Tag: fantasy

Oyed finally conceded, if only to save his hide. The Endeavor made its way to Crelima City, the Queens having already given permission for Arsha and Oyed to enter the Crypt of Crelima the Mad once Arsha explained the situation. “Of all the insane acts you pulled when facing me,” growled Oyed as he and Arsha approached the landing ramp, “this is the worst.”

“Yeah, well, if it makes you feel comfortable,” replied Arsha, “you can call me a desperate woman.” The ship’s landing ramp lowered and the two stepped out. Soldiers and citizens lined a path from the ship to the Crypt as Arsha and Oyed walked to it. The Hanthuus, Queen Entralii the Succubus, Queen Yurmar the Naga, and Queen Lartin the human, stood at a large set of double doors, leading into a massive stone mound.

“I don’t think I need to tell you to be careful,” said Entralii.

“Mortal though he is,” replied Arsha, “my guide is still Oyed, so I’ll take all the wishes to be careful I can.” Entralii nodded. Lartin and Yurmar then opened the Crypt. Yurmar signed her wishes for Arsha to be careful.

“Yurmar’s right,” remarked Lartin. “He’s treacherous.”

“There IS something you can do,” said Arsha. She then whispered something to Lartin. Lartin grinned.

“Anything to get you out of that situation as fast as possible.”

“Whatever you whispered to my wife,” called Entralii, “I want in.” She then whispered something to Arsha, prompting her to grin.

“Be ready when we come out,” chuckled the Princess.

“Can we go now?!” grunted Oyed. Lartin and Yurmar then opened the doors. Oyed looked at Arsha. “…Well?!”

“After you,” said Arsha. Oyed rolled his eyes as he went in first with Arsha following behind.

“There are five traps along the way. The first starts with a set of swinging bladed pendulums. The disarming button’s on the other side of the pendulums. There IS a way to go through with them, but it requires rolling under them.”

“When can we expect them?”

“Just ahead.” A massive axe then swung in front of them, swinging on a pendulum. More axes followed in the same manner. Arsha stood a few steps back from the first axe.

“So, smart guy?” asked Arsha. Oyed rolled his eyes, then took a few steps back. He then ran forward and rolled under the axes. He ended up on the other side and slammed his hand on a brick. The assemblies swinging the axes then fell apart, dropping the axes with a loud clang. When everything stopped moving, Arsha made her way through the axes, making sure she didn’t hurt herself. “What’s the next trap?” she asked.

“Shooting spears,” answered Oyed. “In the walkway between the walls hiding the spears, there’s a path with certain symbols on it. Only the son’s name will carry you to safety.”

“…You mean the big yellow ball in the sky or the male offspring?”

“The latter.”

“…Dragulnak.”

“Exactly. The one person he cared about, the one person he actually treated well and encouraged to treat others well. The one who cured the Vampires of their solar weakness. King Dragulnak the Sane.”

“So, we step on the symbols that make up Dragulnak’s name and the spears stay within the walls?”

“Bingo. However, the tiles DO move.” Arsha rolled her eyes.

“I had a feeling there was a catch.” They arrived at the moving tile floor and saw the symbols. “…So there IS a pattern,” chuckled Arsha.

“I never really learned the pattern,” muttered Oyed.

“More like you’re too impatient to find one.” Arsha then bent her knees as if she was ready to pounce, her tails twitched, then she sprang onto the first tile, then the second, then the third and on and on until she safely reached the other side. She then pressed on a brick extending outwards and the spears shot out while the tiles aligned themselves into Dragulnak’s name. Oyed simply strolled down the path.

“Well done,” he remarked. “It will be some time before we reach the third trap, so I need to ask you, as a representative of life itself, why oppose me? Why do you fear conflict?”

“Because there needs to be a world without it!”

“You sound way too much like Dr. Borg.” Arsha bristled at the insult. “You two don’t realize that the Final War will help you fully understand evolution!”

“Pardon me?!”

“Yes, the Final War is me doing you a favor! Dr. Borg stands for order above anything else. No passion, no dreams (and that’s rather ironic, given that one of her spouses is a Succubus), just discipline. Obedience. She’s frozen in place, an evolutionary dead end, just like you’re in danger of being! Why side with the old? Embrace the new! Growth through pain, struggle, conflict, and war! You, of all people, should understand this!”

“Me?”

“Yes, you! The daughter of a Kitsune proud of her heritage! The Kitsunes came out of the War of the Depths stronger! Better! …How much better? How much stronger are they, fighting THIS war? When it DOES end, and all life reaches their pinnacle, the new Realm will rise from the ashes of the old one with strength and power beyond your imagination!”

“I see what your endgame is,” said Arsha. “Let me pose this question to you, what happens when the supposed new Realm changes?”

“Then their Final War will begin. It will take time, perhaps trillions upon trillions of years, for them to prepare, but they will fight and serve evolution just as other iterations did.”

“…Other iterations? You mean the Realms aren’t the first?!”

