Chapter 58

Chapter 58

Erick tore into the prairie underneath his feet with [Stoneshape], riding the descending surge of stone and dirt into the ground like an escalator, quickly creating a space under the grassland surface for himself, Rats, Teressa, and Poi, to hide. Some dirt was simply pushed down and away, some was turned into solid stone, compacted and solidified into structural support. Erick didn’t go very deep; just far enough to not be seen on the surface and to have a roof overhead. When he got deep enough, he flashed the loose dirt outward, crushing it into solid stone, creating a solid five by five meter space under the surface with a dome roof and stone supports. He flashed a ring of wardlight into the dome overhead, colored to mimic the sun; illuminating the brown stone all around. One [Cleanse] into the space removed a pervasive, earthy smell, and also cleaned away the bad taste still inside Erick’s mouth.

Teressa followed down the stairs, saying, “Looks good.”

Poi followed right behind her, saying, “We got you, if you want to go back.”

Erick created four nice chairs with [Conjure Item] and promptly took one, Meditating for mana, as he asked Poi, “Is this normal warfare, Poi? I remember when Krakina tried to show me her [Nature’s Fury], but that got stopped before it really happened. I remember the green wind in the sky being very large, though. Super Large Size, actually.” Erick finally asked, “Where are the other archmages?”

Poi stepped next to one of the chairs, but did not sit, saying, “It all comes down to a matter of being able to either combine a spell correctly, or purchasing the Script version and having enough Stats to back up that spell. Most people don't bother.”

Rats came down the stairs, simplifying Erick’s problem by saying, “The other archmages are in hiding.”

“That is a factor, yes.” Poi added, “The world is large, and there are many places to hide from people who would use someone who could combine a useful high-tier spell; or create one, in your case.”

Teressa stood next to the largest chair Erick had made, saying, “The world is large and full of terrors. Sometimes those terrors are archmages who separate from civilization and lose their empathy in the wilderness. Sometimes those terrors are the monsters, and a friendly archmage will swoop in to save an adventuring party from an untimely end.” She said, “I hope you decide to stay in Spur, sir. You’re a good guy, and we need more people like you.”

Erick felt a beat of emotion pulse through his chest.

Rats added, “But damn, sir. You’re gonna get a lot of propositions after today.”

Poi sighed, saying, “Unfortunately true.”

Rats said, "And yeah. Who can make a good spell? Not me. I tried and gave up years ago. That [Pure Force Beam Bolt]? That shit's crazy."

"Oh?"

"Yeah!" Rats said, "Never seen anything like it."The initial instance of this chapter being available happened at N0v3l.Bin.

Oh.

Erick realized the problem, and it was systemic. The most recent example Erick had seen of this problem was in his [Pure Force Beam Bolt] versus regular [Force Beam Bolt], and how the ‘pure’ version Erick had made was twice as good as the one in the Script. Another major example was that the [Scan] in the Script cost 5000 mana, as well as 6 points for the starter spells, more points for the intermediary spells, and then one more to purchase [Scan] itself. And [Scan], according to Zago, only [Scan]ned out to 10 kilometers.

And then there was all the trouble Jane had been having with making a good Handy Aura.

Erick’s Handy Aura looked like:

Flight of a Thousand Hands Aura, 1 MP per second, medium range

Gain complete, quick control over a large amount of air and a thousand arms of intent. Take flight, if you are able!

But the Handy Aura in the Script looked like the ones Jane had been able to make; absolutely awful:

Intentioned Flight Aura, 10 MP per second, short range

Grip yourself and the air with your mind. Fly at walking speed.

Erick said, “These spells in the Script are not good at all. I— I knew this, but I didn’t really understand what it meant.” He added, “Not really.”

Rats looked to Poi, smiling, asking, “Got a bad spell to show him, Poi?”

Poi frowned, saying, “Remaking a tier 2 is one day of rest. Tier 3 is 10 days of downtime. Tier 4 is 100. Tier 5 is a thousand.” He brought out a blue box, but held it close, not letting it go. His frown deepened. “It gets worse from there. To become an archmage usually takes a useful tier 8 and accreditation from an accredited arcanaeum, which means hundreds of proper spell combinations, or spending fifty points to get one spell that, while good, isn’t great.” He shoved the blue box at Erick, saying, “That bubble popping from Opal is only tier 5. This is the failed version. It’s almost a thousand mana more expensive than the Script version.”

