!” said Mizo, “Does Ryu mind if Mizo —”
“Actually,” said Ryu, raising his fiery blade, “I want to fight all three by myself. Let me see what it means to be a spiritist in the Empire. Maybe next time we’ll get something for you.”
“Bully,” Mizo complained.
“R’alla!” The beast tamer hollered, as his bison let out a furious cry and galloped in their direction. Ryu struck it with every bit of his strength, but his blade got trapped inside the beast’s flesh, seemingly immune to the flames. The monster slammed its horned heads into Ryu’s stomach and held him up in the air, and two slashes of wind hacked him into three pieces, flinging them against the wall.
Ryu’s head groaned, and looked at Mizo, who just looked at him, smug and anticipatory.
“What the hell are you doing there, smiling like a simpleton? Go take them on.”
“Can Mizo have the juicy monster then?”
Ryu cursed under his breath. “Yes, now go.”
One moment Mizo was standing there, the next moment, there was a blur in the air and then a creature was clawing its way up the bison’s back. It was about the size of a massive ape, except the head looked strangely canine, with equally grotesque pairs of claws in its arms and legs. Before they knew it, the bison was lacerated in five different places, and was down on the floor, blood and meat spilling out of it.
And then Mizo began to hungrily feast on it.
The enemy watched, nauseous.
“Sorry,” said Ryu’s decapitated head. “She does that.”
Ignoring the shocked looks, he pulled his body together using his arms, and the next moment, he was whole again.
Two wind slashes cut his left hand off again.
“Well, rude,” said Ryu, sighing, as a flame erupted out of his now hacked-off shoulder, and fused back with the fallen appendage. “Listen, why don’t you just choose who wants to fight with me, and we can play this out like civilized people?”
Flames erupted out of his body, his arms and legs and his metallic tail. Two pairs of fiery curved blades appeared in his hands.
“Have you decided?”
Before they could answer, violence permeated the air. The sound was loud — an inept description. The spiritists had fallen down to their knees, clutching their heads and covering their ears and screaming their lungs out. The ceiling above them shattered, and something four-armed and massive fell through, landing before them. Its flesh, metallic, with horn-like protrusions with flames burning around them. The eyes shone with a mad, blue, almost primordial light, as waves of heat exuded out of its four-armed body.
“Ugh,” said Ryu, purple blood oozing out of his nose, as he stood up. “You’ve got to be the ugliest and noisiest bastard I’ve ever met. Don’t tell me you want to fight one of them too.”
The metallic bylestyr raised all four arms, spheres of crimson appearing on them, as it replied, “MEOOOW!”
All across the territory, more than a dozen similar scenes played out. Small scale engagements that heavily favored the defenders. Ambushes were sprung. Traps laid out and tripped. The defenders knew the territory well, and used that knowledge to their advantage. For all their power, the spiritists weren’t used to fighting in the absence of Eternal Light, which heightened their paranoia to extreme levels, and resulted in them overexpending their Eternal Light crystals. The yokai baited the foe into following them into darkened corners, forced them to lose themselves amid unfamiliar intersections, and tricked them into overusing their mana, and then those with possession-skills higher than Level-2 jumped on them from the walls, twisting their spiritual core and damaging their connection with their kami. Most of them lost their kami, and became possessed puppets for the yokai to play with. The ones that were stronger and survived, served as spiritists and added to the yokai regiment.
Hammer and anvil at its most rudimentary form.
Charging in blindly was a mistake, and for the first stages of the battle, that mistake cost the Shimizu Army several flanks of their forces. Half of their total count was neutralized in these savage melees that ran throughout the territory. The other half, savagely mauled, beat a hasty retreat, regrouping and trying to leave the area, only to realize that the invisible barriers wouldn’t let them escape.
Never mind keeping the enemy out. No, Solana preferred to keep them in.
For a brief moment, hope glimmered, and victory for the yokai seemed a real possibility.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
Then, a massive warship appeared right above the embankments, its cannons aiming for the total eradication of everything that lay beneath. The orbs of pure power that came down like meteor showers, flashes of angry light, creating massive craters in the sand, annihilating the embankments and striking against the barriers with a power more deadly than anything they had ever faced.
The eight-winged figure descended from the sky, floating leisurely down to the cratered remains of the dreary desert sands. Giant holes had opened in the middle of the desert, revealing entrances into the yokai territory past the pulverized ward-reinforced walls. Flares of Eternal Light were being shot down into the holes, exploding outward with a luminosity that blinded everyone within its reach. And if those victims were yokai, they would instantly disintegrate, or be weakened beyond comparison.
Enough for the infantry to take them down.
