For all who talk of Divinity as suffering from the fact that it is unchanging and eternal, and that we are as stubborn as mountains and with the same capacity to change as rivers that had long been dried out, are merely trying to apply the same framework and mindset of ever-adaptive humanity to us. They’re mindset, if they were Gods, would have long destroyed this world. I speak this as one of the few Divines who existed since the Age of Gaia, and now I have to deal with these fresh breeds who have seen the world break and so wag their sorry little fingers at me.

No. It shall be said once and it shall never be said again. The next little Goddess or foolish God who thinks they are in any position to besmirch my name and call me a relic shall not even have a corpse left to be remembered by. Divinity is not unchanging, successful Divinity is unchanging. Successful Divinity is cautious and slow, the mindset is stagnant in satisfaction, and if it not satisfied, then it is at least intelligent enough to know not to stick its damn head out of the grass when wolves are working by.

The thing that separates a Divine from a mere mortal is the fact that a mortal is unreliable, yet one can approach Irinika, Goddess of Darkness in the Age of Gaia, in the Age of Monsters, of Tyranny, Of Heroes, during Worldbreaking and now, in whatever term will come to dominate this post Worldbreaking age and see none but Irinika, Goddess of Darkness. If I was flowing, like the rivers that these new Divines (of which I expect most to fall when they get to the age of abandoning) so profess to be. No. And it is like this for every Divine worth their salt.

Mortals do not pray to Fortia because they want a kiss on their forehead and a pat on the back. They pray because they want the Goddess of Peace, and they want the Goddess of Peace that carries the spear and will enforce Peace upon them. Prayers to Arascus are prayers to leadership, for Arascus comes to lead and does not come to serve. Maisara exists to be Order, and to be Order’s keeper. It matters not whether she smiles or tells jokes or whether she keeps pets or, if as she is now, she refuses to tell a single lie. The simple fact of the matter is that a Divine who embodies Order can think whatever they want, but they must embody their demesne. I am the Goddess of Darkness, whether I am cheerful or gloomy is my responsibility. Whether I come for those who pray to me in the night is my duty and it is a duty non-negotiable. That is why I am a successful Goddess, and that is my very elder wisdom.

There are some, such as Kassandora, who will very obviously survive and go on to do great things. One does not need to have superhuman sense of smell to see it. One merely needs to have a single conversation with the Goddess of War for one conversation with her is enough to realise that the woman can do war and only war.

One can look at the phenomena of the ancient Divinity going insane and be baffled, or one can realise why this happens. A Divine that stops trying to be a Divine, a spiral into the madness of solitude where no attempt at character fixing will ever change the fact that I am the Goddess of Darkness, and that is what I will be until the very end of my days.

– “Elder’s Wisdom”, a short text written by Goddess Irinika, of Darkness, during the Reconstruction Authority to deal with the swathe of new Divines that were created back then.

Sergeant Kalinko readjusted his gas mask as the back of the party van started decelerating. It was actually an air-tight armoured car, built off the structure of some APC, remodelled with a smaller fuel compartment and with tanks of sticky jelly instead of ammunition. The turret on top was controlled from the inside, the hatch was gone entirely and instead of a barrel that ended in a muzzle-break, it instead had a barrel that ended in a nozzle. Designated the Rug-Rat, nicknamed the party van. Supposedly, these vehicles had been designed to carry twelve men in total, a full squad. Although squads of infantry did not carry tanks of napalm on their back, and they had rifles that they could move about and not ugly machinations which connected to the backs via tubes. At least they had air-conditioning though. That was a saving grace.

“We are approaching D’Albion.” Captain Euguene’s voice came over the radio. “Make your final checks.”

In theory, they had four fighter aircraft assigned to them which would drop and spread chemical gas. Kalinko didn’t know if those still existed although even if they did, Ashen Skies’ residue in the atmosphere made sure that utterly nothing could fly right now. Kalinko looked reached for the pistol in his holster to check if it was loaded. The rest of his team did the same. The guns weren’t for Be’elzebub. “Team One, you’re up first.” Euguene’s voice came over the radio once again as each of the heavily armed figures slid into their seats. Kalinko was glad he was next to door, Haikev at the other end of truck got squashed by the rest of the team.

“Sergeant Kalinko, Team One-A, we’re moving out.” Kalinko bit his tongue, they were supposed to keep quiet and give Euguene the radio space.

“Maintain radio silence Sergeant.” Kalinko said. “Only report if you see something.” Kalinko kept his mouth shut and didn’t answer in return. “Team Two, prepare for disembark, Team One, advance on foot.” Kalinko turned his head and narrowed his eyes at the sudden beam of light which blasted into the dark quarters of the party van when its rear door began to swing open. Like everything else on the vehicle, it was more than an inch of heavy steel, then covered in a thin of some over metal. That was simply to slow the bugs of Be’elzebub as much as possible.