“I’ve been creating Realms and all the life-forms within them before the Divine Ones were born. These Realms were the result of my children’s carelessness. They thought that they needed to stay aloof, let life take its course. When they heard that I would destroy their Realms, they locked me away! They tried to stop my ambitions!”

“Because they knew that life was precious, and you were toying with both life and death!”

“That is the cycle! That is the force of history itself! You can’t win against that, no one can! …I couldn’t, but I tried when I first came into being. Over time, I embraced it! Helped it along by creating conflict! The weak perish, the strong get stronger! Evolution must be served! There’s no other way!”

“Evolution doesn’t NEED a servant!” snapped Arsha. Oyed turned to her and stared. “…Now I get your vendetta against Dr. Borg! In fact, I finally understand why you two fought against the Divine Ones! It’s why you haven’t killed each other! You want the Divine Ones dead so the Final War can turn into order versus chaos! It’s about ideology!”

“Of course. As you said, it’s order vs. chaos. Choose one.”

“Yeah, choose, but only from the choices YOU give us! Don’t you see that this is wrong?!” Oyed scoffed. “When the Realms before us were gone, you stayed behind, posing as a guardian, a shepherd for the mortal races before ours! You’ve lost your way! This isn’t about teaching us or helping us! This is about you being right! …But what if we reject the idea that we must decide which of you is right? What if we simply walk away from the ridiculous concept of order and chaos being separate?” Oyed grabbed Arsha by the neck and slammed her against the wall.

“YOU CAN’T DO THAT!” he roared.

“The…Final War…won’t end?” gagged Arsha.

“Correct!”

“Then…there is…no hope?”

“There is only chaos and evolution! You will fight because I tell you to fight!”

“You’re…forgetting…something…here!” One of Arsha’s tails pointed in the direction of the exit. “Your…cure is…out there and…they’re…monitoring my…life-signs and…the comms are…open!” Oyed then remembered that he still had poison in his veins and recalled the deal he had to accept.

“You let them listen!” he growled. “You let them know!” He then dropped Arsha. She coughed as she tried to get air into her lungs. When she recovered, she picked herself up.

“That’s now TWO weapons against Dr. Borg, one against her ideology and one against her potential godhood. Speaking of the god slayer weapon, shall we?” Oyed snarled, then they resumed their journey.

Oyed sat in his cell for three days, allowed only the minimum of exercise and the most essential of food and drink. Reb brought in his midday meal. He gave a lecherous smile. “Have I been that good a boy?” he asked. He was handed the tray with his meal, and he began eating and drinking. Reb’s slime then pulled up a chair and she sat down, facing Oyed and pulling out a data pad. Oyed arched an eyebrow. “Okay, in all seriousness, what’s so important that the former Admiral of the now-defunct Scarlet Stream pirates needs to look at me?”

“Not look at, talk to,” corrected Reb. “I’ve been looking over these INTERESTING reports that I acquired when I retook my RIGHTFUL home of Plunder Island Stronghold. I’ve noticed some VERY interesting patterns on your front lines, note the PLURAL form. Was there ANYONE you wouldn’t fight against?”

“We need the room to AGGRESSIVELY expand,” replied Oyed. Reb rolled her eyes at his mockery of her verbal tic.

“Only an IDIOT fights a war on two fronts. You, sir, are the KING of idiots by fighting a war on forty-five fronts!”

“The Realm Trinity Empire can still handle it. Their resources AND yours are greater than you think.”

“So, my father’s crew was supplying BOTH sides, hm?” Oyed arched an eyebrow.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Reb clicked her tongue in disappointment. She then pulled out a crystal ball and an image formed in it. It was one of Oyed talking to a bearded man with the same color hair as her.

“Lord Oyed, this has been VERY profitable,” praised the man. “Both sides are paying through the nose for weapons, as you CORRECTLY said! I tell you, war or peace, it matters not to ME!”

“How did you-?!” spluttered the present-day Oyed.

“My father’s the DREADFUL source of my own paranoia,” explained Reb. “When he trained me to take command of the Scarlet Stream pirates, I became FRIGHTFULLY fearful that he might sell me out to the highest bidder, so I took the liberty of bugging his cabin during his meetings with other people. One never knows whether an INCONVENIENT truth will either fall between the cracks and vanish or be revealed to other parties, particularly parties that are enemies. That conversation worried me. After my husband and I were captured, we took steps to make sure we were in a STAUNCHLY protected position. Oyed, I have the feeling that your former associates are going to keep the Realms in a state of stagnation. When they go down, the Realms will fall.” Oyed rolled his eyes.

“They won’t have that kind of power, even as gods. You don’t appreciate how flawed they are.” He resumed eating his meal.

“I appreciate their flaws alright! And that is why your UNWARRANTED reluctance to help Arsha worries me!”

“And there it is! That magic word ‘Arsha’! The name that means ‘peace-seeker’ in the Mid-realm language!”

“Well, I intend to help her fulfill that in terms of this unfocused war! By drawing all forces into many smaller wars, you have effectively weakened their means of recovery, should the Council decide to do as you wanted!”

