Chaos threat: 47%
━━━━━━━ ༺𓆩Ω𓆪༻ ━━━━━━━
38912-K ducked beneath the incoming blade, then, with a furious growl, decapitated the cultist with his bayonet.
No time to think, the lone servant of the Emperor used his lasgun to parry another strike, the weapon vibrating under the impact. A third cultist lunged from behind.
The son of Krieg spun, his movements fluid despite exhaustion, using the lasgun to knock the second enemy's weapon aside before finishing the incoming one from behind with a swift slice to his neck.
The cultist choked on his own blood as he collapsed into a wild spasm, soaking the cobblestones red.
"Gh!" 38912-K grunted as a blade cut deep through his back. The first cultist had recovered faster than he anticipated.
His footing faltered, the soot and blood soaked cobblestones welcoming him harshly.
"Die already you monster!" the cultist screamed—not with triumph, but raw desperation. The man stabbed again and again, the blade plunging into the guardsman's back in a flurry of panicked thrusts.
"Heretic dog!" 38912-K roared, fury breaking through pain and exhaustion.
With his remaining strength, he slammed his helmeted head backward.
A loud crunch echoed!
"Son of a bitch!" the cultist cried in pain, stumbling back while clutching his broken nose.
38912-K fell onto the heretic, grappling in the dirt and filth, struggling to overpower him.
He slammed his fist into the cultist's jaw. The difference in strength was shown—sharp teeth flew out, clattering on the stone.
"Stop it, please!"
By the third punch, the cultist's defiance shattered. He raised his hands in surrender, blood and tears streaming down his ruined face.
"It wasn't me! I didn't want to do it, they forced me!" he sobbed, pleading for his wretched life.
The terrified expression made the son of Krieg pause for a single heartbeat. His breathing was ragged, blood loss stealing his strength.
The cultist mistook this daze for hesitation.
Hope flickered in his eyes, the hope of a coward who believed he might live long enough to backstab his forgiver.
"KILL THE HERETIC!"
38912-K clasped both fists together and brought them down like an executioner's axe.
"Agh!"
The cultist's mouth filled with blood as his jaw shattered.
CRUNCH!
The servant of the Emperor delivered his judgment upon this foul soul.
CRUNCH!
Then again.
CRUNCH!
The Krieger struck far beyond what was necessary. His rage did not fade even when the cultist's body ceased to move.
Then suddenly, he stopped.
He rolled himself off the unclean corpse, not remotely fazed by the gore he had made.
Breathing heavily, 38912-K pushed himself up, using his lasgun as support. His vision blurred, but when it cleared, he saw the camp again.
His holy duty made manifest by his hands.
Countless cultists, slain by him alone.
A panorama of bloodbath.
He had stood against the tide of heresy, and his faith in the Emperor had triumphed where numbers had failed.
"Ahh…" He wheezed, dragging himself slowly toward the exit of the camp, his body screaming in ignored protest.
He was still able to fight.
His duty had not yet ended...
"RAGHHH!"
A hideous roar echoed across the desecrated camp, making the son of Krieg freeze mid-step.
From the camp entrance, something emerged, something that would haunt the mind of any mortal if allowed to live long enough to remember it.
It moved on three bladed limbs and two avian legs.
Tentacles writhed from its torso, and feathers sharp as blades cloaked its unholy form.
Its head was half-avian, half-human with many eyes, its mouth belonging to the former, its many eyes to the latter.
A grotesque abomination of spider, bird, and man.
A Chaos Spawn of Tzeentch.
The abomination shrieked again before rushing forward with impossible agility. Sparks burst from its bladed limbs as they sliced through cobblestone with ease.
38912-K's breath quickened.
Despite his wounds, he lifted his lasgun and raised his bayonet high.
Pain vanished beneath duty.
The creature closed in, two bladed limbs raised to decapitate him.
The son of Krieg braced himself—
CLASH!
Blade met blade. Sparks sprayed as the bayonet caught the monster's strike. The impact rattled his bones, but he held firm, teeth clenched beneath his mask.
He glared into the warped mockery of a face before him, seeing the inhuman madness behind its eyes.
It disgusted him.
He would slay this beast.
He would triumph.
The Emperor is with him—!
Then agony exploded through his chest. His eyes widened behind the mask as blood filled his mouth, unable to escape through.
A blade had pierced him clean through from the back.
"RGHHHHH!" the beast roared triumphantly, impaling him upward on its limbs, lifting his body like a trophy.
"AHHHHHH!"
The Krieger screamed as the creature drove the weapon deeper. Blood poured freely from a wound no mortal could survive.
His vision darkened. The beast savored every second of his torment.
His body grew colder and colder.
Hours of endurance, fighting, killing, and suffering finally crashed down upon him like an Imperial Titan.
Finally…
All was dark for him.
The sweet relief of death embracing his soul...
But then, a warm voice called through the dark—
"Arise, Child of Krieg."
All became golden!
The Emperor's light shone upon him, and him alone!
The son of Krieg's eyes burst open in a golden ray of holy radiance, a divine flame manifesting protectively around his entire body!
"RAGHAAAAA!"
The Chaos Spawn burned alive instantly, its entire existence turning to cinders at the mere touch of the psychic presence now emanating from the man it tormented only moments ago.
The son of Krieg collapsed to the ground, the holy light fading slowly, leaving the now—healed 38912-K alone once more.
His eyes grew heavy, this time not from blood loss or death, but exhaustion.
━━━━━━━ ༺𓆩Ω𓆪༻ ━━━━━━━
"You're fired!"
Those were the words that shattered Eva's world.
Fired for not wanting to die for the fat and corrupt Royman's Guild while that self-righteous Pallum bastard just stood there, watching it happen without saying a single word to save her career.
The moment she told everything she knew to him was the moment she no longer had any use in his eyes.
That was it. She was done for. There was nothing left for her in Orario, nor anything waiting for her outside of it.
All thanks to that fat, greedy elf. That smug little Pallum. And those damned gods.
Those so-called "divine beings" who toy with mortal lives like chess pawns!
But above all... the true blame fell on that monster.
The one who had forced her to give away sensitive information in the first place.
It was over. Completely over.
And so, seeing no other escape, Eva ended up inside one of the refugee camps… as a refugee herself. Praying she might somehow survive the Evilus siege and hopefully leave this cursed city behind to start anew.
…
"SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE! HAHAHAHA!"
But as they say, things can always get worse.
And in Eva's case, they had reached bedrock.
'Whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck!' she screamed in her mind, running through the burning streets like a headless chicken, soaked in blood that was thankfully not her own. Her eyes darted frantically, searching for any possible escape from the nightmare that had consumed the camp.
Right after that eye in the sky formed, everything had gone to hell. The camp she'd been hiding in started acting… off.
