Chapter 238 (Patreon)

Chapter 238

Gaia looked out over the land from a mountain’s peak.  What had once been a world full of beauty and balance, with green pastures and lush forests full of life, had turned into a blighted black and gray version of itself with death and undeath in abundance.  Only silver grasses and occasional trees of neon teal leaves, black bark, and occasional deep red shrubbery or vines stood out amidst the dreary sea around her.

The blue skies overhead had darkened, and though she was able to comfort herself to a minor extent by knowing that these haunted woods did hold another form of ‘life’ beyond that which she was originally attuned to - she could not help but weep.

For even she had become a thing of nightmares.

***

Kathrine was scrambling to get things in order and worked with General Viku’s soldiers alongside her own to help make the compound presentable.  Representative thralls had just been made for each and every one of the high council, including the high queen, where they would be using ritual magic to eat away those poor souls in order to acquire only a mere hour or two of consciousness in this world.

Devouring souls such as this even for vampires was something of a taboo, but that just went to show how angry the leadership of the Blood Moon Requiem was after Allie’s ascension.

“Out of all the things you could have done after being responsible for the deaths of many high ranking young nobles, you went and became an apostate!” Kathine hissed under her breath, long brunette hair frazzled while frantically combing it in the mirror again before dropping the come into her cleavage and racing down the stairs after her favorite maid - Cherna.  “Cherna!  Let me carry that for you!”

She could tell the blonde vampire woman was struggling, and Kathrine lifted two of the many large, heavy bags off the maid’s shoulders while urging the woman onwards.

Cherna for her part didn’t even argue, having nearly tripped in her descent down the stairs and being very on edge concerning who their guests were about to be.  “U-uhm, thank you princess!”

“No time for thank you’s!  Hurry!”

The two women raced down the flights of stairs and into one of the halls where the equivalent of a beehive was swarming back and forth with various personnel, decorations, food, scented hookah displays, champaigns and only the best furnitures - many of which were being brought in by House Wraithtide and House Crushada from off planet as the two leading houses presiding over the compound right now.

Frantic repairs were also underway concerning the last remnants of the battle concerning Allie’s recent struggle against her previous ‘fiance to be’.  The fortress wasn’t completely done being built back up yet, and the mere thought of it not being presentable gave Kathrine very real palpitations.

“Riven!!!!!  Riven where the hells are you!!!  I don’t know what I’m going to say or tell ANY of them!” Kathrine muttered to herself in a high pitched voice with furrowed brows, and she started to hyperventilate when she saw a blonde vampire man of perfect posture in flowing white robes turning a corner to her left.  He bore the sigil of an imperial messenger, locked eyes with her, and before he even made it halfway down the hall to where she was standing - Kathrine fainted out of panic.

***

The stockyards.

That’s what this regional prison had been named, inferring things that the thousands of vampires captured here from the battle for Dawn didn’t necessarily agree with or like.

But at least they were fed.

It was a large complex patrolled and held by the elites of the Thane Necropolis, with numerous electrified fences and high quality enchantments set along the floors, walls, and even domed barrier ceilings in the crevice between two mountains only a few miles from Brightsville itself.

Normally the surrendered vampires got well enough along with their captors after having realized who the Thanes actually were.  Many had even been planning on joining the necropolis and abandoning their homeland of Rippenvire entirely.

Had - was the key word here.

When the earth beneath them rumbled and the roar of the enraged Blood God was heard, and the ascension of Allie Thane was proclaimed - bright lights illuminated the city of Brightsville in the distance when people began to change.  Evolutionary selections were given to some and forced upon others, and within mere seconds the lights had begun spreading the stockyards.

The captors of Rippenvire’s forces began to wail, scream, and lurch as their bodies went either minor or major mutations over the course of thirty seconds - breaking down components of other pillars and embracing the Unholy Foundation and Death Sub-Pillar by the grace of The Scythe.

Yet, although it was a short-lived transition, the rage that the vampires were thrown into at the mention of their god being shunned and the absolute betrayal of one of their own sent them into a frenzy.  Almost as one, and while their captors were preoccupied with the evolutionary changes, the captive vampires threw themselves into madness - clawing, hitting, biting and even expending their own life force to break those barriers down.

