Chapter 146 – Major Interlude – Iona – The 300. (Patreon)

Author's note: Settle in, this is longer than the average The Wandering Inn chapter, clocking in at 14,600 words.

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Iona grunted as she was thrown to the ground, air exploding out of her lungs.

“Point!” The arbitrator yelled. “Match! Winner – Hrund!”

Hrund grinned down at Iona, offering a hand. Iona took it, letting herself get pulled up by Hrund.

“Good bout.” Iona said, keeping the bitter feelings of loss out of her voice.

“Good bout. Hey, maybe if your dark class wasn’t restricted, it’d be a better fight.” Hrund said.

Iona let the bitter feelings of loss wash over and through her, letting her normally cheerful disposition show.

“Yeah! Hey, you did great. Regardless of how restricted I am, you would’ve beaten me. You got this! You can win the tournament!” Iona said, patting the shoulders of the shorter girl.

Hrund’s face lit up.

“You really think so?”

“Yeah! You’re strong, and you’re fast. Hit ‘em before they know what’s coming. Who knows, maybe you’ll impress the Valkyries so much that they’ll call it your feat of bravery!”

Hrund pumped her fist.

“Yeah! Although, it’s usually a feat of bravery in battle to get promoted from squire.”

Iona shrugged. She knew that was the case, but she was trying to pump Hrund up. Iona would feel a heck of a lot better losing in round one if her opponent managed to take down the entire tournament.

Wishing Hrund luck once again, gathering her practice weapons – a wooden shield and a wooden axe – Iona carefully and neatly put everything away, then headed down to the stables.

Being a squire sucked in a bunch of ways. She had to run around, do all the chores of her knight, then do chores of other Valkyries, depending on if they had a squire or not, and if their squire was around or not. “Cleaning the stables” was high up on the list of shitty tasks, but work was work.

One day Iona would be a Valkyrie, then she’d be the one with a squire to do her tasks.

Sure, she’d probably have even more on her plate, but the tasks would be more fun. In theory.

Iona shook off the negative thoughts, and focused on the positive. Training. Resources. A big honking castle to live in. Friends, companions. A mission.

“Heya Iona!” Alruna called to Iona as she trudged through the stables. “How’d it go?”

Iona wanted to shoot Alruna a glare that said “I’m here mucking out the stables how did you think it went”, but instead sighed, and bent the knee to Alruna, clasping her hands awkwardly in a salute.

Saluting with a pitchfork was strange. Iona had a brief flash of regret that she didn’t drop the pitchfork beforehand. Whatever.

Alruna gestured for Iona to get up, which Iona promptly did. She gave a glance to her knees. The day, somehow, had managed to get even shittier.

“Hrund beat me in the first round. She was too fast and strong.”

Alruna shrugged.

“Happens. Don’t let it get to you. The tournaments aren’t that important anyways.”

“Yeah, but I wanted to get permission to class-up!” Iona said, no small amount of frustration in her voice.

“You’ll get it eventually. Patience. It’s not like classing-up is a guaranteed reward for winning. Heck, getting permission from winning a tournament has only happened what, three times in the last ten years? Plus you’re here, and not, oh, mucking out the stables in some village.” Alruna said, having Iona wince at how accurate the comment was. Without Alruna’s generosity, without her agreeing to take Iona with her, Iona would be a farmer’s wife in all likelihood right now. The unspoken message, “be grateful for what you have”, was all too clear.

Still. Right here, right now, there wasn’t a lot of difference between “Mucking out the Valkyrie stable” and “mucking out a normal stable”. The animals were a bit larger, much deadlier, that’s all.

“Your build – heck, my build – isn’t suited to fancy tournament fights and flashy displays. You knew that when you decided to follow in my footsteps. Is it any surprise that someone with a build dedicated to single combat beats you?”

Iona frowned over piles of muck that she was cleaning out of Trikey the Triceratops’s stall. Alruna had the worst naming sense.

Second worst. Sigrun’s was terrible, and she was in charge of titles.

“No…” She said reluctantly.

“Cheer up!” Alruna said, grabbing a package off a shelf. “I do believe it was your birthday last week. A little late, but the delay was worth it. Our best Enchanter worked on it!”

Iona stepped up the pace. She’d love nothing more than to just throw the pitchfork to the side, and tear into Alruna’s present, but she did things properly.Correctly. Slowly and carefully, making sure all the t’s were crossed and the i’s dotted. Which sucked when there was a birthday present waiting – especially a 16th birthday.

Alruna kept playing bonding with Trikey as Iona worked around them. Occasionally Trikey would rub her tail up against Iona, but apart from that, the two of them were in a world of their own. Companions. Partnered, probably for life.

Squires weren’t allowed companions. Instead, they were expected to learn how to treat and handle a massive variety of animals, from small, knee-high shadow cats, to the powerful Griffin fliers, all the way up to the largest beasts. Sigrun, the grandmaster of Order Valkyrie, commanded a massive Spinosaurus, which towered over most of the other creatures.

Serratrix had a separate pen. Not only did rank hath its privilege, but size, power, and pure logistics did as well.

Sorok, and a few other “supermassive” creatures also got their own place. Squires generally didn’t tend to them. Too easy to get squashed.

It made Iona wonder – given the chance, would she take a supermassive creature? They were superexpensive to go along with supermassive. She had a shortlist that was much too long of creatures she’d like, with a triceratops topping it. Alruna’s influence.

The philosophy was to expose the squires to a wide variety of creatures, and see which one clicked and meshed with their way of thinking. Years of working with the animals, becoming accustomed to them and their needs also helped dramatically with bonding down the road. A few Valkyries were unable or unwilling to bond to a companion to use as a mount, and while they were still Valkyries, they were lower down in the invisible pecking order among them.

Still heads and shoulders above the squires.

Who in turn were slightly above a number of the support staff, but that relationship was tricky, to say the least. On paper, a squire outranked a [Scribe]. In practice? It came down to years in service.

Trikey’s stall cleaned, Iona decided to forgo her usual generosity, and not clean a bunch of other stables, instead carefully unwrapping the present Alruna had gotten for her.

She weighed the flat, heavy package, about as long as her arm. Heavy. She had an idea what was waiting for her inside.

She slowly, carefully unwrapped the package, carefully preserving the paper wrapping. A gleaming axe, curved with a wicked edge, revealed itself. A leather grip, a slight bend. A short axe designed for war, for killing.

“Enchanted for durability and sticking to you, mainly.” Alruna said, letting Iona admire the weapon for some time. “With your skills, you don’t need sharpness. Also. I’m looking to do another round through the kingdom soon – or even through Lithos again! You’re skilled. You’re brave. We can probably find you some scrap that’ll count as a feat of bravery. Anyways. You’ve got years before you’re 22 and need to find something else to do. I know you’ll make it.”

Overwhelmed with emotions, Iona wanted to hug Alruna. Holding a deadly weapon was notproper hugging procedure though, and it’d have to wait.

Trikey nuzzled Iona, almost bowling her over.

Alruna smiled, seeing the look on Iona’s face.

“Again. Happy 16th birthday. Why don’t we do some training together, while everyone else is busy watching the tournament?”

Iona wanted to pump her fist. Years of discipline drilled into her stayed her hand – but not a grin on her face.

Woo! Personalized training time with Alruna!

==

Iona was on a run around the castle. It’d been a week since the tournament and Alruna’s present. The sun was shining, and Iona’s long strides were eating up ground, long blonde hair tied into a neat braid. She was running with a bunch of other squires, all of whom were at level 128 in both classes, all waiting for permission to advance.

The squires with a Wind-aligned class took the lead, followed by the Fire-aligned squires, then the Water-aligned. Wind was speed, and Fire being strength let those squires abuse their power, to convert it into speed. Water was careful and flowing, elegantly and precisely placing their feet in the right places.

But as time went on, the Fire-aligned classes flagged and fell behind, as they burned energy faster than anyone else. The Earth-aligned classes plodded along, massive endurance letting them keep going at their slower top speed for longer. As Wind and Fire classes became exhausted, they fell back, behind the Earth-aligned classes. And the Light-aligned classes.

Light didn’t directly help. Iona wasn’t faster, wasn’t stronger, nor was she tougher. What she did, better in some ways than Earth, was last. [Overflowing Invigoration] gave Iona nearly endless energy, allowing her to run, and run, and run, and run, and run. It’s why if she got lucky in the first few rounds of a tournament, she had a strong shot at winning the entire thing. Everyone else would be exhausted, and Iona was there, fresh and ready, eager to go.

It was a toss-up if the Light class or the Earth class was better in the long-haul. It really depended on the respective stats everyone had, skills, and most importantly – grit.

There was one other squire with a Light class, and she also had a Wind class. She was aiming to be one of the light, fast Valkyries, riding a pterodactyl, griffin, or some other fast flier, screaming from the sky to hit and run.

At the end of the run, Iona was in 7th place. The Wind + Light runner was in first, and a number of non-human recruits were between Iona and her. Most were beastkin of various sorts – Rabbit, cat, dog, fox, even a lumbering bear-kin – and the last was a werewolf.

The bear-kin was also the only one taller than Iona, and it was by a hair as the bear-kin was 6 foot 2/ 188 CM.

Really, it was frankly unfair how much of an advantage the System gave non-humans. They were showered with physical stats, while humans had to deal with only a +1 Free Stat. Not only that, but raw, baseline, they were significantly stronger than humans were. A bear-kin with 500 strength would be able to beat a human with 500 strength nearly every time.

