Jedrihin Ziphethos, Scion of the Descending Dusk, Arbiter of the Glorious Host, Overseer to the Third Templar Subjugation Detachment paced the length of his command bridge impatiently. A scowl painted his red face, black beady eyes glared at the screen on the far end of the bridge displaying real-time analysis of the current state of the Sol System. The planetary system the Lord Templar Supermus had tasked him with taking for the Order.
To facilitate that task, he brought with him the loyal men and women of the Third Templar Subjugation Detachment. An armada of ships, carrying thousands of troopers, Knights, and Chaplains, were arrayed in the space around his own, the TSS Unyielding Lords Storm. All waiting out the insufferable restrictions enforced by the System and its infuriating Administrator for the opportunity to bend this system to their will.
Others were here too, of course. It was undeniable that other factions in the Verse would come seeking riches, glory, or both. The greedy, godless Skrootxl were already spreading about the system, surveying and prospecting for rare material. They would need to be dealt with, though not with the Administrator still in system. Additionally, the Orkrash were here, mercenaries and bandits, preying on the weak and defenseless. They would be a problem only if they offered their services to the locals.
Jedrihin wanted nothing more than to begin their holy campaign, he himself was just past the middle Master Rank advancement. Newly initiated worlds ran wild with mana, creating greater opportunity to gain precious experience and skill levels. The only places in the Verse more appropriate for leveling were those planets whose populations sinfully mismanaged their dungeons, leading them to become disgraceful refugees. More likely than not, to never return to their homeworlds as the dungeons gained sapience and ultimately grew in overwhelming strength. The only beings that resided on these Dungeon Worlds were those chasing the blasphemous abomination of a System anointed God-hood.
“Fools.” He muttered louder than intended as his executive officer, Menepheles Sancturna, Holy Knight of the Ascending Dawn, Executor of the Glorious Host, Second in Command of the Third Templar Subjugation Detachment, entered the bridge from behind him.
“Scion Ziphethos, are you still brooding over being rebuffed by the Administrator? You know, our Lord teaches that patience is a virtue. I believe even these primitive Humans have a similar saying.” The woman sauntered up beside him with both sets of arms clasped casually behind her back.
He responded by pulling up a map of the entire planet pointing at several highlighted areas across several of the continents. Each area in blue represented areas that were completely devoid of habitation. Australia, Africa and South America were particularly hard hit, as well as a growing swath of devastation that spread from the east coast of the Russian continent heading towards the interior. A manifestation of the Humans dominant religious apocalypse spreading death wherever it went. Such a thing was a trifle to the Templar and would be easily removed once they were allowed to land on the planet.
“Native habitation in these areas is less than a dozen per hundred square kilometers. No single settlement or city remains standing here, and everywhere else, the primitives are busy doing our work for us. There is no practical reason for us to remain at the edge of the system. If not for that damnable Administrator I’d order our armada to crush all other interlopers and then seize the planet for our Lord.”
Menepheles stepped forward and extended one of her four arms to manipulate the display, bringing up several feeds of different settlements and cities in various states of conflict, either with each other or the System generated monsters.
“These, here in the region referred to as the Middle East, they look as though they would be easily converted to the true cause. They are already quite fervent in their religious beliefs, dispelling their primitive notions of divinity would be quite a simple thing I think. We shouldn’t completely dismiss the opportunity to swell our ranks.”
He looked at her from out the side of his eyes and schooled his emotions before responding, “Yes, we will certainly make every attempt to co-opt the local population to our cause where possible, as per our Edicts. I just wish we could start immediately.”
“To be fair, the tides were far more efficient than we had expected. If they had flowed as forecast, we would still be in subspace. As it is, we have an opportunity to observe which of the local factions emerge successful. Who our primary opponents will be. It’s an excellent intelligence gathering opportunity.”
“You are not wrong, this new Reaper and his people concern me, as well as the presence of the Tier IV, playing their games of false power, anointing their Champions. Spreading their false ploys of Divinity.”
