133 (II)

Army

“The orcs are tied to me,” Shiv said. “You don’t—”

“Shiv,” Adam cut him off. “Shut up and stand in front. I want to get a shot off in case they start attacking, and I need your thick head to block some attacks for me.”

And somehow, that made the Deathless feel far better.

He, Adam, Uva, and the orcs moved toward the gateway. As they prepared to descend, each of the butcher-apron-wearing orcs fell to a knee. They slammed their cleavers into the ground and bowed their heads.

“The Challenger awaits,” one of them called out. “Praise be your bloodshed, Insul.”

Another grinned at Shiv, “Praise be your wrath, your cruelty, your dominance.”

Adam eyed the orcs warily, and Shiv chucked Band through the gateway first. He stared at Uva and Adam. “Stay close to me. If anything happens, Uva, get in my head. Adam, get a Veilpiercer ready. Necromancy too.”

The Gate Lord’s mouth fell open. “We just obliterated one dimension, you want to do it to another?”

“Yeah,” Shiv said casually. There was more than enough passing loathing in his blood to make him a willing bomb. “If the Challenger does anything stupid, I want to see if he fries like the Educator.”

“Come and see, then,” the Challenger said. The orc god’s voice was thick with anticipation rather than fear or offense. “Come and see what I have arranged for you. Come and see the salvation of Blackedge.”

“Wait!” Valor called, sailing through the air, and Can Hu floated upon a stone platform just behind him. “I am coming too,” the Legendary Pathbearer declared. “It has been some time since I had this conversation.”

But the Challenger interrupted him. “Oh no, we have not had this conversation, you broken thing. I spoke to the Valor that was, the Valor who was whole. Valor Thann, He Who Stills Eternity. You are not Valor. You are just a shadow. Broken pieces, groping, desperately trying to recompose yourself.”

“Yet, even my shadow remains enough for you,” Valor rebuffed. “I remember your failures on Ishimere, the world you failed to take. I remember your defeat at the Wolves’ Den, where the Moon-Blooded drove your orcs back and sealed your gate.”

“With your aid,” the Challenger finished. “Yes, quite impressive. And I remember what you taught me there, oh Great Valor. But you are not so great now. You may come through, but your presence makes no difference, as you are not the Deathless I seek to speak with.”

At that, Valor regarded Shiv. “He will never lie to you directly,” Valor said, “but he will avoid the truth. Partial details will be revealed, and essential facts will be forgotten. But if he has promised you an army, you will have one, and if he has promised that they will fight alongside you, they will.”

“But beyond that, anything goes,” Shiv surmised. “Yeah, I kind of got that. You all ready?”

“No,” Adam said. Then he offered Shiv a slight smirk. “But fuckit, let’s go anyway.”

“I’ll be right behind,” Uva replied, her gaze steady.

As Can Hu descended behind Shiv, several of the orcs pointed up at the automaton. “That’s a Penitent! Penitent!” Several of the others immediately began cheering as well. “Penitent! Penitent! Penitent!” One muttered about how he had been beheaded by a Penitent once, and that he thought it would be funny if it happened again at some point.

“Felling orcs,” Shiv muttered under his breath, and with that, he dropped through the gateway.

Spatial pressures folded over his body once more, but as he emerged, he found himself not at the bottom of a molten ocean, or below the azure glow of a mana core. No. This was a portrait of hellish ruination. The sky above resembled an ugly rash. Stretches of raw-red clouds ran as far as the eye could see, broken only by clefts of smog that spewed hissing rain upon the land.

And yet, this place was categorized not only by desolation but also by constant conflict. As Shiv looked behind, he saw that the gateway was built into an archway of gnarled steel. It rested atop a mountain of bodies—automaton, human, elven, and more. But between each of the other races there lay a fallen orc, butchered, ruined, slaughtered beyond description. But on their faces were expressions of delight, rather than contortions of fear.

