Stormforge (Rise To Omniscience Book 5)

by Aaron Oster

  STORMFORGE

  Rise To Omniscience

  Book Five

  AARON OSTER

  For Morgan. Without you, I’d never have made it this far.

  Raar!

  Prologue

  Loquin sat in a small room in an out-of-the-way section of the castle in City Twelve. She doubted she’d be found out before her meeting, so she wasn’t too bothered about the occasional tromping of footsteps outside the door. She knew they had other things to worry about at the moment, such as fortifying their defenses and moving troops to City Eleven.

  Octagon’s forces were only a couple of days away, held back only by the makeshift wall that had been erected over the last few days. The capital had already fallen, and the entire northern part of the kingdom would quickly follow. Twisted beasts, once human and reincarnated by the Pinnacle King’s power, roamed the deserted cities, killing any who remained.

  She was sure refugees would begin pouring in soon, though their numbers would be pitiful compared to how many would be joining the ranks of Octagon’s army. His soldiers numbered in the millions and would continue to increase as they rampaged across the kingdom. Those who were smart were already trying to run, while the more stubborn people refused to leave, hunkering down in their cities with a false sense of security.

  The West Kingdom would be reeling from its failed attack on the capital. What little remained of their attacking force had fled back with their tails between their legs. Hu Shane would be in an emergency meeting at the moment, trying to decide on their next course of action. Without Loquin there to counsel the idiot, he would most likely make the wrong decision.

  She knew, better than anyone, how great a threat Octagon posed. The only chance they had of survival was if all the kingdoms banded together to drive him back. And even then, they might not succeed. It was doubtful that they’d all participate anyway. The West was prideful, and the South was unlikely to cooperate as well. This would leave only the East, Central, and North Kingdoms to defend against the onslaught of the Pinnacle King.

  They would still need to be convinced to help, and Loquin wasn’t about to help persuade them. At the moment, helping mortals overcome their idiocy was the furthest thing from her mind. Just minutes ago, two gods were killed — Gold, the arrogant bastard she’d once called a friend, and Samuel, one of the only people she still cared about.

  She was sure that Gold’s meddling had led to this, but there was little she could do about it now. With no one in charge and the restrictions over power gone, this world would be reduced to a desolate wasteland, no matter who won.

  In all honesty, Loquin wanted nothing more than to leave. She wanted to go back to her own world, where she reigned supreme. However, no matter how badly she wished to do so, she couldn’t go yet, as Gold had stolen something precious from her — her Token. Without it, she had no way to move between worlds and, thus, was stuck here. She didn’t know where the Token was, but she strongly suspected that either Morgan or Sarah might.

  Gold had had a keen interest in them both, which made her wonder if maybe he’d left it with them. She would need to be careful around Morgan, as he now knew his full power. If he suspected her of treachery, he might try to kill her, and in her current state, she doubted her ability to be able to put up much of a fight.

  Letting out a long sigh, Loquin leaned back in the plush chair and stared up at the dark wooden ceiling. It was hard to believe how many years it had been since that fateful day. That day had been a turning point for all of them, as they’d attracted the attention of the Author and had had their entire lives uprooted when they were sent to fill their new roles as a result. They’d all lived thousands upon thousands of years since then, and in the blink of an eye, Gold and Sam were gone.

  Out of the original eight, there were only two of them left now — her and Herald. It was likely that he didn’t acknowledge or even care about her mere existence. Herald had never really gotten along with anyone except for Gold and the original Morgan, so that was hardly a surprise.

  In essence, she was now all alone. With Samuel gone, the only ones she’d have to talk to were mortals, and while it was fun messing with them, there wasn’t much point of manipulating their lives with no end goal in mind. Without Sammy, their plans to end the Author would never come to pass. All she could do now was find her Token, leave this world, and never look back.

  Her eyes flicked over to the small clock displayed in the corner of her vision and she noted that it had been well over an hour since she’d asked Morgan to meet her. Right now, she wasn’t feeling particularly patient and decided that if he hadn’t arrived in the next ten minutes, she’d go check in once more.

  The sound of footsteps echoing down the hall reached her through the door, but she simply ignored them. That was why, when the door swung inward, she was taken off guard. A man stood in the doorway, his body hidden by a thick cloak. A deep cowl hid his face in shadow, and due to the garment, she couldn’t make out any distinguishing features.

  “What do you want?” she asked, sitting up in her chair.

  She could feel a strange sort of energy wafting off the man, and no matter how hard she tried, she could not penetrate the shadows beneath his hood.

  Instead of answering, the man drew a thick, black chain from within his cloak and advanced on her with swift steps. The thud of his boots on the hardwood floor finally snapped Loquin from her stupor. She rose from her chair, drawing a gleaming silver sword from seemingly nowhere.

  “I don’t know who you are,” she said as the man hesitated. “But if you don’t back off now, I’ll be in my full rights to end you.”

