System Supervillain, Chapter 96 (Patreon)

Chapter 96 – Curtain Call

The basics of a counterattack were simple. Someone struck at you, and you hit them back, trying to do enough damage that they couldn’t follow up and keep the pressure on. That was the same whether you were dealing with a one-on-one fight, or attacking organizations or even nations.

Finding the right point to counterattack was tricky, though, and got trickier when you had multiple groups joining together on the attack. Did we attack the Sword of the Faith’s compatriots, to draw his attention back home? Or perhaps the base of the Knights of the Order, who were the majority of the attacking forces? There was also Patriot, Inviolate, and the Denver Heralds to consider.

Hitting back at all of them was an option, but a poor one. That would spread us out too much, and mind controllers, by their nature, were people who needed a bit of setup time to ensure they had pawns in place if they wanted to do a job right. Midnight and I had the ability to go in without spending time setting the stage, since our powers were not wholly focused on mental manipulation, but even the General needed time to recruit his soldiers, during which time he was vulnerable to attack. Spreading out just wasn’t an option, in this case.

Fortunately, everyone here was smart enough to realize that. It was decided that we would attack a single point. Fortunately, there was one site that was sacred to both the Sword of the Faith’s religion, and that of the Knights of the Order. Hitting there would strike a symbolic blow against both groups. Since they were the majority of the forces that attacked, this was judged as ‘good enough’ by the supervillains. Which is why we emerged from the digital world in the Middle East.

Long ago, the reality warper Mit-amen exposed a plot by rebellious slaves in Egypt attempting to use ‘divine plagues’ their mystics conjured to free themselves from Egyptian rule, causing the slaves to flee, chased by the Pharaoh’s army. Trapped against the Red Sea, she placed an illusion on the fleeing slaves, causing them to see a path open through the waters where there was none. Almost all the slaves drowned themselves, never knowing the truth until it was too late.

Yet not all of the slaves perished. Moses, chief of the slave mystics, managed to shield himself and forty women from the illusion, allowing them to swim to safety while the rest of the slaves perished. Upon Mount Sinai, the mystic created a refuge and took the forty women as his wives, using his powers to ensure that they bred for him a nation. It took forty years, but, when he had a million people under his command, they marched north, and conquered the tribes who lived in what would become their holy land, slaughtering and enslaving all they saw.

This was made possible because the mystic had turned the very mountain itself into a magical artifact of his faith. The children born in the caves of the mountain grew swiftly and strong, and the mothers recovered from the ordeal faster than normal and without as much risk, enabling them to repeat the process again and again. Meanwhile, the children were born already knowing how to fight, and their strength was greater than any normal human’s could be. There was literally magic in the blood of those who descended from the mystic and his wives.

That legacy is why the Sword of the Faith had his powers. He was an inheritor of the ancient blood of the mystic. The Order of Saint Iacopo had also tapped into that power when they were part of the Knights Templar during the Crusades. Under Iacopo’s orders, many women of the local peoples were rounded up and forced to breed future knights, becoming the backbone of the Order. Even now, the Order kept a relic from the mountain in their stronghold to ‘bless’ those they sought to breed new warriors from. That relic still had a connection to this site.

“Really, I thought a site so important would be better guarded,” laughed Dollmaker as his Dolls took down the only two defenders outside the tunnel leading to the Sanctum of Blood Rites, a pair of time-worn golems that had clearly seen better centuries.

Mistress Midnight chuckled as we made our way into the sanctum itself. “To most, this is just a mystic power site long forgotten by the modern world. If someone was looking to conduct a ritual of some sort, there are plenty of power sites and ley line conjunctions that are easier to access than coming all the way out here, and climbing the mountain. The knowledge of the Sanctum has been suppressed over the years, passed down only through the bloodlines behind the Zionist movement, and the Order of Saint Iacopo. What little I had heard of it was more myth and legend than fact.”

I nodded. “I’m no expert on the arcane, but I have seen things like this before. The site relies mostly on secrecy for protection, with a few guardians to deal with the odd curious soul who stumbles upon it.” Some of the others looked at me, confused, though Midnight just nodded her head, understanding. I sighed, and said, “You have to understand that groups like the Order and others have rivals and enemies. Groups that track their movements, and seek to counter them, when they can. Any sustained effort at guarding a site so remote would pretty much guarantee it was noticed and found, which would allow its secrets to get out.”

Hypnodomme huffed. “Don’t forget that the only reason any of you found this place was because of my slave.”

Mindtaker turned on the other female mind controller, snarking, “The only reason we were even looking for a way to hit back at the heroes was because you didn’t bother checking into the background of that slave! That’s what got Maestro to sell the party out!”

“Ladies,” I said, firmly. “There will be enough time to hash out who is responsible for what later. For now, why don’t we continue on to the main chamber? I believe we’ll find something suitable to vent our frustrations on there.”