Within minutes, carnage had spread throughout the prison.

Within the hour, that carnage was headed towards Brightsville itself.

***

General Bruner had seen riots and in-person combat before.  He’d served in the Middle East and had helped saved his people by battling Azag Hive Cluster forces, and had even been on missions for monster-culling purposes with other cyborgs after the integration.

Yet the sight of thousands upon thousands of civilians and active military men alike screaming for rebellion right outside headquarters disturbed him.

Bruner’s orange, mechanical eyes swept over the crowd, watching as one of the erected barriers around a supposedly secure outer gate to the military HQ was torn down.  There was infighting in the crowds, but was mostly located where those same crowds were pushing up against a line of military personnel holding them back from entering the three-story structure he now presided in along with all of his closest officers.  News reports across the cortex were already flowing in, from both local and world-wide sources, and He put a hand over his face to close his eyes - squeezing his temple to try and relieve the stress of just what it was he was seeing.

“Sir.” A bald man in their new-age military uniform, a dark carbon shell decorated with officer tags of the necropolis, came in and saluted along with two lesser officers behind him.  “Reports show that anyone of ours that were beyond the wormhole have also been changed.  In one case, one of our snipers on duty that’d just been coming through Riven’s Eye Wormhole was lynched by a mob - even though he’d only just arrived and was in a panic to seek guidance.  He’d been turned into what is called a ‘Neverlight’, some kind of shadow-attuned undead.  He was still humanoid, but that didn’t stop the mob from killing him and the eight other service members escorting him here.”

General Bruner’s weary eyes shifted to an explosion, and he shook his head while lowering his chin to his chest.  Clasping his hands behind his back and staring out the bullet-proof glass windows, he could only guess at what he would need to do to contain this mess.  “Colonel, I want you to get the word out.  We’re prepping for martial law and will actively roll out units to contain the looting and riots within twenty minutes.”

The colonel hesitated, coming to stand right behind the general with a wary posture.  “General?  Are we really taking the side of an undead monster over our own people?”

“That monster is your queen, colonel.  And you’d best remember it.”  Bruner glared back over his shoulder at the stiffening man only for a moment, before turning back around and lifting his head up to take in a long breath of air.  “Those undead across the wormhole are our own people too.  Don’t make this an us vs. them situation, talking like that is very dangerous.”

The colonel silently thought over Bruner’s words, then snorted.  “Sir.  May I speak openly?”

“You may.”

“Thank you sir.  It is in my opinion, and is the opinion of most of the other officers here in command, that continuing to follow a creature that will terraform our planet into a zone of undeath is very unwise.  She is a tyrant and a monster, sir, this fact has only gotten worse with recent developments.  If we don’t do something now, we very well could be the last generation of humans on our planet.  This is no longer a matter of political allegiance.  This is a matter of racial genocide and survival.  Even now we have other neighboring factions trying to contact us in a panic regarding the connection to the necropolis-”

“WE are the necropolis, colonel.”  General Bruner gritted his teeth, and tried to contain his anger.  After all, he had told the man to speak freely.  Yet he still didn’t turn around, and the only sign that he was mad came from the way his right fist clenched within the grasp of his left hand behind his back.  “Thank you for your opinion colonel.  However, there will be no coup.  Not today.  Please lea-”

*BANG*

A high powered energy weapon erupted point blank into General Bruner’s skull from the back, plastering his brains onto the window and melting a portion of the thick glass.

The colonel watched as the general’s body fell dead to the ground, and shakily dropped his hand - holstering his weapon while the other two officers beside him silently waited.  Taking in a deep breath, the bald man turned around and marched out the door.  “Begin an evacuation of the civilians from Chicago in anticipation of a fight.  Contact our neighbors down the coast for an emergency meeting.  All of them, and close off access to the wormhole.  No one goes in or out.  This is no longer a matter of allegiance to a queen, king, or president - it is a fight for our children’s future.  This, gentlemen, is now a rebellion.”

