by Kell Inkston
Oa scoffs. “You can see it clear for yourself with that gaze of yours.”
The overlord grins. “I can.”
“Now, let’s talk about surrender,” Oa begins.
Meeo shakes her head nervously. “Just do it, please.” Her tone, ever gentle, has a note of terror to it.
Chaos grins. “You’re right,” he affirms as he slowly looks back to Oa with a cruel gaze. “There are some things truly beyond redemption. Oa, you die now.” He brandishes the Kingdom Slayer and Monument in tandem, as he prepares to cut down with both. Either would be more than enough to destroy Oa’s body, but the overlord won’t take chances.
Oa’s form droops in fear as its tendons struggle to hold it together. It’s clear that this is but a feint to its true speed and power, however. “I beg of you. We’ve come so close. I can’t die now.”
Chaos laughs. “You fool. How da-” he stops as Meeo draws in a sharp breath.
“I’m not joking, Chaos. Please, right now!”
The High Overlord shrugs with a smile. “If you are truly so opinionated.” He turns to Oa one last time. “I’ll have the La’Coss family sort you out. Farewell.”
All at once, the whole party within the great living graveyard needs to double take from their focus on Oa. Chaos is, without warning, wrapped by a dozen azure-violet ethereal hands— reaching from nothing as they pull at him in immense multitudes of strength. With a start, Chaos is heaved up from Oa and helplessly swept into the air.
“…What’s this?… It cannot be. Vampire magic?” Chaos says in a mix of fascination and dread as he turns to look at Oa. Though it lacks any proper facial muscles to convey an expression, the deep gasp of utter disbelief barks clear from Oa’s stolen lungs.
“Impossible,” Oa responds.
Meeo draws up Worldloss and begins firing out bolts of mana at Oa, who just in time bounds aside; a cover of corpses spring forth from the meated folds of the body-mountain’s gruesome innards.
Chaos’ grin ceases immediately once he realizes he doesn’t remember the spell to throw off these grasping hands. Without ceremony he turns to the one he trusts very most to complete the task, Scout Minion.
“My finest and strongest.”
Scout Minion is dumbfounded as the others rush Oa to engage. She shakes her head. “No, Poppi—”
Without a speck of the victorious demeanor usually found on his face, he shakes his own head— a rare moment of fear clearly visible in his eyes. “Get them out,” is all he can say before being fully engulfed into the nothingness— both Kingdom Slayer and Monument falling to the sides as he’s spirited away to an unknown somewhere.
In disbelief and horror, the team fights on in Oa’s belly, which is steadily waking up from the massive trauma previously inflicted.
A hundred clutching hands grapple over Monument and Kingdom Slayer as they attempt to pull it down into their floor of bodies. Scout Minion leaps over and makes to rescue the blades, but the weight of an army’s worth of people are holding fast to the weapons.
“Kill it!” she squeaks, brought low as she pulls up with all her might at the two handles.
Ranger Minion and Meeo lead the charge like the focused badasses they truly are. Meeo shoots at Oa from every available angle as Ranger Minion thrusts forward with his hyper-adamantine bayonet; all around them, the bodies within Oa moan awake in agony and fury. Knight Glory’s minionified body is instantly absorbed as it's pulled in by the armies of hands, and slowly, their cadaver-gate closes…
“What do we do?!” Aoline cries as she struggles to keep up with Oa’s shifting, loose, though incredibly fast movements.
“We finish it,” Meeo shouts as even she wavers her aim to and fro. “We have to finish it no—”
“You can DIE!” Oa interjects through the millions of corpses. The party finds themselves surrounded as the phylactery Oa bounds from the wall amidst another dodge and sends its hyper-speed shin into Aoline’s neck, shattering her vertebrae instantly and sending her to the floor in a paralyzed stupor.
As the remaining three fight, the floor, walls and ceiling rile up in vicious, murderous want— closing in on everyone and everything. Aoline is instantly wrapped in another hundred grasping hands as Scout Minion is forced to abandon The Kingdom Slayer; she glances in dismay as it is ferried down somewhere into the mountain’s body.