It began with arguments, shouted accusations at the Adventurers, demands, protests. Then it turned physical. And from there, the descent was rapid and unstoppable.
The refugees began chanting against the gods, screaming that they would serve a "Blood God" that Eva had never even heard of nor seen.
The Adventurers tried to stop them before it spread further, but when they struck, they were met not with civilians, but with monsters.
Hulking humanoid beasts, red-skinned and steaming with rage, horns jutting from their skulls like blades. Their hands were large enough to crush a man's chest.
They were capable of speech. Like mortals.
And they laughed in satisfaction as they tore the Adventurers apart.
Even Level 2s couldn't stop them. The survivors regrouped in the northern quarter of the camp, forming a "loyalist zone" until reinforcements could arrive.
That plan died the moment Evilus cultists joined forces with the new heretics.
Together, they became an unstoppable tide. They butchered the Adventurers, impaling their heads on spikes, hanging skulls and limbs from their armor as trophies of slaughter.
And when all the Adventurers were butchered, their bloodlust turned to the civilians.
Child. Woman. Elderly. It didn't matter.
Eva barely escaped the massacre unscathed. Her legs trembled with every step, her lungs burned like fire, but the pain was nothing compared to what awaited her if she stopped.
She didn't know how long she'd been running. Minutes? Hours? It didn't matter.
Every time she felt like she was about to collapse from exhaustion, a newfound energy burst within her veins. The blood on her skin reminded her of what happened to those who slowed down.
But the refreshing surge happened more than she could pass off as simple survival instinct
She felt as if she was being… guided.
The former Guild employee had managed to run all the way from the utmost south all the way to the northwestern districts, an impressive feat for one without Falna.
But at last, her body couldn't keep up anymore and gave in.
She collapsed into a narrow alleyway, her back hitting a wooden crate as she gasped for breath, gulping down the smoky air in desperate bursts.
Her vision spun, but her thoughts slowly began to clear for the first time since that massacre. She needed to move—she had to move now.
She marked her priorities in her head: find the nearest Guild post, or at least a surviving refugee camp, and report what she'd seen firsthand.
These monsters need to be exterminated before they spread.
Before she could finish forming her plan, footsteps echoed through the alley.
Her heart stopped.
Her whole body tensed, every muscle screaming to run. Had those abominations found her!?
She turned toward the sound, bracing herself for death.
But what she saw wasn't a monster.
It was a little girl.
A small, frail and barefoot little girl. Her clothes torn and bloody, her face pale and smeared with soot, eyes dull and lifeless like a doll's.
"…"
They stared at each other in silence. The child looked too tired for her age. The woman, on the other hand, looked terrified and confused.
The silence between them was heavier than a mountain, stretching into long, suffocating moments.
"…Can I go with you, Miss?" the little girl finally asked, her voice low and almost emotionless, her expression unchanging.
Eva… didn't know what to say to that.
━━━━━━━ ༺𓆩Ω𓆪༻ ━━━━━━━
The ritual ground was ready, another seal awaited destruction.
The bulk of the required energy to achieve that task were unwilling participants, and their cries fell on deaf ears.
"You crazy sons of bitches!"
One woman, a mere level one Adventurer, thrashed in blind terror as she tried to escape the grip of the monsters in human flesh. But the cultists held her down with ease.
These cultists were all former adventurers; they still held the blessings of their former gods on top of the twisted powers granted by their new ones.
Another cultist approached, a thurible in one hand, whispering harsh, broken syllables that twisted in the air.
The woman's panic only grew; the cultist's face was hidden behind a veil, save for the sharp point of his elven ears poking through the shroud.
A lesser servant followed behind him, carrying a wooden box for his master. Whatever was inside, the woman didn't want to know.
The lead cultist stopped before her. Dark arcanum pulsed through the surroundings; the thurible coughed out thick blue smoke that coiled around them like a serpent.
Her breath hitched.
Her limbs froze.
The cultist opened the box and reached inside, revealing a single monster magic stone.
His whispered chant intensified. Warp bled through the air, tainting the stone's core. A rune etched itself onto its surface, shifting and twitching. Just looking at it made the woman's mind twist in agony.
Then, the cultist stabbed the stone into her forehead, forcing it through skin and skull until it embedded itself deep in her brain.
"Ahhh!!!"
Her scream shook the ritual ground, and in her panicked state, a violent burst of psychic energy exploded outward. The cultists holding her down were blown into the nearest wall with bone snapping force.
But the attack was brief. The pain was too much. She couldn't focus.
Her scream didn't falter, but her resistance crumbled.
Another cultist gagged her mouth, as they had done with all the others.
Her voice was an annoyances for them and nothing more.
"Join the herd, psyker," the cultist commanded.
Shockingly, the woman obeyed.
Her body moved, but not her will.
The magic stone in her forehead pulsed, acting as a slave collar, a leash forged from Chaos itself.
With this one "freed," the cultist returned to his work.
He would need to… enlighten many, many more psyker souls to the righteous cause of the Changer of Ways.
The Chaos pawns did as they were told, and the Chaos champion of this realm oversaw the operation with a pleased smile.
Everything was coming together, just as his lord told him so.
"These… magic stones are quite versatile," he mused aloud to his company.
"Oh, you wouldn't believe the arts one can make!" Basram cackled, brimming with manic pride. "I'm quite pleased you used my idea for this magnificent display!"
"Indeed. The idea of parasitic magic stones is fascinating," Wisla agreed. "Alas, your prototype was doomed to fail on its own weak foundation. But the gods require no foundation. They make reality as they please."
It was a simple solution:
A rune. A chant. A sacrifice. And one will achieve an unbreakable control over almost any mortal.
"Yeah yeah, it was brilliant, blah blah blah!" Dina snapped, clearly losing patience.
"Yeah, shut up already! We want the two cutest elves already!" Vena added, vibrating with barely contained excitement.
Wisla's lips curled into a twisted smile. "…Then, ladies, who am I to stop you from chasing your love?"
...
"YES!"
Instantly, the Dis sisters bolted toward the east, where the Freya and Hephaestus Familias had retreated inside the Colosseum.
But first they would stop at the Red District for… reinforcement to help them with their assault.
Wisla hummed in satisfaction. "Dear Basram," he called, drawing the inventor's full attention, "I require your little toy soldiers to… occupy the enemy in the southwest."
Basram's grin widened. "We're finally moving! And right at Valleta as well!"
He referred to the industrial storehouse enclave where the Evilus forces that are still loyal to Erebus stood strong in fortified positions, with Vito and Valleta overseeing the leadership.
"Not quite," Wisla clarified. "You will engage the Adventurer forces there. Prevent them from answering any call for reinforcement."
Basram nodded rapidly. "Yes yes! Easy! Just need a few fodders for distractions!"