At least humans had the flexibility to assign their stats where they wanted to. It made them better casters, better mages, by a small margin.

Iona was toweling the sweat off of her when the grand central bell started to toll. She frowned – it shouldn’t be the top of the hour, that bell had gone off recently near the end of their run.

It kept going, and going, and Iona looked around at the other squires.

Something was wrong.

At first one squire, then the next, then all of them, abandoned the next part of the daily training, and started to stream back to Castle Valkyrie, to find someone who knew what was going on, and ask them for help.

They weren’t knights, they weren’t Valkyries – yet. Still in training. They’d brag and boast how they were the future leaders, the knights in shining armor that everyone would look up to. Yet, when push came to shove, they were lost, still looking for guidance of their own.

The Valkyries had a grand hall, a room where they could all fit. Iona squeezed in the back, seeing over most of the heads of everyone there, to where Sigrun was standing, in fierce discussion with a number of other senior Valkyries – Alruna included – along with a scout.

Iona couldn’t quite tell which organization the scout was from, but he was the center of attention.

A decision was reached, and Sigrun made an announcement to the room.

“A goblin horde is coming from the mountains, tens of thousands strong, if not larger. If they make it through the Wobby pass, they’ll spill out into the plains, scatter, burn, murder, loot, and pillage their way through the kingdom – and others nearby. They’ll be nearly impossible to stop. The mountains force them to come through the pass though, and we’re going to head off to stop them. We’ll be calling for reinforcements from the Order of the Red Lions and the Righteous Divine Fist Sect, along with calling for the King’s army. We’re also sending out messengers to as many other organizations as possible.”

Sigrun took a moment, a heartbeat, letting it sink in.

“Valkyries. Move out.”

Iona had to rescue one of the smaller squires from the sheer crush of bodies as everyone tried to leave through the same door at the same time.

==

“Squire Iona.” Alruna said, arms out stiffly as Iona bustled around her, fastening clasps and tightening straps, getting Alruna into what she called her “serious war gear.”

“Valkyrie Alruna.” Iona said, mimicking her formality.

“You’re coming with me on this. We need every body.”

Iona fumbled the strap she was currently trying to thread, needing three tries to stabilize her hands enough to get it threaded.

Finally, when she thought she had control of her voice again, she responded.

“I’m honored.”

Alruna snorted.

“Don’t be. Tighten that strap more. More. MORE! There you go. This isn’t some honorable fight we’re going to. This is a slaughterhouse, bloody butcher’s work. What Sigrun didn’t mention was how many of us were going.”

Iona froze, doing some mental calculations.

“Hang on…” She said, thinking about how many Valkyries there were. How many squires.

How many goblins.

“300. 300 of us are going to hold the pass, including squires. Not including companions.” Alruna said.

Iona froze.

“We’re all going to die.” She whispered.

“Yes. We are.” Alruna grimly agreed.

==

Iona was riding on the back of Trikey, swinging her new axe experimentally. Fearfully. Iona was suited up as well as any squire was – as well as the rest of the squires were – which wasn’t saying much. Sure, the dinosaur-hide vest was well padded, she had armored gauntlets, a strong round shield, a helmet.

Iona shot an envious look at Alruna.

She looked like a moving, metal fortress, wings on her helmet the only minor decoration.

Trikey was nearly as well-armored, with a few more open joints to better move – or charge. Trikey was running, faster than any human could run, a full stampede of all the other Valkyries and their varied companions with them.

They kept a solid distance from each other. No telling when a stegosaurus would lash its tail out, or when one of a Hydra’s head would want to take a bite out of someone. All the animals were trained, and bonded – but why risk an accident?

“Iona.” Alruna directed behind her without saying anything. Iona instinctively straightened up, something in her tone of voice making her pay attention.

“You didn’t hear this from me.” She said, and Iona leaned closer, as close as the straps keeping her secured in Trikey’s saddle would allow, letting Alruna whisper to her. Not that it was really needed, not with the distance between each of the Valkyries, not with the thundering roar from each of their mounts.

“Class up.” Alruna said.

“What, right now?” Iona asked in disbelief.

“Yes, right now.”

“I don’t have permission.” Iona protested.

“Who cares? You’ll either be dead, or be able to beg permission after. I can’t imagine anyone applying the penalty to a survivor of this. Might as well see what the System gives you.”

Iona hesitated. She wasn’t supposed to class up, not without permission, and Alruna, nice as she was, wasn’t technically allowed to give permission.

“I know what you’re thinking. I’ll send you back if you don’t class up.” Alruna threatened.

Iona was many things. Among others, the threat of being called or thought a coward was a powerful motivator. She leaned forward, focused on classing up both of her classes, and fell into the world of her soul.

Iona opened her eyes. The temple was somehow even larger, even grander. Her guide Priestess was there again.

“Iona. Welcome back.” She said, with a voice full of warmth.

“Priestess. Thank you.” Iona said.

“Let’s go.” Priestess calmly said, leading Iona deeper into the temple.

Iona had time, if she wanted. Time to check all her options, time to read over every choice.

Time – that could be better used adapting to her new classes, her new skills. With the fight upcoming, Iona had no time to spare.

Planning. Training. Years of calculation, accumulated knowledge of the Order Valkyrie, and long discussions with Alruna had Iona’s next class-up pre-planned. She knew what would be offered, and she knew what she’d take.

Or rather – she had a strong outline of what she’d be offered, and what she’d take. Any minor variation would be just that – minor.

Still. As Priestess led Iona to the altar where she’d pray and change her class, Iona still stopped and prayed at the altars to the gods and goddesses. It was only right, it was only natural, to give them their due, to show loyalty, fealty, and devotion.

Iona believed that you kneeled to exactly three people in your lifetime.

Kneel to mentor, your trainer, your teacher, the one who’s given you everything. Usually also your parent.

Kneel to the gods and goddesses, the divine beings above who watch over everyone, who give you life, who give you purpose.

Kneel to your lover, the one who drives you forward, who makes you more, who makes you strive to be the best person you can be.

Iona didn’t believe in such nonsense like “completing yourself”,  “the other half of a soul”, “fated lovers”, “love at first sight”,  or other such nonsense. Relationships, she gathered, were not like that at all.

Not real relationships.

To neutral or unaligned altars Iona prayed to Lunaris and Selene, her favorites.

They got to the room hosting the classing-up altar, when Iona hesitated.

“Did I get…?” She asked, trailing off. Priestess understood.

“Of course. A minor variant, as you’d expect. Still. Exactly what you’re looking for.” She said.

The tension went out of Iona’s shoulders.

“Good. Good! I can’t wait! And the second one?”

Priestess gave Iona a Look, like she was a moron.

“Yeah, ok, ok, I get it. Of course it’ll be there.”

Iona opened the door to the room, eyes fixed on the altar. She knelt, prayed, and felt the class change, evolve.

Merge.

[Constellation of the Warrior – Celestial]

The second class was even easier. A well-worn, well-tread level 8 class. Well known, well-defined, Iona had made sure she’d gotten the requirements for it a dozen times over. Her efforts were rewarded by a higher starting color than usual, and a minor variant.

[Smooth Shot Archer – Water]

[*Ding!* Congratulations! [Constellation of the Warrior] has leveled up to level 169! +2 Free Stats, +15 Strength, +15 Dexterity, +15 Vitality, +15 Speed, +9 Mana Regen, +2 Magic power, +2 Magic Control from your Class! +1 Free Stat for being Human! +1 Mana, +1 Mana Regen from your Element!]

Iona took a quick look at her new skills.

Strength from the Stars: The boundless stars forever twinkle, as boundless energy courses through you. Improved stamina per level. -36000 mana/day.

Blade of the Crescent Moon: Imbue your weapons with the sharp edge of the moon, cutting and slicing through all that would block your way. Deeper penetration per level. Costs mana per activation.

Moon’s Descent: The moons above, endlessly heavy. Lift the moon up, imbue your strikes with their weight. Converts strength stat to mass when striking blows. Improved strength to mass ratio per level. -24000 mana/day.

Gaze of the Stars: The stars look down upon you with perfect clarity, as you see the flow of battle and combat with perfect clarity. See in the dark. See through light obfuscation. Improved perception per level.

Iona started with surprise as [Cute] merged into the next skill she got. Surprise! Minor variations did change things up.

Stellar Body: The constellations above shine down, immovable, immutable, in the same way your body shines, empowered by the stars to be tougher, stronger, better-put together. .5% increased Vitality per level.

Nothing was mentioned about [Cute] or looking good, but it had to be in there somewhere. Skills sometimes did more than described, especially when other skills got merged into them. Iona would bet that the [Cute] merger basically, well.

She groaned as she realized the pun.

In some ways, a bit of a downgrade. Mergers were like that. In many ways, an upgrade, and Iona got a ranged class to go with it!

Also, new free general skill slot! Iona needed to think. She needed something to help survive the coming fight.

[Smooth Draw] was self-explanatory, but [Still Water] needed a look.

Still Water: Your mind is as tranquil as the surface of a pond. Any impacts simply ripple through, restoring the mind to its former calm. Increased calm per level.

Iona wanted to pump her fist. A mental stability skill! Yes! She’d lost her old one as her Light and Dark class merged, but the System taketh, and the System giveth.

Shame that it was at level 1 though. It would’ve been nicer at a higher level.