Zuken, Olfric, and the rest of the survivors had gotten back to the embankment where Solana stood, using her fullest might to render them invisible while being protected by the strongest defenses she could manage. Every single one of them looked out of breath, and he knew that without a shift in the tide of battle, they wouldn’t be regaining their confidence any time soon.
Lukas watched as the Warlord’s feet slowly touched the floor. He was clad in a suit of old, old warplate. A suit of silver armor so dulled and darkened by age that it no longer appeared silver. Across the metallic surface a thousand dents and cuts streaked, testimony to a lifetime spent on the field of battle. On top of broad shoulders the helm sat, equally as battered, equally as aged. An intense blue light shone from his eyes, staring out from a stylized mask shaped into the ironclad visage of an armored knight.
Even as he stood, there was an immeasurable pose. The ancient armor only added to his dignity and power. The joints did not creak or scrape, but growled in barely contained fury.
This was Wrath Incarnate. His body felt less human and more… elemental. Like a tornado condensed in a humanoid form, its fury never subdued, only focussed, the decrease in overall destructive area compensated with overwhelming power.
Power has a purpose. That was what Lukas’s grandfather had taught him. Entities like Inanna, and Meynte, the Fire King, and even Solana to an extent, followed that rule. Lukas had no doubts that the Fire King utterly eclipsed this Warlord in terms of power, but kept it carefully confined.
The Warlord in the sky? He was all power, and no purpose.
In his hand was a long blade. Large and slab-like, easily crossing his own majestic height, it looked less like a sword, and more like a massive saw to slash entire buildings with.
And when he spoke, his voice was a low rumble.
“There is no use in hiding,” said Mujin Shimizu, smiling. “I know you are here. Reveal yourself to me, little brat. The time for running is long gone. The cat has caught the mouse.”
Yes, Lukas decided. This is a strong contender. Exactly how I expected. No, he’s surpassed all my expectations. A true Level-4, honed to the very zenith.
Mujin Shimizu was a Warlord. He was greater in power, greater in skill, and greater in experience. In a fair battle, everything he could do against this enemy would end up with him buried six feet under the ground.
So fuck fighting fair.
He glanced at Tanya, who stood beside him, absolutely stiffened, and grabbed her hand. She looked at him, and he nodded at her.
After a scant few seconds, she nodded back. And Lukas knew what was wrong.
It wasn’t just that she was afraid of his power. No, that was a given. No one, and that included Solana, would be able to best this monster in a direct battle. Maybe if the three of them tried to work in coordination, it might work, but they lacked any such experience of doing so to try attempting it before such a nigh insurmountable enemy.
Besides, Solana wasn’t here to fight. Her role was to defend, and right now, she was trying to heal the barriers the ship had torn asunder.
He met Tanya’s eyes. “You’re not the little girl he captured back then.”
Her eyes widened, and Lukas knew he had been spot on. When she was seeing Mujin, her mind was naturally reminding her of the power difference she had back then. She needed to see that things had changed, that the difference, as high as it was, was not what it used to be.
For she too, had grown in strength.
Frost could fight him, perhaps. But unless both sides of Tanya were in complete sync, she wouldn’t be at her best. She needed to see that the man in front of them was no god, just a man with a power that anyone can acquire given time and resources.
And it was up to Lukas to give that to her.
“Solana, lower the barrier.”
“What?” The skinwalker hissed. “If I do that, he will —”
“Just do it,” Lukas said, and took a step forward.
The skinwalker considered it for two seconds before relenting. The barrier dissipated, and the three of them, with Zuken, Elena and the rest of the yokai flank standing behind them, all appeared out of thin air.
Mujin’s eyes instantly located Tanya, and a small, cruel smile spread across his lips at her stiffened posture.
“It’s time,” he said, “You have already caused me a lot of trouble, girl. Come with me, now.”
“And what?” asked Lukas out loud, shocking every single person around him. “You’ll spare the rest of us?”
Mujin’s eyes tracked Lukas, as if seeing him for the first time.
Lukas rolled his eyes. It was like every single supervillain he had faced so far loved to spread the stereotype. Until someone did something spectacular, they would keep underestimating them and treating them like yesterday’s trash.
“No,” said the Warlord. “If she resists, then all of you will die. And if she comes quietly, then only most of you will die.”
His sound was rich with disdain. Ripe with contempt.
It deserved an answer on equal grounds.
“The problem with people in big, funny armor,” said Lukas. “Is that underneath that armor is a sack of hot air and a lifetime spent dwelling in inadequacy.”
“....”
It was as if the world’s most violent, vicious, scarring and most destructive accident had just taken place in that area. And no, the bombardment from the flying warship from above didn’t even remotely come close to it.