“The only way that they’ll destroy the Realms is through their incompetence! I may hate my children, but they were NOT incompetent as gods. Dr. Borg and her friends, however, they are, and they’ll be destroying the Realms because of it!”

“My point EXACTLY! And you are going to help us take the NECESSARY steps to prevent that! And you will start by disarming the Crypt’s VILE traps for Arsha!” Oyed laughed at Reb’s demand.

“Rebarisal Rojam, you are a fool!” he finally said. “I don’t know if Arsha told you this, but she correctly guessed that my title of Destroyer tells anyone what I do for funsies! If they’re gonna destroy the Realms, why would I help?”

“Because I asked you. Because you DO care about the Realms in some small capacity. Because you want to be the ONLY Destroyer.” Oyed chuckled to himself. Reb sighed. “All right, I didn’t want to panic you, but the real reason is because I made sure your food and drink were laced with my supply of tarsaline.” Oyed arched an eyebrow.

“…You’re gonna lie about my meal being poisoned?”

“Scanner, please,” Reb requested of the guard. He pulled the scanner out and her slime suit extended a tendril, grabbed it, then handed it to Oyed. Oyed set the scanner to look for poison and waved the wand over his meal. It flashed red and reported that the meal was laced with tarsaline. He goggled in fear at Reb and the guard.

“It’s been updated and tested,” said the guard. “You wolfed down a poisoned meal.”

“Tarsaline’s a VERY interesting poison,” chuckled Reb. “It kills a human within twenty days, and you ARE human, according to all medical scans. During the first ten days, the MAGIC timeframe where you can just take the antidote with no other medical attention, it enters the bloodstream and settles for just a bit. During the remaining ten days, it makes its way to the cardiovascular system. By then, you’ll need the antidote AND medical attention. On the twentieth day, the poison permanently alters all nerve signals to the heart so that it quivers, and no amount of defibrillation, antidote, or medical attention will help reset your quivering heart. To those who won’t know how to look, it will look like you had died of an extreme heart attack.” Oyed rushed to the energy shield in fear and anger, snarling at Reb.

“You give me the antidote! NOW!” he demanded.

“Arsha gave me the authorization to poison you, oh GREAT Oyed.”

“If you want proof,” called Arsha’s voice as she entered the brig, “I can provide it.”

“That won’t be necessary!” growled Oyed. “Just…why?! Why would you do something so desperate?!”

“To guarantee your cooperation,” explained Arsha. “And because, if our positions were reversed, you would have done the same to me. If I recall, you had a particular fondness for the Under-realm during the Savage Age and the Under-realm was the poison capital up until the middle of the First Age of Unity. It was always the instrument of choice back then.”

“Given my criminal connections,” continued Reb, “I always had a phial of tarsaline on standby. I only told Arsha about it a day before we got to Frigandor.” Oyed sighed in defeat. The only way he would be cured was by doing what Arsha said.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked.

“You’ve told me that you saw Crelima set the traps in the Crypt before he committed suicide” said Arsha. “You will disarm the traps and tell me how to use the Talkwen Stone. You will then lead me out of the Crypt with the Talkwen Stone in my hand. Once that’s done, you will be given the antidote. Oh, and just so we’re clear; no compliance, no cure.” She then took his drink of water, then made sure she was out of the cell before adding a drop of a neon-green liquid to it. The instant the drop made contact, it spewed smoke before stopping and returning to its clear state. She then raised the glass. “To your health, Lord Oyed.” She then drank the water after her mocking toast. Oyed snarled as he thought about what to do next.

Everyone laughed for a good minute, annoying Oyed. He even went so far as to put his fingers in his ears. The laughter soon died down as everyone picked themselves up. Their sides were hurting from laughing so much and tears fell down their face. “By the Ones,” panted a guard, “I never laughed so hard since the Trinnies killed my wives, harem, and children!”

“Are you finished?” asked Oyed as he unplugged his ears.

“…You’re serious, aren’t you?!” realized Arsha.

“Deathly serious.”

“All right, buster, riddle me this: why should we help you?! You’re Oyed the Destroyer! The title alone tells us what you do for funsies! Why should we do ANYTHING for you?!”

“You’ll help me because doing so will give you a weapon against Dr. Borg and her Councilors should they rise to godhood!”

“Captain, a word,” called another guard. Everyone gathered around the guard, and they whispered to each other. Oyed could see Arsha’s tails and ears droop. She turned back to the cell.

“Fine, we’ll help out,” she muttered. “What needs to be done?”

“The weapon I speak of is known as the Talkwen Stone,” explained Oyed. “It was designed to drain Divine Mana through magical means. I never expected Dr. Borg to make a technological version of it (shows how much I underestimated her), but her research said that anyone with Divine Mana could be drained through her machine, meaning that the Council would be vulnerable to it as well. It took her the entire war, possibly before that, to construct the original machine and you lot don’t have the time to make one for yourselves. Mortals can touch it with no problems at all, but I couldn’t, and neither could my children when we were gods. No matter how much I tried, I couldn’t get it to discern between my own Divine Mana and your precious Divine Ones. So I tossed it away…until a certain someone picked it up, then set it into a crown later in his life. I believe there’s a city named after that certain someone, right here in the Under-realm.”