Iona had no doubt that it’d jump by leaps and bounds in the upcoming fight.

While she was still alive.

Over 40 levels of accumulated experience though – yes please. Iona was delightedto say the least.

Trikey moved again, Iona’s head smashed against Alruna’s unyielding back, and Iona was reminded that, yes, the world kept moving around her in spite of her focus on classing up.

“Welcome back.” Alruna said, sensing Iona starting to move under her own power again, as she leaned back, rubbing her head.

“Most uncomfortable class-up ever.” Iona complained.

“Got what we planned?” Alruna asked.

“Yup! Celestial warrior, Water ranger.” Iona said. “Also, a new free general slot!”

“Nice! What merged?” Alruna asked.

“[Cute].”

Alruna twisted in her saddle to give Iona a Look.

“The hell were you doing to get that skill to merge!?” Alruna yelled at Iona.

“I dunno! I got [Stellar Body] and it just did!” Iona protested.

Alruna started laughing.

“Well, grab something like [Dodge] or [Reflexes]. Should help a bit.”

Iona decided on trying to get [Dodge]. Better to not get hit at all, right? [Reflexes]would just be her trying to dodge things anyways, might as well get the narrower, more specialized skill.

“Good work. I think we’ll have some time for you to get used to it. Anyways, now that you’re a squire with a ranger class, you’re going to be assigned to Sorok.”

Iona shot Alruna a betrayed look, that Alruna obviously couldn’t see.

“Why!? I’m your squire!” Iona protested. “I’m supposed to cover Trikey’s rear. You can’t do that alone!”

“You’re not geared for what we’re heading into.” Alruna said, briskly rebuffing Iona. “You can make full use of your new ranger class on Sorok’s platform. You’ll be safer. And, more importantly, you’ll have a larger impact on the battle from there.”

Iona gave a leery look at Sorok, a massive brontosaurus that the Valkyries had built a solid platform on. He was practically a mobile fortress, and the only reason they weren’t moving faster was they were moving at Sorok’s maximum speed already.

Iona opened her mouth to argue more, then close it.

“Yes, Valkyrie Alruna, the Perpetual.” Iona said, agreeing, letting her minor displeasure known by giving Alruna’s full title.

“Look, I know you don’t like it. You’ll change your mind after this is over. Hey! It could be worse.”

Iona quirked an eyebrow up.

“How could it be worse than outnumbered hundreds to tens of thousands, when we’re all going to die?”

“It’s not an Immortal. It’s not the start of another round of Immortal Wars.”

That was an excellent point. Iona shut up, and worked on getting used to her new skills before the battle.

==

The Valkyries had made it to the pass before the horde. Some scouts were sent deeper in, to raise the alarm when the horde arrived. Some Earth mages were busy reshaping the terrain to better favor them. The one Arcanite mage was busy setting up some large-scale wards and buffs, sacred ground that when one of the Valkyries were standing on it, she would be stronger, faster, tougher.

Well. As long as the Valkyrie’s mana lasted. It was a rare build for a reason.

The pass was a bit too wide to collapse. 150 Valkyries and companions, side by side, with Sorok anchoring them in the middle, and they still all had plenty of room between all of them. At the level the Valkyries operated at, blows and swings were large and lethal, which meant for practical purposes, they could hold the pass.

Collapsing enough rocks that the clever, burrowing goblins couldn’t get through or around? An impossible task in the timeframe. Instead, narrowing the narrowest portion of the pass, and improving the terrain for the Valkyries and their mounts, took priority. No more ankle-breaking holes, no more awkward ledges that’d come up suddenly and break a raptor’s leg.

Alruna worked with Iona briefly to get [Dodging] offered to her, which Iona promptly took.

“Could probably get something a bit better if we had time and the records.” Alruna said. “This’ll do in a pinch. Now.”

“Sleep.” Alruna said, still in her full gear, lying down on a thin blanket. Between the size of the blanket and Alruna’s weight in her gear, Iona didn’t see it improving anything. Still. It was Alruna’s call. “We don’t know when you’ll get another chance.”

Iona mutely nodded, her stomach clenching and unclenching.

Hastily, she erected a small altar – really, just a stick stuck in the ground, with a crude symbol carved into the top – knelt down, and started to pray.

Selene. Lunaris. Hey again! Hope you’re doing well.

I’m going into battle soon. Don’t know if I’ll make it.

Hope I’ll be able to talk with you again soon!

Don’t take this the wrong way, but I hope it’s some time before we meet in-person. Like, I’m not opposed, but I don’t want to die just yet.

All the best,

Iona.

Iona opened her eyes to two women standing next to her. They were wearing long, flowing robes, a radical departure from the leather and metal everyone else was wearing. One was dressed in soft yellow, the other in a light cyan. They were larger than life; one was taller than Iona, the other shorter.

“Iona. My child.” The first one, the tall one in blue, said, her voice like twinkling chimes in the wind.

Lunaris.

“Iona. My friend.” The second one said, her voice the warmth of a meadow in spring.

Selene.

The two voices spoke together, spoke as one, interweaving and overlapping.

Well, this was awkward. Iona had just mentioned not wanting to meet them quite yet, and, well, whoops. Here they were.

Awkward didn’t begin to cover it.

“You have a bit of a trial ahead of you.” They said, clearly highly amused.

“You’ve been faithful your entire life, giving with barely asking anything in return.”

“Except Lux.” Iona said, hardly daring to believe the words coming out of her mouth. Alruna was going to beat her black and blue for the sass.

Well, it wasn’t really sass. More like, correcting a potential…

Well. Goddesses didn’t make mistakes.

“We are sorry. She is dead, and gone.” They said, sorrow, raw and present, in their voices. “On this eve of the trial, we have a blessing for you, most faithful believer.”

Their voices split again.

“From me, sight.” Selene said, moving to one side of Iona, somehow still standing up, and kissing Iona’s right cheek at the same time. “The moons see all, and now you can see everything the System grants to any living being.”

“From me, comprehension and speech.” Lunaris said, kissing Iona’s left cheek. “May no language bar you. May you understand, and be able to speak with, all of humanity, elves and their ancient tongue, and every other tongue spoken under the vast sky.”

Iona’s mouth opened and closed wordlessly, tears streaming down her face, the tears somehow avoiding the two kisses placed on her cheeks, shining in the light.

The goddesses embraced her, one on either side, lifting her up from the ground.

“Of course. That’ll only help if you survive this.” They said.

“Good luck!”

And with that, they were gone.

A shimmering barrier of celestial light that had surrounded Iona vanished with them.

Sigrun was waiting there.

With a lot of other Valkyries.

“What the fuck just happened?” She demanded.

Iona gulped.

Getting to the head honcho’s attention had not been on her to-do list.

==

A long interrogation later, some practice with her blessings, and the Valkyries mostly left Iona alone.

Iona mentally cursed Alruna for sleeping through her entire ordeal. Although, it would be just like Alruna to crack an eye open, see they weren’t under attack, and figure whatever the problem was could be managed the next morning.

Iona noted with more than a bit of amusement that after Sigrun’s interrogation of her, and the Valkyries confirming that, yes, Iona was now goddesses-touched, an absurd number of makeshift altars had been raised, with a number of squires and knights kneeling and praying to whichever god they worshipped.

Suddenly, everyone had found religion. The gods and goddesses directly manifesting tended to do that to people.

Sigrun had been slightly pissed that Iona’s blessings didn’t seem to directly relate to the fight at hand, and had cursed thoroughly that she didn’t get something like “one against one hundred thousand” or some absurd blessing that would save them all.

She’d been extra-pissed when Iona had said that she didn’t think she could call down a miracle. “What’s the fucking point of fucking religion if you can’t fucking call down a fucking miracle!?” Sigrun had yelled, before storming off.

Iona hadn’t realized that Sigrun’s cursing could be quite so verbose. It was like she worked in swears the same way others might work in oils or clay.

She settled down on a blanket, the butterflies in her stomach gone. Entirely.

Iona spent some time trying to identify what she was feeling.

It was… peace.

Iona had gotten her biggest hopes, her biggest fears, validated. Lunaris and Selene were out there. They heard her. They listened. They knew of her.

They had blessed her.

They had let her know that Lux was gone, forever. No divine intervention would fix or change that. It was freeing, in a way.

There was clearly something of an afterlife. If the gods were real, there had to be something after death, right? “Gone” wasn’t entirely annihilated, right?

Either way. Iona was much more ready to meet the goddesses again.

Iona laid down on her own blanket, staring up at the sky. She blinked, and –

And the sun was coming up, as scouts were running through the camp, yelling that the horde was almost here.

==

Iona scrambled to get Trikey something vaguely resembling breakfast, since it was likely his last meal.

“Sorry they’re not apples.” Iona whispered to Trikey, patting him on his beak-like snout as he chowed down. He nuzzled Iona, almost bowling her over. How aware was he? Did he know this was probably the end for him?

“Iona. MOVE!” Alruna yelled at her, and Iona scurried over to Alruna’s side, to help secure the straps that would keep her attached to Trikey, for better or worse. She got the last strap set, as Alruna threw a pack at her.

“Yours. Get to Sorok.” Alruna ordered, then flicked Trikey’s reins to get him into position.

Iona grabbed her shield, slung it over her back, then took her pack – much heavier than normal – and ran through the camp, dodging all manner of other Valkyries, companions, and squires getting ready. She made it to Sorok, with two long rope ladders leading from the platform down to the ground.

