Chapter 18 Requesting an Administrator

Mercy lay in a pool of his blood, his body unresponsive. His mana was depleted, and death beckoned him closer. With laboured breaths, he retrieved a false tooth with his tongue and bit down on it. A burst of green light emanated, causing some of his bones to realign. He turned his gaze toward the wall and noticed Ozark perched on a parapet, holding a controller in her hands.

A few thuds of skin on metal drew his attention to the battlefield in front of him. Lit up by the floodlights, Ozark’s monster, the machine of flesh and blades was drawing blows with the Wendigo. The sheer power from each attack sent out shockwaves. Mercy knew he was outmatched before, but how much was now clear to him.

Suddenly, a gush of red liquid spewed out the back of Ozark’s Monster, quickly followed by a plume of black smoke.

“No,” Ozark gasped.

Wincing, Mercy put a finger to his ear after gaining strength. “This is Elder Mercy - ah, fuck. An Administrator is required. I repeat, I am requesting an Administrator.

Ozark’s Monster was stuck in position - it wasn’t receiving any commands despite her frantic inputs. “No no no no - NOOOOOO! DON’T DIE MY BEAUTY!”

Steadily, the Wendigo walked towards Ozark’s Monster, its wounds that seeped its souls sealing themselves back up. Up above, the Black Moon was shining down, illuminating its powerful child in all its glory. It leapt high into the air and landed down in the belly of Ozark’s Monster, denting its heavy protection. With a swipe of its elongated fingers, tubes and wires were thrown from its body. Its limbs were amputated next.

Tears streamed down Ozark’s face as she watched her creation be torn apart.

Piece by piece Ozark’s Monster was dismantled. Eventually, the only part remaining was its head and core, surrounded by welded and bolted metal. The Wendigo pried each layer of protection away, eventually leaving a pulsing, red crystal.

The Wendigo picked it up and held it in the light of the Black Moon as the power of Ozark’s Monster drained from what little remained.

Ozark sobbed, crying tears of sadness. Suddenly, she breathed in. “FUCK YOU!” she screamed, lifting a latch on her controller, revealing a key. With murder on her mind, she turned it.

A sphere of raging fire emanated at a rapid pace, engulfing the land and scorching the soldiers below the wall. Those on the wall were thrust backwards, scattering the mages and defences.

Ozark remained upright the entire time, embracing the heatwave as her creation’s last affection. “Goodbye, Ozark’s Monster,” she said in defeat, fire reflecting off her mist.

“It’s still alive!” Elora screamed, clutching onto a parapet for support and pointing at the bottom of the mushroom cloud.

She was right, as more of the smoke rose above, the Wendigo got to its feet. Its skin was smoking still, yet no black fog seeped out of the wounds.

“No one leaves the wall!” General Nadiv barked through the speakers. “We have a duty to protect the city!”

Almost all of the Servants of the Seven Spheres began running down the steps. A few remained, including Elora and Kara. Ozark was now sobbing in the corner, holding the remote close to her chest.

Despite the imminent danger, the soldiers bravely held their positions. Any attempt to flee was swiftly curtailed, with sharpshooters perched on the wall or their commanding officers ready to fire at the first sign of desertion.

The Wendigo lumbered menacingly towards the gates, its movements seemingly erratic as if intoxicated. Mercy cast a bleary-eyed gaze upon the approaching monster. With the residual strength he could muster, he directed his palm towards his fractured limb. A lump emerged on his shin, followed by a cry of pain. The skin suddenly ruptured and all the bones in his leg were propelled at the Wendigo.

The resistance was futile as they bounced off its ashy skin.

Behind the Wendigo, the ominous black mass surged forward. Little remained of the Horde Defence Force and the Elders of the Unwanted were dealing with their own Wendigos. The powerhouses of New London were defeated, leaving the wall vulnerable.

Elora's gaze held the bitter taste of despair. This cataclysmic outcome was beyond her worst nightmares. It wasn't meant to be - not for her, not for New London. "We must flee," she murmured to Kara, her voice trembling with raw emotion. The crude finale of their struggle had dawned. Her previous illusion of victory had shattered, the fragments of her fantasy lying in ruins around her. She was not New London's heroine. She was simply Elora Evergrand, a princess atop her golden tower.

Kara whirled around, her hand connecting with Elora's cheek in a sharp, resounding slap. "Who on earth do you think you are?" she demanded, her words laced with raw incredulity.

Taken aback, Elora clutched her stinging cheek, her blue eyes wide with shock.