And beyond that corpse-lain mountain were towering structures. They jutted out of the ground like tombstones, but Shiv could see windows, aesthetic designs that shaped them. There were hollowed-out mountains in the distance as well, large sections carved into them, with orcs flowing in and out. But more importantly, there were countless orcs standing at the base of the mountain.

Many of them were kneeling; some stood tall, their fists held up. They were beyond Shiv’s ability to count, extending past the horizon, stretching over mounds of rolling bodies, over peaks and vanishing under crests in the land. Some stood atop smoldering husks, and many wore the bones of their enemies.

Shiv saw few common aesthetics among the orcs. Some of them, much like him, were death-clad, wearing bone skulls or helmets, using spines as weapons or jutting ribs as daggers. Others were dressed in the most exquisite finery Shiv had ever seen. They had half-capes shrouding the right side of their body, while glistening silks flowed across their enormous musculature.

And then there were orcs that wore a uniform set of armor, though it was composed of different materials. Some wore plates of bronze, while others had layers of crenulated titanium. And then there were those who stood larger than the other orcs, sticking out as if oaks among blades of grass. They were adorned with adamantine and, in a few cases, even Inertium. Their right shoulders had a singular symbol: a shattering sun. Shiv guessed that was probably a mockery of Lone Star.

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“Welcome to this humble patch of the Tutorial, Insul,” the Challenger whispered, gesturing out at the massive amount of orcs gathered before him. His form appeared as an oppressive backdrop to the sky, visible where the clouds cleared to allow them an unobstructed view of the deity, or perhaps merely its projection.

Shiv took in the orcs and found himself speechless. It was one thing to imagine almost three million dead; it was another to behold three million arrayed before you, three million psychotic monsters dedicated to bloodshed and destruction. Three million promised by a ritual empowered by slaughter, three million that might betray him in any number of ways and for an equally infinite number of reasons.

“This place is always at war,” Valor said. “Even right now, we could be attacked at any moment, for such is the nature of the Tutorial.”

“What is this nature?” Adam muttered. He glared warily at the amassed orcs, and Shiv could feel his muscles tighten. Adam didn’t much want to be here, and Shiv couldn’t blame him. But they had to do this. They already did the deed. Now it was time to collect an army and set new conditions.

“There are so many,” Uva breathed. For once, her ironclad demeanor gave way to genuine shock. As her Psychomantic threads loosened around Band, the orc squinted one of his eyes at her. Slowly, he laughed.

“More… This is nothing,” he choked out, “nothing at all. A single percentage of orc-kind would drown your Weave, drown you forever.” And then her threads tightened, and once more, Band’s eyes rolled before he crashed face-first down upon a corpse.

“This place is cleaner than I remember,” Valor commented.

“Cleaner?” Adam gawked. He stared at the many bodies resting at his feet, and he shook his head. “What do you mean, cleaner?”

“I mean, there were far more corpses, and it constantly rained blood.”

“Yes, about that,” Tequila said, wiggling his nose disgustedly. “We complained.”

Valor’s expression froze. “What?”

“We complained,” Tequila repeated, his yellow eyes widening to express how genuine he was. “Ask anyone below. Ask them about the Plague Days.”

As soon as he said ‘Plague Days’, several orcs scoffed, and that scoff spread through the masses gathered as a few hundred thousand orcs started complaining at once. The world was swallowed by a droning mess of voices. Through the clamor and din, Shiv managed to hear things about constant sickness, respawning endlessly, and how bad the smell was.

“We do things to destroy our enemy,” one of the orcs said. “It doesn’t mean that we like to smell their corpses. We don’t like shit. That’s why no one bombs the active waste disposals here. It’s one of the few laws we enforce.”

“We’re standing on a literal mountain of corpses,” Adam said, waving his hands at the literal precipice of death that supported their gateway.

“Yes, but that’s mainly to bother you,” Tequila replied with a cheeky grin. “It likely took them a while to pile them up.”