“…Crelima?” asked Arsha

“The first Vampire King himself!” confirmed Oyed. “When he ruled the Eastern Continent’s night and constructed Crelima City to his original design, he listened to my whispers. He was the first of my thralls…and the first to betray me! It DID cost him his life, though. At my behest, I ordered him to construct a crypt that only my immortal body could go through. He ordered all sorts of traps to be built; bladed pendulums, poison gas, spears shot out of the wall, spiked pits, acid, flame jets, the works! For reasons that escaped me completely, he ordered the crypt to be constructed from the center to outwards, then he set the traps from the outside to the center. In the central chamber, there was a window with a curtain. I always found it odd at the time…until he finished the traps. I don’t know if you know this, but there’s no way to tell time in the Depths. Well, there was no way for me to tell what time it was when Crelima finished setting all the traps. He looked around the central chamber to admire the handiwork. He then muttered that it would serve. I told him to leave the crypt…but he said no.”

“That must have ticked you off to no end,” chuckled Arsha.

“Oh, I was LIVID! You see, I needed him to tell his family about the use of the Talkwen Stone, but he intended to stay there for the rest of his life, and it was cut short by his own actions. You see, by the time he finished his labors, the sun was already in the sky. He told me that the weapon would be forever lost to time, then he threw back the curtain and allowed the sun to enter the chamber, and you know what happened to Vampires of that time when they are bathed in sunlight.”

“They turned to ash.”

“That’s exactly what happened to King Crelima. There the Talkwen Stone sits, embedded in the first symbol of office, the Crown of Eternal Night, in the ash that was the first Vampire King, Crelima the Mad.”

“The Crypt’s been off limits since 900 FAU,” Arsha muttered. She then started planning. “Maybe if we can get permission from the Hanthuus, we could get access. They’d understand the need.”

“How are you going to get past the traps?” asked Oyed.

“Well, considering that you were involved in their creation-”

“Hold on, let me make sure I understand you. You think I’m going to get you past the traps?”

“Well, given that time is against us-”

“You’re the miracle worker. So, work a miracle. I already told you of the Talkwen Stone’s existence. That’s all the help you’re getting from me.”

“That’s not funny!”

“It wasn’t a joke. Arsha, you said that people like us were parents. Well, unlike my children, I ain’t no whirligig parent. Sink or swim.”

“Oyed, you want this war to end as much as I do and-!”

“End? Oh, I see! Arsha Royana, this war is FAR too entertaining for me to want to end right now! There’s only one path I see for you, and that’s you trying desperately to use the Talkwen Stone! And you said that time is against you. Did someone in Realmfleet tell you to end the war or surrender your claim to the Mid-realm throne?” Arsha said nothing. “…The silence speaks volumes! The war may end, but I WILL see you fail in SOME capacity! That’s likely the only bit of happiness I’ll get now that I’m as mortal as you.” Oyed then laid down on his bunk. “Tell me how it goes. I eagerly await the results.” He then shut his eyes and started napping.

“Captain, we can-!” called a guard.

“That won’t be necessary,” replied Arsha. “I have a plan in mind, I just wish I didn’t need to resort to such a barbarous method.” She then whispered instructions to the guard.

Everyone followed the Realmfleet Revenants into the abandoned base and shivered. Yes, it was creepy looky with the eeriest of atmospheres, but it was also bitter cold. “Sweet Mordek,” shivered Arsha, “this is frigid!”

“You’re not kidding,” agreed Foresna. “Who keeps a base this cold?!”

“It was only a few degrees warmer, believe it or not,” replied Blenter. “All heating elements were shut down a few days ago.”

“Well, the sooner we confirm the unaccounted 51 life signs, the happier I’ll be!” grumbled Malnar as she rubbed her arms. They all arrived at a large door.

“No one was granted access to this room, save for the Council,” explained Eltan. “The locking mechanisms are located at the top.” Arsha fired a few magic blasts from her wand. The door then dropped into the floor and revealed what, or rather, WHO, was inside! It was Oyed and the Divine Ones! They were huddled together, but unconscious and had black spots all over their skin! Arsha opened her communicator.

“Arsha to Endeavor!” she called. “Divine Ones and Titan located! They have severe frostbite! Emergency mass teleport at my location to the nearest and warmest medical area that can hold them all!” Everyone was surrounded in a teleport spell and vanished.

---

Several tents filled Frigandor’s central plaza. The Divine Ones and Oyed were all split between the medical tents and the doctors got to work. Marshii and one of the men in the Larkentha’s Blue Rose Harem looked over Mordek. “He’s definitely reading as a mortal Dwarf,” muttered the man.

“And the frostbite’s really severe,” remarked Marshii. “Check for gangrene.”