One for going up, one for going down.

Iona grabbed the ladder, and nimbly climbed up to the top.

“Goddess-blessed.” Hrund said at the top, greeting her.

“Don’t give me that. Please.” Iona said. “I haven’t earned a title, and-“

Iona couldn’t bring herself to say “it wasn’t a big deal”. Because it was. Effortlessly understanding all the languages Sigrun had thrown at her last night had been eye-opening, to say the least.

So was seeing Sigrun’s stats, not that she’d ever admit to peeping.

What sort of monster had three well-developed classes before 40?

“Still! I can’t believe they let you class up because of that! How’d they get permission?” Hrund asked Iona.

Iona winced at the memory of Sigrun tearing into her over classing up without permission, all while Alruna had blissfully snoozed. Not fun. Sigrun had blessedly ended it by throwing her hands up, and promising to punish Iona once this was all over.

Iona really, really, really hoped that Alruna was right, and that if they lived, she’d be let off scot-free. With the way Sigrun’s eyes had promised murder, Iona almost wanted the goblins to get her.

Still. Iona didn’t want even the misconception to spread. She interpreted her [Vow]to correct misconceptions that she herself inadvertently spread.

At least, that’s what Iona told herself.

“Alruna told me to. Said I’d either end up dead here, or get forgiveness.” Iona said, giving Hrund a Look.

Hrund understood it.

Iona got a bow, and found where the arrow stashes were. They were deeper on the platform. It was going to be obnoxious, shooting a dozen arrows, then running back for more. At the same time – the platform swayed and moved with every step Sorok took, with every sweep of his giant tail. Too close to the edge, and things risked tipping over.

Hence some safety railings.

Iona looked around from her position on Sorok, high up above the battlefield.

The Wobby pass was a bare, rocky pass, a relatively thin slice through the mountains, with high rocks on either side. Impossible to climb, even for the bold and tenacious goblins. It was cut so deep, and so sheer, that rumor, accepted as fact, was some great blow by a creature with thousands of levels had made it.

The local geography demanded that creatures – or goblin hordes – emerging from certain places all needed to travel through this one, relatively thin pass.

Of course, it was still wide enough that 150 Valkyries and their mounts, Sorok included, all arranged side-by-side, still had significant gaps between them. They couldn’t dismount and lock shields together like legions of antiquity.

The flip of that was, each Valkyrie had enough space to strut their stuff, to fire off their largest, most powerful attacks without fear of hitting each other. Additionally, it meant they could all be mounted.

Iona looked down, enjoying the perspective for a brief moment. Sorok had turned to the side, letting all the squires not mounted with their knight be on a single side, facing the incoming horde. They were all issued a fairly standard bow, with three of the squires having snagged longbows, being specialized in them. A half-dozen Valkyries were also on Sorok, both not having a companion, and having skills more of the long-range variety.

“Heya Iona.” Hrund said. Iona glanced at her with her new blessing, and saw that Hrund had taken the chance to class up as well.

A quick look down the line of squires showed an overwhelming majority had gotten a similar sort of talk. There was barely a squire at 128 left.

Can’t be executed if you were dead.

“Shame we don’t have a Forbidden Four mage with us.” Hrund said. “They’d be perfect for this.”

Iona looked at Hrund standing next to her with shock.

“They’re illegal! The only thing they’re good for is mass-murder!” Iona protested.

“Yeah, but… isn’t that kinda what we’re doing here?” Hrund pointed out.

Iona opened her mouth, thought about what Hrund was saying, and closed it.

She hated to admit it, but Hrund was right. A Forbidden Four mage would be perfectright now. Deadly clouds of Miasma, aerosolized poison, or self-replicating spores would do horrible things to the goblin horde. Illegal in every civilized nation, which didn’t stop a number of them from keeping a few hidden, in reserve.

Nobody – not even the tiny Nime nation, who openly strutted a number of Forbidden Four classers, promising a terrible toll on anyone who tried to invade – would condone or tolerate a Void mage. They tended to randomly explode, and take out whole cities with them when they did. At a minimum. Nobody quite knew why.

A few times in history, a brave man or woman would take a Void mage class, and attempt to take meticulous notes, which were immediately sent out from their location. An attempt to record their skills, their experiments, to see what was happening.

Some would randomly blow up. Some lived long lives. There was no difference detected between the two.

Nor had a Void mage managed to – with what scarce records there were – deliberately blow themselves up. It was hit or miss, seemingly entirely random.

One extremely high-level researcher from the School of Sorcery and Spellcraft had two classes devoted to survival and self-regeneration. The best tank of several generations. She took a Void mage as her third class, went to the wilderness, and attempted to cause an explosion.

She survived, had no idea how it had happened or what she did differently, and swore off using Void magic, switching into something a bit more reasonable.

Void warriors, artisans, laborers, and more were all permitted and allowed. Mages were not. Similar to how Spore was one of the best elements for a farmer. A level of fear and paranoia surrounded the element, and people who decided to walk the path were well-advised to keep their Void element as their highest class, so they’d identify properly. Otherwise, mayors, magisters, and mobs didn’t have a very high tolerance towards people with the Void element.

A horn blew, and the first goblins started to make their way over the crest, funneled into the pass.

Drums started to beat, pulsing waves of energy coming off of Sorok’s back as a Valkyrie began her beat. Iona felt energized and strong. She jumped a few times, just to get some of the jitters out of her system.

“Hold!” One of the Valkyries that Iona recognized as Hara, the Incandescent shouted, raising her hand in a fist.

Discipline was good. None of the squires made it as far as they had by having terrible nerves, or by ignoring orders – especially before a battle.

The first goblins made it, and were easily, almost carelessly, dispatched. Iona watched Alruna use an incredibly long, flexible sword, and just sweep through the goblin, meeting no resistance as she did so.

[*Ding!* Congratulations! Your party has slain a [Fleet-Foot Goblin] (Gale, 171)// [Quick Goblin Scout] (Wind, 165)]

Iona turned off notifications for goblin kills that she wasn’t personally involved with. She would need them for when she was fighting, to make sure a blow was lethal. She didn’t need to know about everyone else’s efforts.

Alruna’s classes were Void and Brilliance. Void gave her weapons unparalleled piercing strength, able to simply go through nearly anything, at the price of mana and skills. It was expensive to do, but that’s what her Brilliance class was for. Mana, mana, and more mana, along with boundless energy to fight for hours on end.

Days on end.

Hence her title, “The Perpetual.”

Alruna, when geared for what she called “a real fight”, used two swords, one in each hand. Both were incredibly thin, needing no mass or weight behind them – only Void skills – to simply carve through steel, flesh, and bone. The first was long, great for massive sweeps. It was slow though, and some small, nimble, goblin-like creature could dodge the blow, and come in close while Alruna was overextended.

Which is what her second, much shorter sword was designed to handle.

Iona’s musings were interrupted as more and more of the horde came over the hill, and Hara, the Incandescent dropped her hand.

“Loose!”

Iona bent her bow, feeling it smoothly bend in a way she’d never experienced when training on bows before. Already, the effects of her new class were being felt. Iona loosed her arrows, along with the other squires.

[*Ding!*Congratulations! [Smooth Draw] has reached level 2!]

There wasn’t a need to aim.

[*Ding!* Congratulations! [Smooth-Shot Archer] has leveled up to level 9! +1 Free Stat, +3 Strength, +2 Dexterity, +1 Vitality, +1 Speed, +1 Mana Regen, +2 Magic power, +2 Magic Control from your Class! +1 Free Stat for being Human! +1 Dexterity from your Element!]

[*Ding!*Congratulations! [Archery] has reached level 2!]

[*Ding!*Congratulations! [Water Affinity] has reached level 2!]

[*Ding!*Congratulations! [Still Water] has reached level 2!]

“Fire at will!” The Incandescent shouted, before starting to fire off her own attacks.

Iona suppressed a moment of annoyance at the small sun’s worth of Radiance magic radiating off of Hara. She was the Valkyrie. Iona was the squire. The pecking order was clear.

Plus.

Iona didn’t even need to look. Just fire arrows as fast as she could into the squirming, endless horde.

Free levels!

Free stats!

She’d need every stat once the arrows ran out.

The horde was streaming down the pass, being crushed and compressed into a small area. A writhing mass of green flesh, with glowing, crimson eyes. Weapons of all sort, magic staffs, crude bows, rusty knives, sharp claws, foul teeth. The goblin horde had arrived in strength, and were moving and roiling over one another, chittering and yelling, as they boiled towards the line the Valkyries had established.

With the fluttering of a banner, the Valkyries charged.

Hundreds of tons of expert flesh, glowing enchantments, plain steel, and a few weapons edged with magic metal moved with thunderous power towards the horde. Iona literally saw goblins go flying as the press of companions, squires, and Valkyries met the front lines of the horde.

Iona loosed the rest of the arrows she had with her, then sprinted back to get more, remembering to breathe around a nervous lump in her throat.

This was it.

This was life or death.

Not just for them, but for huge portions of the kingdom. Goblins got out here, they’d split and scatter, burning and looting their way through the kingdom.

There was a girl out there. Somewhere, in some village. Iona’s efforts here would keep her safe, would protect her from goblins bursting in the middle of the night.

Iona almost stumbled as she felt her [Vow] take hold, boosting her physical stats more than five times. She was protecting. She was defending.

This was her cause. This was her calling.

She made it to where the spare arrows were kept, and grab a handful of “real” arrows.