The tunnel we were walking down was smooth, unmarked by the passage of time, despite the fact that dust lay so heavily on the floor that it was clear no one had been here in generations. Honestly, the only reason we’d been able to come out so close to the tunnel’s entrance was because some bureaucrat somewhere in history had decided that the mountain needed a navigation beacon at the summit, to keep planes from flying off course. The thing was barely more than a radio attached to a light post, sending out pings at regular intervals, but the communications gear that let technicians troubleshoot problems without having to climb a mountain to be on site was just computerized enough that Web Mistress was able to get us there.

“So, why are we all coming along like this? Most of us don’t have anything to do with mystic crap,” asked the Tamer.

“Because none of us wished to stay in the digital world longer than necessary, and splitting up is just asking for someone else to get ideas of swiping at rivals, like the incredibly foolish Maestro did,” Stepford said, calmly. “And if there is any bounty to be gained from this heist, it would be best that we are all here, and split it equally, to avoid there being any hard feelings in the future.”

That killed the grumbling, for the moment. The only excitement as we had were the frequent traps that barely functioned any more. Clearly, even though the stone of the tunnel had lasted through the years, the traps that were made by ancient mystics and craftsmen were not up to the same standard. Even Stepford, one of the weaker combatants here, was unscathed when a spear shattered against his armored outfit, the wooden shaft being unable to withstand the force long enough for the stone spearhead to even bruise him.

Eventually, though, we got to the Sanctum itself. Carved into the heart of the mountain, even a magically uninitiated person like myself could feel the power flowing through the room. Interestingly enough, the room had a single throne in the center, carved in stone, with two stone tablets standing on either side of it. I didn’t recognize the language written on the tablets, but the Translation Matrix in my mask did, and gave me the basic translation.

1.       I am the Speaker of God, and thou shalt have no other Masters before me.

2.       Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God or the Speaker thy Master in vain.

3.       Remember the sabbath day, to keep it holy.

4.       Honor thy Master and they Mother.

5.       Thou shalt not murder those under thy Master’s lead.

6.       Thou shalt not commit adultery against thy Master.

7.       Thou shalt not steal from thy Master.

8.       Thou shalt not speak false to thy Master.

9.       Thou shalt not covet thy Master’s house, or his wife, or his slaves, or anything of thy Master.

10.   Thou shalt keep these teachings secret, letting none outside the bloodline know.

Reading out the list caused everyone to pause. Mindtaker was the first to speak. “Um, correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe those were not the same words I was taught in church growing up.”

Mistress Midnight shook her head. “Obviously, the truth was hidden, and records changed to keep people from outside the bloodline finding out about this. Obviously, this had something to do with the Mystic and how he bred the army that conquered their holy land, but how did it work?”

“Master, look here!” FX called out, as she approached the throne. The artist didn’t have much experience with magic, but she definitely had an eye for detail. “See this gauge in the back of the throne? The edges are too straight and sharp for it to have been some natural break. I think the Templars must have taken a piece of the throne to serve as the relic they use!”

“Good work, FX,” I said, patting her on the head. Looking back to the group, I said, “Midnight, as our primary expert on magic, what would be the best way to completely ruin this site? Bonus points if it strips those ‘blessed’ by the connection to the site of any of their powers.”

The shadow sorceress frowned as she looked at things with an appraising eye. “Well, obviously just taking a piece of the throne was not enough to rob this place of its power. It is possible that completely destroying both throne and tablets would be enough to break the enchantment here, but that would just prevent new blessings from being granted. It would not strip blessings already in place. To do that, there would need to be a sacrifice of some kind.”

“A desecration, or reconsecration?”

“Oh, Iceblade, you are more familiar with such things than I suspected.”

“No, I’ve just got enough magic types in my circle that I hear a few things,” I grinned, pointing at Bloodmoon, who was happily standing by my side.

“I see,” she nodded. “A desecration would be best, since it would ruin the effect, and strip the powers from everyone who has them. Reconsecration would likely shift the powers. Unfortunately, given the nature of this chamber, I believe that there is a hypnotic or mind-altering aspect to the power, turning those who receive it into zealots.”

Party Girl shuddered. “And the last thing any of us want is to be turned into creepy church folk!”

Stepford nodded. “Well, if it is a sacrifice that is needed, then perhaps Maestro and his chorus may yet clear their balance with us for his betrayal. I can think of no better way to reward him for his efforts than by using his death to depower the ones he called in to attack us.”

There were nods all around, and I grinned. “Well, then, Midnight, if you would be so kind as to set the scene?” She chuckled, and began using a blade of shadows to carve signs in the stone about the throne, so I turned to Web Mistress, and said, “My dear, if you would be so kind as to prepare Maestro for his final performance? And do make sure that he cannot slip away, or order his chorus to do anything to distract us.”

“Of course, Master. He doesn’t need hands or a tongue for his curtain call, after all.”