Ward Destruction, medium range, 10921 mana

Dispel a [Ward] in medium range.

Erick read the box, and his face scrunched. “How is it that expensive!?”

Poi sighed. “[Dispel] multiplies costs significantly and for [Ward]s you have to be able to eat away at the entire amount of mana spent on that [Ward] in order to [Dispel] that [Ward]. This version is failed, yes, but it will still take down almost any [Ward], even 50,000 point [Absorption Ward]s.”

Erick was still waiting for mana. Poi obviously needed help, and Erick wasn’t ready to get back in the fight yet anyway, so he asked, “Have you tried to make any smaller spells with that harmonic suggestion I mentioned on the wyrm hunt?”

“Haven’t had the time to explore that possibility in depth.” Poi said, “But I did try it with [Force Crash] and Mana Altering for Fire. I got the standard [Fire Crash] you would find in the Script. I repeated this process with every Mana Altering I could, and all of the spells I created were almost exactly the version you’d find in the Script. So I think you’re doing something else that you’re not aware you’re doing. Have you considered formal mage training? Find out what it is you’re doing different? It’s not an arcanaeum, but there are classes at the Mage Guild in Spur.”

Erick asked, “Are you formally trained?”

“No, but I have completed all the training taught in Spur.” Poi added, “And studied under... An archmage.”

Rats smirked, adding, “The betting pool has seven names on it, but Opal is highest on the list.”

Poi frowned at Rats, then said to Erick, “Every great mage has their own method to magic because magic is nuanced and fickle; some would even call it alive.” Poi summed it up, saying, “Not everyone finds their calling, their way of magic that works for them. I’m still searching for mine.”

Erick sat back in his chair, considering... well. Everything.

And then Teressa brought him back to the moment, saying, “Because of their power and ability, many archmages turn to evil, become selfish, only caring about themselves or their work. Sometimes they get called ‘wizards’ and are hunted down for their actions. Sometimes they simply go into hiding. And sometimes, they go to Ar’Kendrithyst, and become a Shade. Almost every Shade can do something similar to what you did this morning.” Teressa added, “If the Shades ever decided to really attack Spur, we would have to defend against [Comet Swarm]s, [Psychic Terror]s, and [Grand Abomination]s, each of which is much worse than what you did to Odaali. We would fail. Spur would be a smoking ruin. History has proven this.”

Rats nodded. Poi stood still, his arms crossed.

Erick focused. He was in a war right now. He needed more mana. He needed more regeneration. He needed to leave the big questions out of his mind, for now.

And he had killed people who were not low level. He had gained power from those deaths, and though it sickened him to puking, he looked over those notifications. He saw the first one, and couldn’t bear to look at the rest; bile threatened at the back of his throat.

You have slain Incani A!

95% participation!

+3,471,623,313,529 exp

Erick looked at his Status, instead. He had gained six levels. He put those twelve points from those six levels evenly into Willpower and Focus.

Erick Flatt

Human, age 48

Level 51, Class: Particle Mage

Exp: 384,845,538,951/3,295,128,009,900

Class: 6/6

Points: 4

HP

1020/1020

1020 per day

MP

3017/4200

16,800 per day

Strength

20

+14

[34]

Vitality

20

+14

[34]

Willpower

56

+14

[70]

Focus

56

+14

[70]

Favored Spell waiting!

Erick felt balanced, but expanded, like driving fast over a hill and feeling slightly weightless on the downhill side. He floated for a moment, letting the feeling wash through and past. When it was gone, he started summoning small Ophiels to go with the few he already had, dropping back down to low mana. Soon, he would be ready. As mana flowed in, restoring his pool, he sent out [Scry] orbs to find out where he should go first.

- - - -

A grey castle floated in front of an iced over Kingdom City, the white walls barely containing the icebergs. The rain had stopped, but the Queen Vine had not. She raised her tendrils from the ice, deflecting against invisible pulses of air that rocked out of the floating grey castle. But she did not stop them all. Something thick and vicious ripped into the ice of the city, and into the Queen Vine.