Slowly, ever so slowly, everyone turned to Lukas, their faces morphed into a mix of absolute horror and disbelief. Even Solana, who had lived longer than anyone else and that included the Warlord, looked like she had never been more terrified than she was at that very moment.
Judging from how long it took for Mujin to reply, he was just as caught off guard as everyone else.
“... Care to repeat that, traitor? I didn’t quite hear you the first time.”
“Traitor?” asked Lukas. “That would imply I even served the Empire in the first place. Get your facts right before you get down to insults. And honestly, I’m being quite serious. All that power of a Warlord, and you come in charging with armor and warships just to kill a silly little girl in her Level-threes? And even then, your best idea is to hold others hostage to get Tanya with you? Honestly bud, you give off more of a paperpusher vibe than a Warlord.”
“Did… did he actually say that?” squeaked Elena.
“Lukas!” Tanya hissed. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Ah… so this is how it ends,” said Olfric softly, resigning himself to an assured calamity.
“I like your armor by the way,” said Lukas unreservedly. “Maybe after we’ve taken you down, I’ll keep it for myself. Tanya always tells me that I don’t look much of a warrior. Maybe putting that in would help?”
Mujin let out an extremely refined snort. “You have quite a mouth on you, jester. I’ll have to make sure to take it with me after I slaughter you all to pieces.”
“With or without the Warship?” challenged Lukas. “No, believe me, it makes a ton of difference.”
Surprisingly, Mujin didn’t retort with anger. Instead, he just cocked his head. “Do you really think you can challenge me, boy?”
“Actually, I can,” said Lukas, unrepentantly honest. “It does involve a long and complex ritual though. Should take me about fifteen minutes to prepare. Mind if I get started?”
The funny part was, he actually gave it fifty-fifty chances. The uber-powerful types like him never paid much attention to time. Especially when they thought they had everything under control. And more importantly, he wasn’t fibbing. It would take him a moment to actually power himself up and fuse with Blob to gain his nigh indestructible armor, before he could even think of lasting against this monster for more than ten minutes with his head intact. At the same time, it would also buy Solana some time to reinforce her barriers just in case the warships began their onslaught again.
He saw Solana give him a surprised look, taking a sharp breath as she realized his rather obvious ploy. Unfortunately, Mujin did too.
“Do you take me for a fool, boy?” He snorted, glaring down at him. “Even if you could amuse me for longer than I anticipated, I will not let the girl vanish away again.”
Lukas looked around at the team around him, who were looking at him like he had grown a second head, and audibly sighed.
“Well, Plan A failed,” he admitted sheepishly. “I guess we can try Plan B.”
“I liked Plan A,” said Zuken dryly.
“I thought you would,” said Lukas grinning, and turned back to face Mujin. “In that case, here’s Plan B.”
And his eyes flashed green.
His vision altered, replaced by countless curves traversing around the Warlord’s form. Every single one of them was a possible motion trajectory followed by the wind swirling around his armored suit. Lukas grabbed them all and spun them vertically down. He could only see the man’s eyes widen as his own wind and power acted against him as he was pulled into a vertical somersault, only to be held back by his own tremendous control over Aeromancy.
The entire exchange took less than half a second.
Fortunately, that was enough for Lukas to slam a straight fist into the air before him —
—And space distorted with its passing.
The howling wind erupted as the very air rippled, sending shock waves radially outward, tearing through the desert like blade through flesh, as the impossible momentum accompanying the strike hit Mujin in a split second, pushing the Shimizu Warlord backwards.
Lukas turned towards Tanya, all traces of humor vanished from his face. “Prepare yourself. I need you to take over in five minutes.”
And then he turned around and chanted the words that would signal the death of hundreds before the end.
“Activate Warmonger Protocol Version 2.”
Loading predetermined Skill functions….
Adding Accessory Armor….
The liquid metal cocooned every inch of his body, a fluid suit of armor that only left enough space for him to breathe, and even that was manageable with lifeforce. The Scan and Analyze functions would allow him a three hundred and sixty degree awareness, and when powered up with his Omphalos Reserves and the extra carquane enhancements he had come up with to store extra energy, he would not be left wanting as far as raw power was concerned.
Maximizing Sympathization Ratio
Altering and repurposing structure while maintaining integrity
The last time he had utilized this, he had been a Level-26. This time, he was ten levels above that. He had a greater understanding of what his aqāru armor could or could not do. The amount of raw power flooding through his body was far greater than he could have before. Crafting a carquane skeleton beneath the aqāru armor only magnified that.
He took a step forward, just in time for the Warlord to come at him with a power unlike anything he had ever faced.
Releasing all Safety Procedures
Executing and Forging Complete
Well… anything mortal, that is.
The man’s hand came to rest in his metallic palm.
Enact.
And the fight began.