Menepheles adjusted the display to focus on the Reaper in question, as well as the Highlander and the Radiant Avenger. On another screen, vital statistics and information was displayed for all the persons in question.
“These people, their attributes and skill levels are already pushing towards the norm for someone about to advance to their Master Class. Yet they are barely within their Advanced Classes. It’s not natural, it makes them dangerous. Their potential is far greater than one who’s grown up within the System.”
Menepheles gave the Scion a thoughtful glance, “Yes, though, to be fair, we have pretty much steamrolled every planet we’ve laid claim to. You know the System adjusts for such things, it shouldn’t be a surprise that it implemented a mechanic to give the newly initiated a fighting chance.”
He scoffed at her statement, “We aren’t the only ones doing this. It’s been going on for millennia, only the strong survive, that’s always been the way.”
“Regardless, the Reaper will be our most dangerous opponent. The Council has already sent its agents to make contact with him. Additionally, if The Highlander and Radiant Avenger were to form an alliance with the Reaper, I fear we wouldn’t be able to hold the planet.”
Jedrihin turned on her with a dangerous glare, “You speak blasphemy. There is no force in the Verse that can keep us from our Divine Mandate.”
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Menepheles did not back down, she turned calmly to face the Scion, still with her arms behind her back, “No, I speak truth, as per our teachings, one who blindly denies the truth in front of them will certainly meet failure. I do not wish to fail. I only share my analysis as is my duty.”
Jedrihin worked his jaw back and forth, grinding his teeth in frustration. He knew what she said to be true, and he calmed himself long enough to consider the information on the screens around him. After a long moment of staring down intimidatingly at the woman in front of him, he nodded in agreement.
“You… may be right. My apologies. XO. I am, as you stated before, impatient to begin.”
“No worries, Scion. We will tame this world together, I swear this on my honor, and to our Lord.”
Jedrihin and Menepheles watched the screen where the Reaper fought a battle over a major roadway that had become an impromptu demarcation line of two disparate factions. A mass of bodies was being herded forward, simple implements of wood and iron in their hands, little more than rags as armor. Jedrihin hissed in dissatisfaction when he zoomed in on the assembled force.
“The Reaper, I hate to say it, is in the right here. These are slaves, collared, forced against their will to fight. Though I wonder if he has the will to do what is needed.”
Menepheles smiled, a hint of lust driven approval in her eyes, “I have a feeling we will soon find out.”
As soon as she said it, the man rode down the road on the back of his enormous canine, a primitive looking rifle in his hands. A hundred shapeshifting beastmen flanked around him, keeping pace easily in their bestial forms, all wearing a blue and silver tunic, the colors his people had chosen to represent him on the battlefield. He paused at the top of the highway, surveying the force of slaves before him, then looked back to his forces that were currently sheltered behind makeshift defenses at the bottom of the embankment that separated the two forces.
Moments later the enemy force surged forward with a glow of sinister crimson light around their necks, surging through their skin, shooting up into their face so that their mouths and eyes radiated as the evil magics of the System forced their wills to that of the ones who held their control rods. Suddenly the fearful, exhausted looks of the emaciated men and women that made up the slave force was replaced with unadulterated rage. Jedrihin imagined the gurgled battle cries erupting from their strained throats as they charged forward, heedless of their own lives.
For a moment, he pitied the fools bent to another’s will, then he considered if they had been strong enough, this would not be happening to them. If the Reaper did what was necessary, it would be a mercy.
The slaves swarmed out of the shattered storefronts, warehouses, and offices across a good ten kilometer stretch of highway. There must have been nearly ten thousand of the tortured souls. Both he and Menepheles held their breaths in anticipation at what the Reaper and his forces would do.
The Reaper, to his credit, did not hesitate a single second. He brought the weapon in his hands up to his shoulder, activated a series of abilities, then opened fire, cutting down the nearly defenseless mob that threatened to overwhelm his position. At the same time, half the number of beastmen in his troop produced bows and began raining arrows down on the quickly closing enemy formation.
