Chapter 65: Interlude: Horsemen of the Apocalypse

Chapter 65: Interlude: Horsemen of the Apocalypse

The world had fallen silent.

Two suns shone in a moonless sky. Crimson clouds flew over a desolate land, blown by the whispering wind. The stench of death choked the heavens above.

The ruins of broken cities stood empty amidst lonely plains and bloodied forests. Corpses festered in the open, in crumbling houses and collapsed temples. Yet neither flies nor vultures would dine on them.

They too were dead.

Everything with a pulse had perished. From mere insects to kings, all had been slain. Every creature worth a single experience point had been hunted down, even the ghosts. Mindless grass and silent trees were all that remained of a planet once vibrant with life.

Only a single woman yet breathed on a hill of swords. She stood alone, the wind blowing on her fair face, on her golden hair and empty blue eyes. Her black armor was drenched in blood, none of it her own. From her peak she watched a plain of corpses, of broken knights and dead monsters.

Some had been her men, whom she had slain like the rest. Infighting wasn't unusual in the Apocalypse Force. Once they had run out of things to kill and levels to grind, all that remained were each other that had been the demons way for many years, long before she joined them.

She was Brina, the Horseman of War; and war only ended when there was nobody left to fight. The peace of the grave.Follow current novels on novelb((in).(com)

Yet as she raised a hand and marveled at the sunlight's reflection on her gauntlet, she couldn't help but feel empty inside.

"Not enough," Brina whispered in disappointment. Still not enough.

This world had been more of a chore than a challenge. Brina had entered this realm months ago at the helm of an army and found it torn by conflict. A great continental human empire and a union of inhuman city-states had been fighting for control back then, yet they soon put their differences aside when she started laying waste to them both. They fought and haggled and prayed. Some even tried to bribe her to destroy their enemies.

But Brina was not interested in prestige, wealth, and conquest. She had no wish for honor or luxury. All she wanted was to accumulate strength. To gain levels, equipment, new secret techniques and mighty abilities.

Anything that would help her kill that that man.

Oh, it had been so long Brina had found a foe strong enough to give her experience. Was there a worse feeling than stagnation? The despair of watching a dream elude the dreamer?

She had thought this world would strengthen her steel, but the reality disappointed her. The greatest champion of these people had been level 60. Legendary by his planets standards, and pitiful by those of the Horsemen.

He had lasted two strikes. To his credit, that was one more than most. But he was not even a shadow of her true target. Brinas true enemy was magnitudes stronger, a merchant of death and a thief of souls. She was still so many levels away from beating him.

Brina felt tired as she watched the twin suns above her head; tired of pointless slaughter, tired of stagnating, tired of failing to fulfill her oath to King Odin.

"Is this how my journey ends? She wondered. Halfway through? Unsatisfied, unfinished?

At this point, Brina was strongly considering picking a fight with the other Horsemen. They were all weaker than her, but they should provide her with experience points. The alliance was starting to run its course anyway.

Who was she kidding? There was only one creature in the Apocalypse Force whose death would give her the power she craved and she couldnt even reach him.

"Brina." The dark voice echoed in her mind, the words louder than the wind. It called out to her across the veil of time and space. Brina shrugged it off anyway. Meetings bored her almost as much as an easy fight. A suitable battleground awaits you.

Belphegor had said the same thing of this world and the reality had greatly disappointed her. Her fellow Horseman was a necromancer, much to her disdain. The death of weaklings profited him as much as the murder of the strong. So she almost told him to leave her alone with her boredom.

At least, until she heard his next words.

The merchant peddles his wares there.

Brinas pulse quickened with fury. She raised a sword and summoned runes of power. The blade caught fire, the black flames of war and wickedness swirling around its edge. She planted the weapon into the bloodsoaked earth.

Call the Horsemen, Brina whispered as she activated her Perk.

The swords flames rose in a mighty wall of fire taller than a castles walls. The heat evaporated the blood off of Brinas armor and set the grass ablaze, yet she didnt flinch. She did not fear the Fire element, or any magic for that matter.

The shadows of three visages appeared among the flames: Apollyons, whose mandible and antennae betrayed his insectoid nature; the burning skull of Belphegor, Horseman of Death; and the faceless mask of Mammon, Horseman of Conquest. They were assembled in a triangle, at the center of which the dark symbol of a black hand with a fanged maw for a palm shone balefully.

Brina, how unkind of you to make us wait. Belphegor grinned wickedly. We were almost about to start without you.

Do not waste my time, Brina replied sharply. She had no patience for small talk. Speak.

So quick and impatient, Mammon said with a chuckle. You were always the kind to skip the setup and go straight for the punchline. After all the work Apollyon and I went through to prepare the stage too...