Wisla nodded, pleased. "As a bonus… try to eliminate a high-priority target. Gareth Landrock."
"Oh! Elgram!?" Basram howled. "My soldiers will wipe that dwarf out!"
With a wave of his staff, the spirit soldiers followed him without hesitation.
Their strength was immense, some rivaling first-class Adventurers, but their free will and tactical thinking were not as impressive.
Wisla nodded. Another obstacle removed.
"Now…" Wisla murmured, turning toward the last Evilus commander.
"Olivas."
The daemon's smile widened.
It was time for the Adventurers to do their part.
━━━━━━━ ༺𓆩Ω𓆪༻ ━━━━━━━
Hermes liked to think of himself as a very resourceful and cunning god.
Always on time, always having a way in and out, always aware of almost everything outside and inside his circle.
"What the fuck is that!?"
Always having contingencies for every mission and task.
"Help me, Lord Hermes!!! Help!!!"
But this was not one of those moments. It seemed his luck had finally run out.
"RAGHH!!!!"
The abomination screeched, a monstrous, distorted voice that belonged to no man, its jaw clamped around the body of one of Hermes's company.
It was tall and dark, barely visible through the choking shadows of the sewers. Multiple uneven arms were occupying its body, all sprouting grotesquely from one side.
It spat the body away, its sharp teeth gleaming red with blood.
Its head… Hermes wished he hadn't looked. A cluster of human skulls, fused and crushed together, their hollow sockets staring blankly. The sheer wrongness of its form evoked a deep, primal revulsion—even within a god.
"AHHH!"
The monster lunged with impossible speed, far too fast for its size.
Rumio—Hermes recognized him instantly. A fresh Level 2, one he had only recently ranked up before this cursed war began. The poor boy didn't even have time to scream again before he was torn apart by the beast's claws.
"Fall back, everyone!" barked the company leader, Levy. Hermes, for once, didn't argue.
The monster's strength was unreal—easily within the high Level 3 range, perhaps even beyond. They had no chance. The few Level 3s left in their ranks were wounded or exhausted, and most of Hermes's familia were still fighting on the frontlines.
Their retreat was chaos. The screams of his followers echoed through the tunnels, bouncing off the stone and mixing with the stench of sewage. The filthy waters slowed their escape, dragging at their legs, making them easy prey.
"Shit, shit, we're going to die!" a girl cried in panic, her voice trembling.
This… this was somehow worse than the Dungeon.
The Dungeon was known and well documented. The unknown was what adventurers feared most.
"Don't panic! We're nearing the exit!" someone else urged, his voice cracking.
That sobered them quickly.
"I see it!" Levy shouted, pointing to a faint light at the end of the tunnel. "Lord Hermes, you go first!"
Hermes's children looked toward the light, their faces momentarily shining with fragile hope.
"Stay together! We're seeing tomorrow!" Hermes shouted, forcing courage into his trembling voice. He sprinted forward, his familia close behind.
The light grew brighter, he could almost smell the clean air beyond it.
'So close!' Hermes thought desperately, his fingers brushing the edge of the light.
"RAAAGGHHHHH!!!"
The inhuman screech echoed again, followed by another mortal scream.
"Ahh—!"
The god lost his footing and slipped, crashing into the filthy sewer water.
"Damn it—show yourself!" he shouted, his voice shaking between rage and dread.
"Ahhh!"
"Flank it, flaaank it!"
"Aghh!"
The tunnel became a slaughterhouse.
One by one, Hermes's familia were torn apart. The tunnel filled with the sound of flesh tearing, bones snapping, and terrified cries.
Then, silence.
Hermes didn't know what to do.
Run toward freedom… or look back to his children.
The silence was worse than the screams.
Slow, heavy breathing echoed behind him. The stench of blood and waste mingled together, suffocating him.
The messenger god straightened, fixing his hat with trembling hands before turning to face the thing that had killed his children.
Hermes forced a weak smile despite the dread crawling up his spine. His nervousness was obvious, even to himself. "…Boy, you're even uglier up close, hehe."
The creature tilted its head slightly, as if it understood him.
"RAAAAGGHHH!"
It screamed directly into his face, splattering him with blood. Hermes flinched as the warm, sticky fluid ran down his cheeks, painting him red.
Wiping his face, he muttered, "Well… I suppose the food won't be getting to Orario anytime soon. I'm sorry for failing you, Ouranos."
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, bracing himself for the end of the game.
The creature raised its six arms high, then brought them down with another thunderous roar.
━━━━━━━ ༺𓆩Ω𓆪༻ ━━━━━━━
It was a calm watch for the Adventurers stationed at Babel Tower.
The attacks around Babel were minimal; Evilus favored striking industry-oriented districts instead.
The majority of the garrison remained in the central park surrounding the tower, circling the perimeter to ensure no enemy managed to sneak in.
The rest were stationed inside Babel itself, on every floor from the first up to the thirtieth. Anything above that had been left abandoned.
Normally, Adventurers would never be positioned so high up. But everything changed the moment the emergency Denatus was formed.
Even now, the gods remained locked in their private chamber. Their shouts echoed faintly down the tower, verbal fighting almost as loud as the screams rising from the city below.
Two guards sat on one of the balconies, overlooking the burning city. Their post was on the twenty sixth floor, giving them a solid view over Orario.
"What a mess…" one muttered, sweat rolling down his forehead.
The city had been nothing but chaos ever since that thing appeared in the skies. There was no sign the war would stop anytime soon.
"I should have listened to my dad," his companion sighed heavily, pulling out a cigarette box, neatly carved from oak, offering one to the first guard before taking one for himself.
"Oh yeah? What did your pops say?" the first guard asked, patting around his pockets for matches, finding nothing.
His friend struck a match and lit his own cigarette before leaning over to light his companion's. "He used to say I could barely dig a field, let alone swing a sword."
The two men laughed. A warm moment between brothers-in-arms trapped in hellish times.
"You know, I might visit the old farm when all this is over… see the family," the second guard muttered, fondness visible through his words.
The first one nodded. "Yeah, can't blame ya…"
A silence stretched between them, a peaceful one…
"They are coming!"
The peace was shattered when a girl started shouting in warning, all the while flying with two wings toward Babel!
The guards looked at the bizarre sight. "Is she flying!?" They couldn't believe their eyes.
"Prepare for the attack!!"
The girl yelled one last warning before she entered the Tower of Babel, shattering the window that led to the Denatus.
The guards' eyes widened, not only because a potential enemy had just entered the gods' chambers.
But their shock was mostly for the calamity ahead: a vibrant mass of lights flickered in the distance.
"Sweet Asclepius…"
Their cigarettes slipped from their lips.
It wasn't a small skirmish party.
Not a dozen.
Not even a few dozen.
It was hundreds.
An army of robe wearing cultists was marching toward them, a light shining through their dark hoods.
"Sound the alarms!"
They sprinted for the bells.
━━━━━━━ ༺𓆩Ω𓆪༻ ━━━━━━━
"Defend the tower, do not buckle!"
screamed the defender leader, Francis, a Loki Familia executive. His lungs burned with each confident order, his blue eyes wide with conviction, and his blade swift through the robed menace, cutting two down easily while shoving a third back.
The Adventurers howled in affirmation, not giving the enemy even an inch.
BOOM!
Suicide bombs were detonated regularly in the heat of the battle, deadly each time, blasting many Adventurers away in an inferno of death.
The battle was fierce, but the enemy didn't seem like they were aiming for the tower.
Which didn't make sense for the pallum overlooking the battle from his safe distance on floor 30.
"Can you all calm your tits!? We have a hundred Adventurers in the tower and a hundred more outside, this place is impenetrable!" Loki tried to calm the deities at the back, each one panicking in their own corner.
Finn ignored them, his focus fully on the battlefield at play, trying to understand the enemy's motivation.
This conflict was beginning to give him a paranoia that he was certain wouldn't leave him be even when they triumphed over the forces of Evil.
"This isn't normal," commented his newest ally.
Fels regarded the scene with extreme caution, his eyes and magical senses confirmed that these were indeed cultists. The corrupting energy was heavily concentrated in their heads, where a light shone behind dark robes, concealing their features completely and giving an image of inhumanity.
Their headless charge at the wall of Adventurers was unusual, and their movement was... off.
The battlefield was intensifying yet the Adventurers were barely pushed back. The sheer power difference was astonishing to say the least, but the overwhelming numbers were beginning to tire them out.
With each step taken backward, Finn's unease grew greater; with each fading light from the enemy foreheads, Fels' discomfort grew more and more.
"Let me through, damnit!"
Before the dam threatened to burst, a voice pierced through the panicking gods' chamber.
Finn and Fels' gazes snapped to the source. From the balcony entrance, Asfi Al Andromeda emerged.
Her breath ragged, clothes cut in places, dirt covering her attire.
Yet all these inconveniences were minor compared to the urgency in her eyes.
She rushed to the two, specifically Finn.
"They aren't the enemy!" she almost screamed at the pallum, pointing to the ocean of blood and bodies.
The pair was confused.
"What do you—" Finn began, but Asfi cut him off.
"They are being controlled somehow. They aren't the enemy, Braver! They don't want to fight but can't stop!" Asfi revealed, much to the silent shock of the two.
"Oh," Finn said calmly, eyes slowly drifting to the fallen corpses of the enemy. Many had their robes torn away, revealing their final moments.
Faces twisted in tears and terror, gagged so no scream for help could escape.
"Shit…" he cursed beneath his breath, turning back to the Adventurers slicing down the supposed enemy.
"Forceful control, like a puppet…" Fels uttered, figuring that the concentration of corrupting energy in their foreheads was likely the source of it.
"SHIT!" Finn cursed loudly before jumping from the 30th floor of Babel, having no time for stairs.
The air whipped against his face, the smell of innocent blood soaking the pavement twisting his stomach.
He landed with a shockwave, pavement breaking apart under the force. His boots were immediately soaked in blood.
He sprinted forward without a second to waste, shouting, "Stop the initiative, Francis, retreat now!"
His orders were clear and loud, but no one listened. The slaughter had no sign of stopping.
The moment he was in arm's reach, Finn grabbed the man's shoulder tightly. "You fool—can't you hear me!?" he said angrily. "You are butchering civilians!"
"Die, traitor!"
What met the pallum was an enraged, wild swing from Francis' sword, forcing Finn to let go.
Finn's eyes sharpened. The once-loyal Francis now bore red eyes instead of blue, filled with visible bloodlust.
"Get a hold of yourself, I command you, I am your captain!" Finn roared, voice carrying across the battlefield. "I command you all to retreat to the tower right now!"
Most were too embroiled in the chaos but some turned to their captain, yet their reactions were no better than Francis'.
Red eyes everywhere. Bloodlust thick in the air.
"No…!" Francis whispered, panic and anger rising together. "We must keep defending, the cultists will overwhelm us!" He raised his sword, ready to strike at Finn. "You traitor, keep away!"
The pallum was at a loss for words, to the point he didn't notice the incoming fist that sent him flying away from the battlefield.
"What a hilarious outcome. Noble Adventurers unable to contain their bloodlust against helpless civilians."
A taunting voice said, putting salt over Finn's already torn conscience.
The pallum stood up effortlessly, gaze twisting with fury as he scanned for the assailant, his eyes landing on a familiar face. "Vendetta. So the rat finally gets out of his hole!"
Olivas' smirk cracked a bit. "Your smart mouth won't buy you any escape, pallum!"
Finn begged to differ. "Is Valleta somewhere watching us?" he said mockingly. "Tell her I don't take out pests, she should come out so we can finish it one-on-one!" He smirked, provoking the arrogant Evilus commander.
Olivas gritted his teeth but didn't charge immediately. "There has been development, lowly pallum." He smiled. "My eyes have opened. I do not serve those pathetic bottom-feeders and their false creed anymore."
Finn froze for a moment before the gears in his head began to work overtime to provide an explanation.
Evilus is experiencing an internal civil war.
Finn was tempted to pry deeper, but his forces were literally killing innocents right now.
"Let's get this over with, scum. I have more important matters to deal with!" Finn shifted his stance, his spear ready.
Olivas gritted his teeth. "I'll show you the power you're treading with, pallum!"
Pavement shattered beneath their feet as they launched themselves at one another.
Impossible speed met impossible strength. Sparks flew endlessly as spear clashed with gauntlets, a stalemate of skill and raw power.
"Agh!" Olivas cried as Finn landed several deep cuts across his exposed chest.
Finn shifted his body and slid under Olivas' counterattack, leaving a deep cut in his thigh.
Placing his spear in the ground, the pallum used it to spin, building up energy to deliver a back heel to Olivas, sending the cultist rolling through the Central Park.
The pallum thought that was it, and turned his attention to the battlefield again, where mountains of civilians littered Central Park.
His instincts suddenly cried out in alarm.
He spun his spear skillfully toward the direction of the attack before his gaze even landed there, deflecting multiple hits before one finally bypassed his spin, landing with massive force.
Finn had enough footing to jump back, landing perfectly away from the attacker.
It was Olivas again—perfectly healed as well, a twisted smirk painting his features.
"You're annoying." Finn was beginning to get impatient. "You're also tougher than the reports indicate."
