[3,402 DMG to Lord Monty]
Monty: What the—
[Noah — Shove My Religious Beliefs Down Your Throat]
[He then stuffs the flute into Monty's gaping mouth, down his neck. Monty chokes and screams as the sacred lightning fills his body.]
[17,305 DMG to Lord Monty]
[Noah takes the flute out of his throat and brings Monty into a choke-hold with the flute. He closes his eyes, bracing himself.]
Noah: Pamina, forgive me.
Monty: Oh, believe me, jackass, she's the last person you need to worry about right now—
[Noah — Kamikaze Swear]
Noah: Shut the vog up, you limp-dicked, piss-for-brains wanker!
[All the world is silent for one brief moment. Noah looks up to the sky, wondering what's taking so long.]
Noah: I said, shut the vog up, you limp-dicked, piss-for-brains wanker?
[Congratulations, Noah!]
[For your willingness to do the right thing at the cost of your own life, Chopiel, Seraph of Decapitation, has elected to reward you by pardoning your breach of the Healer's Code!]
Noah: Are you SHITTING ME?
[That one is also forgiven!]
Noah: I'm trying to have Chopiel kill him, you daft bastard! It's very voggin' selfish and reckless! And it's not much of a voggin’ sacrifice if I'm gonna get vogged up either way!
[And you’re doing a great job, Noah. The Gods are very proud of you.]
[Noah — Plan B]
[Screaming with rage, Noah bites Monty's neck.]
[12 DMG to Lord Monty]
[Monty bats away the flute, pulls Noah off his back, and puts his hands around Noah's neck, grinning.]
[Monty — Strangle]
Monty: “A master should never regret his powers. The wolf mourns not the rabbit, he devours.”
[Noah gags. Cheering. The onlookers chant“Kill! Kill!”]
Monty: “The blade mourns not the flesh, it only maims. The man mourns not your princess, only claims.”
[Noah's face turns blue. He starts to lose consciousness.]
Monty: “The priest in agony deserves no tear, from those who know no master and no—”
[Azhera — Swoop]
[Suddenly, an otherworldly screech causes Monty to lose his concentration. From the gaping tunnel in the palace formed by Monty's energy discharge earlier comes a strange woman with claws, wings, and a tail, carrying the missing leader of the Chosen Three, Era, in her talons.]
[Diving low, she drops him into the crater—]
Era: Hi.
[—and dives toward the camera crew—]
Legate Todd: RUN!
[—grabbing Legate Todd and a cameraman by their necks and flying into the sky. Todd looks into the camera.]
Legate Todd: Brothers of the GU, looks like it's curtains for me. It has been an honor! Remember to like and subscribe for more details about my funeral and use the hashtag #LegateToddForever when you—
[Azhera bites his head off. The live broadcast ends.]
Chapter 27
The Pyrite Palace Incident, Part II
Limping his way through the crater where the stage once was, it took every ounce of energy in Era's body just to approach the Dark Lord.
Let's assess the situation. Liv? KO'd. Noah? Terrified, being strangled. Ofelia, Branwen? KO'd, catatonic. Monty? Doing the aforementioned strangling.
Okay, he's probably gonna notice me in a second. Deep breaths. Stick to the plan. Gotta keep the eyes open. Sleep is death.
“It's about time you showed up, Rosie.” called Monty. “How does it feel, knowing that your healer's gonna die a virgin?”
Stick...to the plan...
[Era — Jimmy Rustler]
“Great job,” said Era, his voice raspy and his throat littered with Necrylic dust. “Looks like you two finally found something in common.”
[Monty's jimmies were rustled!]
Monty's grip loosened on Noah's neck, dropping him. A stifled laugh or two broke out from the spectating warriors. Noah drew in heaving breaths as he lay on the ground.
“Then it's settled,” said Monty, with a sneer. “I was gonna go with the 'ridiculous, speedy overkill' school of Rosie murder, but 'slow and painful' it is.”
“Kill the Rosie!”
“This is for Jauncliffe!”