Sergeant Kalinko’s heavy boots, all thick rubber touched the sand, he groaned under the weight of his suit, inside, when they were still and air-con running low, it wasn’t so bad. Now, even in the mountains, with the sun overhead, he could immediately feel the heat off his breath from his uniform. He took a step, then swung around and readjusted the tank on his back.

Private Santos passed him the rest of the flamethrower from the back. Standard infantry could disembark in a matter of seconds, for the pesticide teams, it took a half minute for everyone to get out and get moving. But get moving they did, meeting up with the other half of squad one who got out of their Rug-Rat. A huge, ugly APC with six wheels and covered in that mesh. The sole purpose was to add volume, not even mass. To force the bugs to dig through as large a distance as possible before they managed to the occupants inside.

The low turrets, rounded off and wide spun around, tiny flames on their nozzles flicked open. “Magicians are four minutes away, you have permission to engage right now though.” Captain Eugene said over the radio. “Hold formation, shoot first and don’t worry about the questions.” Kalinko didn’t have to be told twice. He clicked a switch on the side of his flamer and the nozzle ignited with a tiny flame. Supposedly, a newer design was in the works for street fighting, although these models were so heavy, he had to hold it low at his belt as if it was a turret.

Slowly, team one spread out over the grass across the thin grass of the valley. Ahead of them were the silos, although none of them had the huge covers that had been shown in the briefing presentation. The radar dishes on top of the mountain were still there, and still slowly turning. Red lights blinked on high radio towers too, that was all a good sign. Power must still be running then.

Through the visor of hardened plastic, he tried to make out any movement. Nothing so far. “RR-2 reports sound from the closest silo, Squads Two and Three, disembark and hold. S-One cover.” Euguene said. Good thing the APCs had better sensors than his ears, the full-body uniform dulled even the sweeping winds in this valley. A minute later, the rest of the first platoon had gotten out of their vehicles. Platoon Two, Three and Four made their own movements, Euguene had separate channels for everything. P-Two advanced upon the second silo, P-Three and Four fanned out to the sides. “RR-One, deploy a camera drone. See what’s in there.”

Rugrat-One, Eugene’s party-van, answered a moment later as the vehicle’s crew got to work. A flap opened in its side. A small four-bladed rotor drone flew out. It hovered in the air slightly, then high up and towards the shredded hole. Kalinko looked at the shards of metal that had looked as if they had been torn apart or melted down. They should have all been the dark silver of steel, but it was more a rainbow of various greys and shades of black. The flamethrower was heavy but Eugene’s next command wiped out all trace of fatigue from Kalinko’s arms. “P-One and P-Two, Rugrats, gas drones. All of them.”

From every single one of the APCs, more flaps opened. Small boxes that had been fastened onto the sides of the vehicles with mounts that screwed on and off, for Kalinko’s men could have been stupid enough to be on the Be’elzebub operation, but they weren’t stupid enough to share a ride with plastic drones that held experimental pesticide. “Drones ready Captain.” Zamin, the driver of Rugrat One answered. The rest of them made their calls as the infantry moved away from the buzzing drones. Four rotors each, and each one holding what could have been an oxygen canister.

“RugRat One, you’re on Silo One and Two.” Euguene said. “RR-Two, on three and four. RR-Three, five and six.” All the way until Rugrat twelve got to silo twenty-three and twenty-four. “Understood?” Euguene confirmed. “Say your numbers.”

“One, Two.” Zamin replied. Then came the three and four. Five and six. All the way through. “Good.” Eugene said. “Mages will come to assist in under a minute, infantry, prepare for contact.” And then the captain finally took a breath. For a moment, Kalinko thought he sensed hesitation over the radio, but the words came out clear. “Green Light.”

From the vehicles, more than a hundred drones shot across the grass and towards their designated silos. There was no wait, they had trained for this operation. A green light meant the rules of engagement had kicked in and that meant they were going to be fighting. Euguene would not give an order to hold fire, Kalinko’s finger touched the heavy trigger of the flame thrower. One by one, the drones disappeared. Others rushed across the valley or swiftly hovered up mountains and made clean dives into their holes.

Through the thick suit of rubber and leather, he heard nothing. Those canisters were probably hissing now, filling up the bottom of silos with a thick mist. Or maybe they were exploding and releasing everything at once. Kalinko did not know. He may have been stupid, but he was not so stupid as to close the distance or even approach the silo. Euguene gave another order. The worst one of them all. “Contact, open fire and hold formation. Local leadership applies.”

A moment later, from silo six, a screeching black cloud burst out into the air. Then another from silo eighteen. From twenty-one. Eleven. Four, close by to Platoon three. Kalinko planted his foot forward, whispered an unfinished prayer and felt the ground began to vibrate. Movement, the first bug screamed its way out of silo one and Kalinko pressed down on the trigger with all the force he could.

A steam of jelly blasted out of the nozzle of his flamethrower, as far as a small train, maybe even further. It sprayed onto the insects as the other men from the rest of the team joined in. A few were good enough shots to hit the bugs directly, others missed entirely, spraying onto the shards of metal or into the silos themselves. Not even a second later, the ignition flames came alive and ignited the sprays. A fireball launched into the air as Kalinko held the trigger for more seconds.