Oa holds to the offensive, delivering pounding, visceral strikes to the two remaining minions— Ranger Minion’s bayonet and ammunition unable to reach Oa’s speed, and Dark Arts Minion’s spell craft incapable of disassembling its masterpiece of a body.
As the only avenue to their escape occludes fully, the place descends into a pitch-black madhouse of horror and exertion— every able body scrambling to kill Oa as the room itself begins to contract inwardly. A thousand arms from all directions stretch open as the tentacles, teeth and fangs of countless stolen creatures wriggle out from the framework to constrict and maim the moving party.
Oa re-visits Scout Minion every few seconds to hurl down another strike— but she’s always ready. Every attack the prime necromancer throws at her, she counters with her small size and ludicrous bravery— diving into the arms and bodies for a split second— just long enough to dodge, and then resurfacing to slam her tiny little leg into the necromancer’s all-muscle body time and time again. Each turn, Oa is sent flying in a bloodied heap, only to repair itself just as quickly as it was broken.
Before long, Dark Arts Minion is clamped in by a pair of dragon’s jaws— slowly emerging from the surface of bodies to snap shut. Only seconds later Ranger Minion is dumped on by a pile of three dozen bodies, forming a tight chokehold of flesh and bone around him.
Bright-eyed, sprightly Meeo Letlind lifts Worldloss for a charged shot for the final time today, use as Oa, practically swimming through the confusion of bodies, smashes its crimson elbow into the side of her neck. “You are mine now,” he says as every being within his evil domain speaks the same words. Meeo leaps back from Oa’s next charge as she sends bolt after guided bolt into the undead who are still competing with Scout Minion for Monument. Steadily amidst the two’s manic efforts, Scout Minion begins to unbury the prize; though the blade burns madly into her dark hands, she tries with all her might.
It is here, however, that their fate is fully sealed— I regret to say.
From the old, now fully-recovered wound of Oa’s mountain, blasts forth, with light and power and the furious dignity of millenniums of intense magical study— Ranalie, fully plated and ready for blood.
“Ran’!” Meeo cries as she witnesses Order smash through a thousand undead with a single, gold-white bolt of immense magic to reach them. “We have—” Meeo stops short, watching as the Knightess piles her mithril-plated, ultra-enchanted boot straight into Scout Minion’s face. She’s a tough lass— that Scout Minion— but not enough to withstand the Queen of the Witch Knights. Scout Minion’s appearance is practically disintegrated by the force, collapsing into itself multiple times and splattering her black-white skull into a great splash of magical viscera five meters backwards— where it paints the wall of tangled bodies.
Order just leans down as she takes Monument’s handle from Scout Minion’s still-struggling hands. “That’s mine,” she says simply.
Meeo gasps in disbelief as Order turns and leaps out. “I did this for us!”
Order, poising at the peak of the body-tunnel before disappearing into the night, only looks back a moment; glowing red eyes peer through her helmet’s opening as she lifts the full visor. “Goodbye, Knight Love,” she says in an even tone before dashing off, back to save the Western Kingdoms from invasion.
Love stares on as the moon up above mocks her, shining down just enough silvery light to illuminate the mad hell she has been caught in the jaws of.
“I did it… for us…,” she mutters one last time before the wound of bodies reforms with new undead— blacking out her executioner’s cell.
There’s a long, anticipating silence, like the pause before
an awaited feast — that moment when one is so hungry and has waited so long, but they spend just one moment more savoring the fact that their time has finally come.
“Well well,” Oa says amidst writhing, screaming bodies. “That’s two times I narrowly avoided death this day…. Now what shall I do with all these new little birds?”
In the pitch black, Meeo is finally brought low with a joint assault from Oa's grasping extensions of death, and the prime phylactery body itself. She is struck down, entangled like the rest, awaiting what may. A low, crimson light pulses out from Oa as the bodies line up each of its prey, one by one, resembling a gallery show.
Surely, it can’t end like this.
Chapter Thirteen: The “Overlord” and Revenge
Mighty, impregnable Chaos— he that had smashed down the void castles of the Ninth Abyssal Realm using all but his bare hands— jolts high in surprise into the sky above the Eastern city of Yarseld, its walls blasted low by Western magics amidst a furious assault.
No worse for wear, he lands the thousand feet as he gathers his bearings and seeks out his target. Instantly he swipes to reopen a gate back to where he'd been rent from—— but the O.E.L. dimensional protection technology blocks his passage. He’ll have to go the long way— and in that case, he might as well deal with whoever spirited him here.
The nearby opposing armies drop their weapons and run back to their respective lines at the sight of him, but he is in no way interested in them. In a confused desperation, he spots out something in the far distance that’s traveling his way quickly. His attention falls to a clear, powerful energy signature. This signature does not belong to any of his usual magical culprits—but rather, a form of battery.
“Vampires?…” he questions in confusion as he continues to inspect the object. “No… those…… librarians,” Chaos mutters to himself, as even the mighty Royal Knights begin to clear out. “It must have been them.” He affirms this with such a dignity, that it sounds forced— and this is a considerable tell that he is truly at his wit's end.
He focuses in on the high-speed craft, an O.E.L. bomber, as it swoops down at Mach speed and carpets the entire war line with nuclear payloads. All upon the ground is leveled with each drop— every few hundred kilometers. Nothing can stand up to something so invincibly fast, and so terribly destructive.
That is to say— nothing but the High Overlord.
Starting into a sprint, Chaos shifts his body through matter and atmosphere in a disgusted fury. His common grin so long-gone that it's actually turned into a frown. Using explosion magic chained together in incomprehensible succession, he launches himself with immense force into the clear air— straight into the spacecraft’s flight path. With a single breath, he changes his weight and raises his fist high in the readied desire to reclaim his authority over those who would dare slight him— the bastards.
Neither the pilots, nor the radar operators have time to react, as an object with a magical weight of over seven billion tons rams into the ship.
It is on this day that The Omniverse Expeditionary Librarium receives the visceral reminder that The Omniverse is home to at least one creature that refuses to run from their nuclear weapons— and they won’t soon forget it.
The bomber ship is vaporized instantly as everything in the vicinity is charred and obliterated into nothingness. Using state-preservation magic, The Overlord seizes one of the payloads as he swings the landing and tears open another portal— this time straight to the O.E.L. headquarters, which is not protected by such dimensional magic for the simple purpose of efficiency while moving in and out.
The maintenance droids and armored enforcement vehicles saturate the landscape as the combined wealth of countries and planets band to repair the technological center of The Omniverse. Everything stops and looks to Chaos; the librarians, soldiers, operators, scientists, maintainers, and all of their wicked kind gaze upon his visage, their eyes fall to his angular grip upon one of their very own nuclear payloads.
Chaos looks to the High Catalog, where Ywn sits on his everlasting circuiting throne. “As if I needed to remind you a third time,” he says with a cruel scowl. Chaos allows the payload to exit its freeze state the moment he throws it into the ground at his feet, activating the bomb and flooding the area in pure, atomic light.
The High Catalog’s shields activate in time to protect its contents, but the location all around Chaos is leveled. Amidst the insanity and smoke of thousands of years of technological effort and strife blowing away in but moments, invulnerable, god-smashing Chaos leaps through their burning world to the gate array. From inside the protected bunker, the gates are unaffected; presumably, they should allow Chaos easy entry through the proper gate into Oa’s realm— but they fail to work, as the power-grid has been leveled in the bomb’s path.
With a wry smile, the High Overlord does the next best thing— linking gates via coalescence. It will take longer, but it should allow him to at least cross over into their dimension at the nearest astral point and navigate the stars to Oa’s planet.
Surprisingly enough, however, he notices there’s already a coalescence point— and it is very, very near his old location. Without another thought, Chaos opens the way and leaps through the black nothingness to the other side— right next to Nias and the knight team; they have been waiting for Nias to finish the rest of the portal, which Chaos has just inadvertently finished for them in but a second.