The Queen Vine recoiled from the attack, ducking under the ice, but the grey castle did not advance.

The Queen’s retreat was a feint. Vines and tendrils, green and purple, ripped up from the ground outside of the white walls of the Kingdom City, racing into the air around the grey castle, grabbing hold of the invisible sphere that supported the floating structure. She wrapped around the castle—

An Ophiel popped into the air above Odaali and immediately loosed [Domain of the Withering Slime]. A white sphere surrounded the dozen-winged [Familiar], as thick, crashing air spilled down into the hollows in the iced city and out across the land under the grey castle, wrapping around the Queen Vine from all directions.

A great keening filled the sky and rumbled through the land. The Queen Vine shuddered, twitching in great spasms. Green tendrils and purple leaves shriveled and died, a hundred thousand rivulets of dark water springing forth from cracks and breaks in the thick flesh of the monstrous daydropper vine.

The grey castle tore loose from the vines ensnaring it; flying higher. Billowing grey clouds rocketed out of the castle’s bottom, striking the land where the Queen Vine had dared to reach skyward, drilling into the dirt, burrowing, doing somethi—

A flare ripped through the grey cloud, into the land, dancing out from under the dirt like auroras bursting from a rib cage, spewing boulders and stone and plant matter into the sky.

Ophiel had been watching for a counter attack, but it came too quick to avoid; a vine reached up from below and carved the [Familiar] in half.

- - - -

Erick came back to himself in the underground stone room.

A grey stone man stood by the staircase. Cylindrical legs, thick arms, he was a man carved from grey marble, wearing nothing at all. Erick only guessed it was a ‘he’ because of the general male humanness of the creature.

Teressa was standing between Erick and the stone man, while Rats and Poi flanked the creature.

After taking a single second to understand he was seeing, Erick yelled, “What the fuc—!”

The stone man interrupted Erick, speaking like a rich gentleman, saying, “Archmagister Tenebrae of the Wyrmridge Enclave sends his greetings. He desires for you to forgo attacking the Queen Vine. He is perfectly capable of killing it and likely would have killed it, had it maintained its grip on his Estate.”

Erick stood up from his chair, demanding, “How did you find me?”

Rats spoke up, “My fault. I made the mistake of accepting a telepathic connection.”

Poi deeply frowned at the stone man, saying, “Tenebrae faked a connection from Killzone.”

“You can fake a telepathic connection?” Erick asked, not sure if he was focusing on the correct problem or not.

The stone man spoke fast, and rough, “My Master says this: ‘I can, idiot; you’re lucky you’re able to put your own shoes on in the morning’. My Master also wishes me to inform you that, ‘You are out of your league, planar man. Go home and entertain your Shades.’ End quote.”

Everything was happening very fast. As Erick was trying to come up with a response to that—

The stone man switched to eloquence, saying, “Please accept this advice with the care it is being delivered, as we are in the middle of a battle, and not, perhaps, the subterfuge or apparent threat such a delivery might instill within your group.” He lamented, “My Master simply has no patience for people of any kind; but if he were to become your enemy, he would be very thorough in letting you know this fact, before he struck at you. It is the hope of us, his Stone Men, that he has not garnered undue hatred from his actions today, as he so often does.”

Erick asked, “You’re going to help with the second Queen Vine, too, then?”

The stone man paused, then said, “My Master wishes me to inform you that, ‘Fuck you. All I need is this one Queen, and I won’t allow its corpse to be desiccated.’ End quote.”

Erick stood straighter, saying, “No deal. I’ll desiccate that thing to woodchips if you don’t help with both. And do you have a plan to deal with the rad bombs in there? Or should I toss more [Wintry Sea]s down?”

The stone man lamented, saying, “Master Tenebrae says, ‘Keep your cold magic away, idiot! I’ve already disabled the bombs. I’ll kill the second Queen, too. Now stop bothering me, and go away.’ End quote.” The stone man bowed, then rose, saying, “Thank you for acquiescing to my Master’s requests.”

The stone man vanished in a grey blip.

After a second, Erick shouted, “What the fuck!”

Rats joked, “I thought archmage Opal was just mad at him! But nah? He actually is a pushy asshole?”