A smoke that was black tar create a fog which devoured the insects of Silo One. The other teams moved in on their closest silos. The huge, fist-sized locusts burned away under streams of bright red and orange flame shot either from the men on the ground, or sprayed in even larger bursts by the Rugrats. Here, Be’elzebub charged into the flames as it raced to escape from the gas. But from the silos further down the valley, those bugs made pillars of flesh that conglomerated into shrieking clouds, writhing and beating as if they were hearts. Each one reflective, even some fell off once the pesticide thrown down the silos kicked in. They raged and flew higher into the air.

“Deploying local paralyzer.” Zamin’s voice came over the radio. The hiss, even over the screeching of Be’elzebub, was audible. The APCs deployed their clouds of pale, smoke. A light fog which barely obscured vision but would be seen. That was the point, there was no force save for a solid wall that would actually stop those bugs. They just had to by time. Kalinko raised his weapon and sprayed it towards the closest group of bugs, the trail of flame managed to almost close the distance, although that cloud parted and raced away from the fire.

The counter-strike came. Be’elzebub swarmed, enough bugs to swallow a car peeled away from a swarm and dived straight into the paralyzing gas which covered the men. Straight at one of the soldiers within it. They did not get back up again, their wings and jaws and legs gave out under the toxin. The sheer mass had been enough of a lance to put a hole through the soldier too. Sergeant Kalinko raised his weapon and aimed it towards the closest swarm, the grey-blue sky was streaked by black smoke. “Spread out.” He gave the order. “Spread out and cover each other.” How much damaged they did, he had no clue, how much they could do now, he didn’t know. Be’elzebub simply moved too quickly to be burned away like this. The drivers should be safe, but the rest of them? He dug his feet in and rubbed the trigger, itching to press and end the stand off of men in full-body suits on the crowd, obscured by a cloud, and the ravenous swarms of locusts in the air. They peeled off into smaller swarms. He tried to find which was one was aiming at him but with them constantly writhing like that, it was an impossibility to tell.

But it was the Empire, and in the Empire he placed his trust.

Eugene’s voice ended the silence. “Cavalry’s here. Mages have arrived.” Flame roared across the sky, from the west, just as the captain had said. Insects dived down, taking soldiers with them, crashing into the vehicles and screeching as they were burned away. Kalinko would go through the whole tank before he let go of the trigger. Until the barrel melted and he couldn’t shoot anymore. Pillars of flame shot up to meet the fires of magic. The man next to the sergeant was torn in half, the bugs instantly turned their heads and then fell over in the gas. Their charred corpses landed like heavy hail on the grass.

A swarm charged straight at Kalinko. He turned his flamethrower, pulled the trigger and took his final breath. A final breath that didn’t come. Bugs and fire did not meet. His flames crashed and hit against the bottom of an invisible barrier, those locusts crashed against the top of it. Light refracted in the solid air as it curled into a closed ball and then closed, crushing that section of swarm like a pneumatic press.

When the operation was being briefed, they were told the fight itself would last no longer than fifteen minutes. One side would annihilate the other instantly. Now, it did not even last five. Be’elzebub, with an attack from the ground, with the only method to kill the soldiers being to dive into the cloud of gas they were standing in and with magical reinforcements coming in, shrieked and split off into tiny swarms that raced south east, away from it all.

Magicians followed for a distance, they cross the valley, themselves dressed in black uniforms of Military Magic, each one armed with a long staff that had a glowing crystal upon it, with radios affixed to their long coats and more glowing rings on their fingers on sewn directly into their coats. They chased, although it was obvious that insect outsped man from the very beginning. So they came back and hovered above Pesticide Teams. Eugene came over the radio once again. “Magicians, do not move in, the troops are covered in gas. Safe distance is two hundred metres.”

A few mages remained in the air, the rest of them landed as the entirety of the Pesticide Team watched insects fly back south. They must have caused some damage, Be’elzebub’s swarm was now no larger than a car. It was a single black spot on the mountain. How the Empire expected them to kill it when it could just retreat like that, Kalinko did not know. But it wasn’t his job to think, it was his job to do. And right now, he had to do the second phase of the plan. “This is Sergeant Kalinko.” He radioed. “It’s gotten away. Unable to give chase.” He took a step, then almost fell down. The heavy flamethrower wanted to fall from his hands, a single breach in the suit and…

Kalinko tried not to think about the fact he was standing a cloud of pale noxious gas. He hadn’t thought about it during the adrenaline of the battle, now, it was just here and he was still breathing. And that was enough. The sweat pooling at the bottom of the uniform wasn’t a concern anymore. If anything, it was a blessing. If it was pooling, that meant it could spill out and it hadn’t been accidently cut on the way here. “I’ve called it in.” Euguene said. “We did some damage, it got away.” He paused for a moment. “Negative Sergeant, do not enter. Hunker down, there’s movement in the south. It’s not ours.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep