Reapers Approach

Richard had no time to wonder why the reapers had arrived years before Ferlyn’s estimate, his mind swamped by the hundreds of terrifying war machines he had seen when trying to analyse its properties. He felt a chill run down his spine that kept him from being able to move, a wave of pure fear that he simply couldn’t shrug off!

Ever since entering the legendary realm— no, ever since he had ventured into the Land of Dusk, this was the first time Richard had experienced such deep-rooted fear. He was unable to quantify the sense of terror that the reapers instilled in him. Many considered that the greatest fear was that of the unknown, but he knew that an unknown could be anything. It was what he knew only a tiny bit about that truly horrified him; he had an idea of what they could do, but none on how to counter it.

The doomsday imprint completely shattered in his hands, the sealed machinery jumping out and shooting two beams of light towards his chest. The beams pierced through his robes and burnt scars on his chest, causing him to move by reflex and crush the metal into trash. Only then did he regain the ability to move, slowly opening his left hand to reveal a sphere of metal that could not be restored.

He took off his robes to examine the scars on his chest. They weren’t deep, nor wide, the injury less than minor, but the frightening bit was that the machinery that attacked him was no bigger than a finger! Even Apeiron couldn;t hurt him much without the boost of laws; this thing was stronger than a saint!

He picked up the heap of destroyed metal and stood up, ordering all of his followers to return and gather at Blackrose Castle immediately. Only an hour later, he was at the command centre with everyone except Cyrden and Senma in attendance, the two busy managing his planes.

The command centre had an enormous map of Faelor, and Richard was standing before it silently. It took a few minutes after the last of his followers arrived before he turned around, speaking with a heavy tone, “Faelor was the first plane I conquered, and it will now become the first plane I lose. The reapers are here.”

The entire room went deathly silent, nobody knowing what to say. Those who had participated in previous wars had heard the legends of the reapers, an unstoppable horde of beasts said to prey on entire planes. Not one plane was said to have survived an assault from them.

Those like Asiris that had joined Richard late into his life found it difficult to understand his affection for Faelor. Only Waterflower, Tiramisu, and the group knew his feelings; that was the plane they had fought to the edge of death and back to conquer, the plane where by all rights they should have died. Ten footsoldiers had accompanied his party into Faelor, but all ten of them had returned to their graves. As had Tiramisu’s older brother, and the innocence of the group.

It was Asiris who spoke first, “Your Grace, we have to prepare for battle. We will need to resist them until we finish our retreat.”

Richard remained silent, as did the rest of his followers. Previous incidents with the reapers had shown that they would not use portals between planes, which meant one could keep the portals up for evacuation until the last moment. Asiris’s intention was clear; he wished to withdraw as many troops and resources as possible, fighting for time to save what they could. Faelor and its natives were assumed to be doomed.

Asiris was about as old as Gaton, and while Richard was somewhat special to him he didn’t care about Faelor itself. He was someone with an objective view of the situation, a state most of Richard’s other followers couldn’t claim to share.

Richard eventually nodded, “I know. We should make arrangements.”

The first task was to expand Faelor’s portal with offerings, strengthening it to the point that he could mobilise his entire army through it. The plane itself would be mobilised right after, with the broodmother sending out a number of scouts to figure out where the beachhead was while also moving all troops towards Bluewater and the Lighthouse of Time. At a minimum, he couldn’t afford those natives who had followed him for decades; he would evacuate them and their families to Norland.

It took only half an hour to give out orders. Richard had been planning for this scenario for years now, so he didn’t have to think much. Once everyone had a job, he glanced at a rather special group waiting at one corner of the room; Ironshield and companions, consisting of four legends and ten saints.

That group was different from his followers, more akin to mercenaries hired by the Archerons than anything else. Richard muttered to himself for a while before saying to Ironshield, “You should understand the current situation. The Archerons will be focused on battling the reapers for a while; the threat is beyond our wildest imaginations, and even legends are likely to die. The situation is different from when we first started our partnership, so you have a chance to choose. Decide to stay, and I’ll treat you like followers. If not, you can leave right now and it’s fine. You can return to the reward point battlefields if you wish.”

Ironshield was the unspoken leader of these powerhouses, but they came from all over the place and most didn’t even know each other before they were recruited. He stepped forward, “Your Grace, will the pay increase if I stay?”

“It’ll double, and I’ll give points out for reaper kills.”

“Then I’ll stay.”

“It’ll be dangerous,” Richard stared at him.

“Heh, who hasn’t almost died a few times at this level? I want to keep improving, that’s more important than the danger. If I survive this battle, I’m likely to level up.”

Richard nodded, turning to the rest. Many of them nodded in agreement; while things would be dangerous, the rewards would be just as great. At the same time, becoming a trusted aide of Richard Archeron was an opportunity few even legends would ever have. This was at the peak of Norland in runes, power, and military might, someone threatening to match Emperor Charles and found his own era.

Norland already had three great human empires, but there was still a lot of territory left to go around in the plane. Humans could still expand and conquer the Far North, Lithgalen, or Klandor to found new empires, or even unify the sparse independent countries on the mainland.

Eventually, only one legend and a handful of saints decided to leave. Once they were gone, Richard had Asiris bring over a box of magic scrolls, “This is a difficult time; I can’t afford for any betrayal or changed faiths to affect us. These are unlimited enslavement contracts, but I’ll give you another opportunity once the war with the reapers ends. Those who stay can continue to remain my followers, and I’ll get rid of the contracts for those who wish to leave. I can add this into the text itself if you wish.”

Ironshield picked up a scroll without hesitation, writing his name on it with blood. The contract burnt the moment he did so, turning into two dark gold symbols that flew into him and Richard respectively.

A legendary mage standing nearby went wide-eyed in shock, “Chaos Tongue?”

Richard nodded, “Handcrafted by me.”

The mage shuddered. Having grown up in a world of order, the majority of Norland’s powerhouses had learnt how to break slave contracts that were based around the power of order. The fact that Richard could use divine tongue was astonishing enough, but for him to use the power of chaos basically guaranteed the contract’s superiority over most people in Norland. Only someone with a grasp of chaos surpassing his could have any hope of breaking the contract without consequences.

However, the mage only hesitated for a while before gritting his teeth and signing. Richard sighed with relief as all of the remaining powerhouses signed as well, moving to Faelor already while he went off to make some offerings with the vast wealth he had accumulated.

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter