Chapter 110: The Heaven Talk (1/2)
Victor Dalton, Grand Vizier of the V&V Empire, thought he had developed tinnitus for a minute. The world had gone completely silent after he heard Vainqueur’s latest words.
“I’m, I’m sorry, what did Your Majesty just say?” the Vizier asked as he regained his hearing, the demolished imperial palace standing to his left as a ruined testament to today’s chaos.
“Manling Victor, meet my new minion.” The dragon patted the Tarasque’s carapace, as the glowing, giant monster feasted on sea serpents. After the battle, Goblina had wisely ordered all the dead [Lesser Leviathans] piled up next to the imperial palace, before the two giant creatures could turn their hunger on the citizens. Even now, goblin and oni guards kept all but throwing food at the reptiles. “It shall breed with my dodos, to father a new generation of emergency rations.”
Yeah, Victor still didn’t understand. Or rather, he didn’t want to understand.
How the Happyland did Vainqueur even manage to tame that thing? “Sir, it’s… it’s a Tarasque.”
“Yes, minion, you have a gift for stating the obvious.”
“Gorynych thinks that it is cute!” Victor’s mount said, having been granted fish of his own. The Tarasque looked at the creature’s three heads, letting out a moan of happiness while the zmey wagged its tail in response. “Gorynych has a friend!”
“Your Majesty, these monsters are said to eat entire countries!” Victor protested. “Where will we find the meat needed to sustain it?”
Also, the Tarasque glowed green now. Nothing suspicious there.
“Minion, you do not see as far as I do,” Vainqueur replied. “This creature can regenerate from anything. Anything. So we will rip out its entrails, feed them to cattle, and then my new servant shall feast on the cows! The perfect solution to dragon world hunger!”
“How are we even going to transport this thing around?! It’s too big to fit in a portal!”
“Minion, simply mark it with your summoning Perk and stop spoiling my good mood with unimportant details,” Vainqueur dismissed his concerns cheerfully. “For today is a great day! That vexing fairy Mag Mell is, at long last, dead!”
True, and Victor had a new scythe to show for it, but the problem of the Tarasque remained. The Vizier thought about it, figuring out that he could mark the beast with [Black Horseman] while summoning Gorynych with [Zmey Rider]. The [Chaos Rider] imagined himself mounting the Tarasque, a creature greater than even Vainqueur, becoming an almighty lord of destruction that would make Sablar blush.
“Oh…” His vision went white for a second. “Oh…”
On second thought, maybe he could get used to this new monster.
Leaving the reptiles to their victory feast, Victor walked towards the palace’s gate, where Goblina had a drink with her generals and Ludvic Van. Meanwhile, Kia was praying to Mithras in a corner alongside the Arisen angels, doing their best to ignore everyone else with one exception.
She always kept a bound and gagged Orknoob within arm’s reach.
“Nice new scythe, Vic!” Goblina raised a goblet of wine in his direction, imitated by her men. “A great weapon, worthy of today's hero!”
“I still haven’t checked what it does,” the Vizier said, examining it more closely.
Harvest
Quality: S- (Minor Sentient Artifact)
Purpose: Gather as many souls and knowledge as possible.
Material: Fomorian wood.
Endurance: ∞/∞
Weight: 4,5 kgs.
Bonus: +10 SKI damage, +30 critical, bypass non-magical protections. Inflicts a STR/VIT debuff on successful hits. Wielder can cast [Darkest Fear] at will and inflicts [Insta-death] on a critical hit. [Reaper] only.
A scythe created from the remains of Mag Mell, Harvest is still animated by the fomor lord’s lust for knowledge. Instead of existing independently, souls reaped by Harvest become part of a hive-mind devoted to its wielder, sharing their knowledge truthfully. In addition, Harvest’s edge does not cut through flesh, but souls; as such, while it bypasses all physical protections and damage incorporeal targets, it cannot harm a soulless creature.
“Neat!” Goblina said, having looked at the stats with one of her own Perks. “The more people you kill with it, the smarter you will get!”
“Let’s not go down that road,” Victor said, although he vowed to interrogate Mag Mell’s spirit as soon as more urgent matters were dealt with. “You’re surprisingly chill about this disaster.”
“I cannot believe that the resistance sank as low as to ally with the fomors to stage a terrorist attack,” Goblina said while offering him a goblet, which he politely declined. “Fomors! I will have to double the number of guards to better protect our citizens against their treacherous attacks.”