Yetta seemed to screech a lament in Erick’s mind, before saying, ‘She says she can’t do anything! It's soul magic that absorbs the mana spent against it. We need sustained damage that does vastly more damage than it costs.’ She yelled, her voice taking on a desperation that Erick had never heard before, ‘It’s a Breach Barrier! They're summoning a Breach Demon! DON’T YOU UNDERSTAND?’

Erick almost said that he did not understand, but he didn’t really need to; Yetta’s tone told him more than enough. He sent, ‘Tell her to keep the [Weather Ward]s off of it—’

‘YES. Please gods just DO SOMETHING!’

Erick had all five Ophiels cast [Personal Weather Ward]s, then linked [Lightning Aura] into all five. He chose [Lightning Aura] because it seemed like the largest, cheapest of his spells.

Lightning Aura, 1 MP per second, super long range ~{Favored Spell}~

Prepare the air around you to strike for . One strike available every 50 MP.

Particle Mage Only

The Ophiel soared into the sky, each trailing mist, each cracking light into the air around them, each of them filled with anticipation, worry, and joy in equal, dizzying measure; piggybacking off of Erick’s own uncertain emotions, but adding their own joy at being able to summon so much lightning. They trilled with the sounds of violins as they spread out around the top of the red dome, each more than far enough to not be struck by the other’s auras; without Aurify's area of effect multiplier backing their spell, it was much smaller than Erick’s.

Erick cast [Call Lighting] into the sky, speeding up the gathering of power. Mist turned to clouds, turned to rain. Flashes of light blinked through the air over the red dome and for kilometers around. Erick called a bolt of electricity, linking the sky to the dome in a pillar of flashing brilliance. The dome glowed brighter, more solid.

But hairline cracks had appeared in the red surface. The cracks vanished almost as soon as they appeared, but they were there, for sure.

The Ophiels each unleashed a strike of their own. Lightning crashed across the red and black dome like a million skittering spiders, crackling against the Breach Barrier, turning it brighter and brighter, as white cracks raced across the spellwork. The darkened space under the dome briefly turned visible.

A vast pit of bone and blood the size of a few football fields stood exposed in the hills in the center of the Breach Barrier. A dozen thousand undead raced across the intervening land to throw themselves into the crimson pit, instantly liquefying as they touched the red surface.

A woman in red stood on the top of a spiraling stone spire in the center of the pit, her hands raised to the sky. Twenty or thirty necromancers stood on the spirals of that spire, guiding red light and blood from the pit ever upward, toward the woman. In turn, the woman took that offering, and gave it form: a man who had yet to become a man hovered in the air above the woman in red.

The red dome healed, darkness swept shut under the red barrier.

The Ophiels unleashed another blast of lightning, crackling across the dome with a million feelers of power. The dome broke, imperfectly. Huge chunks of meter-thick barrier dislodged from the rest, and began to rain down into the ritual space, but instead of crashing into the necromancers, they transformed into more power, into blood and bone, into useable mana flowing into the body atop the spire. The summoning suddenly doubled in speed, as more and more light and energy flowed into the nascent demon.

Lancing red light cascaded from several of the casters on the spire, aiming for the Ophiel. They dodged, [Blink]ed, and [Airshape]ed to get away, but the red light twisted and turned at right angles, or tighter.

Erick lost his connection; the Ophiels had been destroyed.

Erick summoned three more Ophiel and sent them to the battlefield.

The red dome was shattered as though it was thick glass, and not a construct of magic; the ragged edge near the ground was still there, still a meter thick and ten meters tall, a physical barrier preventing most of the soldiers from assaulting the necromantic ritual in the center. Ophiel had no such problem avoiding the ground barrier, flying over it, and as he looked, neither did at least fifty other people; each of them taking to the air, up and over the cracked edge of the red dome, to assault the ritual in the center.

A dense, echoing cackle as though from a hundred witches filled the sky.

A red light flashed across the heavens, pushing Erick’s [Call Lightning] storm aside like so much ambient mana.

An image of the pink moon of Hell appeared in the sky, as though through a two hundred meter wide [Gate] opened horizontally. A dot of blue light descended through that portal, even as beams and bolts and crashes of spellwork fought to disrupt the hole in the sky, but when the spells touched the portal, they simply passed through. When offensive magic struck the dot of light, the magic did nothing; the dot of light didn’t seem to actually be there. When the spells struck at the spire in the middle of the carrion lake, at the people casting the spell, the lake itself rose up to block the magic; blood and bone a thicker proof against enemy magic than the red dome had been.