“Gangrene located in his right foot. It’s way too severe. He’s gonna have to lose the foot to survive. In fact, he’s gonna need surgery to get rid of the other areas.”

“Understood. Advise the surgery tent that they have another patient, one that requires amputation of his right foot.”

---

Mordek was on a surgery bed with Marshii and other surgeons in their scrubs. He had a mask that delivered the anesthetic. “Everything’s ready,” reported an Orc nurse.

“We will now begin amputation of the right foot,” said Marshii. “Temperature of healthy foot?”

“97.2 degrees Marthan,” replied another surgeon. “Average healthy temperature for a Dwarf.”

“Temperature of diseased foot?”

“4.82 degrees Marthan,” answered a third surgeon. “It drops just above the ankle.”

“Touch response?”

“None.”

“Pulse?”

“Stops just above the ankle,” said the second surgeon.

“And skin coloration is all black due to dry gangrene,” recalled Marshii. “Right, we’ll sever the limb a little higher than the start of the infected area. Bone saw.”

“Bone saw,” replied the nurse as she handed Marshii the saw.

---

After a few hours of surgery to remove the foot and discolorations on his skin, Mordek’s eyes fluttered open. The anesthetic had worn off and he was slowly regaining his senses. “…Th…the Heights…?” he mumbled.

“No, Frigandor,” replied Marshii as she stood by his bed. Mordek turned his gaze to her.

“…Doctor Borontho?”

“Hello, Lord Mordek.”

“…Not a god anymore,” said Mordek as he recalled what Dr. Borg did. “No need to call me a Lord. Depths, no need to call any of us Lord or Lady.”

“Depends on where your life takes you financially,” chuckled Marshii. Her smile faded again. “There’s no easy way to say this, so I’ll just say it; we had to amputate your right foot.”

“…My frostbite was that severe?”

“Your foot was gangrenous. There was no way you could survive on that thing. We had to surgically remove frostbitten areas on your body. Your foot was the only thing we couldn’t save.”

“My siblings?”

“Twelve others had to lose a limb or extremity, but you’re all alive. …Unfortunately, so’s Oyed and he didn’t need amputation to survive.” Mordek growled.

“Because, of COURSE, he’d be alright!”

“If Arsha’s Blood Contract is anything to go by, Oyed’s on borrowed time.”

“Well, there’s that mercy. …Dr. Borontho, I’m a grateful man. You saved my life, and I can never repay that. None of us can.”

“Just live out your best life, that’s all the payment I ask. Now, when Oyed’s recovered, we’re gonna be interrogating him. I have a feeling he’s gonna talk, given that Dr. Borg betrayed him.”

“His vindictive nature should give us the advantage. In the meantime, am I medically eligible for a prosthetic foot?”

“As a matter of fact, you’re all medically eligible for prosthetics.” Mordek smiled

“Perfect. I shall spend my recovery time deciding on what kind of foot I want.”

“That’s how most amputees spend their recovery time,” chuckled Marshii good-naturedly. “…You know, you look good with pupils.”

“Pardon?” asked Mordek.

“Your eyes, you have pupils now.” Marshii handed him a mirror to show what she was talking about. Mordek looked and saw that his eyes did indeed have pupils.

“…It’s really interesting how pupils make an eye look much more inviting,” he mused.

---

After everyone recovered, Oyed was placed in the Endeavor’s brig. All the guards on shift had a chance to make fun of him for a bit until Arsha entered the room. She faced Oyed’s cell. “Finally,” grunted Oyed. “You know, you took your sweet time getting here! I’m surprised my foot hadn’t fallen off!”

“Some of your children had to lose that kind of extremity,” replied Arsha. “Now, what happened? How did you and your children become mortal and when did they start planning to take your places?”

“That scheming bug, Borg, drained us of our power and immortality! All of our Divine Mana has been drained and bottled up!”

“Your Divine Mana?! Is she nuts?!”

“That mantis of a scientist has the idea that blending my Divine Mana with my children’s will give her and her fellow Council members godhood! …However, I didn’t expect the aftermath would involve-”

“You being force-fed pizza?”

“YES, ME BEING FORCE-FED PIZZA! HA HA! LET’S ALL HAVE A LAUGH AT THE EX-TITAN!” Oyed then drew in a breath. “I’m only gonna assume that you found security footage of Yulduk and one of the robots torturing me like that.”

“Yep!”

“Well, I’ll destroy him for that. In fact, I will destroy the entire Realm Trinity Empire for turning against me! Cytanek Yavenag Borg will die and YOU, Arsha Royana, will be the instrument of my vengeance!” Everyone stared at Oyed, then looked at each other. Oyed was confused as to why everyone was doing that. Everyone then collapsed, clutching their sides. Oyed was REALLY confused now. He then saw them shaking in some form. A thought then formed in his head. “…Really?” he asked in a deadpan voice. Arsha managed to turn over as she laughed like a wounded harp seal. In fact, everyone was laughing at Oyed for the audacity of his request. Oyed simply sat on his bunk and waited for the laughing to stop.