They had an expert in making arrows with them, although sadly she didn’t have access to the Arcanite reserves. The arrows being conjured up weren’t quite as good as “real” arrows, mostly because it was more valuable to have two smaller, lighter arrows instead of one big arrow. Still. The expert had solid mana regeneration, and had been constantly pumping out arrows ever since the call had gone out.

They were better than nothing.

Iona’s eyes wandered over the battlefield.

Shiva, the Destroyer. She stood on top of a sarcosuchus, whirling a massive glaive around her in a complicated pattern. All Iona could see was a bloody blur as goblin parts rained around her, unable to get past the shimmering metal cage formed around Shiva from her deadly dance.

More goblins went into the sarcosuchus’s mouth than there was possible room inside the dinosaur for.

Tavi, the Voracious. Darkness and Decay, she used a spear – along with having a devastating “deathtouch” ability, where with a simply touch she could carve out and remove important parts of a goblin, set their flesh rotting from the inside out. A success story – an orphan from the streets, raised up to become a Valkyrie, one of the best, one of the elites. She never got over starving as a kid, and somehow had the standard Valkyrie figure, in spite of constantly eating. Even as flesh rotted around her, even as blood sizzled near her.

Quinta was, of all things, a slime companion. Deadly Acid and Ooze, the slime simply engulfed bodies, and you could see the faces contort in silent screams as they were dissolved. Eaten alive by the slime.

The Inviolate. She wielded a mace and a massive tower shield, and was a combined healer-warrior. Sadly, her healing was focused entirely on herself, and her class was focused on taking and holding ground. Nothing short of death could get her to move from her position, and her insane self-regeneration on top of thick armor and thicker shield made that a nearly impossible proposition.

Speaking of healers. The only healer the Order had was an old man, entirely unsuited to a battlefield, perpetually stuck at level 256. Healers weren’t allowed to go any higher. Nobody – nobody – would give them permission. He’d only be a liability. He’d demand a squire attend to his every need, regale them with how “genius” it was that the author of the Medical Manuscripts had signed his name only “Healer”, and be entirely unable to get to a Valkyrie in battle. He’d been left behind. Any survivors would be able to get to him, to fix any wounds, any injuries.

Ha. Like there’d be any survivors.

The Unstoppable. A bear-kin, Storm and Lava. She towered over most of the other Valkyries, armed to the teeth. Quite literally. She had sharp metal caps over her teeth. She was slow to get moving, but once she had a bit of momentum, well – The Unstoppable.

The Unbreakable. Gravity nonsense. Blows that came to her were lightened, doing almost nothing to her. She’d lash back out with a thin rapier that hit like her Tyrannosaurus Rex.

The Untouchable. Mist and Mirage. She was somewhere inside the thick mists, and flowing blood from the region attested to the deadly butchery she was performing. Can’t hit what you can’t see, and the tiny amount of visibility every illusionist needed to see was offset by the confusing, shifting mists hiding even that tiny weakness.

The Shiny. Sigrun had been exhausted when naming her after a particularly harsh battle. Mirror on Mirror, every blow returned, every skill mimicked back at the caster.

The Creator stood on her golems, pseudo-creatures of metal and stone pummeling down on goblins, impervious to their blows. She’d always said the golems were her companions, that they could do anything a companion could do.

Iona doubted they could give affection back, although she had to admit it – The Creator looked at her golems the same was Alruna looked at Trikey.

The Swift, screaming down with her griffin from the skies above, impaling a high-level goblin casting powerful spells in the backline, then back to the skies in a flash, too fast for a counter-attack from endless goblin horde.

Sigrun herself.

Valkyries weren’t like the crazy Sects, who somehow had it in their head that might made right, and the highest-level person should be the boss. That was, quite frankly, crazy talk, and more than one Sect had fallen to pieces when a powerful individual, with no leadership qualities to speak of, ended up the boss. No. The Valkyries selected their leader on administrative and leadership qualities, a Valkyrie with a vision, one who could weave a path through the complicated world. Sigrun was the leader on those qualities, and those qualities alone. If she was level 260, she would’ve still been selected to be the Grandmaster of the Order.

Her monstrous level and abilities were simply Sigrun being Sigrun, a peerless Knight in addition to her leadership and administrative abilities.

Three classes. Iona had gotten a look at them, and could now see and recognize them in action.

Mantle. Sigrun’s blade was impossibly sharp, and when it inevitably chipped, simply reformed anew. Any blow that dented her armor was fixed and restored the moment later. Offense paired with defense.

Verdant. Not a choice most warriors went for, but one Sigrun clearly had seen potential in. The ability to make small changes to herself – effectively self-doping, along with granting the boundless energy of plants and sunlight.

Lightning. Sheer, raw speed. [Lightning Step] moving Sigrun from one place to the next in a flash, blade cleaving all along her path.

Attack. Defense. Sustainability. Speed. Resilience. Sigrun had everything but weight, which was entirely irrelevant when it came to dealing with a goblin horde. She was everywhere at once, shining shield on one hand, gleaming sword in the other, goblins falling to pieces all around. A Valkyrie on one side of the battlefield could have a problem, and Sigrun would be there, covering her back silently, without a word, then in a flash be on the other side of the battlefield, running some powerful spellcaster through.

150 Valkyries. Each one trained for years, each one specialized, each one a lethal killing machine.

150 Squires. Trained… for a few less years. More generalized, eyeing up a specialty to branch into in the future. A future that would never come.

It wasn’t enough.

It wasn’t close to enough.

Three hours in, the first squire fell. A lucky blow from a goblin took her head clean off, riding on the back of the Valkyrie’s megalania.

The Valkyrie simply cursed, and with a pair of blows, separated the squire’s body from the harness, letting it fall into the seething horde.

Not a hair was ever seen of her again.

It was only two hours after that the first Valkyrie fell.

The Spider used her long, long hair in several thick braids to lift herself up, above the battlefield, then dozens of thinner strands of hair with Darkness to puncture through eyes, chests, heads, and more. She would brag of being a “front-line mage”, and gave all sorts of shit to “weak mages who stayed in the backline.” A long running feud with Incandescent.

The goblins had figured her out, and a team of suicidal goblins had thrown what could only generously be called “expired cooking oil” all over her.

A second suicidal team of goblins had jumped on her with torches.

It wasn’t enough to kill a Valkyrie, but with her hair burning and falling around her, she was unable to keep herself up and supported, and fell into the horde with a scream, a sea of sharp blades ready to catch her.

Other Valkyries had seen what was going on, and were charging their way over.

Still.

A mage, surrounded by rusty blades on all sides, missing the flagship part of their kit, didn’t last long, regardless of training, armor, Sigrun cutting through half of them, or anything else.

Her body was recovered, dozens of blades held by dead goblins indicating how she’d died.

The Untouchable must’ve died around the same time, mist slowly dispersing. How do you kill a hidden, invisible killer?

The goblin answer was to flood the area with bodies until one bumped into said killer, then start hacking away. The Untouchable was primarily focused on evasion, with invisibility being her strength and forte. Without that, she was weaker, and her tactics left her plight unknown to her fellow Valkyries, who weren’t even aware that she’d been in danger.

Iona fired, and fired, and fired, unceasingly into the endless horde.

It was like half a cup of water into a forest fire.

A full day, defending the pass.

A full night, without a single goblin passing. No low cunning, no tricks, no attempts to flank or sneak succeeded.

And yet.

The bodies started to pile up.

Eight fast Valkyries behind the main action ran down goblins who tried to dodge fighting and slip through.

The rocks ran slick with blood.

Footing became treacherous.

Nearly irrelevant for goblins. A major disadvantage to them didn’t really matter, with how poorly the odds were stacked against them in a single fight anyways.

Significantly deadlier for a Valkyrie. A horse slipped, going down screaming, pinning its rider’s leg under its crushing body.

Life was so fragile.

It only took one blade finding the right gap to end a Valkyrie.

And yet.

Feats of heroism at every turn.

Alruna carefully killing every goblin above a downed squire in a single sweep, letting her get back to her feet, buying enough time for The Swift to swing down for the rescue.

Sorok moving into position, wiping out hundreds of goblins with every sweep of its metal-spiked tail.

A squire leaping off her Valkyrie’s mount, tackling and killing a goblin who’d gotten into The Creator’s blind spot, who was moving in to assassinate the coordinator of the fearsome golems.

Any other time, the squire would’ve been Knighted on the spot. Nobody had the time to Knight her.

It was worst for Iona when they ran out of arrows. Well – ran out of arrows for squires. The remaining supply of conjured arrows went to the one Valkyrie who used a longbow, who couldn’t conjure up her own arrows.

Iona swore to get an arrow conjuration skill, to never be left in a pinch like this again.

She looked around at the field, at the situation. Evaluated what she could do. No way could she survive the drop down into the battle. It wasn’t the fall that was the issue, so much as the forest of steel waiting on the other end. Not that they were inclined to let the squires into the battle without a Valkyrie.

Alruna, for example, was far too deep in the fighting for Iona to join her.

The sun began to set once again, and exhaustion began to set in. Wounds started to accumulate. Nothing serious, but the invincible image each Valkyrie had started to crack as their armor bent from heavy blows, bruises accumulating.

Small, slow trickles of blood like the laziest river emerging from cracks in their armor, from the small joints. Nothing big. Nothing deadly. Not yet.

But it accumulated. Slowly. One small cut at a time, with each small drip of blood, they slowed. As time went on, wounds festered.