Olivas laughed. "I have been blessed, idiot!" He opened his arms wide in proclamation. "We circle and circle like headless chickens, but we all eventually find them. All roads might lead to Orario. But all divinity does lead to the Chaos Gods!"
"You mad psycho..." Finn had heard enough of this deranged sermon.
With a shift, the clash continued.
Elsewhere, another battle would soon occur.
Over a safe building, a tall, horned elf overlooked the massacre below with satisfaction.
"All architected to your expectations, master," the mastermind, Wisla, said.
Fear, death, despair, agony, hate, bloodlust.
All of these emotions were being projected from all across the city.
And with these here, it was even more amplified thanks to the near-awakened psykers he had enslaved.
All ounce of this despair was being harnessed by him for what is to come; his staff was glowing with unstable immaterium leaks.
The Architect worked in mysterious ways; one ritual practice was never going to work for a second time. That is why he had resorted to this cheap trick—
The daemon's thoughts were cut short by a spear coming into existence, piercing his head clean!
Asfi breathed heavily beneath the Hades helmet; she couldn't believe that this sneak attack worked!
"Cloaking?" the daemon said casually and very much alive, undisturbed by the spear. He grabbed the tip with little effort, holding it in place.
'Shit!' Asfi's eyes widened. She let go of the spear, retreating backward to safety before the enemy retaliated.
"I'm impressed," Wisla admitted, removing the spear, his blood spilling freely, still mortally red.
His eyes followed the assailant as if she were perfectly visible. "You lowly germs have achieved much without harnessing the immaterium."
"I failed," Asfi muttered in shame. She had blown a perfect critical attack to end this fight quickly.
"Don't be."
A voice answered her.
The daemon looked around for the source of the voice, finding none.
"I doubted you would have managed from the start."
With that, the former Great Sage unleashed his Magic Eater behind the daemon, the shockwave catching Wisla by surprise and sending him flying away into Central Park.
"At least you got him..." Asfi removed her helmet, her expression one of relief that one attack worked.
"It is not done," Fels said, moving toward the edge of the building.
His senses confirmed that... thing was the strongest holder of the dark energy and likely the enemy commander.
If they could take him out, they might be able to free the civilians from the control.
His Familia owl provided him with extra vision to see that the unknown enemy was recovering fast.
"We need to finish him off!"
Meanwhile, with Wisla, the daemon was forced to feed upon some of the souls he's been collecting to regenerate.
Quickly asserting his position, he realized he was not out of the range of the ritual.
The battlefield was still hot, and Olivas and that short blonde were still occupying one another.
"I admit, you caught me by surprise, corpse." The daemon brushed his robes, as if the blunt impact had done nothing to him.
The duo of item makers descended from the tall buildings, landing on each side, circling the cultist.
"Corpse?" Asfi muttered in confusion, but didn't stay stuck on it for long.
Fels meanwhile did not know how the cultist managed to discover his condition without even laying an eye on him properly, this only made the enemy even more dangerous.
Wisla assessed the two carefully. "You are all that is to confront me? What a disappointment."
He raised his horrid staff. "I suppose I will entertain you two until the requirements are fulfilled."
"Perseus," Fels called through the Oculus, his voice reaching his temporary ally perfectly from the distance. "We attack together."
Asfi's hands shook lightly; an unknown enemy with unknown capabilities was not the most favored opponent, but she wasn't going to back down from this fight.
Power conjured, energy began to shift.
Fels tensed, his Magic Eater charged and ready to release a shockwave forward.
The daemon's body began to emit purple lightning. "Before I grant you the mercy of death," Wisla said, his body shaking violently, "be aware that your petty gods wouldn't be receiving your souls!"
With a maniac laugh befitting a daemon, the current Chaos Champion of this unknown realm released a bolt of immaterium lightning from his staff. Realspace cried as the warp tore it apart.
━━━━━━━ ༺𓆩Ω𓆪༻ ━━━━━━━
"Babel Tower is under attack, we need reinforcement!"
A messenger burst into the Adventurers' camp at the Storehouse District, the very place where they had been preparing to storm the Evilus forces beyond the river.
"Do you think we have spare men right now!?" Raul snapped, grabbing the messenger by the collar and physically forcing him to look at the battlefield below.
"Raul, calm down!" Anakitty tried to pry her panicking friend off the poor messenger, but her attempts barely moved him.
The panic wasn't unjustified.
They were under complete encirclement, cultists closing in from all sides.
Raul had even spotted strange, twisted monsters fighting in their ranks.
"Calm down, young one. Panicking won't be in our favor."
A calm, ancient voice cut through the tension.
Goibniu, the patron god of the Goibniu Familia, one of the great smith familias of Orario, calmly lectured the panicking boy, his gaze upon the battle.
His children, alongside the Hephaestus smiths, had been working themselves to exhaustion to support the war effort, creating new weapons, repairing broken ones, forging anything the Adventurers needed to survive another hour.
Without the smiths, the defenders would have been helpless.
Raul's furious gaze shifted from the messenger to the ancient god, his eye twitching violently.
"Calm!?" he repeated, as though the idea itself were insanity. "Anakitty and I spent three hours fighting through hordes of cultists just to drag you out of the damn Bridge of Heroes, and now we're sitting ducks! How am I supposed to be calm!?"
Goibniu hummed quietly in understanding, guilt flickering across his face.
He knew Raul was right. Repairing that old bridge now had been foolishness on his part.
Statues and bridges could be restored.
Lives could not.
"We can't be so negative… morale is important," Anakitty murmured beside him, her voice trembling but refusing to fall into despair.
"Wise words, child," Goibniu agreed softly.
His divine eyes drifted across the battlefield again, the brave adventurers holding the frenzied lines of cultists, and the… things… fighting beside them.
He didn't want to say it aloud,
but he was certain those unknown monsters had once been mortals.
He had no idea how they had been twisted into such abominations.
"Hahaha!!"
A maniacal, deranged laughter ripped through the battlefield.
Rabid men carved their way through cultists and adventurers alike, hacking without direction or sanity, until the carnage opened a path.
The new attackers' mouths were forced open by some unknown metal device embedded deep into their throats. Their eyes burned with nothing but hatred and violence.
Through the newly carved opening, a notorious Evilus commander strode forward, more of the rabid soldiers trailing behind like hounds.
"What a wonderful army you have recruited!" Basram proclaimed, absolutely delighted. "This humble servant has come for your misguided Adventurers' commander!"
Raul and Anakitty's eyes widened, both aware of who he was and what these rabid soldiers were.
"The snake finally showed its head."
Gareth Landrock stepped forward, glaring at the deranged man with a stern look.
"Come forward, Elgram!" Basram demanded, voice full of fanaticism, "the gods demand your end!"
"You've just made my job a lot easier," Gareth replied calmly. Turning to the Ganesha executives beside him, he smiled at one who was eyeing the spirit soldier Warley.