[Call Lightning].

Each of the three Ophiel at the site switched over to [Call Lightning], each of them casting the spell on their own. The sky rapidly clouded over, blocking the sight of Hell, as Erick and three Ophiel each demanded electricity from the air. Four bolts attempted to wrap through the descending droplet of light, continuing on to the ritual below, but the lightning touched upon a [Weather Ward] that spread up from the bloody spire, up across everything, including the [Gate] to Hell above, protecting the necromancers, the waiting body, and the demonic soul summoned from Hell. Electricity flashed around red barriers, grounded onto the lake of blood; useless.

Erick nearly screamed.

Opal’s scratchy voice came to Erick, ‘Let me help you with that.’

The [Weather Ward] protecting the ritual popped like an old soap bubble.

Lightning from four different sources erupted across the ritual. The droplet of light exploded. The waiting body shattered. Smaller [Weather Ward]s went up across individual necromancers, but they popped again, and again. Lightning tore through the spire, carving down into the surprised necromancers, turning mass murderers into dead mass murderers.

Ophiel and Erick continued to call lightning through the ritual, making sure everything was actually dead, and would stay that way. After a second round of [Call Lightning]s and ten more bolts, Erick stopped.

Odaali-in-Exile had pulled back, away from the ritual, fully away from the gently dissolving red remains of the Breach Barrier.

The air cleared. The portal to Hell above was gone. Sunlight showed onto a spire of dead necromancers and their failed attempts to resurrect an enemy of the world as a demon.

Yetta’s voice came to Erick, ‘I think you got them.’

Erick came back to himself. He was safe in his stone room. Teressa was at the door, watching the way up. Poi stood nearby, arms folded, head down, several tendrils of thought coming off of his sapphire scaled head. Rats sat nearby, picking at his fingernails.

Erick croaked out, “Everyone okay?”

His three bodyguards turned to him.

Poi spoke first. “The Halls of the Dead would have summoned a Breach Demon if not for you.”

Rats paled, his red scales turning pink.

Teressa went still.

“Yetta said something— Something about a Breach Barrier?” Erick’s breath shook out of him, halting and stunted. “What’s a Breach Demon?”

“A demon able to summon more demons.” Rats said, “The summoning of a Breach Demon has always heralded a transformation of the Quiet War into open war. FUCK.” Rats asked Poi, “How the fuck?”

“Odaali had some relics, apparently,” Poi said, “I don’t know the whole story. I doubt we ever will.”

Yetta’s voice came back to Erick, slightly crazed, ‘They killed two thirds of my people. Again.’ She added, ‘Soldiers this time, but we’re all soldiers, really, when it comes to the Quiet War. Some more than most.'

She sounded unhinged.

Erick tried to change the topic, ‘Do you want to assault the other Queen Vine, now? Is Tenebrae done with the first one? I never got a notification for it. I made him promise to help with the second.’

A long moment passed. Yetta’s voice was a broken, sharp thing, ‘He has killed the Queen Vine in Odaali. He made sure only he would get full credit before he killed it, too. Yes. I mean. Yes. Kill the second one. Yes. I want to kill the second one.’ Her voice turned sharper. ‘I will lead you there. Where are you?’

Erick sent, ‘Just find one of my Ophiel and take it with you.’

‘... Yes. Of course. You’re—’ Yetta’s voice turned wild, ‘You’re not actually on the battlefield at all, are you! No danger to the archmages, no sir! Can’t have that. No! We gotta fight—’

‘Stay strong, Yetta. You killed two of the big bad guys today. You did that. Not me. I was just here to help you, because of what you’ve done to help others.’

Yetta’s voice came back calm, ordered. Detached. ‘Sure. We’ll go with that.’

Erick saw Yetta through Ophiel’s eyes. She grabbed one of them, probably harsher than necessary. Erick felt Ophiel whine at the rough treatment, but he consoled his [Familiar] and let him be [Teleport]ed twice in quick succession.