***

Snagger the ratkin warrior, his ratkin cousin Mesha, and Rashtalia - Broodmother of the ratkin Brood-Tarrow were all unceremoniously thrown into a prison cell over the enraged roars of their kin in the brood halls up above.

Or at least, they had BEEN ratkin.

Their entire civilization had been changed in the blink of an eye overnight, and these three had taken the fall for it under the Queen’s rage as they were the ones who’d been closest to the Thane Necropolis - especially as diplomats.  Their failure had resulted not only in the loss of lands concerning the dwarven expedition, where the greedy vampire king had claimed the dwarvish cities as their own, but now their entire population was cursed - having become ‘Blighted Ratkin’.  Blighted being a race of undead, instead of the normal ‘Ratkin’.

Plague literally wafted off their bodies as faint green mists oozing out of their very pores.  Some of them retained patches of fur, while others had lost theirs entirely.  Their bodies had become leaner, more muscular, their eyes had developed a sickly vomit-green color, their skin had turned black and gray or had partially fallen off in certain circumstances, and all of their pillars and abilities had changed to reflect their undead status.

They were walking bringers of disease.

And their cries for renewed war roared in the caverns of their city while they butchered the resident Necropolis diplomats as a public display.

Snagger grunted over the sound of a slamming door, bringing his muscular frame to a sitting position while staring, naked, at the ground in front of him.  “How-why this happen?”

Mesha just sniffled from her own corner of the cell, not bothering to reply while curling up into her own misery.

Rashtalia, on the other hand, remained calm and collected as the tall female ratkin - or blighted ratkin - stared up at the ceiling where the chants of war rang out throughout the caverns.  “The dwarf-devils will fall-die first.  They are weak-raw from war with necropolis, and then queen-mother will take revenge-fight to the surface.  This is a mistake-fail, and us-we will die because of it.”

Snagger could only agree.  He stared down at his clawed hand, where green plague continued to rise off is skin in a fog, and shook his head in dismay.  He hadn’t wanted this, certainly hadn’t expected it, but he wasn’t even sure if Allie herself had truly tried to do this.  Knowing her only minimally, he still guessed that she hadn’t.  How would someone even attempt to do something like this?

No, this was the work of gods and devils.  Of greater powers beyond themselves.  Elysium had proven itself to love and strive for conflict, and this one just one more step on the path to enlightenment - a path paved in the bodies of the dead and the clashing of weapons and glorious battles.

Deepnest was to go to war, to cannibalize the undead dwarves and take their lands before turning on the ones Snagger’s queen had once called allies.  Whether or not that was wise was something else entirely.

***

Lahn stood looking at himself in the mirror, staring blankly at his pale skin with mixed emotions.  His neon-teal eyes dimly glowed, and his body…

His body was completely healed.  His soul was repaired, and his body - for the very first time in his life - looked normal.

Or, changed - perhaps - but for HIM it was more on the normal side than the shriveled husk he’d been living in all his life.  He had muscles now, defined ones, and his anatomy was on par with most athletes.  He was now a ‘Deathtouched Enlightened’, and it was certainly better than becoming a skresh or golem.

He actually looked really good.  More or less he’d kept his human appearance, though his hair had turned a bright silky white, his skin was a medium gray color, and his eyes were now a neon-teal that dimly glowed back at him.  It was more or less the same for almost everyone in the manor, as the system had given them 60 seconds to choose a new race before choosing for them - and the choice recommended options given by the system were the three that allowed them to keep most of their human-like qualities when transitioning into an undead.  They were:  ‘Deathtouched Enlightened’ - which were supposed too be good casters and magical spellslingers, ‘Neverlight’ - which were shadow attuned undead that could manifest various inherent shadow abilities, or ‘Ghoul’ - which were well known and had a very high pain tolerance as well as regenerative properties.  Only one other in the manor had chosen ghoul, while the rest had all gone with ‘Deathtouched Enlightened’ after the system screens had shown what they would look like after picking a selected race.

Skresh were also an option to choose from, but it was ‘Not Recommended’ by the system due to anatomy differences and a heavy initial toll on the psyche in most cases.  Or so the system claimed.