The enemy fleet didn’t move. Both sides were in a state of cold war, daring the other to move. On the Endeavor, Shalvey noticed something on her console. “Captain, the Skysword, High Sky, Sand Dune, and Falchion are hailing the enemy fleet,” she reported.

“Patch us through,” ordered Arsha. Five faces appeared on screen, all of them everyone recognized.

“This is Velkor Blacktail, King of the Manticore Hegemony and Acting Captain of the CRS Sand Dune.”

“This is Tursu Molkar, Queen of the Sphinx Democracy and Acting Captain of the CRS Falchion.”

“This is Hanjar Mazula, King of the Gryphon Authority and Acting Captain of the CRS Skysword.”

“And this is Erudsa Miltarii, Queen of the Gorgon Assembly and Acting Captain of the CRS High Sky.”

“And?” asked Draysna.

“And we wish to fulfill our duty of informing you,” explained Hanjar, “that Realmfleet has designated Frigandor as under our protection according to the terms of the Treaty of the Heights signed at the end of the War of the Depths.”

“We don’t recognize Realmfleet treaties, and you weren’t supposed to either, you traitors!” snarled Draysna. “The Empire’s claim to this continent takes precedence! Leave at once!”

“You are cutting off Frigandor from the outside world,” replied Tursu. “We cannot allow our friends to be so isolated thanks to the interference of an enemy power.”

“It is our duty and pleasure,” continued Velkor, “to free Frigandor and render aid to the inhabitants.”

“Captain or General or whatever in the Depths is the Trinny title for someone like you,” Erudsa went on, “right now, I’m personally on the bridge of the toughest, fastest, and most powerful class of skyship Realmfleet has ever put into service and I’m part of a fleet under the command of a miracle-worker who knows how to get the job done. We’ve all got our mana cannons locked on your engines and nothing would make me happier than you giving Arsha an excuse to order me to flay your hide to the bone! But instead, we’re all going to you a chance to spare Arsha the headache of giving that order. So, we ask you only once, stand down.”

“Get in on the call,” Arsha ordered Shalvey. The faces on the screen then reacted as Arsha appeared on their own. “Captain Draysna, I’d take up their generous offer. I’m willing to give the order to tan your Revenant hide.” Drasyna’s comms officer then whispered something to him. He growled and thumped the armrest of his chair.

“You’re lucky I’m needed elsewhere!” he growled to his foes. “But when we meet again, you won’t be so fortunate!” His face then vanished as his part of the call ended.

“The enemy fleet is leaving!” called Malak. “Captain, the Trinnies are abandoning Frigandor!”

“Excellent decision!” praised Arsha. “All ships, stand down from red alert.” She then gave her attention to the other Captains. “Everyone, when in the Depths-?”

“When we heard the rumors that Oyed killed you,” explained Velkor, “all six of us used the Inter-realm comms still available to us to form a mutual defense compact to aid one another when the Realmgates were operational again and to try and enter Realmfleet. When assignments were available, we accepted.”

“Just because we were cut off,” chuckled Erudsa, “didn’t mean we were gonna leave Realmfleet in the lurch. You freed us from Oyed and got back from his botched attempt to kill you, and we’re supposed to repay you by sitting on our duffs?”

“Captain Royana,” called Tanta’s voice over the comms, “we are reaty to telifer ait to Frikantor. We leaf te searsh for Oyet in your hants.”

“Land all supply distribution parties,” ordered Arsha. She then turned to Shalvey. “Tell the teleporter room to standby for my strike team.”

---

The strike team consisted of Arsha, her spouses, Bashoon, and Delselii. They headed to a meeting place outside Frigandor. They waited for a few minutes until five Revenants approached them. They were a Naga woman named Eltan Sontor, a male Ice Elf named Sheendii Eltraa, a male Cecaelia named Drelta Meltrek, a female Slime named Blenter Ansii, and a male human named Entran Deltar. These Revenants died during Arsha’s first encounter with Reb Rojam and her pirate fleet, brought back after Dr. Borg restored Yulduk to life, and worked under her for only a moment until they turned on her, their pride at being Realmfleet soldiers overshadowing Dr. Borg’s desires. They became known as the Realmfleet Revenants and were used to gather enemy intelligence when they could. “Good to see you again, Eltan,” greeted Arsha.

“It’s…it’s good to…see you,” replied Eltan. “The…entrance is…this way.” Eltan then drew in a breath.

“…Are you alright?”

“We’re fine,” assured Eltan in a normal talking speed. “Just needed a moment. Come on. The entrance is this way.” The Realmfleet Revenants led the team to an ice cave, then they had to catch their breath.

“Okay, no, this isn’t right,” called Arsha. “You’re exhausted somehow. Even before you were made into Revenants, you weren’t this tired. What’s going on?”

“Everything…Captain,” panted Sheendii. He then pulled back his hood to reveal that his veins and eyes were very dim. The rest of the Realmfleet Revenants pulled back their own hoods and revealed the same. Blenter had to move her core up to her head to reveal that it was in the same condition.