“Chop his other leg off!”
“Waste him!!”
Now only inches away from Era, Monty grabbed him by his hair. Era groaned at the sting of his greasy fist yanking at his scalp.
“Well, Rosie, funny how it comes to this. After all that hard work, all that...”
Truth be told, Monty had worked very hard on the rest of that dramatic and braggadocious pre-murder speech for Era, but to the level one, sleep-deprived, Necrylic poisoned husk of an elvish fencer that Era had become, it came out more as “me strong, you weak, freedom freedom freedom, alpha male stuff,” some muffled yelling, and animal noises.
Dammit, Era, focus...stick to the plan, take the shot now! If you fail here, you'll end up getting everyone killed, and end up proving how weak you are, and—
Wait.
[Era's Mind — Rephrase]
Give 'em hell, Slasher. You got this.
Phase one: “Using the Enemy's Ideology Against Them.”
With a grin, Era interrupted the crescendo of Monty's speech. “Faaantastic, your manliness. I've got something to say, too.”
“You shut your rosie mouth while I'm—”
“OH, I’m sorry!” Era belted out the best cartoonish sarcasm he could muster, in spite of the toxins clogging his throat. “I didn't know I was about to trigger you! I can't believe how soft that PC CULTURE has made our Dark Lords these days! Whatever happened to freedom of speech?”
Murmurs throughout Monty's peanut gallery silenced his angry rebuttal. Thoric, stepping up from behind his brother, whispered, “My Lord, I'd suggest we let the baby have his bottle, or we'll be weeding out potential traitors in the ranks well into next week.”
With a grumble, Monty let go of Era's hair and took two steps back. “You have sixty seconds for your little speech.”
Era raised an eyebrow. “Go higher.”
“THIRTY SECONDS!”
“Fine, geez.” Okay. Phase two: “Can I Get a Suggestion.”
“Look, I won't tell you anything you haven't already been told about 'elves and women are people' and 'hospitals aren't designed for explosions' and whatnot. I just have a question: why would you go to all this trouble making a whole army out of male teen angst, begging, borrowing, and stealing a bunch of Neverstones, trekking through Pohjola and Kobalheim, just to set up shop in a goblin castle—”
“Bored!” said Monty, raising his spear.
Crap. Cut to the chase. “ —when all you had to do was put the Jade Crown on someone, kill them, and win the whole world's respect for it?”
Monty lowered the spear. “Excuse you?”
“See, if I were Dark Lord, I wouldn't bother with the Chosen Heroes or nothin'. I'd just plop the Jade Crown on the nearest available good-for-nothing chump—for example, your idiot brother who couldn't think of this strategy to save his life—and waste him with a single spear thrust?
You'd make him a Dark Lord. Not only that, but you'd make him the second Dark Lord you've killed. You'd be worshiped as a hero again, have your face on all the cereal boxes—maybe even get that stupid medal you wanted?
Princess Pamina'd be all, 'Wow, Monty, great job, my mom was wrong, you really were a hero after all, and look at those muscles! What my mother did to you was a great injustice, and as Crown Princess, it is my duty to make up for it. Name your reward, anything in my kingdom, and it's yours.'
And you'd be all like, 'Rawr, shut up and give me the medal of the golden fleece, all your money, every elf's head on a silver platter, and ten million girlfriends!' And she'd go, 'Sure thing, sugar! See you in the hot tub!'
And the best part? You'd get a free wish on top of that. The Jade Crown w
ould still be sitting around for whatever else you'd like. Maybe a better weapon, each and every cheeseburger, or some deodorant for once in your life.
How long did it take you to make this army? Compare that to how long it would have taken to do it my way. All the GU and this 'Ulfenstadt' thing amounted to was a massive waste of your time. Speaking of which—Noah, how many seconds do I have left?”
Noah screamed, “What in Argo’s name are you DOING?”
“Faaaantastic.” You'll see, buddy.