Some of the maids were even rather excited about the change because, like vampires, Deathtouched Enlightened were physically appealing to look at.

Oddly enough, a sigil was burned into his skin across his bare, muscular chest - a sigil he recognized very well.  It was a bright white, burning with holy light against his undead body, and the confusion at seeing it there was more than a little off putting.  Simultaneously, it was also encouraging.

Just what was going on?  And what had Allie done to do this?

How was the king of Dawn going to react?  Even as a subservient part of a greater necropolis in recent times, Dawn still had a deep set history and a sense of nationalism.  Would this infuriate the populace?  Lahn wasn’t sure, but as the exclamations of surprise echoed throughout the manor - he flipped through the holy book Allie had once given him.

Coming to a familiar page, he stopped and stared at the written rune inked onto glowing white pages with golden lettering.  He looked up at the sigil on his chest, then back down to the page, and confirmed it.

They were one and the same.

The angelic summoning he’d performed, the entity that he’d called upon to save Allie’s life, was still inside him.  That, or a remnant of its power had imbedded itself within his soul aperture.

How was that even possible?  Especially now that he was undead.  This shouldn’t be possible, given Unholy and Holy were exact opposites of one another.  He’d heard examples in the past of different foundational pillars being maintained in certain individuals - but these are all extremely rare and had never once encompassed these two particular pillars before due to the polar opposite natures they had.

And what exactly did that mean for him?

***

[26 billion current participants have been analyzed. The ranking categories are as follows: Apex Rank (Top 10), Paragon Rank (Top 1000), S Rank (Top 0.0001%), A Rank (Top 1%), B Rank (Top 15%), C Rank (Top 30%), D Rank (Top 50%), E Rank (Bottom 50%)]

[Current Top 10 Native Participants:

1. Allie Thane, Level 160 Angel of Death, Apex Rank, Primary Class in Transitory state, Hero of Death
2. Judith Marcina, Level 176 Divine Human, Apex Rank, Angelic Fallcaller, Light’s Beacon
3. Aren Hrall, Level 161 Snow Giant, Apex Rank, Frostmange Berserker
4. Retesh Vorath, Level 199 Corpse Lord, Apex Rank, Elder Lich
5. Riven Thane, Level 134 Pureblooded Vampire, Apex Rank, Warlock Devastator, Harbinger of Gluttony
6. Netithi Bluskish, Level 129 Naga, Apex Rank, Champion of the Kraken
7. Chitter Teh-Sneaker, Level 137 Ratman, Apex Rank, Dark-Blade Assassin, Poison Master, Sneaky Sneak Sneaker
8. Nithkik Brutishvase, Level 140 Dark Elf, Apex Rank, Depthdweller
9. Thorman Bame, Level 157 Human, Apex Rank, Hammer of the Mountain
10. Sinthil Tuk’tuk, Level 168 Lizardian, Apex Rank, Wind Storm]

Retesh Vorath, Corpse Lord and Elder Lich of the Black Mists, sat on a throne of bones and skulls while staring at a system screen in front of him.  His bony hands clicked their clawed fingers onto  the arm rests of his chair, while dozens of souls slowly moved about the room he dwelled in.  Unnatural, fleshy organs curled around his exposed skeleton to create unnatural formations, and a black mist continually trailed out of the eye sockets of his baren skull.

Out across his own zone of undeath in the far reaches of the northern Chaos Wastelands, far from the Thane Necropolis, his legions gathered for an assault on the living.  He was the one named in World Quest 1 concerning ‘The Lich King’s Plague’, and he’d already had multiple crusades launched against him when the terrorized citizens of the enlightened world came into contact with what the quest actually involved.

For most, they’d just see this:

[World Quest 1, The Lich King’s Plague: In the far reaches of the northern Chaos Wastelands, an ancient lich begins to stir.  Advanced details are locked until you come into contact with this quest.]

But the quest itself was far more sinister when the advanced details were unlocked.

His clicking fingers stopped moving when he heard a knock at the door, and continuing to stare out the window that was half the size of the room - out across his massing legions - he lifted one hand as a gesture.