"Don't worry Hashana, I'll smooch your little opsie if you got hurt while fighting!" The dwarf laughed, the Ganesha executives following suit with giggles at their fellow familia member.
"Careful with the laugh, old man, we don't want you to have a heart attack on us," Hashana Dorlia didn't get discouraged by that remark.
He was a mid Level Three and newly promoted to oversee a squad of his own in this war. Getting along with the top chain wasn't hard for him, and the old dwarf liked to tease the new recruits regularly to sharpen them ready.
Gareth huffed, "Don't get carried away with your smart mouth!" before turning to the enemy again, the Ganesha Familia following behind.
He had been scouting for the enemy commander since the start of this raid, he figured that if he severed the head, the rest might scatter.
"Gareth!" Both Anakitty and Raul called after him as he passed.
"You two stay out of it," the dwarf didn't turn as he ordered sharply, allowing no room for argument.
"And Lord Goibniu," Gareth added with a dry grunt, "try not to get sent to heaven, will you?"
The warning beneath the humor was real.
Goibniu chuckled. "Don't worry, Elgram, I'm not that clumsy."
The dwarf closed the distance with the enemy, weapon drawn, the executives matching his pace.
The roar of battle, screams, and explosions echoed around them, but no one moved.
"Show no mercy!"
And like a spark touching oil, the clash erupted without further words.
The ground shattered under their first exchange.
The fight would decide the fate of this entire camp.
━━━━━━━ ༺𓆩Ω𓆪༻ ━━━━━━━
From the south-western district to the Eastern district, specifically the surroundings and interior of the Colosseum, the siege was growing in intensity.
"Where are the weapons!? A quarter of the forces is without weapons!"
The demand was shouted by a Ganesha Familia member, addressing the blacksmith inside the makeshift forge set up in the Colosseum corridors, right next to the refugee halls prepared by the Ganesha Familia.
The smiths were mostly from the Hephaestus Familia, each with different skills and levels, but all sharing one objective: to repair and provide weapons as fast as possible.
"We are going as fast as we could! If you're impatient about it, you have your fists, no!? Fight with them!"
The Familia captain, Tsubaki Collbrande, barked back with an angry scowl. Her irritation was justified—no one understood the pressure the smiths were enduring.
Outside the Colosseum's mostly protected walls, a battlefield of endless waves was being fought without pause.
"Slaughter the life out of them!"
The cultists swarmed the Adventurers with overwhelming numerical advantage, taking many down but suffering heavy casualties of their own.
"Look out!"
One Adventurer shouted, warning of the cultist whose hand reached into his chest!
BOOM!
Suicide bombers.
The cultists' most successful Adventurer killers.
The number of fallen to that tactic had climbed far too high for comfort.
"You pieces of hot garbage!"
Allen Fromel, the fastest, stormed into an entire cluster of cultists with zero hesitation, tearing through their ranks like an axe with his blinding speed and crushing strength. He cut them down one after another with no remorse or mercy.
In the distance, the four Pallum Gulliver Brothers fought a war of their own against twisted monsters.
"Come on, honey, don't you want a piece of me!?"
What used to be an Ishtar Familia executive slithered forward with a body barely human at all.
Perfect faces set atop monstrous, twisted bodies called out seductively to the brothers, voices sweet and melodic, completely mismatched with the warped flesh beneath.
Their bodies were blessed by the She-Who-Thirsts, faces as flawless as the full moon, but everything below the neck was a grotesque mockery of beauty.
The brothers kept their distance, blades ready, evading and luring one warped beauty at a time. They ignored the poisoned whispers of pleasure with iron discipline, waiting for a slip.
And then—
"Agh!"
One of the brothers slashed the leg of one.
The seductive monstrosity collapsed with an inhuman shriek.
"You will never reach her beauty, monster!" declared the eldest, Alfrigg, his spear poised as the perfect weapon to deliver a swift, clean execution to the abomination's head—
"Your soul is mine!"
The others didn't stay idle. One launched Herself at Alfrigg, claws aimed forward while charging.
"Foul beast!" Alfrigg leapt backwards, barely escaping the death blow. His spear only managed to pierce and blind one of the monster's eyes. She glared at him with sheer, animal hatred.
Meanwhile, inside the Colosseum arena, the ground was far from calm.
The Adventurer forces and the cultists were locked in a decisive battle for control of the arena.
If the cultists won here, they would drive the Adventurers into the inner corridors, where they could burn them, bury them, or simply starve them out.
Everyone fighting understood the stakes.
One rear mage commander was especially anxious.
"Caelus Hildr!"
Hedin Selland unleashed a barrage of deadly lightning bolts toward cultist clusters, each strike precise and devastating.
"Agh!!"
Some bolts struck what appeared to be allies, incinerating them along with their enemies.
A catastrophic friendly fire incident to anyone witnessing it.
But Hedin never missed.
"Ahhhh!"
One of the "allies" suddenly screamed skyward, wild energy surging uncontrollably from every inch of his body. The berserker lashed out at friend and foe alike, killing far more Adventurers than cultists.
Hedin raised his hand again.
One bolt. One strike. Instant kill.
He did not enjoy it but was forced to do it.
These berserkers were victims of the new corrupted magic source pouring into Orario. The moment that thing in the skies formed, controlling magic had become agonizingly difficult.
Losing control of magic was already dangerous.
Now?
It meant instant madness or death.
Hedin turned his gaze back to the battlefield. Being a rear mage gave him enough distance to study and observe.
It was pure, absolute chaos.
None of it made sense.
It had been sudden, confusing—and remained so.
All he had managed to deduce was this:
Evilus was now stronger than ever.
They had torn open the sky, using magic he did not recognize.
They drove men insane with mental attacks.
And they were now besieging the Colosseum alongside the Ishtar Familia, who seemed to have picked Evilus' side in this conflict.
At least… what used to be the Ishtar Familia picked Evilus side.
Because Freya have mercy on his soul, this was the first time in his seventy years that he sees such abominations.
"Let's hope that prideful Boaz has secured Freya," he muttered, sweat rolling down his forehead as a massive explosion tore through another cluster of Adventurers.
Ottar had gone to secure their goddess at the Tower of Babel. These times were too dangerous for her to be alone.
CRASH!
A flash of silver landed into the earth near Hedin, kicking up a storm of dust.
From the crater, a dazed Hogni clawed his way out, mumbling grimly:
"Those crazy girls are back…"
…
Hedin understood instantly.
"Oh, Hedin~!"
…
He sighed. Already tired.
"Stand up, Hogni."
He turned toward the source of that high-pitched voice and saw them.
The two most disgusting creatures inhabiting the bodies of two cute elves.
"We missed you two so much!"