“I’ve never known Revenants to lose their shine,” muttered Foresna.

“It was the removal of Oyed that sparked this,” explained Blenter. “Talking to him was a key component of resurrecting us.”

“Honestly, I can’t say that I fully blame Dr. Borg,” said Drelta. “With him around, he was too dangerous to the Realms. He had already seen how his children were wired up to a draining machine targeting their Divine Mana and we’d be damned if we went out like that. We never saw it coming.”

“But every single Revenant felt it,” continued Entran. “We could feel our lives beginning to slip away, though we couldn’t place it at the time. And in that moment, that very infinitesimal second before our second death, we started drawing in mana from the air to save ourselves from dying all over again before we could see the end of the Final War. With every ounce of will power we had left, we bought ourselves time and expanded our moment of dying into weeks, maybe months.”

“But it’s like operating in a fog,” said Eltan as she wrapped up the situation. “Everything’s a little unreal and warped. I personally feel like I’m slithering through water sometimes. Then, when we use magic…we can feel our lives slipping away unless we take in massive mana infusions. The five of us are running on fumes now, since the blockade prevented us from getting more mana, but we’ve got just enough left to show you the results of what happened.” Eltan then revealed a secret keypad inside the wall and keyed in a code that opened a hidden door into a metal, yet cavernous maw of a tunnel. “This way,” directed Eltan. Everyone entered the frigid base, their wands drawn.

Arsha looked over some papers in her room at the Emboramiis’ castle. As she worked, she heard the door chime. “Come in,” she called. Reb then entered the room. “Ah, Captain Rojam, I heard you were here.”

“A DELIGHTFUL pleasure to see you,” remarked Reb as she sat on a couch opposite Arsha’s chair. A red tendril grew from her slime and idly picked up a paper Arsha had already looked at. “And what are our BLAZING yellow eyes looking over right now?”

“Reports from the front lines,” replied Arsha.

“Ah.” The room fell silent. The silence became uncomfortable. “…Doesn’t your BELOVED ship have somewhere to go?”

“…I don’t have any movement orders just yet. Orbak, Malnar, and Rellmeer are still planning which ship’s going to Frigandor.”

“I thought the fleet was heading there RIGHT now.”

“No, that’s tomorrow, at the latest.”

“Tomorrow. I see.” The uncomfortable silence returned.

“…Okay, Reb, what gives?” demanded Arsha.

“Pardon me, my DEAR Arsha?” asked the pirate woman.

“Rellmeer’s here to take down Dr. Borg’s parents from what I’ve heard. What’s YOUR angle?”

“…Well, now you force a confession from me. The truth is, Arsha, there’s someone out there with a way to end this war right now. I want to be there when they reveal how to do it and I want to make sure they hold to the mark. That may or may not involve tarsaline, given the person’s character.”

“Tarsaline? You’re joking, I hope.”

“I must admit I’m too scared to joke.”

“…My Ones, you’re serious. You’re actually scared of Dr. Borg, aren’t you?”

“Remsu, actually,” corrected Reb. “I admit that I’ve never shied away from taking a life, but it’s always been as a means to an end, to obtain the riches and power that was denied to me and my loved ones by the usual methods. I wanted to grab respect where I could.”

“And look where that got you,” scoffed Arsha.

“When I was part of the breakout of Realmfleet Max, I saw only a glimpse of Remsu’s power! And once she and the rest of the Imperial Council obtain godhood, their power will increase a thousand times over that!”

“You think they plan to destroy people that wronged them?”

“Think BIGGER, Princess!” snapped Reb. “Killing their tormentors would just be their opening act! They’ll have the power to reshape all of existence AND the will! …I made sure of that with Remsu.” Arsha arched an eyebrow.

“Sorry?”

“I contracted her for a job before she got married to Dr. Borg. She once didn’t have the stomach to kill and now she’s a vindictive woman. I feel responsible for her being what she is today. I didn’t recognize her during the breakout, but I soon discovered old files on those I contracted. Her picture and kills were QUITE prominent. I…I helped mold that monster into what she is today. …But it’s FAR from over! We still have a chance and…I can’t believe I’m saying this aloud…if we put aside our differences one last time, I can get us close to the Divine Tower! But, if we’re to survive, you’re going to need to amplify your Candidate’s Aura. The rumor is that you’re considered a Candidate for being the Divine Ones’ Champion.”

“The rumors are true and I’m trying to amplify it, but I don’t have enough mana to do so.”

“That’s a DREADFUL lie. I heard that you had that power during your first fight with the Titan! Rumor has it that it was once contained in your hairpiece!” Arsha’s eyes widened.

“What you heard about-” Arsha took her rose out of her bun- “was the pent-up rage of the ones who wore this when they misinterpreted Sorsha’s original instructions on this thing! You saw untempered power that would turn a woman into a mindless, dangerous animal!”

“And the only kind of power that has a chance against a god, should we fail to stop their ascension!”

