by J. J. Pavlov
"I will protect Her Majesty until she emerges from the Forerunners Chamber." Nodding while leaning on his staff, Mithra replies in his ever-neutral tone despite the overt hostility the princess showed him just now.
"We will split up then. Tamariki and I will go to the courtyard. You bring Miss Kamii and Lady Nightwane to the inner sanctum." Ninlil makes the decision on her own, but Kamii steps forward and raises her crab pincer.
"I will fight." She hasn't been training for nothing.
"So will I." Daica has removed her gas mask and announces with a determined expression. She even seems to have forgotten her stutter despite being in front of so many people she isn't exactly close with. Maybe that gimp suit with tubes running across its surface is the reason for her newfound confidence.
"Then stay by my side." Asoko lays down the condition. She hasn't had the time to explain who she is yet, but it seems that Daica has at least convinced Kamii that this other Chaos is trustworthy. "No running off on your own."
With these words, she leads the group away from the Forerunners Chamber. At the corner of the corridor, she glances at Mithra one last time, as he remains before the metal door unmoving like a faithful watchdog.
They wordlessly make their way down the stairs and toward the entrance hall. There are several entry points to the interior of the castle, but aside from the main gate, all others are well-hidden. Therefore, the human troops can only make a frontal assault, unless they have somebody helping them on the inside.
No demon would collaborate with an army hellbent on the eradication of every last one of them, so the defensive line in the entrance hall should keep them in a bottleneck. The possibility that the enemy could break through as quickly as they have through the kirali warriors is nil.
But that thought is why they're taken by complete surprise when they round the corner to the corridor leading toward the throne room and find combat maids fighting human soldiers. Asoko instantly recognizes Yrushi's red cap and sees Amerega among those in the back. She's casting melded spells from the water and wind elements she commands to slow down the movements of the enemies.
The maids are quality over quantity, amounting to only a dozen who barely hold the line against a numerically far superior enemy force. But the humans appear to be elites as well, their uniform equipment belying their individual skills.
So far, only two of them have fallen, blood visibly seeping out of the holes in their visors as they lie on the ground. The maids are in a desperate struggle as they threaten to be overwhelmed. Yrushi, a melee specialist, is already bleeding from many small cuts all over her body. And even her oversized weapon is unable to damage the heavy armor of the enemies.
Without needing to say a word, Asoko's group springs into action all at the same time.
Chapter 97 - Rise of the Rangatira
"I miss you so." Pelomyx sits on a bare obsidian throne and extends a hand toward the towering spirit of her late husband, Aldeath Rangatira. He returns her gaze with a smile but doesn't speak. Then he turns his head to regard the other spirits floating in the otherwise empty circular hall.
The Forerunners Chamber is a barebones room with no decorations on either the floor or the walls, with pillars holding up the ceiling steeped in darkness. The throne at the center lacks all ornaments and appears to have been cut from a single boulder of onyx.
Only the reigning monarch of the Dominion may sit in it. Upon doing so, the spirits of the previous generations will visit them. They're aware of the goings-on in the present and provide counsel or shower them with ridicule if they find one's rule lacking.
"But this is a poor representation of you." Stopping short of touching the ethereal form of her husband, Kuroe Yumiko balls her fist. Aldeath's spirit flickers out along with those of the others, leaving her alone in the dark chamber. Then, holographic screens begin to appear all around her, displaying various moving images that show the interior of the castle.
The main gate was broken down by a young female mage who cast a type of magic she has never seen before. At least not in this world. It reminded her of something she has seen in one of her daughter's beloved movies.
It was plasma, cutting through steel like a hot knife through butter. She had to watch a dozen kirali guards get cut down by it as well before the spell dissipated. It created an opening that allowed the Electi to break through the defensive line in the courtyard.
The battle in the entrance hall has already been lost. The few remaining kirali guards made sure to hold the enemy back long enough for the girls to survive. That way, the maids sustained no losses during their retreat. Still, many are injured and won't be able to continue fighting.
Even with all this, Pelomyx instead has her eyes on three intruders who entered the castle by other means around the same time as the front gate fell. Since it's still bright outside, the gargoyles of Arkaim aren't active yet, allowing the Fatas to dominate the skies. Although there are flying demon soldiers in the city, few of the maids are among them, which created a blind spot above the castle. These individuals used that blind spot to descend from the flying fortress directly into the castle grounds.
One of them is heading for where her child is helping the maids defend the main corridor of the right wing. Another is heading toward the inner sanctum.
The third has disappeared from all camera feeds and must be well aware of the surveillance capabilities of the castle. That's the one Pelomyx is especially looking out for, hoping to catch a glimpse of their towering cloaked form.
"Your Majesty." Mithra's voice echoes in the silence of the Forerunners Chamber. Looking up, she sees her court magician standing before her while leaning on his staff as usual. "They are in place."
"What about Rewera?" Waving at the holographic screens, Pelomyx flips through different cameras to find the entrance of the inner sanctum. She ordered the maid leader to stay there and defend the non-combatants in case the invaders make it into the castle. However, only a group of combat maids are guarding it, and Rewera is nowhere to be seen.