Brina had no time for this nonsense. Is Walter Tye involved?

Two voices spoke in unison and silenced them all.

Do as you will.

The words were spoken in a whisper, barely louder than the wind, yet they stopped the bickering Horsemen right in their tracks. Brina herself tensed up.

I hear the voices of the meek calling out to me. Two voices whispered at once: one deep and brimming with rage, the other disturbingly cold and smooth. Their words cut like razors, each letter becoming an invisible weight on Brinas shoulders. So many worship at my altar even as I destroy their lives. My grace they seek; my might they must possess. They pray and beg for deliverance when I offer naught but silence.

The hand symbol at the center of her flaming wall grew to cover it all. The visages of the Horseman shrank like lesser shadows in the presence of a greater darkness.

Let me ask you all a simple question, my Horsemen: what determines a lifes value? The dark maw opened wide to reveal sharp fangs and four glowing eyes where the tongue should have been. Is it birth? Should the weak and the entitled rule by virtue of their ancestors achievements, even when they prove themselves unworthy?

None of the Horsemen answered. All knew that their opinion mattered not, and none dared to voice it. On a primal level, they all understood a simple truth.

Is it wealth? A worthless pile of paper or paltry numbers on a glass screen? A golden fetish whose only strength is the belief of those who enforce it?

They knew that the voices belong to a being of pure malice and infinite malevolence. An entity that showed no more mercy to his allies than his foes. An incarnation of merciless strength that inspired and terrorized them in equal measure.

Is it the law? A castrating illusion born of a herds consensus? Should a fools voice have the same weight as a sage? Should worthless parasites be treated as well as those who fight to live?

The Maleking.

I say no! The demons wrath turned the wall of flame blue. Fate, fame, wealth, the laws of gods and men all are naught but fabrications! The winners justice, that is the one truth! The strong, the cunning, the talented, only those are fit to survive! Life is not a right, but a privilege!

Brina had heard these words before. She had listened to them in her black heart after swearing revenge on Lord Thors behalf and tempering her blade in the flames of Calamity Surtr. They had stayed with her with each slaughter since.

I offer neither orders nor condemnations, the Maleking declared. Do as you will. Kill foes and friends, I care not whose blood is spilled. Your life is yours alone. Yours to lose, yours to wager. But if it is inspiration you seek, then heed my call.

All across the multiverse, the other Horsemen waited in judgment.

Mammon, Brina, Belphegor, Apollyon. Go forth, my Horsemen. The four eyes glowed like malicious stars on an empty night. Paint the conquered plains with blood. Blow the winds of war to cast down craven lords and false prophets. Let famine starve the weak of breath and spirit. Death to the meek and the unworthy. Bring forth Hell Unending.

Brina felt the demons gaze on her, heavy as gravity. She sensed his will looking into her heart and seeing her true desire within.

Then, when the craven are dead and only the brave remain, the Maleking said, more softly. We shall see which of us is worthy of strengths crown and heavens throne. If you have the power to take my prize, then try. For ones true wealth is only what they can defend!

One war to end them all. One tournament among the multiverses greatest warriors, to determine which of them was worthy of true godhood.

The wall of fire collapsed on itself. The truth had been spoken loud and clear; no one needed to say more.

Brina glanced at the hill of sword and the desolate plains. Once her role had been to scour battlefields as one of King Odins handmaiden, searching for heroes whose great deeds had earned them a place at the Aesirs table. These had been happy times; times of honor, of duty, and valor. Times when death once meant something.

Until it didnt.

One day Brina had come down from Asgard to find the rotting corpses of soldiers walking on their own. The vile plague of undeath had swept across the land, poisoning the cycle of soul and condemning the nine worlds to eternal decay.

Brina had lost the war for Asgard the first time around. She had to retreat after watching the heavenly host torn apart by the living dead, swallowing the bitter pill of defeat. Only vengeance could wash away her stained honor.

If she had to sell her soul to a demon for it, then she would pay the price.

Brina had months of waiting ahead of her, but her boredom had been replaced with something else. A stirring fire in the depths of her soul.

Excitement.

Walter Tye Nidhogg Her fingers clenched around her swords pommel. You will elude me no further.

She was done waiting for the right time that never seemed to come. Whether she gained the strength of an Overgod or not, she would confront Walter Tye at least. Whether she killed him or he killed her, her long war would end either way.

My Einherjars, she said. Come to me.

The bound specters of fallen champions rose to wage battle anew, as her Perk warranted. They would die and disappear under the fading sunlight, preparing themselves for the battle to come. She would watch them in silence, keeping herself occupied until the right time.

Soon, the gate to Earth would open for the Horseman of War.

And she would be ready.