While Redemption and Nias jolt in shock, Order is quick on the draw— and Chaos is unarmed. In a blink-fast engagement, she clears off his left arm with Monument’s stout hem, propelling the limb behind her and launching Chaos straight across the ravine. Yet he leaps without a care for the grievous injury; he’s only focused on one thing.
Order watches him travel toward the horizon as Nias turns to her. “Portal… portal done, ma’am.”
Her gaze follows the overlord for a moment more as he continues with no care to his precious arm, and runs out into the dark storm of Oa’s lair. She reaches for Nias’ belt and takes back her magic scroll, seeing as they he won’t be needing it anymore. “Let’s go,” she says blankly as she picks up the limb, packed down with miles of his powerful essence—a trophy finally worth her time, and a tactical necessity to boot.
Without a word, the three pass through with Caefern slung over Redemption’s shoulder. None of them speak of it, but it’s on all of their minds— what is so important to Chaos that he’d fly with such desperate speed, such careless movements?
Chapter Fourteen: Death in the Dark
Only moments earlier, Oa takes up The Kingdom Slayer, drawn by its millions of unwilling servants.
“Thank you,” it says in a superior tone. “Now— I’ve heard about your kind,” it says as it approaches the first in line.
“Have you?” Ranger Minion replies, ignoring the multiple jaw frames presently masticating his arms and legs.
“Oh yes, I hear that because of that… shell of yours, no matter how much you are hurt, you will eventually recover. Any injury, disembowelment, dismemberment, beheadment— all of it can be undone!… That is… so long as the source of your injury isn’t of an expressly magical nature.”
“N-…no! No!” Dark Arts Minion cries out as Oa raises up The Kingdom Slayer— a very, very magical weapon, so specifically so that it’s legendary mweapon that cleaves through magical presences, so powerful is its mundaneness.
Ranger Minion spits a weighted glob of spit in Oa’s face, making a thumping sound as if he had punched it. “Do it, bitch. I’m not scared of y-”
“No!” Dark Arts Minion screams again as Oa scoffs.
“Gladly.” With a brief pause and some difficulty, Oa swings The Kingdom Slayer across Ranger Minion’s chest, opening him up utterly and entirely. His actual, human organs spill down from his torso, but Ranger Minion’s disposition is never lowered; he never cries out for help, or even out in pain. He only flinches, jolts, and slowly bleeds out, all the while staring Oa straight in the e
yes.
Dark Arts Minion cries as Ranger Minion falls limp, Chaos’ enchanted essence frame dispersing from his body, and leaving but the dismembered torso of a human man— eyes still open, ever vigilant even in death. He seems to be wearing a military uniform of some kind, with a few holes that look like bullets in his side, apart from his now fatal, ghastly blade wound.
Oa’s musculature arches crudely as it steps over to Dark Arts Minion. “Scared?” it asks.
She takes a deep breath. “Only that you’re hurting those I care about. I don’t care about myself—please, spare them!”
Oa shakes its head pretentiously. “I need as many parts as I can take. For the tens of thousands you’ve ruined, I think it only fair that I use you all to replenish the body coffers. Any last words?” It asks.
Dark Arts looks over to her left, down the line to Aoline, then Love, then Scout Minion, and finally the still-unconscious Knight Glory. She looks back to Oa.
“I hope you’re satisfied.”
It laughs. “No— not till I tear you all to pieces and re-purpose you. I’ll make you the anus of one of my next creations. How does that sound?”
“…Chaos will judge you. He might have even allowed you to live as a minion.”
“Spare me the thought that stupid night creature could do anything to stop me. I don’t know who or what force-summoned him, but it seems as though I have truly been blessed. I must say you all almost had me, I’ll give you that admission. This was the closest to death I’ve been in perhaps ten thousand years… Really, ever since Xylgatyl himself came down to kill me for his princess, but I suppose I should get on down the line.”
“Please, no.”
“I think you’re just buying time. Chaos will judge you,” Oa says with a scoff as it raises the overlord’s stolen blade high upon its stolen arms.
“Wh-”
“Goodbye.” Oa cuts down across Dark Arts Minion, opening her too from head to toe— as first her Chaotic essence splatters out, and then the entirety of her organs and human blood.