“He didn’t hesitate. Even though he knew they were innocent. They were quite possibly some of his own people, he didn’t hesitate to end them.” Menepheles murmured, affording the man a grim sort of respect. Maybe even bordering on adoration. Jedrihin didn’t doubt that the woman would attempt to bring the man over to the cause, though he had his doubts she’d be particularly successful.
The Warlord swept his rifle back and forth, spewing death as the overwhelming horde closed on them at a ground eating pace. His beastmen began edging forward, then retreated when he barked a warning at them. He took aim at a woman in the center of the enemy formation and fired. A split second later a white flash of light indicated he had eliminated one of the enemy suicide bombers with explosive results.
What remained was a familiar scene of chaos to the Scion. A quarter mile wide crater replaced the portion of the mob directly in front of the Warlord. At the edge of the crater, bodies or body parts, broken and bleeding, were strewn haphazardly across the access road below the highway. His woman had somehow managed to erect a barrier that prevented the explosion from touching him and his troops.
Before the dust could clear, the Warlord had identified the next bomber further down the line. He took aim and fired, ending several hundreds of more lives in an instant. From the air, his Valkyr took aim all up and down the highway as they arrived at the scene of the desperate enemy push. More explosions rocked the length of the highway on the enemies side, though enough of the slave warriors survived to pour over the embankment, then down to the access road.
Soon the Reaper’s men and women were facing the slaves in hand to hand combat. Overall, the fight was no contest. The slaves weren’t allowed to level or use their skills and abilities. They were just simply compelled to throw their lives away. It was well known throughout the Verse, however, that the individual under the spell of the collar was fully aware of every action they took. They just couldn’t refuse the compulsion. And so, when used as cannon fodder, they went to their deaths with full knowledge of their impending doom.
All of this was neither here, nor there, in regards to the battle that was playing out for Jedrihin and Menepheles. The tactic, however abhorrent, was effective in breaking the Warlord’s defenses, as several of the suicide bombers managed to make it through the now veritable wall of projectile and magical fire that was pouring into the poor souls being forced to their deaths.
Craters opened up spewing living flesh, limb, and bodily fluids, now on the Warlord’s side of the battle line. While the Valkyr were relatively unscathed, hovering above the battlefield, his cavalry was taking a pounding. Many because they hesitated to end the slaves' lives before they reached their lines. The effect of the explosions was slightly muted against the significantly higher levels of his army, though casualties were assuredly taken. Men and women were dragged unconscious from the battlefield, often missing their own limbs, as more of the slave horde poured through the gaps each successful bomber created.
Jedrihin turned his attention back to the Reaper directly. The man looked up the highway where his forces were locked in mortal battle, then waved his group forward, charging straight for the building his portion of the enemy horde had assaulted from. Jedrihin panned the view of the recon drone to get a better view of what lay beyond that building and leaned forward when he saw the two story metal monstrosities that waited there.
“Hmm. His enemy has deployed mechs. They make good low level combat multipliers. Though once you reach a certain rank, they tend to lose their effectiveness unless you fully commit to that track. You think the man will retreat?” Menepheles asked pointedly.
“I think his enemy is a fool to think a few mechs will stop a man like him. I think we may even see a full manifestation from his Reaper.”
“Mmmmm, let’s hope so.” She smiled broadly, clearly the anticipation of seeing a Reaper in action did something for her. Jedrihin was less enthused, if the man survived this battle, he would become much, much higher on his local threat list.
He noted absentmindedly that the flood of slaves had dwindled to a trickle, and the Reaper’s main force was now engaging what remained of them, quickly restoring and stabilizing their line. A force of demon-like beings, led by a big bull horned being charged over the highway to join the fight alongside the Reaper and his beastmen. He certainly had gathered an eclectic group of fighters to his banner. If anything, Menepheles was right, this was a good opportunity to gather detailed intelligence and analysis on his potential foes. And that was another tenet of their Lord, knowledge is true power.