Poison was in the goblin’s bag of tricks. It wasn’t honorable fighting, but the only creature in the pass that had any illusions of glory was The Vainglorious.

Goblins weren’t insane enough to use airborne poison, nor did they have the desire – or time – to poison the earth itself. Blades, barbs, sticks, claws, feet, gloves, [Poison Bite]skills and a thousand more methods and deliveries the goblins used. It made it extra-hard on the Valkyries. It was impossible to tell if a blow was going to be harmless, or be poison.

Even poison was shrugged off by most of the Valkyries, their massive vitality helping their body fight off the crude methods of the goblins.

And yet.

Now and then a goblin would’ve found a particularly nasty snake, located a deadly spider. The poison from those wounds would also be fought off, but not before flesh rotted, before muscles decayed.

Without a healer, there was no restoring a leg with a gaping hole in it. A bitten arm would have muscles weakened.

The System improved what was already there. A warrior with 500 strength was stronger than a painter with 500 strength. A bear-kin was stronger than a human. When muscles rotted away, when poison took its toll, there was less for the System to work with, less for the System to improve and amplify.

Fighting was generally quick, brutal work. Fights were fast, even faster if they were deadly. A short struggle, a knife across a throat, a blade between ribs, a skill in the right place at the right time – a fight lasting more than fifteen seconds was exceedingly rare, and usually only happened when both fighter’s had better defenses than attacks.

Battles often lasted for hours, but again, it was rare for an individual to be involved in a battle for more than a few minutes of screaming and blood. A front-line soldier was the only one fighting, at least until they slowed down, and died.

To be replaced with a new front-line soldier, joining the bloody fray.

Or, you know. The commander might be sane, and just rotate out tired troops for fresh ones.

As for armies, the vast majority of them were made out of conscripts. Peasants, given a spear and told to march in a particular direction. Some were smart or lucky enough to have a [Soldier]class, the rest were farmers with a pointy stick.

Armies like that tended not to have huge amounts of cohesion or discipline, and fell apart quickly once they started to take losses. As few as 2% losses were enough to break and rout the army, and a single, extremely powerful, Classer could do that alone.

The Valkyries? They’d been at it for an entire day. Then a second day. The attack had started at sunrise, and as the shadows grew long, they were still at it. The sun rose, and goblins continued to die. The sun set, just as it set on the goblin’s lives. The Valkyries had taken significant losses, but showed no signs of stopping, of giving up, of routing. If anything, they simply dove into the fray once more.

But slower.

Slightly slower.

And with slightly fewer of them.

Shiva slowed, her deadly whirling glaive becoming just barely visible to Iona’s eye. Small gaps started to appear in her defense, and she retreated to a more defensible position.

The Swift had slowed down on her snipes, a goblin every four minutes becoming a goblin every five. Every six.

Every ten.

The Unstoppable. Every volcano cooled after erupting, every storm blew itself out.

The Banshee, whose voice was getting hoarser and hoarser.

Indeed, as Iona looked around, there was one group, and three Valkyries, who weren’t slowing down.

The squires, stuck on top of Sorok’s platform. Unable to reach the thick of the fighting, for now. The future of the order, protected somewhat.

Frustrated. Angry. Watching the girls they’d grown up with, trained with, lived with, get cut down, one after another. Watching their mentors, their teachers, die, one at a time.

Honestly somewhat useless with the current formation. They didn’t have the combat capabilities to be in the midst alone, the armor, the levels, or the stats. Squires were paired with Valkyries for a reason.

Sigrun, the Grandmaster. Leaning on her monstrous levels and stats, leaning on her Verdant element.

The Creator, with golems that never tired, never needed a break. They wouldn’t slow – if they ran out of mana, if the Arcanite in them ran dry, if The Creator ran out of mana, they’d simply stop.

Alruna, the Perpetual. A build terrible for tournaments, for honor duels. A build designed for war, for large-scale conflict. She just kept going and going and going and going and-

“Iona.” Hrund said to her, in a low, urgent voice. “We can’t stay up here.”

Iona slowly nodded in agreement.

“We should ask Incandescent to leave.” Iona said.

Incandescent worked by firing bursts of burning Radiance into the horde, then pausing. Iona knewshe was sitting on a ton of Arcanite, but hadn’t used any of it.

Iona was judging Incandescent somewhat for it. Sure, she knew the theory that it was only for emergencies, but if this wasn’t an emergency, what was?

“We did. She said no.” Hrund whispered back.

“Then it’s a no.” Iona said.

Hrund shot her a look, but left, talking with other squires.

Iona watched them, conflicted.

She glanced at Incandescent. Incandescent looked back, frowned, shrugged, and fired off another burning ball of Radiance, exploding once it made contact.

“I know what they’re doing. I disapprove, but I can’t stop them. Too busy.” She said. “Stay.”

Iona stayed. Stayed as the rope ladder was thrown down. Stayed as the squires “stealthily” climbed down it.

Walked over as the last one went down, and pulled the ladder back up. It felt cruel on one hand, but Iona wasn’t going to let the goblins have an easy path up. Easy access to Sorok’s flanks.

Winced as Sorok didn’t give two shits about the squires, and kept moving as he needed to, as he was directed, crushing one underfoot with a sickening squish, a scream cut short.

Watched as the squires formed a solid shield wall, working in concert.

Watched as most of them got ripped apart. They didn’t have the gear for what they were trying to do, not at the level they were at. There was a reason squires were paired with Valkyries. There was a reason they’d been told not to go down.

A number of squires broke at the casualties, turned and ran.

Some escaped.

Some.

A few squires that stayed made it, the nearby Valkyries picking up who they could.

The only thing that was seen of the rest was a single arm, taken by a goblin as a trophy, used as a demoralizing weapon.

That goblin died fast, even by the standards of the slaughterhouse that Wobby pass had become.

The Valkyries continued to slow. There was no one heroic goblin taking them down, no massive skill coming out of nowhere. Just the slow accumulation of damage, pain, poison, cuts and bleeds.

If there was one small blessing, it was that the goblins weren’t entirely suicidal. They lacked Forbidden Four mages as well. Didn’t stop their poison, but it was small-scale, localized. Less deadly than the occasional Darkness warrior, who tried to pierce and void armor and limbs. A Forbidden Four mage might have done terrible things to the Valkyries – but it would’ve backfired on the goblins even harder.

Rather. It was possible they had some. They weren’t using them if they did.

Did it matter? Iona didn’t think so.

The Valkyries continued to slowly die, the ever present drumbeats echoing throughout the pass.

And as a Valkyrie died, a hole appeared in the already stretched-thin line. Causing each one to stretch more, to cover impossibly more ground.

Letting more goblins stream through.

Surround them.

Kill more.

Mitigated by the sheer volume of dead bodies forming walls.

Choke points.

Kill corridors.

The fight was ever-changing, ever-moving, ever-shifting. Iona found it impossible to follow, even as her [Gaze of the Stars] leveled like crazy.

The moons rose above the fight, the omnipresent eyes watching and see what happened below. Iona kept thumbing her axe nervously, taking her shield off her back, pacing, then putting it back. She wasn’t in the fight – yet. She was ready.

Why wasn’t she being allowed in!?

Iona looked around, and had a startling moment of clarity as she saw The Shining die.

We’re on the verge of a total rout.

Iona obviously wasn’t the only one who’d seen this, and a trumpet blast rang out, blasting through the battlefield, cutting through the din, blaring over the endless drumming. The Valkyries started to group up, get closer to each other, and fight their way to Sorok.

Slowly dismounting as they got near the brontosaurus anchoring the line.

Covering each other.

Leaving massive holes in the line.

Holes, that goblins started to stream through, stream past, into the widening pass.

Out to the greater kingdom.

Failure, on most counts. They’d barely held for three days and nights at this point.

A knight on a fast mount could cover two hundred miles in a day. They might not be ready for a fight at the end of it, but the distance was manageable. Reinforcements should be near.

And yet.

The Valkyries were grouping up, bunching together in the middle of the pass. A hard rock, jamming the flow of ceaseless goblins.

“Down.” Incandescent ordered, and Iona needed no further prompting.

Four other squires had stayed behind.

Only one other followed Iona.

With the dismissive look the Valkyries gave the three remaining squires, Iona wouldn’t be surprised if they were booted from the order for cowardice.

Not that it would matter.

They were all dead, one way or another. What was the point of being a coward now?

Iona made her way down the ladder, getting rope burn as she mostly let herself drop, only grabbing on the rope to slow herself down somewhat. She hit the ground, and moved to where she belonged.

Alruna’s side.

Covering her side.

Iona had been in fights before. She’d been in extermination missions. These weren’t the first goblins she’d faced.

But seeing the unending horde charging at her gave her pause. Made her hesitate. Caused fear and terror to strike at her heart. [Still Water] helped.

Iona didn’t crush the fear. She didn’t purge the terror from her heart. She simply lived with it, letting it lend fuel to her first desperate strike against a goblin, empowering her blows.

Iona waited for the first goblin she’d have to fight to come to her. Alruna had done a mighty sweep, bisecting a dozen goblins, and only a few had the reflexes and cunning to dodge. Two were heading towards Alruna.

One was heading towards Iona.