The Dis sisters sang in unison.
Their hearts beat faster and faster as their cute elven enemies were now so much closer to one another~
This will be fun.
━━━━━━━ ༺𓆩Ω𓆪༻ ━━━━━━━
Asfi used her Talaria wings to fly out of incoming hellfire, landing harshly as she lost her balance in the sky.
She rolled to her feet skillfully, arms tightening around her dagger.
Fels, meanwhile, maneuvered around another lightning bolt coming toward him with a clever use of the Magic Eater, blasting himself sideways first…
Then unexpectedly firing himself forward with a full-power blast, closing the space between him and the daemon.
"Attack from the top!" Fels commanded Asfi, his Magic Eater already recharging for another strike.
The immortal's gauntlets were aimed directly at the daemon.
There was no escape for him.
"You insects," the daemon spat, his open palm leaking warp into existence.
Realspace tore apart, opening an infernal gateway into the Immaterium right in front of Fels.
If Fels still possessed flesh, his eyes would have been as wide as physically possible.
Nothing but despair stared at him from within the gate. The mere sight made the mage's mind rupture with daemonic incursion, the entities clawing at his consciousness, trying to hatch themselves into his mind.
He couldn't stop his momentum.
He was going to fall in.
And gods only knew what awaited him inside.
"Look out!" Asfi shouted, hurling several containers of highly flammable liquids toward Wisla. They shattered on the daemon, erupting into a massive explosion.
But the blast did little to save the falling Fels.
A miracle occurred instead: a blonde figure slammed into the robed mage mid-air, the impact strong enough to blast both of them away from the gateway of hell.
As Fels hit the ground, relief washed over him, the daemonic whispers fading from his mind. For the first time in centuries, the great sage was thankful his body was nothing more than light bones.
His eye sockets locked onto his savior, only to meet the enraged face of Finn.
"Damn bastard!" the pallum cursed, eyes darting toward the lightly injured Olivas, who was slowly rejoining his inflamed ally.
"Are you two alright!?"
The prodigy of item-making rushed to her allies, pulling them up before the enemy could recover.
"I'm alright—eyes on the freaks!" Finn barked, regaining his composure with superhuman quickness as he focused on the enemy again.
Wisla's body was burning away, flames eating through his flesh without pause.
Then, with a simple click of his fingers, all flames vanished. Only the charred remainder of his form stood there.
"Your recklessness saved the corpse, Olivas," the daemon said casually, new skin already crawling across his body like living wax.
"Don't worry. We will finish them together," the commander of Evilus added with a sadistic smile, cracking his knuckles. "I haven't felt this strong since my first level-up!"
Wisla closed his eyes, diving his awareness into the pool of souls and emotions flooding the entire city.
"No. No more games with insects," the daemon muttered suddenly.
His eyes snapped open, glowing faintly.
"It's time."
Olivas raised an eyebrow—then realization struck him.
His lips twisted into an even crueler smile.
"Then… light the stage."
Wisla turned back to the Adventurers. His daemonic eyes crawled over every one of them.
"You have fought well, mortals. But in the end, it amounts to nothing, for the Architect of Fate sponsors my very existence!" the daemon proclaimed, letting out a mocking, theatrical chuckle.
The Adventurers were taken aback by his certainty.
"What do you mean by that, you crazy zealot!?" Finn demanded, choosing information over impulse.
If they could uncover their schemes, they could prevent them.
"Enough childish games."
He raised his staff toward the heavens.
"Witness true sorcery!"
The staff ignited with unnatural brilliance.
Then lights began flickering toward it from every direction in the city.
Black, white, red, green—every color rushed toward the staff, obediently forming a growing sphere that shrieked and howled like people in pain.
"Are those... souls!?" It was Asfi who asked the ridiculous question, her eyes wide.
Yet they couldn't deny it fully.
These lights carried faces—distinct faces—their cries audible.
It was a horrific sight that made the Adventurers freeze.
The atmosphere began to change. The sunlight began to disappear completely.
Glancing up, the reason was blinking back at them.
Literally!
The Eye of Terror blinked wide open. The abomination grew larger, completely cutting off any and all chances of the sun and moon glowing over Orario.
"What in the gods' name…" All of them were at a loss for words.
"Your shock is much appreciated," the daemon sounded almost sincere, "with each emotion given, the root of the Immaterium grew ever stronger."
Fels turned to the monster, taken aback by the claim. "You harness emotions? How is that possible!?"
"A cry of pain, fear of death, the plight of every living being is nothing but energy awaiting harnessing by me, corpse." The daemon answered truthfully.
"Why do this!? What is your goal, you monster!?" Asfi burst out in rage—rage that likely fueled this madman's plans.
The daemon smiled, sharp teeth visible. "The Weaver of Ways demands complicated methods in exchange for his help!"
"The death of 'innocents' in the hands of so-called 'heroes' is the most unique method, is it not!?" He laughed madly, reveling in the taunting.
Finn's fist shook from anger, but he didn't launch himself at the madman just yet.
Wisla began to be engrossed in his crazed delight. "So little Immaterium influence forced my hand to gather the filth of psykers of your society, and I—so brilliantly—discovered that this… this dungeon is a natural anomaly against your gods' power, the world's weakest point. All this accumulated masterfully together!"
The hysteria in his voice was beginning to creep them out.
The daemon's hands were wide, taking in the sight of the growing sphere of souls. "Praise be the gods of cha—!"
His words died, cut off as only a gulp of blood slipped out of his mouth.
Olivas turned almost instantly, eyes going wide, landing on what caused this.
A massive sword was stabbing the Chaos champion from the back, its blade tearing through his chest.
"You will stop this nuisance. I have a more important opponent to face."
The wielder of the massive sword spoke with a distasteful voice, the annoyance visible on his features.
"Warlord—!" Olivas jumped back in fright, the color draining from his face. "When?—how!?" He questioned in confusion. How couldn't he detect him, even with all his boosts!?
Ottar let out a huff at Olivas. "You were not worth my swing." Then he turned to Wisla. "Unlike you, stranger."
"Way to go, Warlord!" Asfi cheered from the distance, her expression brightening.
Fels was about to sigh in relief when he noticed something important: the souls were still pouring toward the sphere.
Finn noticed as well. "Ottar, finish him!" he urged the Boaz, his thumbs twitching wildly, a sign of impending danger.
Ottar didn't need to swing twice. "His heart is destroyed. He is dead," he revealed, fully assured of his assessment. He couldn't feel a heartbeat nor a breath taken.
He retrieved his greatsword, Wisla's body slamming to the ground…
Yet the sphere continued to grow, showing no sign of stopping.
The Boaz ignored Olivas, walking past the body toward Finn, Fels, and Asfi, intending to ask about Freya's whereabouts.