  Instead of backing down as she’d expected, the man only smiled, a gleam of white teeth showing through the shadow of his cloak. His body was covered in black light then, the chain in his hands radiating energy stronger and unlike anything she’d ever faced before. It felt menacing, dark and chaotic in a way she couldn’t describe.

  Loquin took an involuntary step back, noting that her hands trembled ever so slightly as she gripped the handle of the weapon. Gritting her teeth, Loquin forced down her fear. She was a god, and no mortal, no matter how strong, could hope to match her.

  “Your funeral,” Loquin said, releasing the cloak over her core and allowing her massive power to burst forth.

  The man dashed forward, undeterred, his chain flashing out in a semi-circle. The floor beneath Loquin cracked, windows shattered, and the very air trembled as her sword flashed up, colliding with the chain and knocking it off its course.

  She staggered back a half step, shocked at the power behind that attack, and before she could recover, the man was inside her guard. She tried to defend herself, but wasn’t fast enough as his palm, glowing with that same black light, slammed into her midsection.

  Loquin let out a silent scream, her eyes going wide as pain wracked her frame down to her very soul. Her sword dropped to the ground an instant before she did, her body frozen stiff. She was unable to move, speak, or even breathe, though she was still very much aware of her surroundings. The man leaned down over her then, chain clutched in both hands.

  A fear like she hadn’t felt in thousands of years flooded through her as the man leaned closer, the bright smile the only distinguishing feature she could make out. The chain wrapped around her body, chilling her down to the bone. It was the sort of cold that one might associate with death, and it was the last sensation she felt before darkness claimed her.

  ***

  Chaos surrounded him on all sides, the endless void of eternity spreading before him. He had no idea how long he’d been here. It could have been a millennium or just a few seconds. Time had no meaning
in this place, this endless void of chaos and destruction. Then, out of the darkness came a small pinprick of light. It was so warm and inviting that he couldn’t help but float toward it, and when he finally touched it, the chaos vanished.

  Gold’s mind slowly stitched itself back together as the deathscape slowly vanished, replaced by familiar surroundings. For just a moment, his mind was addled by confusion as to how he’d gotten here. Then, at once, he remembered. The crushing, burning sensation as his body and soul were destroyed, ripped to shreds under the Author’s omniscient power. His mind then went to the endless void where he’d been cast.

  “Well, I’m glad to see it worked. But I really need to stop dying,” he muttered, rubbing at his neck.

  Despite how horrific his death had been, it hadn’t been the first time. The reason he continued surviving, even when stepping too far, was simple. He always took precautions. The process, though fairly easy, was an extremely painful one. A splintered fragment of his soul was embedded in an item of power, and when he inevitably died, his mind would be pulled back from the void by the soul fragment.

  The problem with using something like this, though, was that each time he returned, he lost just a little more of himself, needing decades to restore what was lost. Another problem was finding an item powerful enough to call him back. Normally, he’d use his Token, but he still hadn’t recovered his from the last time, so he’d needed to improvise. And that was where Loquin had come in.

  Loquin’s Token was just as good as his, and seeing as it was safely in Morgan’s hands, there was no chance that she’d discover what he’d done and kick him out. There had also been the off chance that it wouldn’t work with someone else’s Token, so he was glad to see that his fears had been for naught.

  Gold took in a deep breath, twisting his back from side to side, enjoying the feeling of his muscles flexing and stretching. He had to gain his bearings, as he never knew how much time was spent in the deathscape before he returned, but that could wait just a few minutes longer.

  He took in a deep breath, looking up at the sun through the swaying leaves and grinned widely. There was just something magical about this place, even if its owner was no longer around.

  “Sure is a shame what Sammy did to you,” he said, looking toward the small cottage on the far side of the clearing.

  Every time he’d come back, it had been to the sight of Dabu sitting before that very house and reading one thing or another. They’d had their ups and downs, but Gold had always liked the man. Now, with Sammy out of the way, there was no one to further impede his plans.

  Somerset was going to the dogs, and before long, the Five Kingdoms would be nothing more than a wasteland. That was unless Morgan could somehow kill the Pinnacle King.

  But what happens after that? he wondered, a frown creasing his lips.

  With Samuel gone, there was no more overseer. This world was ruler-less and lawless. With the bounds over people’s power removed, the borders protecting the Five Kingdoms would soon fall. While those living there believed themselves to be the planet’s only occupants, it could not be further from the truth. This world was larger than any of those puny humans realized, and should they succeed in defeating Octagon, they would be in for a rude awakening.

  But those were a lot of ifs and maybes. The likelihood of Morgan defeating Octagon was almost nonexistent. Not that Gold wished him dead. It was simply the reality of their situation. While the Pinnacle Kings were all supposed to be locked at rank 50, Sammy’s removal of the limit would ensure that they continued growing in power.

  What made Octagon even more of a threat was the fact that he was at the Pinnacle of his power and used reiki, the energy of the world. If the people were going to defeat him, Gold knew that the sooner they acted, the better their chances would be. As it was, with Octagon knocking on their doors with an army of millions, it would be a nearly impossible fight.

