Mason truly hated nerdery. And this Nexus. And Blake for doing whatever the fuck he was doing that wasn’t helping.

Apparently a dracolich was an undead dragon. With pretty much all the pros and almost none of the cons. Not that dragons had a lot ‘cons’ to begin with. But at least they had, you know, organs. This thing sounded even more terrifying than the live version.

"His magic powers have increased with time," the nameless priest explained. "For a hundred years he has been gathering an army of the dead. Beasts. Corpses from our crypts and graveyards. Any unfortunate soul who wandered too close to its sources of power."

"And if we kill it," Mason said as the group walked them through the pyramid, "does this army just fall down and die? Properly?"

"I do not know," said the priest. "But you may be right. I'm afraid our knowledge of the creature is not extensive."

Mason soon realized the pyramid was familiar. The images on the walls weren't faded anymore, the bare stone halls now containing furniture and a collection of animalistic people, all of whom stared at Mason and the others with wide, almost reverent eyes.

Did that mean their first 'challenge' had been in the future? A vision of what would happen here if they failed?

It seemed to make sense. So they'd been warped back in time at least a couple hundred years to change things. Not that any of it was really happening, of course. But then when you were this deep into a fantasy world what the hell was 'real' anyway?

"OK, Carl." Mason sighed. "What do you think you know about dracoliches?"

The priest stopped and turned, obviously just as keen to hear. In fact the whole group stared, and Carl grinned then practically transformed—as if in his old life he were some kind of…practiced fantasy storyteller.

Mason did his best not to roll his eyes.

"Expect dark magic, my friends. Maybe nothing quite as flashy as those comets he was shooting. But now he'll be nothing but bone and bits of rotting flesh, with a glowing power behind his eyes. And he'll still be able to breathe. Maybe not fire. But something more like acid, or a kind of magic that'll suck the life right out of you."

"Jesus Christ," Mason muttered. "So it has no flesh? I assume it won’t be able to fly."

Carl frowned. "I wouldn't assume anything. Ordinarily it would. But maybe in this 'reality' roboGod cares a little more about physics than pen and paper games. So I just don't know. Has anyone seen it?" He turned to the priest, who shook his head.

"The battle is only just begun. The armies of our king fight with undead and some kind of dragon cult. But the Destroyer has not yet shown itself."

"Alright," Mason dragged a hand over his growing stubble. "We have to assume it can. Which is fucking great. And it means..." he shrugged helplessly. "The only way to bring it down is break the attaching bone. Probably? That'll be hard with a bow. We might need...bird men to carry me and Carl up there. Even to me that sounds crazy."

"I can do it," Carl said, wiping a hand over his head. "I mean. We only need one wing, right? If I got carried up. I could hack some bone and drop. I can warp before I hit the ground."

"Unless the zombie dragon eats you," Mason said.

"Zombie dragons are different," Carl said. "That’s more like a Warhammer thing."

"What the hell is...OK, I don't give a shit. You'll be too high for Rebecca to help you. Anyway, I'd still have us both go. Double our chances. Or at least I’d distract him. Alex, can you shield him that high in the air?"

The Belarusian frown-scowled, then shrugged without a word.

"Well, there you go," Mason said. "Your chances of survival are approximately as good as a shrug from Alex. Anyway I doubt we'll find any bird men crazy enough to actually agree. So let's hope it doesn't fly."

"You needn't worry there," said a voice down the hall. Mason turned to find Prince Aixa (probably now King Aixa) looking maybe like a man in his mid sixties.

Apparently these bird men lived a lot longer than humans. He wore leather armor similar to the last time they'd met, his body older but strong, his face weathered and wise. The golden eyes were just as cunning as before.

"I and my bodyguard would be honored to carry you, Champions. If necessary."

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Mason nodded in respect, seeing many of the birdmen behind their king straining to see Mason and the others.

"I thought the battle had already started. Shouldn't you and your men be there?"

"Skirmishes only," said the king. "Cultists. Mercenaries. A few monstrous beasts. My generals are well trained and don't need me for much. And I...wanted to see for myself." He smiled and looked at the priest of Nephus. "I should never have doubted you, my friend. You have never failed me."

"I do nothing, my lord," said the priest. "It is Nephus who protects us. The glory is his."

"Indeed." Aixa smiled. "Come, my friends. I will take you to the battlefield. And together we will end this monstrous creature once and for all."

Mason and the others followed, walking past dozens and soon hundreds of the 'Nephalai', who stared and whispered and dropped in various religious bows, gestures and prayers.

"The green-eyed warrior and the wolf!" whispered a young priestess.

"The wizard!" said another. "The swordsman! And the shield-maiden!"

"And the bald squire!" said someone else.