"Pull yourself together, woman," Kara admonished. "Put your money where your mouth is, sis.”

Mercy screamed as his ribcage vibrated. The skin poked upwards and eventually tore away. Fragments of his ribs flew towards the Wendigo who was no more than twenty metres away. It was again useless, but Mercy couldn’t face his demise. Bone by bone, he removed his skeleton.

Mercy coughed blood as he tried to keep his eyes open. Suddenly, he found a warm hand touching his shoulder, but it wasn’t death.

“Rest, Mercy,” a distorted voice spoke.

Mercy opened his eyes, seeing a fragmented skull of mist looking down at him. “Administrator—” he croaked. It was a figure he had not yet met. Perhaps it was one of the empty seats in that room.

“I said rest, Mercy,” the cloaked figure repeated, stepping ahead of him. He tried to warn the Administrator, but multiple cloaked figures bearing the same mask lifted him in the air, carrying him back to the gate that was opening beneath the wall. Holding a limp hand up, he tried to conjure bones - how could his fight be over?

The Wenidgo stopped in its tracks. The figure before itself was small, smaller than the man before. They were skinny too, almost frail-looking under the cloak. Every one of its otherworldly senses was screaming for it to run. But beyond the wall were souls, souls that it needed.

Beneath the Wendigo’s feet, a soldier was writhing in pain with burns across their body. It stretched its elongated fingers out and picked the soldier up by its head. Opening its mouth wide, it began to inhale their soul. Grey energy swirled from their body, twisting around the Wendigo before reaching its gaping maw.

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The Administrator took a step forward. Upon it, a duplicate of themselves emerged to the side. In their second step, another copy emerged. The Wendigo cried as its lanky legs began to move quickly. Within ten seconds, thirty duplicates of the Administrator had surrounded the Wendigo in a semicircle.

It didn’t stop the Wendigo’s charge; its target was the initial duplicate. It propelled forward, swinging with a lengthy backhand. No contact was made as the duplicate vanished from the face of the Earth.

Suddenly, the Black Moon vanished, and the sun was now in the sky. In addition, the White Moon shined brightly down with it, with the Grey and Black Moon faded behind. It was the first time the White Moon had ever shone since the Great Merge.

On the wall, the artillery and Horde Defence Force were scattered but some had begun to repair their equipment. Elora and Kara had watched as the Administrator and the Wendigo disappeared completely from the battlefield. It was as if they didn’t exist in the first place. Their attention was then drawn to the approaching Horde.

“You want to do this then?” Kara asked, now becoming hesitant.

Elora side-eyed her friend and said, “If you die I’ll bring you back and kill you myself.”

“As long as I look cute, sure,” Kara responded, offering a smirk.

The Wendigo reeled back, blinded by the sudden light, and weakened by its opposing Moon. Suddenly, one of the duplicates lunged forward, striking the Wendigo dead centre. Despite the Administrator’s tiny fist, it packed a powerful punch, far greater than anything Mercy could muster. It sent the Wendigo sliding backwards.

It only enraged it further as it climbed to its feet and wailed a thousand tortured souls.

All duplicates then advanced on the Wendigo, offering every arsenal of martial arts. The Wendigo reacted swiftly, swinging out its arms in every direction. When a duplicate was hit, they vanished into thin air, and another two more spawned from behind another.

With a powerful cry that resonated through the air, the Wendigo attempted to break free from the grip of its captors. Despite the deafening sound that would have incapacitated anyone else, the Administrator remained composed, undeterred by the intense noise. Their ascension to the role of Administrator was not due to their proficiency in mundane tasks. The Wendigo's futile struggles continued as it thrashed relentlessly against the powerful forces restraining it. In a desperate attempt to escape, its mouth stretched wide, revealing two ominous, blood-red eyes.

It didn’t know it, but this was its doom.

As the Wendigo desperately tried to snap its mouth shut, multiple hands reached into its gaping maw, preventing it from closing. The sheer strength of the duplicates overwhelmed the creature's feeble attempts. With each passing moment, the hands exerted even more force, causing the Wendigo's ashy skin to tear under the strain of its stretched mouth.

Then finally, the tear grew from its mouth all the down to its neck. The top half of its head was pulled off completely. The duplicates suddenly dispersed into thin air and the Black Moon was now shining once again.

The Administrator picked up the top half of the head and held it up high towards the charging black mass. One stopped, then slowly, more did, eventually, all coming to a sudden, silent halt. As they held it high, the gentle wind blew its skin from its face, and then the alien-like brain and mouth began to wither away, leaving a pair of glowing, red orbs to fall to the ground.