Adam’s jaw dropped. “You… All of you… You’re a race of assholes.”

“Indeed, we are.” Mortar nodded enthusiastically. “And your expression makes it all worth it.”

The Gate Lord sputtered. He didn’t really have a good comeback for that, and neither did Shiv, for that matter. But the Deathless didn’t care so much about the death. He was busy taking in the sheer amount of orcs all around him.

“But also,” Tequila added, “some of these bodies are the people you two killed.” Adam’s expression went from one of incredulity to slight horror. Shiv looked down as well, staring at the faces, trying to see if there was anyone he recognized. And then Tequila slapped his knee. “Of course not! They weren’t your kills, Insul, don’t be foolish. It’s not like the Challenger can claim ownership over any corpse he wants. Some of them go elsewhere. Some belong to other gods.”

Shiv paused, then glared at the orc. “Hey, Tequila,” he said. “You know something about assholes, yes? Sometimes they get a knife shoved up the hole.”

Tequila considered that for a moment and then nodded. “Some of us might like that.” Shiv coated his knife with Vitae. Tequila grimaced. “Right. Maybe not.”

“So, what do you think?” the Challenger asked. “I’ve already subtracted the 50,000 lives it took to adjust the gateway. The rest are a promise to you, Insul, based on the terms of the blood rite. Approximately 80% of them are Adepts, and 80% of that 80% are High Adepts at that. The remainder mostly consists of Masters, while 0.1% are Heroes.”

Shiv blinked. “Point one percent are Heroes?” Nᴇw novel chapters are publɪshed on novel~fire~net

“Correct. Quite a substantial amount, wouldn’t you say?” At first, 0.1% being Heroes didn’t sound like much, but then Shiv realized he was only a single-skill Hero. Adam and Uva only had two skills in the Heroic Tier, and more importantly, there was almost no one else who was a Hero on their side.

With a few hundred Heroes, Shiv wondered what they could do. And then his thoughts went from excited to downright terrified as he realized that he had no idea how to protect himself from a few hundred Heroes either. Adam and Uva were thinking about the same thing, judging from the expressions on their faces.

“Did… did we get any Legends?” Adam asked.

“Oh, what a delightful question!” The Challenger laughed. “But no. Legends are hard to kill in the worst of times, little hawk. Worry not. So long as you keep them occupied, give them proper directions, and don’t over-attract their ire, you should be fine.”

“Yeah,” Shiv called back. “Well, I got some terms and conditions of my own, Challenger.”

“What is this? You’re negotiating with me after the blood rites have already been performed? How interesting. Tell me more.”

“I’m not negotiating,” Shiv said. “I’m telling.” He looked at Adam, then down at the seemingly endless army of orcs. “Here’s the new arrangement. You will fight with us. You will do what we tell you to. And we will give you the biggest godsdamn brawl we can manage. But!” He let his voice echo for a while. “If you do anything to anyone in the gate, I will reach inside of you, and I will break you in ways that ensure you never heal.”

Silver Tongue 27 > 28

A few of the orcs actually flinched at that, and his Dread Aura immediately experienced a rush of power. Not enough to achieve another level, but then Shiv looked at Band. The orc’s expression bled away.

Brutal inspiration struck Shiv. His Intimidation Skill was right on the edge, and he felt the itch to remind the orcs about consequences. Now, he had a perfect use for Band.

“Hey, Band,” Shiv said.

The orc let out a tragic sigh. “You changed your mind? Going to finish me?”

“Yeah. I don’t care to break your will. I don’t care that you know Georges, or what your history with Adam’s former Divination mentor is, or whatever mind-games you assholes are trying to play. You crossed me. Now, get fucked.”

And then, he cast a strand of Vitamancy through the orc’s skull as he began to tear him apart in spirit and flesh.

Dread Aura 100 > 101 (Skill Evolution Reached)

Skill Evolution: Dread Aura (Adept) > Shape of Monstrosity (Master)

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