“The resistance… ah, the [Propaganda Machine] course!” Victor remembered that one; it was one of the few courses that he didn’t ace. “And don’t forget that your army managed to fight back the fairy armies, while we cleaned up Mount Yagami on your orders!”
“Exactly! Finally, the citizens of the Teikoku Empire know that their Shogun can protect them from anything. Especially from themselves!”
“I must say this was an interesting turn of events,” Ludvic Van told Victor. “But it distracted us from what truly matters. The sooner we finish your training, the sooner you can live up to your end of our delicious bargain.”
“I spent all the potions I intended to use for the ritual,” Victor admitted sheepishly. “And it will take a few more days to set up a portal and gather the reinforcements needed. Can we put it back to a few days?”
“If we must… then I encourage you to take a few days to indulge yourself, make peace with your family, you know. Even with all the preparations, your chances of survival are slim.”
“Hey, Vic, what did you get into this time?” Goblina asked, confused.
“I’m going to attempt the Kamacybele,” Victor explained, the goblin’s face turning white, “to level up in a prestigious class.”
“Vic, don’t do it!” the conqueror all but begged her former academic rival. “It’s suicide! You know what happens at the end!”
“I have to try,” the Vizier said, having made peace with the risks. “I must.”
“You aren’t going to survive it on your own!” Goblina insisted, but the Vizier remained firm in his decision. “Fine, I’ll help then!”
“No, no,” Victor protested, trying to let her down gently while Ludvic raised an eyebrow. He must have found his student a bit disappointing. “I’m sorry, but you can’t. You just can’t.”
“Nonsense! I have the best spellcasters on hand, I will figure something out. I’m not leaving you to die… not like this. Not like this.”
“It’s fine, Goblina,” Victor hugged her as if they were meeting for the last time. “It’s the thought that counts.”
Kia chose that moment to end her meditation, moving towards the group with a scroll in hand. “Vic,” she said, blatantly ignoring the goblin conqueror. “We need to address a crucial matter.”
“Orknoob,” Victor said, glancing at the captured orc.
“Orknoob,” Kia nodded grimly. “What are we going to do with him?”
“I asked Marbré through [Scarlet Study] to prepare a Moon rocket with his name on it, but Thul-Gathar put his veto on it. He said that criminals and exiles are welcome, but sending that orc will be interpreted as an act of war.”
“How far can your rockets go?”
“In the dwarfs’ words, as far as needed,” Victor replied firmly. “Mars, maybe this dimension’s equivalent of Pluto.”
“Make it Pluto. The farther, the better.”
“I will have the launch ready for Samhain,” Victor decided, while the captive orc silently protested. “May the gods forgive us.”
Now that the fate of the villainous orc was decided, Victor turned to the other problem: the flock of winged insurance salesmen glaring at him. “Fraudster,” one of the angels said, as Kia and the Vizier approached his group.
“Scammer,” Victor replied calmly, the angel immediately reaching for a flaming sword in fury. The securities the Vizier had put in the [Arisen] revival process prevented the bird from striking, much to his frustration. “What do you want from me?”
“Send us back to Heaven, you thief of souls,” another angel all but ordered. “We came to your help in your hour of need. Reward us appropriately.”
“You came to my hour of need fifteen minutes late!” Victor replied, astonished by their entitlement. “I owe you nothing!”
“You cast us down to Hell, heathen!”
“No, I didn’t! I sent you to Happyland, and you earned your stay there!”
“Heaven will not take you back,” Kia said. “I asked my patron, Mithras, and he said that you need to ‘repent for your deceitful ways’ first.”
“Repent?” one of the angels laughed with contempt. “What, like mortals?”
“We are angels, we are good by definition,” another replied.
“And that mindset is the root of your problem,” Kia replied firmly, raising her arms. “Look, neither Vic nor I make the rules. Stick to them or go back downstairs.”
The angels exchanged glances. The Vizier suddenly realized that after living off the souls of mortals for so long, they had lost all understanding of ethics beyond vague concepts.
“Look,” Victor pointed his scythe at the devastated city, “if you want to make up for your afterlife scam, start by helping the living. The capital is in ruins, thousands are homeless, and there’s a plague sweeping the continent outside this island. If you aren’t all talk, then act now.”