The Alpha was defeated - the Horde had finished.

The Administrator bent down and picked up the two red eyes upon their curiosity. They weren’t made from glass but reflected as if they were. As they turned around, they noticed a man walking out of the open gates, clutching something beneath their cloak. It clicked.

“EVERYBODY RUN!!!” the Administrator screamed, their voice distorted beyond recognition.

With shaky hands, Akira Weslen placed the cylinder carefully onto the muddy ground and twisted the cap off. The glowing crystal inside leaked purple energy, reflecting off his encaptured eyes.

“STOP!”

Akira Weslen did not care. After years of searching, it was finally in his hands - the power he so craved.

“You don’t know the damage that’s already done!” the Administrator called to him, their tone sincere.

“I may not know what it has done, but I know what it can do,” Akira Weslen responded.

“You are a soldier, are you not?!” the Administrator questioned.

“A soldier who has the seen the worst of the human race,” he replied, “and what men are capable of when all cards are on the table.” Ever so slowly, the crystal began to rise out of the cylinder, whispering sweet madness into his ears.

“Brilliant, isn’t it,” Akira Weslen said with a delusional smile, his eyes reflecting the striking purple light. “All these prophecies about it, the power it holds… And it was sitting in a vault, being wasted! This could have ended all wars! It could have brought peace you all so cherish! For twenty years I fought your wars. I’ve killed more than I can count! For what? This rat-infested city? The king - ha. I looked everywhere for something like this. I’ve sailed through thousands of souls. Searched in ruins older than the Deviants and heights greater than the Trees of the Eveyian. After all these years, it was here, in New London.”

As the palm of his hand moved under, the energy from the crystal seemed to greet him, wrapping its tendrils of energy around him, seeking the ultimate chaos. The moment the stone touched his skin, its purple tendrils of energy invaded his body like a corruption, copying itself in every vain and blood vessel, claiming him as its target. “This—” Akira Weslen murmured. “This feels incredible!”

The Administrator dashed forward, leaping and lunging for the stone. Akira Weslen outstretched a mere finger, and a brilliant explosion of energy was emitted in a sphere, propelling the Administrator backwards and shattering the wall behind it.

On the wall, Elora and Kara held each other as the solid concrete beneath their feet began to shake. The plated metal encompassing either side of the wall suddenly fell away, and the giant slabs of stone slipped away from each other.

“Kara!” Elora screamed.

Hastily, Kara conjured a portal beneath them, a swirling vortex of safety. Ozark was caught off guard. She stumbled and plunged into the portal. Tragically, Spike, stationed in the watchtower, wasn't as fortunate. The tower groaned under the attack, finally succumbing and collapsing into itself. Spike was engulfed by the avalanche of rubble, his flaming hair extinguished.

Akira Weslen stared into the stone as if it were his child. The stone had chosen him. Closing his eyes, he gently placed the stone against his chest. Beneath his feet, a complex spell burned its way into the muddy ground. It circled him rapidly and grew outwards exponentially. Words of the Black Moon were inscribed throughout, along with symbols of a dark nature.

“Stop this!” Dupe shouted, crawling towards him.

“Stop what? All these years I have longed for something like this. And it was under my nose, in a city I once fought for. In a city that turned me away like a monster. I will bring the wars back to the world! To a place where I was the king!”

“You will kill everyone and end up dead yourself!”

“Oh, poor Unwanted, I’m halfway there.” Akira Weslen ripped the mask from his face. The spectacle that it revealed was a face caught between life and decay, half-rotten and disturbingly grotesque. His cloak fell away, revealing a skeletal frame where flesh and muscle should have been. His ribs and legs were stripped bare to the bone, the pallor of death unmistakably present. The only vestige of life in his body was his heart, pulsating with a grim vitality amid the rotting organs. "And now," he announced, his voice filled with a chilling glee, "New London will crumble.”

Gripping the stone, he slammed it into the ground, completing the source for the grand spell. Its purple energy flowed along the lines, bringing life to the words of the Black Moon and its magic. Upon completion, the spell flashed a bright purple and its outline faded. It wasn’t the climax expected, more so of what horrors came after.

Around the Administrator, a thick fog seeped from nowhere. To their left, a soldier sat up missing half their head.

“What have you done?!” the Administrator bellowed, taking a step backwards.

“What I set out to do: become Discordia’s chosen. I am chaos.”

The dead began to rise from their short slumber - monster, man and beast alike; death does not pick her favourites. The thousands of corpses at the main gate alone began shuffling to where life was most.