Mason couldn't help but grin as he glanced back at Carl.

"Ah come on," the older man muttered, rubbing a hand briefly over his head before he realized and pulled it away.

"Should have told them you were a Glassassin," Mason whispered.

* * *

King Aixa took them on a vaguely familiar, surreal trip through the pyramid. He told them about the construction, about his royal house’s conversion and embrace of Nephus, and the growth of the floating city over the last century.

"Then came the Doom," he said sadly. "I thought we might see you again, and I nearly lost my faith. But we survived, unlike many of the surrounding cities. Nephus protected us from the winds and the drought. Somehow this jungle became an island of life in a terrible storm of death. We saved who we could."

Mason had heard mention of the 'Doom' before in the game's world-building.

Some kind of cataclysm that he'd guessed wiped out the Makers and who knew what else. But he still had very little understanding of the timeline or really the actual facts about anything.

A part of him wanted to say he didn't give a shit, but he knew Blake and probably Haley would tell him it mattered.

"What do you know about this 'Doom'?" he asked. "What caused it?"

"I have no idea," said Aixa. "When life seemed to be returning to the land, we sent many flying scouts as far as we dared. Many did not return. Others spoke of a new world filled with strange, monstrous creatures. Most of the cities and peoples we once knew and traded with were gone. Like dust in the wind."

Mason shook his head. Their synthetic overlord seemed obsessed with apocalypse. Was it some kind of insight into its understanding of the universe? Some kind of message it was trying to send? Maybe it just liked blowing shit up.

Whatever the answer, they had bigger, more immediate problems. Mason followed Aixa and his guards through a few more winding passages, and once or twice the king and his men actually stopped and looked slightly lost.

"We never walk," he said, looking a little chagrined. "There's a shaft that runs down the center of the pyramid. You can just fly up or down. If you have wings."

But they eventually found their way out. What was before a thriving, if low tech city of mostly wood and brick was now a metropolis of stone. The floating city was still built into/over a lake, still surrounded by jungle. It was just far bigger.

They'd cleared out the jungle further and further, building a series of walls outside the lake as the city expanded.

Any conventional army would struggle like hell to attack such a place. Especially with flying defenders. But a dracolich? Mason had no idea. And he had a somewhat...delicate question.

"Does this dracolich's army have many of your people? Does it have, uh, undead flying birdmen?"

Aixa winced. "Many who can fly? No. But some. We have fought them over the years. They are usually slow, easy to pick off in the sky. We do not fear them."

Mason nodded, not bothering to say ‘what if there were a thousand of them guarding a flying bone dragon?’

More and more townsfolk and soon soldiers gathered around them as they walked towards the edge of the city. There was another temple-pyramid there near a gate, and as Mason saw several females of various animalistic 'species' atop it in robes he froze.

It was almost identical to his dream.

"What are they doing up there?" he gestured, and the king grinned.

"They are sorceresses, Champion, gifted with light from Nephus. Their magic will help protect us from the Destroyer's spells. And perhaps to burn our enemies."

Mason nodded, a vague fear building in his gut. There was going to be a battle on that temple. A battle of critical importance. He didn't know exactly how he knew, but he did.

"I want one group on that pyramid defending the sorceresses," he said to Phuong and Carl. "I'm thinking Seamus, Alex, and Phuong." He held up a hand. "I know you won't be able to do anything up there, Phuong, but your job will be to guard them from anything that...lands. I'll be watching, too."

Phuong simply nodded, though Aixa frowned.

"I doubt it's necessary, Champion. Their magic is very powerful, they are inside the city, and they will be guarded already."

Mason said nothing, and the king shrugged.

"As you wish. There is the East Gate. The enemy has been massing in the jungle outside it, testing our defences. We expect the worst attack to come from there."

Mason winced, his paranoia flaring like a little warning bell in his mind. His skin crawled and all he wanted to do was run. This dragon wasn't stupid.

They'd killed it last time with surprise—with the advantage of its well-earned overconfidence leading to underestimating its enemy. But for a hundred years it had been plotting its revenge. And now it was going to telegraph its attack? To mass outside a single wall? No. Not a chance.

"Can they dig?" Mason asked, glancing again at the wall, then the sky.

Aixa furrowed his brow as if no one had ever asked such a thing, and Mason practically climbed up the temple.

"If I had an army of tireless labourers," Mason said, turning to the bird man king. "I'd spend as long as it took to dig under my enemy's fancy walls. And then I'd put tunnels everywhere. Any reports of noise? Any weird mounds of dirt in the jungle?"

Aixa blinked, then paled. He opened his mouth to speak, then just paused as if unsure what to say. Before he'd figured it out, Mason heard the first shouts of alarm from the wall. Then he heard someone in the city scream.