Olivas didn't dare approach his new ally. In fact, he was too shocked to even run. He simply stared at Wisla's unmoving body...
Then it twitched…
The air thickened, burning the lungs of everyone who inhaled it.
"Haha…" A weak laughter erupted.
"HAHAHAHA!!"
The daemon's body shot upward without caring for deadly injuries, his bloodied chest healing instantly.
Ottar was taken aback but not for long, he turned to finish the job when—
"You cannot stop fate!"
Wisla lifted his staff again, initiating the final steps.
"Tzeentch wills my triumph!" he proclaimed.
The sphere of souls shot upward toward the Eye of Terror, thousands upon thousands of screams echoing—some horrifyingly recognizable.
A great collision followed, sending the warp storm into a frenzy. Wild lightning escaped it, igniting entire neighborhoods.
Those remaining in the city were horrified, fearing they would be struck next.
But their fear was misplaced.
Battlefields froze, all eyes turning upward toward the Eye of Terror.
The tear widened further. Shrieks of warp entities escaped from the slowly opening warp gate.
Everyone heard them—even the gods this time.
From the gaps, a massive structure began to ascend, so colossal it resembled a second Tower of Babel.
It struggled to pierce the barriers of realspace, but soon a glass-shattering sound erupted across the city, indicating success.
Hedin barely looked at the anomaly before returning to the crazy Dis sisters, who remained entirely unconcerned.
To the southeast, Gareth and his forces stopped to witness the Eye of Terror changing.
Even the enemy stopped, except for the spirit soldiers, who forced Gareth and the Ganesha Familia to refocus on them.
Anakitty's hair rose in fear, while Raul's body shook as he witnessed yet another horror forming.
Goibniu placed his arms over their shoulders, expression grim. "Do not break, young ones. Enduring is the answer."
The god and the adventurers were too focused on the sky to notice a spirit soldier, missing its torso from an axe hit, slowly dragging itself toward them with one hand, the other wielding a blade…
Just a few neighborhoods away, beyond the river, the loyalist Evilus witnessed the anomaly with mixed feelings.
Some saw it as the adventurers' downfall. Others thought it meant their own downfall.
"Quite the sight, if you ask me," Vito muttered from atop the building they stood on. "You don't see a cloud spitting a building every day."
Valleta was fuming, the idea that their traitorous forces were likely the ones enabling all this to happen made her fury grow hotter.
Her hands would tear those backstabbing cunts apart.
Returning to Babel, the gods themselves witnessed the event from the balconies.
"Ouranos you fucking nut job, just let us use our divinity!"
One demanded in anger, the rest followed.
"At this point I agree..." Loki muttered, not trying to quell the voices of angry gods.
This situation was fucked, after all.
A Silver Tower of Tzeentch, carrying an entire warband of Thousand Sons forces, had successfully, by the will of Tzeentch himself, entered the unknown realm.
"Hahaha!" The daemon laughed in triumph, his followers joining him from all across the battlefields.
They had won.
It was over.
━━━━━━━ ༺𓆩Ω𓆪༻ ━━━━━━━
Chaos threat: 999999%!!!
━━━━━━━ ༺𓆩Ω𓆪༻ ━━━━━━━
"Kill…!!!"
The spirit soldier lunged at Goibniu of all people, the god finally sensing the enemy's presence!
"Goibniu-sama!" Raul and Anakitty turned, hands darting to their weapons.
Goibniu moved to evade—
FWOOOSH!
Only for Lord Goibniu to vanish from sight, leaving behind a beam of golden light where he stood, and the spirit soldier completely vaporized.
Lord Goibniu had been sent to Heaven, rendering the entire Goibniu Familia, one of the largest and most important smith familias, falna-less.
The Goibniu Familia no longer existed.
An astronomical blow to the war effort.
…
But the very reason Orario would live for another day.
━━━━━━━ ༺𓆩Ω𓆪༻ ━━━━━━━
"Hahaha—!!!"
Wisla's laughter died as a tower of light pierced the veil of the warp—
A golden tower of divinity.
The return of a god to the realm above.
It shot cleanly through the warp storm, tearing through corruption, breaking the ritual apart, and fracturing the Eye itself for precious seconds.
Seconds enough for the warp gate to collapse instantly now that the divine energy of Heaven could reach the city once more.
The gate snapped shut around the Silver Tower, cutting it cleanly in half.
The Tower of Gold vanished suddenly, leaving fading radiance behind.
And the immaterium, with no opposition remaining, slowly crawled back into the city.
Yet the Silver Tower, despite its broken state, was still a colossal structure.
A colossal structure now free-falling through the sky without a stop.
BOOOOOOM!
A great impact shook the entire city.
Entire neighborhoods collapsed instantly.
Structures flattened, streets split, homes crushed, killing anyone hiding within or near them.
Daedalus Street was completely leveled, the falling tower carving through it like a guillotine.
The Silver Tower plunged deep, striking the hidden Knossos dungeon beneath it, collapsing several routes while connecting itself with the deeper ones.
On the surface, even in ruins, the fallen tower remained one of the tallest structures standing, second only to the Tower of Babel and the Colosseum.
Nearly 80% of its original inhabitants had either died or been left behind on the Planet of the Sorcerers.
However…
The remaining 20% were anything but helpless.
━━━━━━━ ༺𓆩Ω𓆪༻ ━━━━━━━
Chaos threat: 90%
━━━━━━━ ༺𓆩Ω𓆪༻ ━━━━━━━
The End.
Long ass chapter bruh
I don't think it is too good but at least it features a big change in narrative (I think it does?)
Skipped the Ishtar Familia scenes cuz I was lazy
Anyway, was researching Warhammer 40k as usual when I came to this paragraph about the Silver Tower of Tzeentch, which are featured I think in both the 40k universe and the fantasy universe
Leaving that be, I really have a terrible memory lol Many shit in this chapter is just straight-out OC lore so forgive me nerdy guy who noticed those stuff, 40k and Danmachi have rich storytelling and cannot be fully integrated without flaws
One guy said: "why people always bring chaos into these crossovers?"
Answer: because it was boring as fuck, it was just a random guy with a shovel bruh, he wouldn't have impacted much on the world as a whole
Now Krieger has a chance to be considered a hero/great blasphemer in the Danmachi world, potentially having a rank in the Bridge of Heroes...
Maybe that's a far stretch but we will see what will happen.
Anyway, kinda rushed this chapter because I literally don't care anymore and just want to write for fun and not with my brain
Sorry if I am being rude but life has been rough lately :(
Enough gloom, next chapter will feature:
Eva, Leah and Krieger alone
The one after it will feature:
The Silver Tower and what is going on inside it
Good roadmap huh?
It's not good I know, you don't have to tell me
I guess that's it...
Cya