"She has left her post with a group of maids." The court magician replies, no hint of an emotion in his voice.
"Damn." Balling her fist, the demon queen grinds her teeth. "Why are these children all so eager? Maybe I should have been colder toward them."
"It is what it is. Please prepare yourself." Mithra raises his staff and points at the feed showing the entrance hall. It displays six humans who appear out of place with their dirty and cheap-looking clothes among all the shiny armors of the Electi. They run up the stairs toward the right wing, accompanied by two dozen Electi and one Chosen Knight. It seems that they are of particular importance to the human side.
The floating woman staying behind while flanked by a Chosen Knight on each side suddenly looks straight into the camera as if aware of its position. Her drowsy eyes belie the sinister glint in them, as she smiles for a moment before turning around and raising her staff to give orders.
"I wonder whether or not she is aware of her role in all of this." Pelomyx leans back on the bare throne with a scoff. She knows very well that the woman is the Guide of Tomorrow, the goddess of future and fortune. "It would be ironic if she were not."
"You may rest assured that none of them know." Replying with a rare show of emotions, Mithra employs a warm tone. He seems to glean something in the queen's gaze and tilts his head slightly. "Are you worried about her?"
Pelomyx lets her eyes wander to the screen with her daughter bursting out into her true form and charging into the Electi. Ninlil and Tamariki are both there, and only four Chosen Knights stand on the enemy side, so they should be able to handle it. Even the two dark elves are doing their part.
"I am. About all of them." Extending a hand toward the screen, she replies truthfully.
"They have nothing to worry about, Your Highness." Mithra turns his head away at these words. "The first will arrive soon."
At these words, his form distorts as if being pulled toward a point in the center of
his chest. It creates a vortex that draws his entire body in. Then he disappears, and reality snaps back into place without making a sound.
With a wave of both her hands, the holographic screens filling her field of view disappear. Their absence steeps the room in a twilight created by the luminescent lines running across the floor in a radial pattern around the throne. Looking up at the distant ceiling, Yumiko heaves a long sigh.
Then Queen Pelomyx lowers her gaze, gathers her feelings, and looks at the door, focused and ready.
Rolan and the others feel out of place among the Electi, who appear to be guarding them. That sense of alienation is exacerbated by the earlier incident with the innocent demon family, so there's an air of animosity looming over the group.
The only reason the imperial soldiers haven't tried to apprehend them yet is that Framtith, the Guide of Tomorrow, marked Rolan as a hero of this age. Throughout history, there have been a few such people, each one of them performing feats worthy of song. Gulbrand, Lord of the Forge, was one such person.
According to the goddess of time, his future actions supposedly raise him into the ranks of these outstanding individuals.
But unlike what the group intended, they're now being protected like people of great importance, surrounded by two dozen Electi led by one Chosen Knight. They started with far more, but many split up from them during their advance through the castle to keep their path of retreat clear.
After all, the objective today doesn't seem to be the total subjugation of Arkaim, the capital of the Dominion, but the death of Demon Queen Pelomyx. At this point, it has become impossible for Rolan to say that he doesn't want any part in it. Killing the queen will lead to the deaths of countless innocent demons. But he will surely be attacked by the Electi or even the Chosen Knights if he were to refuse outright.
"What should we do?" Gram asks the leader in a whisper. He and the others all agree that killing demon civilians is wrong. With the demon queen gone, it will not only directly cause the deaths of those who rely on her corruption to live but also open the Dominion to an unstoppable invasion.
"I don't believe for a moment that I'm absolutely needed, but if Lady Framtith can be believed, then I'm the key to killing Queen Pelomyx." Rolan replies in a hushed tone. Just then, Sigurd suddenly strikes up a conversation with Hreidunn while gesturing at a painting on the wall they're about to pass by. He knows that the leader is about to say something the Chosen Knights and imperial soldiers around them shouldn't hear. "I will try to talk to her."
"Do you think it will be that easy? In her eyes, we're just humans who have come to kill demons. And we're with them." The big man glances at the ephemeral Chosen Knight leading the way. Her name is Numeria, Knight of Mirrors, and she appears to be Framtith's principal champion and personal aide.
Rolan has been agonizing about this matter as well. Why should the demon queen be willing to talk to humans who have slaughtered her people in the streets and then broken into her castle? Making her listen by force could work, but that's not a reasonable basis for negotiations.
As the group thinks hard, they come upon a barricaded area beyond which a dozen female servants wielding various weapons and staves are gathered. Many of them look obviously inhuman, but even Rolan can tell that they seem to have been chosen for their beauty.
"Do not underestimate them." As if having read his mind, Numeria bangs her staff on the floor and speaks in a chastising tone. But when he looks at her, he sees that she was addressing all of them.
Right then, many spells fly toward them from across the barricades. Gram prepares to jump to the front and use his shield to block those heading straight for them, but the Knight of Mirrors angles her staff and points the ring at the approaching magic.