The door swung open, and in stepped a huge armored skresh - a death knight - that came to kneel in front of the lich with a reverent bow.  “Master… the horde whispers…”

Retesh chuckled in amusement.  “And what is it they whisper of, my child?”

“They wish to know what stance you have upon the new arrival of the angel, sire… The Scythe has blessed the lands of Umbra, and it is within your power to forge a path.  The generals wish to see an alliance, and they have sent me to ask you of this…”

Retesh nodded his hooded head, beginning to click his clawed fingers against the bone throne again while turning his attention back to the legions.  Three undead drakes and their death knight riders flew overhead - casting shadows on the land as one of the beasts roared out across the wastes.

“I agree with them.”  Retesh slowly stood, the fleshy organs moving slightly and tightening around his skeleton  with the attempt.  “We have waited long enough, and have endured much already.  It is high time we finally stop enduring the attacks, and begin our own crusade.  Having an ally in one such as Thane Necropolis will push us far out ahead of the others, even beyond that irritating fallcaller Judith Marcina.  She nearly killed me last time we fought, and I’ll not risk such an encounter again without  insurance.  Forge a path to the southern coast, convert all the living that reside there and take over the port city of Albakask.  Then, when we have secured it, use their ships or build our own to set sail for the Thane Necropolis.  Even if we can get to a point where our drakes can fly there after crossing half the ocean, establishing contact is of utmost priority.”

The huge death knight hissed with excitement, standing up and slamming a fist in a salute onto his breastplate.  “Yes, sire!  May I ask, what of the naga and merpeople?  They pursue their own world quest for domination, and have already targeted our ships in the past when using the river deltas of the Pilgrim’s Sea.”

“Do we still have some of their krakens?”

“We have three undead krakens at our disposal, the war effort against the sea dwellers has not been kind to us, but it would also take them two months to travel around the peninsula and out of the Pilgrim’s Sea and into the ocean where Albakask resides.”

Retesh waved a dismissive bony hand.  “Have it done.  The lives of our people depend on it, for though we are strong - it is not a far off idea that the world of the living would soon ally against us when we show our hand.  Having another undead faction on Panu with such powerful members such as Riven and Allie Thane is a complete change to the chess board, we cannot let such an opportunity go to waste.”

***

He withdrew his fangs out of Genua’s neck, licking blood off her neck and pushing off from where he’d been pinning the elf thrall up against a tree.  He blinked twice at the notification concerning Allie’s ascension to Apex Rank #1, the third time it’d been brought up to him since the initial world quest only half an hour ago, and shrugged.  “Yup, there goes the continent.”

Genua let out an exasperated sigh, started putting her clothes back on, wiped some of the blood from her sternum and clasped her hands together in front of her face with worry.  Her wounds shortly sealed themselves afterwards.  “Riven!  This is very, very bad!  I only just received the Blood God’s blessing and-”

“And her choices have nothing to do with you.”  Riven stated with a smile, patting the blonde elf woman on her head and fixing her hair right before adjusting her metal headdress.  “Don’t think it does.”

“But I’m worried that-”

“Don’t be.”  Riven stated, cutting her off again with a raised eyebrow and a chuckle.  “Yeah, I’m sure that things are going to backfire to some extent.  But there’s no need to worry about it until we know what those things are.  We already have enough to worry about that we’re certain of as it is.  None of the demons are concerned about it, right?”

Her face shifted to watch Athela and Azmoth where they were playing beer pong against Jenny and Fay, the crimson tattoo markings along her skin shimmering in the shadow of her hood when she moved.  “Yes, but I’m in a much different situation than they are.  I’m worried this is going to blow back on me and my child.”

She paused, then let her hands fall down to her stomach.  “And our other child is coming soon.”

His eyes followed her hands, and he had to shake himself out of the tunnel his thoughts were wandering down.

“What was it that those other priestesses said to you again?”  Riven thoughtfully stated with a raised finger.  “That your rise to power is tied to me, or something like that?  Unless you lose your master and join their temple directly?  Well I haven’t done anything that would get you in trouble, and I’m sure that we can work something out.  I mean think about it - how many vampires are out there?”