- - - -

A hundred white-capped mountains rose from horizon to horizon. Between the crags lay deep green valleys, while white clouds nestled the taller peaks. It was here, on a plain mountainside, in a hidden crack in the stone, that a research station had been created.

That research station was not as intact as it was two weeks ago; if the Queen Vine inside had not outgrown its confines, Erick doubted that anyone would have ever been able to find this place.

The mountains of Veird were a good place to go to get lost and forgotten.

... Erick pulled himself away from that thought.

Yetta retreated while Erick brought in several Ophiels. They flew in the turbulent winds of the Mondariska Mountains, reveling in the wind, as Erick studied the problem.

The research station currently had a river of greenery growing out of the crack in the mountain, spiraling down the high mountain valley sides, growing into what had once been a lush green valley below. Bright green leaves grew upon the vine, and all around the monstrous plant laid purple fragments of dead air, like a purple carpet it had rolled out for itself. The Queen Vine had reached the valley floor a while ago. From that fertile valley floor, the Queen Vine had sent up trees larger than all the rest, shedding purple fragments onto other greenery it did not care for, blocking out the sun for every other plant with its three-meter-wide leaves.

The non-daydropper trees had been completely covered by smaller daydropper vines, like kudzu in the mountains of North Carolina in the summer. Those trees were still green, but they were fading; they would soon be dead, choked out of sunlight and resources, if this continued.

And then Erick saw the deer and the birds, rotting on the valley floor, surrounded by purple fragments, half-covered by green and purple vines.

[Domain of the Withering Slime].

As Erick cast his own Domain from one of the seven flying Ophiel, the other six each activated their own version of the spell. Seven white orbs formed around seven winged familiars. Thick air crashed to the ground. A violent shudder rocked the land as dark liquids poured out of the Queen Vine, and every smaller daydropper in the valley.

The Queen Vine retaliated, briefly. Beams of coruscating light slashed across the flying formation of the Ophiel. But the exposed parts of the Queen in the valley withered to nothing faster than Erick thought possible. It could not counterattack when it was falling apart this fast.

She didn’t go down without a fight, but the fight was determined in those first few moments.

Slowly, but surely, the Ophiels and their Domains cleaned the valley of the Queen and its spreading progeny, their spells sending bursts of [Cleanse] up and out of the layer of dead air that blanketed the land. With some direction, seven Domains poured into the research station, into the depths of the mountain, desiccating the second Queen Vine where it grew, killing it with little fuss. This one had not fed upon a hundred thousand people; nor had the necromancers of the Halls of the Dead bonded it with more than a few souls. This Queen Vine likely only had a few extra souls joined to itself, just to make sure the procedure worked like the Halls of the Dead wanted it to work. Or at least that’s what Yetta’s sources were telling her, according to what they were seeing through their [Scry]s sent inside the research station.

And then it was over.

The Queen Vine was dead; the notification hovered in Erick's sight, 95% Participation. It must have been in the low 50s, because Erick did not gain a level. He had already gained a lot, today. Too much, in his opinion.

- - - -

Yetta hovered beside a single Ophiel, holding position in the raining silver sky, above the valley outside of the research station. Ophiel was covered by a [Personal Weather Ward] but Yetta was not; she smiled at the cold rain upon her skin, goosebumps visible on the back of her neck.

Platinum rain washed away what remained of the carpet of purple fragments below and grew the forest back to vibrancy. The animals were gone, but they would come back, eventually.

Yetta’s connection held much of her relief, as she stared down into the growing greenery, and sent, ‘The Queens are dead. The Gellers are dead, and you destroyed Parox’s soul; he’s not even a demon anymore.’ She said, ‘And so begins the clean up, and the destruction of seeds. The Divine Scan should switch to long-range in a few days to facilitate that necessity.’

Erick asked, ‘What about Denutha Odaari? The last name on the quest?’

‘She’s already been captured.’

Erick’s surprise carried along the telepathic connection.

Yetta smirked, saying, ‘She turned up in Greendale at the start of your assault on Odaali this morning. Sheput herself into the custody of the Green Circle.’

‘What the fuck?’

Yetta laughed. ‘I know, right? She ~claims~ all she wantsis for the Viridian King to hear her story before she’s executed. They’re still deciding if they’ll listen to her, so that might take a while.’ She added, ‘The Odaari’s are an offshoot of the Odaali family, you know?She’s actually Cyril’s cousin. I met her once, years ago.’