Iona felt her heart thundering in her chest. This goblin was using the most gobliny of weapons – a crude knife. Another close-in fighter, like Iona was. She let the goblin strike at her, letting her shield take the blow. Her arm, empowered by stats, by her [Vow], moved her axe, enchanted by the best the Valkyries had, wicked blade gleaming a light cyan by [Blade of the Crescent Moon], simply cleaving throughthe goblin, with barely a hint of resistance.

[*Ding!* Congratulations! Your party has slain a [Shanker Goblin] (Acid, 199)// [Goblin Chef] (Spore, 185)]

Iona did a double take. Two advanced elements? Yikes.

Also, a Spore-chef? Iona did not want what he was cooking.

A rock came whizzing out from the crowd, Iona dodging. Barely registering the level-up notification from the skill.

Hearing a yell from behind her as it hit the back of the head of another squire. A potentially fatal distraction, if not outright fatal on its own.

Another goblin. Iona took a strong blow to her shield.

Another one.

Another one.

Another one. A cut to the shin, so bad it briefly forced Iona to one knee.

Another one.

Another one. Stabbed by a wooden spear, impossibly manipulated through a skill. No room to dodge properly. Weakened by the padded armor, still cutting through some abdominal muscles. A brief chill, a vicious splash of blood, mingling with everything else’s.

Another one.

Another one.

A Valkyrie fell. The circle tightened. The speed of goblins slipping through increased, just a hair.

Another one.

Another one. A rock to the head, Iona’s life saved by her helmet. A cut opened up over Iona’s left eye.

Another one. Iona lost use of her left eye, as blood from the cut made it impossible to see.

Another one.

Another one. A strong slice on Iona’s axe-arm, as she misjudged a distance.

Another one.

Another one. Iona’s axe was wrenched out of her hands, made it a few inches away, then magically returned to her hand, letting her bury it in the surprised goblin’s head. Her life saved by the enchantment.

Another one.

Another one. Iona felt her shield-arm crack in the most disconcerting way, as a particularly burly goblin smashed a large club into her.

Another one.

A companion fell. The circle stayed the same size, the stegosaurus’s incredible bulk forming a natural wall of steel and flesh.

Iona was sent to guard the back, to kill goblins trying to make their way over the corpse. Or through it.

And the circle shrank, just a hair, by the absence of a single squire.

Iona nearly died as she slipped on the smooth stone slick with blood.

Drowning in one of the shallow stone depressions was a real risk. It was how they’d killed The Inviolate. Tripped her and drowned her in a pool of blood. Sigrun had been otherwise occupied, unable to flash to her rescue, rescuing a dozen others instead.

Not all the goblins were idiots. Crafty, smart goblins were legion, and once they’d noticed The Swift was no longer picking goblins off left and right, some seriously powerful goblins took to the field, raining Lightning down on the circle.

Incandescent demonstrated what “an emergency” was, as she filled that particular section of the horde with an ungodly number of blasts. A smooth, glassy circle was all that was left of the spot when she was done.

Only for blood to start seeping in, pooling and filling it.

The hydra roared, as a head was cut off, and Iona watched in sick fascination as two heads grew from the stump.

Angry.

Rapidly snapping at goblins, who screamed and tried to flee. Too many goblins pressing in gave them nowhere to run to, and they went down the hatch.

The sun rose. The sun set.

Half the Valkyries were left.

Half the companions were left. Not always the same half.

Only a small number of squires left. Mostly the lucky few who’d survived with their Valkyrie so far, or who hadn’t left Sorok of their own volition.

It was noon on the second day when it hit Iona - delirious from a lack of food, from having sweated out most of her water, yet another crude poison coursing through her veins, causing her vision to swim, making her hallucinate – when the truth of the matter became reality for her. She’d denied it in her heart of hearts, believed that this would just be another tale, her moment of glory.

Ha. Glory. There was no such thing here. Just butchers. Chop. Chop. Chop.

I am going to die here.

This was her grave. This was her funeral.

Iona shook her head, casting aside the fatalistic thoughts, getting a small ember, a small spark of hope.

I will survive.

Alruna seemed to have come to the same conclusion, a grim look on her face replacing her usual calm demeanor in fights.

The goblins had figured out how to make the Valkyries angry. Drag a companion’s body away. Cook it in front of them.

Eat it in front of them.

The goblins that did so were of the particularly stupid variety, as not only were they making it harder for their fellow goblins to get into the fighting, but they’d all die, as the Valkyries targeted them.

Targeted them – over closer, more dangerous goblins. After all, a detached [Strategist] would note that eating mid-battle was no threat. A [Historian] might note the poor decision making.

Ha.

Who were they, what were they, to pronounce judgement from so far away? When had they seen their friends, their companions, their lifelong partners eaten in front of them? Anyone would be enraged.

Nobody broke. Not anymore. Nobody ran. Not after the squires had bailed, only for whooping goblins to run most of them down. Nobody offered surrender.

What was the point of breaking?

Where could you run to?

Death was preferable to surrender at the hands of goblins.

The only thing they could do was stand, and fight.

Fight to the last woman standing.

Fight to buy time.

Fight to slow the horde down.

If they were not here, this tough bunch of Valkyries, the horde could pour through uncontested. As it was, goblins couldn’t physically pass through the Valkyries, had to engage them. Had to fight them. It was only on the fringes, the edge, where more cowardly goblins slipped through, down the pass, out into the plains.

And villages.

A few – only hundreds per hour, as opposed to the tens of thousands – was a manageable number. Difficult. Damage would be done. But possible to hunt down, to exterminate. Cities wouldn’t be sacked; towns wouldn’t be pillaged. Only villages would be burned.

Iona was hellbent on there being one less village burned. One more life saved. It would be her invisible, unknown legacy. Someone out there was going to be alive because of her actions here, today. Iona had no idea who it’d be. They’d have no idea who Iona was.

But.

Her. Actions. Mattered.

Could there be a finer end?

“Out!” The Creator yelled, and the circle shrunk again, as the golems were left on their own for one last set of attacks, before running out of mana.

Left frozen, they were quickly dismantled by goblins, never to be reanimated again.

A goblin swung at Hrund, and she weakly attempted to parry. She was unable to keep a grip on her blade, pure exhaustion having weakened her.

She barely resisted as she was run through, glassy eyes staring at the sky. All the strength, all the speed, all the dexterity, didn’t matter before the cruel realities.

Injuries. Wounds. Bites. Scratches.

Exhaustion. Fatigue. Weariness.

Cuts. Stabs.

Poison.

Exactly what Alruna’s build was designed to defeat.

Exactly what Alruna had insisted Iona build around to beat.

Boundless energy. Peerless penetration. A build unsuited for tournaments. Perfect for slaughter. Why injure, when you can kill? Why overpower, when you can outlast?

The sun set, and there were eighty in total. A rider with a red banner, not a Valkyrie, flew overhead. Circled them once.

Left.

The sun rose on thirty left. Barely a speedbump at this point. Goblins swarming around them, after better, easier, more plentiful prey.

Sorok had died, brought low by powerful skills and rocks slick with blood, crushing a number beneath him as he fell. The drums, silenced at last.

The Valkyriesdrums. The goblins had their own sick beat, their own tempo they moved to.

“Where. Are. They!?” Alruna yelled at Sigrun.

“Why the fuck do you think I know?!” Sigrun yelled back. “They should’ve been here yesterday!”

Iona had kept a small spark of hope alive. It died at that.

The rider had seen them. Had signaled to them.

The sun was setting on thirteen of them left. No reinforcements had come yet.

Companions included.

The Swift was no longer around, her and her griffin brought low by a trap. It had required goblins to sacrifice themselves, but when had they not?

The Voracious had died, goblins willing to die to land a blow. Her build didn’t matter in the face of suicidal foes, of accumulated harm.

There was now a great stampede around the Valkyries, goblins climbing over the bodies of their fallen dead to reach the plains below. The Valkyries could barely slow them down at this point, forcing those nearby to reckon with them, not nearly enough of a presence to force a large number to stop, to significantly slow the horde.

Tens of thousands of goblins had started off in the horde, closing in on one hundred thousand.

The Valkyries, the measly 300 of them, had slaughtered tens of thousands of them, gotten their bodies stacked so high that the size of the pass had shrunk, forcing the goblins to constantly contend with them. That is – if they could properly turn dead goblins into building material. If goblins had any problem at all over walking over their own dead.

Iona shuddered at a goblin casually reaching down and ripping off the arm of a dead goblin, and starting to happily chow down on it, barely giving the Valkyries a glance as he strolled down the pass.

Barely caring as his fellows died to the Valkyries.

Others took to the high ground made by the bodies. Pelting them with slings and primitive arrows.

Throwing skills at them. Mages and skills weren’t restricted to humans, and with The Swift no longer assassinating powerful goblin mages, with the high ground, with the ability to reach out and kill goblins from a distance all but gone, more and more mages were coming out of hiding.

Not just mages had skills.

There was no such thing as a primitive arrow shot, not when skills were involved.

And then there was 12.

And then there was 11.

And then…

The goblins…

Stopped.

They stopped trying to run around. They stopped trying to kill the Valkyries.

They did keep climbing up the bodies though. Over and through, down the pass.

Through the crowd, a particularly large goblin emerged.

In a broken language spoken by the Valkyries, he spoke.

“Surrender. Or. Die.” He croaked out, clearly unused to the tongue.

Sigrun held up her hand, reminding everyone that she was the boss.

“We’ll discuss it.” She said.

Shocked and betrayed looks from half the survivors.

The other half knew it was a ploy to stall for time, to stall for some mythical reinforcements.