[Era — Jimmy Rustler]
“Now, Legate Thoric—and ten G says you're the brains of the outfit—would you kindly explain why you gave your brother dear such a garbage world-domination plan?”
Now that the speech was over, Era realized that his eyes had been closed for the entire second half. Gods, I'm tired. Phase three better be quicker, or I'll probably just take a nap and wait for the grim reaper.
[Thoric's jimmies were rustled!]
“First of all,” spat Thoric, “you are obviously drunk.”
“I've got Necrylic poisoning, super-genius.”
“Is that what they're calling it these days? No matter. If it were as simple as you claim to obtain the Jade Crown's wish, why hasn't it been done countless times before?”
“Maybe because I'm brilliant and everyone else isn't?”
“Because the only way a Dark Lord can succeed is through the defeat of the Chosen Three! Besides, the GU isn't about just getting a wish. It's about sending a message to the whole world that strength and manhood are nothing to be ashamed of, and...oh, for the Gods' sake, Monty, what are you doing?”
Monty held the Jade Crown in his hand and wore an evil grin. “That's 'My Lord' to you.”
“You don't seriously intend to carry out that idiot's suggestion?” Thoric trembled a little. “I'm your brother.”
“Don't be such a pansy, Thoric. Not on you.” Monty's gaze turned to Era. “I'm just saying, what if we did both? Make the Rosie the Dark Lord, then kill him?”
Thoric laughed, if only out of relief. “Excellent reasoning, My Lord.”
Phase 2 successful. Executing phase 3: “It's Gonna Hurt When You Pee Forever.”
“Rosie,” said Monty, twirling the crown on his finger, “I just want to let you know, before we send you to Hell as a Dark Lord... That extra wish? It's gonna be for the extinction of the whole Elvish race. So, thanks for the help.”
Monty turned Era around, kicked him to his knees, and slam-dunked the crown on his head.
[Era became a Dark Lord!]
[...not that it'll be of much help...]
Yeah, thanks for your opinion, captions. Once I get the Jade Crown's theriomancy working—
Monty raised his spear, again.
[Lord Monty — Attack]
[Era has 4 seconds to live!]
Oh crap. Stall. STALL!
[Era — Emergency Jimmy Rustler]
[4 seconds!]
“So, how does it feel...”
[3 seconds!]
“...to have started a war...”
[2 seconds!]
“...because you didn’t get a medal?”
[1 second]
“Did you want a participation trophy?”
[Attack interrupted!]
[Lord Monty's jimmies were heavily rustled!]
Monty threw the spear to the side. “Oh, that's right!” he growled. “We weren't gonna make this quick and painless, were we? Thanks for reminding me. Let's see...you like birds?”
“Damn right I do.” Era brought his palms facing each other, as Titania had told him. Come on, how do I activate this crown?
“Well, you know what a 'blood eagle' is?” Cheers came from the sidelines.
“Wow, interesting, what's that?” Come on come on...uh, level 1...insect...stay calm, clear the mind...
“No spoilers or nothin',” said Monty, as Thoric passed him a fire axe, “but it involves your ribcage, and we'll need your back exposed.”
Go figure that this is the time I forget Titania's instructions... No, I didn't forget. I'm doing all the mental steps right for generating a level 1 monster, but...
“Monty, don't!” said Noah, held back by centurions.
Monty circled his victim. He drew his boot dagger, slipped the blade under Era's sweater, and slashed the cloth open from the bottom, exposing his naked back. Monty's eyes glistened with hunger.
A pure, concentrated anger filled Era as he realized what he had done.
That's Gena's sweater, you son of a bitch.
Anger became clarity.
Clarity became determination.
Determination...
[Era — Theriogenesis]
...became a level 1 Daggerfly, sitting patiently in Era's palms, awaiting psychic instructions.
Go, my child.
The wasp shot from Era's hands. Some of the spectators noticed, and tried to point out that the prisoner had done something unusual, but they were drowned out by chants of, “Blood eagle! Blood eagle!” from the majority.