The entire corridor before them suddenly flashes as if a glass window was moved in place. Then the enemy spells hit the transparent barrier and are flung back to their casters. The demon servants quickly gesture with their catalysts as if to dispel or redirect their magic, but the spells appear to be out of their control. Others who haven't cast a spell react by erecting barriers to defend against the reflected magic.
At that moment, everybody understands why Numeria has her title. She didn't have to chant anything and was able to throw several spells back at their casters without any effort. Her mirror was able to fill the whole corridor, so maybe she can cast it over an even bigger area when there's enough space. It would be able to single-handedly shield an entire company of soldiers from enemy magic.
Out of the two dozen Electi that are with them, half charge toward the barrier, six of them forming a wall of tower shields in the front. Not in the least slowed down by the demons throwing their magic at them, they reach the barricades and fall onto one knee. The six following closely behind them unhesitatingly jump onto their shoulders, then use the edges of their shields as another step, before leaping over the spiked barricades and straight into the ranks of the demon servants.
Among them are not only mages, though, and a fight to the death begins. It looks like an even battle, but Numeria gestures for the rest to take this opportunity to advance on the enemy. With their numerical advantage, they will soon overwhelm the defenders.
"You need not participate." The Knight of Mirrors shoots Rolan and the others a cold glare, knowing their lack of resolve. The leader stares at the servants fighting the human soldiers and agonizes over the choice he has to make. Sitting back and not helping either side will only increase the casualties.
He does think that demon civilians are equal to human ones, but those who choose to participate in war should be prepared to die. In that sense, the servants aren't civilians who have taken up arms in desperation but are clearly organized soldiers.
"I do." Rolan finally announces before walking forward and drawing Roshanee, its blinding light announcing that he has found his resolve.
Asoko is enraged. Yrushi lost her left arm from a sneaky enemy wind spell and was subsequently stabbed through the stomach by her direct opponent. Even though she was right beside her, she was unable to protect the maid.
Ninlil and Tamariki have been fighting with the other maids in mind, but even though she's the princess, she has let her physical superiority over the humans get to her head. Somebody else had to pay for her mistake.
Thus, she's making up for it by charging straight at the enemy's backline consisting of two Chosen Knights. Even though they don't speak any incantations, they still need to concentrate for a moment before unleashing their spells. It gives Asoko enough time to interrupt them by flinging one of the soldiers at them.
Tamariki is facing a towering man in a suit of armor that leaves not an inch of skin exposed. The incredibly thin visor on his dome-shaped helmet makes it nearly impossible for anything to find its way inside, either. Even the horned demon's punches are unable to dent his rune-inscribed armor that looks different from the other soldiers. He must be one of the Chosen Knights.
Ninlil is bouncing around with her heavy weapon as if it doesn't weigh a thing. Using pivots and leverage to her advantage, she spins through the air, swings the axe in overhead arches, and barely even touches down on the ground anymore. Even though her weapon is this huge, it doesn't seem enchanted. While it does dent the armor of the gods, it's unable to strike down enemies decisively.
On another front, Kamii is holding her own, weaving in and out of the battle with her dagger while acting as if her crab arm is only dragging her down. She scores several hits with it, which appear to have been accidental. It causes all the soldiers facing her to begin thinking that she's an easy target.
That's when she finally shows the power of her cursed arm. With overwhelming force, she hammers her first target into the ground with a swing that has been charged to the eighth hit. Taken by utter surprise, the next opponent is slammed into the wall with his armor and body bent at the stomach. Using the momentary horror, Kamii crushes two more soldiers before they're able to take their distance, and her combo ends.
; Daica has been staying in the back and wields what appears to be a compact repeating crossbow. Her weapon is too small to utilize regular bolts that could pierce armor. Instead, it's used to deliver small vials of chemicals, which shatter on impact. With unexpectedly practiced movements, she changes the tip of her small bolts between shots depending on the enemy she's facing.
So far, she has killed the second most of the human soldiers after Asoko. Since her alchemy is based on chemistry rather than magic, the blessed armor of the gods is rendered useless before her. The vials, filled with simple explosive concoctions, sticky liquids that harden almost instantly on exposure to the air, and acid that corrodes even steel armor in an instant, make her a difficult opponent to deal with.
Her only drawback is that she will run out of ammunition eventually, but her belts are still filled with plenty of vials for the time being. Thus, they not only hold the line but are able to push the invaders back ever so slightly.
Still, the fact that so many enemies can come up here means that the city outside has completely fallen. And if enemies can make it all the way here from the entrance hall, then they may have reached the inner sanctum as well. Hopefully, the combat maids defending that place are holding out.
Suddenly, a freezing wind billows across the corridor that sends a shiver down everybody's spines. Only Asoko, in her Crawling Chaos form, doesn't notice it and continues to fight. But when the soldiers fall back and open up their lines to reveal a newcomer among them, she stops for a moment.
That person appears to be a boy in his mid-teens - somebody one would barely consider an adult in many parts of this world. Wearing a long-sleeved sweatshirt with light blue trim, and light blue long pants, he looks somewhat anachronistic in this otherwise medieval world.