“Out where?”

“In the multiverse.”

“Uhm… Billions?”

Riven’s look flattened, and he pulled his bag of holding to one side and started rummaging around for the completed totem he’d finally managed to build.  “Probably more than that.  Billions is in the realm of The Blood Moon Requiem’s capital planet by itself.  My guess is that the number is far, far greater than that.  So, theoretically, the Blood God has many trillions or hundreds of trillions of vampire followers.  Right?”

“Uhm… Yes?  Maybe?”

“Assuming that’s correct, why would he be so irritated about Allie’s shift in allegiance?  My guess is she’s not worth as much to that god as we’re thinking, and it’s not like he outright proclaimed that she was to die or anything like that.  She’ll probably just be shunned from vampire society.”  He paused thoughtfully.  “At least I hope so.”

Genua nervously shifted, but then nodded and gave in.  “I suppose I haven’t been contacted about it, so maybe you’re right.  I know they can reach out to me at will through the clergy system… it’s all silent.”

“See!?  Nothing to be worried about.”  Riven patted her shoulder and casually set his single floating totem - his work in progress - on a large stump before clicking his tongue thoughtfully.  It was certainly not the best totem ever made, not even by a long shot, but to his knowledge not many people on this planet were using totems or able to build totems anyways.  With the way rates on taxation using system stores throughout whatever Elysium Altars were present on Panu, it made a lot of sense to just make them himself.  And to his knowledge there was an estimated two-dozen Elysium Altars at this current time anyways, the only one of which that had an affinity was controlled by him.

As for the totem - it was an ‘Icosahedron’; essentially a 20-sided die, but much larger than the dice from board games.  It had 20 triangular faces on the outer surface, each face holding a rune, and was about 1 by 1 by 1 feet in dimensions.  He’d gone through a grand total of 32 different totem attempts before finally selecting this as a temporary final product that he’d probably expand upon at some later date, and had crafted it from metal while using his magic to slice into the steel plates on the outer skeleton.  Inside he’d placed ground bone to help house the soul, a couple of shadow-attuned plants, had reinforced the insides with crimson ice, and something called ‘Black Norstone’ that the locals actually mined here.

He could have used better materials for a better outcome, as different materials were more or less potent concerning what runes and abilities he was infusing into the totem, but he worked with what he had.

And the result was not bad, even if he only did have enough stuff to make just the single one of them.

[Partially Constructed Totem of Bloodforged Rift Sparks: Status page is currently on standby.  Soul Acquired, Affinity to Shadow Acquired, Sigils Acquired.  Totem soul is currently absorbing the minor sigil of Black Lightning, and will reach comprehension sometime within the next week.  Unable to bind at this time.]

He turned the totem around on the settled stump, watching the different runes on each triangular face light up with a mixture of red and black energies across the otherwise flat metal surfaces.  The soul inside it touched his own, and it shuddered when he sent a pulse of warm intentions into it.

During the past couple days he’d come to understand just one single thing that he’d seemed to have missed during his previous studies of totems.  It was that, despite some people using totems that were only controlled by soul shards - those that used entire souls actually created what was essentially a body or a vessel for that particular soul.

How aware that soul was… that was an entirely different question.  He had no idea.  He didn’t even know if it was the soul itself or the brain of the organism that dictated awareness or thought patterns, and it was something he’d have to ask Allie about later on in case she knew.

Or perhaps Instructor Pladius from the Blood Moon Requiem’s compound…

Yeah.  Actually that wasn’t such a bad idea.

Perhaps he’d even go today.  Heading back to Brightsville was probably a priority thing to do anyway given Allie’s recent ascent, and he didn’t know just how people of the necropolis would act concerning recent events.

Especially all the elves, orcs, dwarves, goblins, ratkin, and humans that had been turned into undead variants of themselves.  Not to mention the other cities or small countries that’d started developing on what the system called ‘Umbra’ - as their continent.

He might even have a riot on his hands by the time he got back.