‘Did she seem like... someone who was capable of this?’

‘She’s a talker and I didn’t feel like talking, so I didn’t stick around. I’ve heard a lot about her since this started, though: Devout Atunirite, valued citizen. Researcher into magical plants, who spoke out against their creation every chance she got. History buff.’ Yetta said, ‘It surprised Cyril when her name was on the quest. Crushed him, really. They grew up together.’

‘... sorry to hear that.’

Yetta sighed. ‘It’s not over. At all. But I think... We can start to rebuild.’ She added, ‘After we’ve scoured the city for traps left by the Halls. Would you mind going over the battlefields with your Withering?’

‘Ah!’ Erick said, ‘Of course I can do that. It won’t catch seeds, though. And. Uh. I don’t really want to do that on top of people.’

Yetta smiled softly, saying, ‘We cleared our soldiers of intestinal rads days ago as soon as we knew you’d be coming. And besides that: There’s no people in those lands, Erick. Not anymore. If you find any undead, leave them, or round them up in a stone cage. Now that we have time, we’re going to need to cleanse their souls of the demonic taint left by the Halls of the Dead.’

‘... Understood.’ Erick sent, ‘Talk to you later, Yetta.’

‘Thank you, Erick.’

‘Glad to help.’

Ophiel [Teleport]ed away from the valley, leaving Yetta behind in the sky, under the lingering silver storm above. The storm rained itself out soon after Ophiel departed.

The sun began to show through the clouds, onto a vibrant green land, onto a glowing yellow Champion who hovered above the mountains, breathing in the chill air, letting her tears fall where they may.

Archmage Tenebrae and his grey castle never showed.

- - - -

Erick began sending Ophiel around to every battlefield he knew of, but mostly into and around the Kingdom City of Odaali. Much of the city was a ruin of ice and stone, but the tall white walls still stood strong, though the words ‘Kill and Exterminate Quest: Humans!’ were still writ several meters large and a hundred meters long across the white expanse.

The words were a [Permanent Special Ward], not paint; [Cleanse Aura] did not clean them away. Erick didn't have [Dispel]...

He bought [Dispel]; he was flush with points, anyway.

Dispel 1, medium range, 10 MP + Special Cost

Dispel a magic.

Costs as much mana as the spell you are trying to dispel.

Exp: 0/100

The first cast of [Dispel] against the giant letters cost 750 mana —once Erick figured out how much mana to spend on the [Dispel]; he had to guess more than once— only targeted a single one-meter section of black lettering, and caused that meter section to explode, damaging that Ophiel for half of his mana and sending a crack up the wall. The rest of the words did not care that a small portion had been erased.

It was not a [Permanent Special Ward] at all. It was a trap.

Erick wasn't qualified to remove this magic. He left it be, and moved on.

Ophiels everywhere turned on [Domain of the Withering Slime] as they flew across the city and across the land, bursting daydroppers down to dry wood and turning ten meter spheres of scattered purple fragments into so much thick air. Yetta was right; there were no people in these lands. But there were undead. Without a necromancer controlling them, they were mindless, shambling corpses, walking down the centers of streets or trapped behind fences. Erick locked those corpses down with [Stoneshape], wrapping them in piles of stone up to their shoulders, and placing them in easy-to-see locations, like to the sides of streets.

He also made sure to activate the Ophiel over his home in Spur, to move him out to the farms, to bring the rain at the appropriate time. He was only a little bit late.

Jane rejoined Erick, Poi, Teressa, and Rats in the underground lair, which Erick had fitted out to be a bit more comfortable after the battle was over. He'd disassemble it all when he was done clearing the land of Daydroppers, but until then, Jane waited, along with the rest of them, in a bit more comfort than before.

Eventually, hours into the afternoon, Erick was sure that he had cleared Odaali and the surrounding lands of every single daydropper he could. Most of that land was a disaster, with scoured fields of blackened stone, and entire towns and cities of little more than ashen logs sticking up from cracked foundations. They would have a tough time rebuilding; of that there was no doubt.

A message came through Poi: Yetta, Cyril, and Wilhelmina wanted to speak with him, inside a new White Palace, whenever he was ready.