Chapter 639: Portrait of Grim Endings (Patreon)

After they earned some reprieve from the initial assault, they took two actions. Argrave and Anneliese set to work charting out more of this land. Argrave used blood-infused electric eels to deliberately carve out areas of the Shadowlands, and Anneliese worked to replace what he burnt away. The terrain that took place before them was a land of vast canyons, mesas, and valleys with treacherous falls into places where Argrave was certain Shadowlanders lurked. It remained devoid of color.

According to Roland, who could mark lifeforms he saw and keep track of them, the horseman and the dragon both lingered on the outside edge of the shadow, retreating as necessary where Argrave revealed more. To that end, Argrave made it a point to clear out a near-perfect circle around them so they couldn’t be snuck up on as Argrave had with his life-or-death encounter with that rider.

The heroes of old, meanwhile, set to work fortifying this plateau that they’d found themselves stranded atop. It was slow-going at first, but eventually they all delegated their responsibilities efficiently and created a formidable perch that was closed off to the outside world. It wouldn’t last long against the Shadowlanders outright assault, but it was only meant to give them time—or at the very least, an advantage if another battle was soon to come.

Eventually, progress stalled at clearing away the surroundings. Something was pushing back against Argrave’s efforts to burn it away—replacing what shadows were lost. It was near the location where that tower had been, confirming it wasn’t mere coincidence that place had been reclaimed. It had been the only fragment of civilization Argrave could see from the Shadowlanders, and that likely meant it was important. Still, with a sizable area translated into something they could comprehend, Argrave and Anneliese joined the others inside of the fortress. Bhaltair used his undead to watch the ground, while the Archchief’s wyverns kept a handle on the skies. For now, threats came from neither.

“At present, we are troops cut off from our supply lines,” Anneliese explained to everyone, her amber eyes standing out in the darkness of this fortress. They had elected to forego their code inside this base, giving everyone’s voice equal weight. “Despite that tremendous show of prowess, we spent more energy than we absorbed from our foes. And I’m sure that you all can feel something rather acutely, being spellcasters.”

“There’s no magic here,” someone answered—hard to tell who. “The only way that we can recover magic is through Anneliese.”

“Anneliese and me,” Argrave added. His eyes were gray, and seemed part and parcel of this strange new world. “To recover, I have to kill—specifically, I have to kill with blood magic. And on the subject of our enemy… Anneliese has verified that they have a hierarchy binding them by some mysterious power. Thus far, we’ve determined only four strata. The lowest are those we killed. Higher up was the dragon. Above the dragon was that horseman. But the horseman had someone above him.”

“Assuming they do have a hierarchy, that means that they’re organized. And if they’re organized, great leagues of them will be arriving soon. During the age I fought Gerechtigkeit, Shadowlanders of similar strength appeared endlessly,” Felipe I said.

Voices clamored out in agreement—some expressed unease at the fact they were lingering for so long in this fortress when beings as powerful as the horseman roamed around. No one necessarily agreed, but most saw the benefit of planning.

“It is strange we didn’t see those ‘endless’ numbers immediately,” the Archchief said, his golden eyes flickering open and closed as he concentrated on what his undead wyvern saw as it flew above, scouting. “Back when they fell upon us, they erupted forth from their breaches as though the land was an overcrowded mess. I expected to meet walls of them, not a mere eighty-seven on the ground and a few dozen in the air.”

“Their numbers on the mortal realm could be explained by their haste to leave the area causing them to crowd,” Ghislain pointed out, his green gaze sharp. “Regardless, we waste time discussing the why of the matter. Whoever said that leagues of them may be coming had the best point—we are tested for time, here. We need to develop a strategy to hunt down Traugott now that we’ve assessed the lay of the land. If we don’t have a solid strategy, we’ll be nothing more than blind men fumbling about through the desert.”

Argrave thought of Durran. They had chosen to leave him behind because he hadn’t been able to develop the combat ability the Fruit of Being bestowed. Now, however, the hunting blessings bestowed by Stout Heart Swan might lend them the power they needed to track down the shadowy bastard even in this place. Argrave briefly considered if he might have made a mistake… but Durran’s life couldn’t be risked with it tied so closely to Garm’s power, and he might be needed to protect against enemies in Argrave’s absence.

Still, the problem remained—they lacked a way to easily track down Traugott in this abyssal realm. None of them had expected this place to be as strange as it was, nor to remain so wholly difficult to conquer—Argrave had thought Traugott would be easily found with the skillsets of those present, then perhaps he’d flee or be forced out of the Shadowlands where their proponents on the mortal realm could finish the job. Perhaps that had been endlessly naïve. As the situation was, they were humans hunting a lone dolphin in the ocean—namely, out of their environment, while hunting something in its environment.

Bhaltair proposed that his undead all be unleashed and equipped with blood magic to comb the place, but even with their added numbers it remained a difficult prospect to find the needle in the haystack. Mistislav and his considerable mastery over earth magic proposed clearing more and more land so he could then detect any and all living things wandering the surface. That remained in consideration, but it wasn’t foolproof.

“We’re all forgetting a rather key detail,” said Balzat, amber eyes looking between all. “That horseman spoke.”

People went silent for a few moments. Another interjected, “He spoke nonsense. None of what he said made any sense.”

“Not to us. Not yet. Maybe it is nonsense, or maybe it’s something more that we don’t understand. But he did speak,” Emperor Chu countered. “And he’s clearly intelligent. He thought of a plan of attack, and specifically targeted Argrave of everyone after seeing the style in which we fought.”

“Not to mention Anneliese’s claims of a hierarchy places him at the relative top. Failing attempts to communicate or pry information from him, we could use him merely to follow it up the chain,” Balzat expounded on his proposal.

“Follow up the chain? Given the trend, you want us to pursue greater enemies? That sounds utterly ridiculous,” Aurore disagreed harshly.

“We lack direction,” Argrave spoke loudly. “Everyone’s presented good ideas thus far, but they lack one thing in common—direction. Seeking the hierarchy solves that. Perhaps it helps us gain a better grasp on our enemy. Perhaps Traugott is the king of all things evil, sipping wine on his throne of skulls while his Shadowlander slaves hunt us all. Either way, it helps us learn more about this strange realm. Right now, that’s the most important thing. So, Balzat’s right—we chase after the horseman, dangerous though it might be.”

Argrave could tell there was a little bitterness left in the air, but they had all agreed to follow his head. In the end, assent followed shortly after. The only complication remained how they might snare such a fearsome foe without killing him outright.

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The abyss stared out at this scene so foreign to its realm. Its fabric was not repeated indefinitely, as it was supposed to—instead, there was a great tear in its being, a chasm in its foundation: light. The light spread more and more, bringing whites and grays that before had only been something the abyss would expel its detritus upon. There was land where it had never before existed, and there were mortal laws of existence dictated on that which was not mortal. It was wholly wrong, and needed to be remedied.

An individual that was part of the abyss stared upon this scene with especial disdain. Though he had discovered he was capable of restoring the abyss back to its rightful glory, the fact remained that they had been pushed back. Their strength was not what it could be. The cycle was not at its zenith, and the Hopeful could not embolden them as he often did. And worse yet, they fought on multiple fronts.

In this place, the individuals comprising the totality of the abyss could not speak as mortals did. But whether here or there, his authority and force of will remained strong. He called some of those beneath him, and they appeared as quickly as they were bound to. To them, he gave a command. In that command was a report to a superior. It bore a simple message.

The Manumitter may not be alone. The threat is more than existential. Communication is possible, but ill-advised. Advice: use extreme force.