“Short time only.” The goblin said, before vanishing into the crowd.

“We’re not-“ Iona started to say, before Alruna covered her mouth.

“Shhh. Dunno if they can hear us. Drink.” She ordered.

Iona brought her waterskin to her mouth, hoping against hope that she’d gotten another miracle and the waterskin had been magically refilled since the last time she checked.

Nothing.

The world was still blurry around her.

The last Water mage squire had died yesterday.

Sigrun took a moment.

“All of you here, present now.” She said to the three remaining squires. “Can call yourselves Valkyries.”

[*ding!* Congratulations! [Squire’s Steadfastness] has evolved into [Valkyrie’s Valor]!]

Iona smiled, happiness blooming in her heart, even through the terrible conditions. She’d spent more than half her life working towards this goal, waiting to hear those magical words from Sigrun’s mouth.

The situation could be slightly better though. Like seeing the next sunrise. Being able to tell someone about her promotion.

“You decide now.” The grouchy goblin was back.

Sigrun looked at the Valkyries. Looked at the goblin, head held high, back straight, sword and shield relaxed by her side.

“No.” She declared.

Sigrun had a slim chance of getting out of this alive. She could blitz down the pass, fight and escape out on her own with sheer power, speed, and skills.

She might be able to bring one person with her.

Iona suspected that once it was just Sigrun, or just Sigrun and one other person, that they might just leave. Why fight to the death for nothing?

The goblin grunted, and Iona realized she understood him.

“Fire.” Was what he said, and the goblins that had been climbing up the mountain of bodies unleashed all manner of stones, arrows, skills, javelins, and more, down upon the hapless Valkyries.

The Valkyries interlocked shields and huddled under it, Serratrix curling up intelligently, creating a massive Spinosaurus-size bulwark.

“We are so dead.” Alruna said.

“You don’t say.” Iona retorted, all fear of retribution gone, an exhilarated thrill running through her as she broke the rules.

What was Alruna going to do, kill her?

Somehow, that broke the tension, and the Valkyries laughed.

What else was there to do, when death was rattling on their shields? Heating up their shields, so hot they’d need to drop them, open a hole in their wall, rain arrows in through it. Kill more. Cascade harder.

Rain started, a pitter-patter, rapidly becoming a downpour.

Cooling off their shields.

But – hang on. Iona frowned. There wasn’t the distinct sound of water hitting metal that she’d expect to hear from rainfall. Instead, screaming, high pitched cries of agony that twisted the knife right in her ears.

Slowly, one at a time, the Valkyries peeked over and through their shields, to see what was happening.

Green rain was pouring from the skies, leaving a neat circle around the Valkyries untouched. As each droplet touched goblin flesh, smoking, sizzling holes were left behind.

The screaming was stuff of nightmares.

Iona looked up.

High in the sky, a figure floated, wearing the customary gold and crimson robes of a level 2000+ member of the School of Sorcery and Spellcraft.

==

“The rat-faced BASTARDS.” Sigrun yelled from on top of Serratrix. All the Valkyries were on Serratrix – he was the only surviving companion, although his glorious sail was shredded and torn, and he was barely limping along. The Order of the Red Lion had “patched him up the best they could”, which was a bald-faced lie.

The Valkyries had waited until the acid rain had ceased, then needed to wait even longer before the pass was safe enough to walk down; that they wouldn’t dissolve in puddles of deadly acid left over. The fumes though – all of them needed serious attention from healers after what the acidic fumes had done to all of them.

The Order of the Red Lion, the kingdom’s army, headed by the 2nd prince, and the Righteous Divine Fist Sect had met them halfway down, taken care of them, and helped them retrieve what little was left of the bodies of their fallen, including wrapping up most of the weapons and armors for easier transportation. At which point, the Valkyries promptly left, not wanting to be gawked at. Wanting to lick their wounds at home.

“What happened?” Alruna asked. They were finally far away enough from the other forces to have half a conversation.

“They set up a second defensive line further back, and left us all to fucking die. I know the Orders don’t get along, but trying to wipe us out?!” Sigrun yelled. “The only reason any of us are alive is the fucking School of Sorcery and Spellcraft had a bored Classer wanting to take a look! The Orders wanted to loot our dead fucking bodies! Even as-is, we don’t have a fraction of the bodies or armor we should have, and I fucking know the goblins didn’t take them all!”

Sigrun wasn’t quitemaking sense – being up for that many days in a row, with that much of an emotional rollercoaster would do that to anyone – but the point was there.

Iona didn’t quite agree with Sigrun’s ranting and raving. By the time the scout had flown overhead, the horde was pouring around them. Any defensive line constructed would’ve needed to be much, much larger, and much longer. They couldn’t let goblins escape anymore than the Valkyries could, for much the same reason.

And pushing backagainst an unending horde, when disadvantaged and on the back foot? Sending in a strike team to retrieve them? Iona didn’t think it would be a wise move. It was unfortunate, but between the risk of losing their own line, and letting the horde break out, versus saving some powerful warriors who signed up for it?

Enough knights in the Red Lions had [Oath]s that demanded they act honorably. That would’ve frowned upon deliberately leaving a nominal ally to die when there was any other choice.

And there were literal mountains of dead bodies. Finding all the fallen Valkyries and their gear, especially when some had been stripped and carried away mid-battle, was impossible given that Sigrun had them moving out in less than a day.

It didn’t stop Sigrun from being pissed as hell, and blaming the Order and Sect for the massive losses the Valkyries had taken.

“But we survived.” Iona pointed out, feeling a lot more confident, a lot more at ease. Blessing every breath of air, every blade of grass, every caress of the wind, the setting sun, the twinkle of the night stars.

“We did. It was a pyrrhic victory though. They won. The Valkyries have been destroyed.” Sigrun said bitterly. “After we saved their kingdom and lands to boot. They were all ‘oh, it’s such a shame your numbers have been reduced so far. We’re going to take over managing Soria town.’ And the worst part is I can’t even say they’re wrong! We can’t manage Soria town anymore, or almost any of the others.”

“We’re as good as dead.” Sigrun finished.

Iona took a moment to look at her level-ups. “Epic” didn’t begin to cover it.

[*Ding!* Congratulations! [Constellation of the Warrior] has leveled up to level 256! +2 Free Stats, +15 Strength, +15 Dexterity, +15 Vitality, +15 Speed, +9 Mana Regen, +2 Magic power, +2 Magic Control from your Class! +1 Free Stat for being Human! +1 Mana, +1 Mana Regen from your Element!]

All of her skills had also capped out at 256 – except her Water archery skills, which were all capped at 32. Iona had no doubt it’d shoot up massively once she classed it up.

“Sigrun. Permission to advance my class again?” Iona asked.

“Yeah, fine, whatever. I don’t care. We’ll just say it was needed in the heat of battle. Nobody’s going to give us any grief, not when we’ve been practically wiped out. You can all advance.” Sigrun said bitterly. “Might as well do it before we’re given the official notice that the number of Classers we can have is being reduced.”

There was no joy in Iona. Not with the loss. Not with all her friends dead.

A pause passed, before Shiva spoke up.

“Gotta title the new Valkyries.” She said.

“Ah right. You.” Sigrun said, pointing to the first of the three newly promoted Valkyries. “Errr. Goblin Slayer.”

The Goblin Slayer took her new title with a neutral expression. It wasn’t the best, but it spoke of an epic feat, and expectations to come.

“You.” Sigrun said, pointing to the next one, pausing a moment, straining hard to think of something, coming up basically blank. Letting her terrible naming sense take over. “Goblin Smasher.”

Everyone winced at that one. Sigrun pointed to Iona last.

“You.” She said, and everyone waited for the hammer of terrible names to swing and smite Iona. If it was bad enough, nobody would ever call Iona by her name ever again.

“I have a Celestial element!” Iona said, thinking fast, hoping to derail Sigrun into a different thread, a different terrible naming sense. Anything to not be “The Goblin Musher”

Sigrun looked around briefly, at the twinkle of the new stars, the last rays of the sun vanishing over the horizon, at the rising of the moons, and named Iona.

“The Dusk.”

[Name: Iona]

[Race: Human]

[Age: 16]

[Mana: 2520/2520]

[Mana Regen: 152256]

Stats

[Free Stats: 378]

[Strength:   2309]

[Dexterity: 2310]

[Vitality: 2579]

[Speed: 2579]

[Mana: 252]

[Mana Regeneration: 1946]

[Magic Power: 462]

[Magic Control: 462]

[Class 1: [Constellation of the Warrior -   Light: Lv 256]]

[Celestial Affinity: 256]

[Combat Instincts: 256]

[Weapon Mastery: 256]

[Strength from the Stars: 256]

[Blade of the Crescent Moon: 256]

[Moon's Descent: 256]

[Stellar Body: 256]

[Gaze of the Stars: 256]

[Class 2: [Smooth Shot Archer - Water: Lv 32]]

[Water Affinity: 32]

[Archery: 32]

[Smooth Draw: 32]

[Still Water: 32]

[Blind   Shot: 32]

[: ]

[: ]

[: ]

[Class 3: Locked]

General Skills

[Analyze: 180]

[Valkyries Valor: 256]

[Dodging: 256]

[Footwork: 256]

[Vow   of Iona to Lux: 256]

[Charming: 169]

[Education: 222]

[Dinosaur Husbandry: 234]

Other

Blessing of Selene and Lunaris