Monty raised the axe far above his head, and as he gave a final, “Wolf mourns not the rabbit, baby!” before trying to crack open the contents of Era's ribcage before a bunch of thrilled fascists...
...he just barely felt the sensation of a bug brushing up the hairs of his thighs, fluttering into the right leg of his cargo shorts, towards his crotch.
[Daggerfly — Sting of Agony]
[2 DMG to Lord Monty]
[Hit 27 times!]
The axe fell from Monty's hands.
Meanwhile, in King Gregor's bedchambers...
Gregor Koschei, having grown bored of the GU's livestream after assuming victory was inevitable, killed time on his computer. While gleaning over the stolen personal information of activists, he opened an email labeled “FWD: WinSpire Me! Grant request.” In a sudden and rare display of generosity, he replied in the affirmative, approving the transfer of 4,000,000 G into an arts program for low-income teens in Cape Dartley.
Meanwhile, in a train station in Rosencrace...
Maria Coldflower, the La Toza College Prep Homecoming Queen of 5205, had long assumed that her high school sweetheart, Jake Maltii, died in the Fall of Rosencrace. Hint after hint on social media led her to believe that camping out in the cold train station that night would lead to different answers. That night, the station's security guard approached her and said, “Ma'am, you've been sitting in that spot since 11:00 last night. Are you okay?” His badge read “J. MALTII.” For all those interested, the wedding is on December 24th.
Meanwhile, at Imperial City University...
Having worked without sleep for the past 29 hours, first year alchemy students discovered a strange reaction between dragon's fang enamel residue, once believed to be nothing but poison, and the Catalyst-A Catastrophic Ketosis virus, which was the carrier of a once—and, as of 5:11 PM, no longer—incurable terminal disease. The janitor, hearing this, cried tears of joy, knowing that his son would have another chance at life.
Meanwhile, in a modest bungalow in a Dunngatian suburb...
Polly Tungstein, a rosy-cheeked dwarf of seven years, surprised her parents with homemade dinner for their wedding anniversary. Though it was mere minutes before Mr. and Mrs. Tungstein left for their dinner reservation—and the meal was only milk and cereal—Mr. and Mrs. Tungstein were thrilled and inspired nonetheless by their daughter's thoughtfulness. The rest of the evening went even better than they imagined—as a cozy night at home, watching old movies.
Back in the Pyrite Palace...
The scream made by Lord Monty was anything but human. At best, it was that of a dying mandrill. His eyes bulged as he lay on the ground, wriggling and curling up in a living nightmare. It was only two damage, but the effect on the victim was in the twelve digit range. It was as if a football-sized meteor made of diamond had meandered across time and space itself for the sole purpose of entering Kobalheim's atmosphere, reaching terminal velocity, and annihilating his groin—a cruel trick of
the Gods.
But this was not the work of Gods. God is dead; there is only Crotch Wasp.
Era allowed himself no more than two seconds to enjoy the sound of Monty's agony, but made certain to remember the exact timbre, pitch, and cadence of his screams for the rest of his days. Phase 3 successful. The elf mourns not your gonads.
When the two seconds were up, Era scrambled to his feet. Engage phase 4: an average day in Parliament. First, he'd grab the Neverstone on the spear, then heal Noah, then have Noah heal the others, then escape. The chaos would have been just enough to—
“Rosie!”
Thoric grabbed him by the edge of his torn sweater and threw him against the ground. The edge of Thoric's staff rested against his neck as he readied one of his more painful spells.
“What did you do?” he asked.
Dammit. Not yet. “I think Monty's having a heart attack. You should go help him.”
“Enough of your games, Rosie! You're going to tell me exactly what you did to my brother, or by Argo's...” Thoric's elaborate threats were drowned out by the sound of Monty's screams, howls...and sobs.
[Centurion Brent — Headsman's Blow]
Abandoning the elf, Thoric turned just in time to interrupt an attempt on Monty's life.
[Legate Thoric — Thunderclap]
Neverstone: A LitRPG Adventure (The Mad Elf Book 1) Page 43