  Gold tried to flex his power and open a gate to Morgan’s location. He could sense his connection to Loquin’s Token and needed to get it back. He’d reform his own Token eventually. Until then, he wanted to have the only thing that was tethering his soul to this plane safely in his possession. However, he found himself unable to summon so much as a scrap of his power.

  “Damn it all to hell,” he muttered.

  It was always a toss-up as to whether he’d have access to his power upon returning. Sometimes he had it immediately, while other times had required months of waiting. He knew that becoming annoyed would be a pointless waste of energy, so instead, he moved to the empty table and pulled up his limited controls in this world.

  While he couldn’t exactly interact with or make any changes to Somerset, he could view pretty much anything he wanted to, at any given time. His status afforded him that small luxury. Leaning back in the chair, Gold made himself comfortable as a familiar glacier came into view. It appeared that some time had passed since his demise, and he had some catching up to do. He didn’t know when he’d be able to leave this place, so he may as well catch up to local events in the meantime.

  ***

  Octagon the Bitter, Pinnacle King of Winter, sat on his icy throne, his claw-tipped fingers clicking on the armrest in annoyance. It had been an entire two months since he’d been freed and his campaign to control the North had begun, and yet the humans still persisted. Everything was his, aside from two cities — Eleven and Twelve.

  They’d both been fortified well, and his forces were having a difficult time getting in. They hadn’t managed so much as a single breach thus far, and without securing those two cities, he couldn’t move on to the other Kingdoms without the risk of a flanking maneuver. Sure, his forces continued to be bolstered by the day, but once one of his minions was killed, his connection to them was severed and they could not be brought back.

  He would go out himself, but the lion’s share of his power was concentrated on animating and empowering his troops. He did always have the option to simply cut off his power, but he’d be unable to reanimate them once he did, and he’d gained too many valuable pawns to get rid of them so easily.

  Even though Grub had been killed, Arnold’s attacks on the capital and other major cities in the North had yielded him some results. Four powerful new minions in control of their faculties were now under his command. In addition, he had several weaker ones, suited to stealth, ambush, and negotiation.

  Though he was an all-powerful beast with the energy of the world at his beck and call, Octagon knew that brute force wasn’t always the answer. That was why he’d sent dispatches to all the other Kingdoms with an offer to join him. He hadn’t heard anything back yet, but he was sure that at least one of them would take him up on his offer.

  The West was the most likely to join, especially after witnessing his power. They also didn’t like the North very much. Arnold had told him that Morgan, the one Octagon knew as the Beast King, had killed their ruler in cold blood. He knew that the West’s new king had had his sights set on conquering the North, but Octagon was sure he’d settle for keeping his own Kingdom in the new world that was to come.

  “Master, we are at the gates.”

  Octagon was snapped from his musings as Arnold’s voice sounded in his mind. He’d grown sick and tired of this long and drawn-out war and was committing a large force against City Eleven, hoping to finally break through. Octagon doubted it would work, given who was up there defending the place. From what he’d seen, none could rival the Beast King’s power, not even Arnold.

  Arnold knew he would have a difficult time putting Morgan down, but the Beast King couldn’t be everywhere at once. With such a large force swarming the gates of his city, they might just manage to break through.

  Octagon’s fingers tightened on the armrests of his icy throne, his slitted amber eyes narrowing just a hair. He was momentarily distracted by a pained whimper from the adjacent room where his guest was currently being tended to by one of his special beasts. The Three Big D’s, as he liked to think of them,
were experts at persuasion and torture. However, the woman he’d captured seemed to be made of some tough stuff.

  Even after months of interrogation, she refused to say so much as a word. Even after he’d chopped her legs off, removed some fingers, and even one of her eyes, she still hadn’t cracked. At this point, he was pretty sure she wasn’t going to say anything, but it wouldn’t hurt to keep trying just a little longer.

  Another two weeks, he decided. If there was still no change by then, he’d just have her killed.

  “Master?”

  Arnold’s questioning voice came through their link once again, reminding him that he was waiting for the go-ahead.

  “Proceed,” he said, closing his eyes and reaching for the minds of his lesser minions.

  Though he would not be there himself, he could still view the attack through their eyes. And for once, he would like to get a good look at the Beast King himself. He’d been unable to thus far, as his simple-minded creatures had died too quickly to get a good look. However, he was hoping that with this many, he may finally get a glimpse of his father.

  1

  Morgan stood atop the towering walls of City Eleven, looking out over the force stretching far into the distance. By his estimation, there were well over half a million of the corrupted, twisted beasts.

  A storm was brewing in the distance, heralding the arrival of this force. Their attacks were always accompanied by howling winds and blowing snow, and though he knew he should be used to it by now, it always unnerved him to see something like that.

  Most of the North had fallen by now. City Eleven was well-protected, with walls towering over one hundred and fifty feet, reinforced by stone and ice. The weather had remained consistently cold, and not a single day had been above zero since the Pinnacle King had freed himself from his shackles.