“I will NOT use that kind of power again! It nearly killed me! It would have killed-!” Arsha stopped as she thought about Foresna, then the rest of her lovers. “No. Never again unless there’s no other way.” Reb scowled at Arsha’s refusal

“If you were TRULY picked to be our gods’ Champion, born to save the Realms, how now can you refuse their plea?” Arsha then got an idea. She looked at a report stating that there were fifty-one unknown life-signs detected in Frigandor. She grinned.

“I think I know how to beat Dr. Borg, but the first step starts in finding out who these fifty-one are if they aren’t who I think they are.”

“…The Divine Ones?”

“And Oyed. He’s the one we need to talk to. He must have some sort of weapon that was meant to destroy his children. Maybe he can help us modify it to use against the Council should they ascend to godhood.”

“Then what are we gonna do if there IS such a DREADED weapon? Ask him nicely to please let us use it and please not kill us in the process?” Arsha smirked. Reb’s sarcastic smile…faded. “…Oh, sweet Ones, we are!”

“Keep your tarsaline on standby in case Oyed says no. I have a feeling he’s gonna need it.” Reb arched an eyebrow.

---

With the Under to Mid Realmgate now repaired and synced to the Mid to Under Realmgate, the plan was set in motion. The Endeavor would lead the larger fleet to free Frigandor and get them back on their feet. When Frigandor is freed, Arsha would lead a team to find Dr. Borg’s base and see if the unaccounted life-signs were Oyed and the Divine Ones. Once done, Arsha would make her case to Oyed and convince him to join us. What those who signed the initial Blood Contract didn’t tell everyone was that Oyed was going to die one way or another. The details would be made public once Oyed was gone. As the fleet moved towards Frigandor, everyone was expecting the eventual firefight. They were rather surprised when only a few Imperial ships rose from Frigandor’s borders to meet them. “Realmfleet,” called the enemy flagship, “this is Captain Draysna. You are ordered to surrender and prepare to be boarded by order of the Realm Trinity Empire.” The Endeavor crew looked at each other in disbelief.

“They can’t be serious,” muttered Malak.

“Open a channel,” ordered Arsha.

“Channel open,” replied Shalvey. A Revenant human man’s face appeared on the screen.

“This is Princess Royana of the flagship, Endeavor. Frigandor is under Realmfleet protection. Withdraw or be destroyed.”

“Negative,” replied the Revenant. “We have authority here. Do not force us to engage your fleet.”

“Why not? There are very few of you that survived battle against a fleet this size. Their location is currently unknown, yours was made obvious by your arrival here. If you value your lives, be elsewhere.”

“Captain, something’s coming up from behind us!” called Malak.

“Can you identify?” asked Arsha.

“…They’re Shadow Dragons with Drow riders.” A relieved smile then crossed Malak’s face. “General Dotan’s leading the charge with Tanta on his back!”

“It’s been a while!” chuckled Arsha. She turned to Dalengor. “If you wish to join him, I have no qualms.”

“I’ll be back, Captain!” replied Dalengor. She then cast a teleport spell on herself and vanished from the bridge.

The Endeavor made it to the Under-realm, right above the Belsnath Citadel. Shalvey made the call. “Belsnath Citadel, this is the Skyship Endeavor, registry CRS-2784. Requesting permission to land.”

“Standby while we acquire your clearance,” replied a woman on the other end of the call. Shalvey transmitted the clearance code. “Clearance accepted! You’re cleared on Flight Path 2 for the Emboramii’s private port! Tell His Majesty and his family ‘Welcome back’!”

“Will do, Belsnath! They’ll be glad to be home!” Shalvey ended the call.

“Flight Path accepted,” called Nazay.

“Take us down,” directed Arsha. Nazay keyed in the commands and the ship descended onto the landing pad behind the Emboramii’s castle.

“Arsha,” called Orbak from the balcony overhead, “would you and your parents mind accompanying me and my family? I have a feeling you’ll be a welcome sight.”

“It would be my pleasure,” replied Arsha. She and her parents joined the Emboramiis as Malnar pushed her dad’s chair. They made it to the rear gates of the castle and made their way to the throne room.

---

Prime Minister Moggle Deksnar, an Orc man, looked over some papers while sitting on the throne. He shook his head in frustration as he examined one particular report. A guard woman then approached him. “Prime Minister, the King, his family, and the Royanas are outside the southwestern entrance to the throne room,” she reported. Moggle smiled as he stood up.

“Finally, some sense will return!” he sighed. “Let them in, not that Orbak of all people needs permission to enter his own throne room.” The guard bowed, then opened the southwestern door. The Emboramiis and the Royanas then entered the room. Moggle approached them while carrying the reports. He then knelt to the floor in front of Orbak. “Your Majesty!” he greeted.

“Good to see you again, Moggy!” chuckled Orbak.

“…Didn’t exactly miss that,” remarked Moggle. “You look great, my Lord.”

“I guess we’re both cripples now, huh?”

“Yeah, we are.” Moggle pulled his robes back a bit to reveal his cybernetic legs. “Your Majesty, we need your clarity and Arsha’s miracle-working abilities something fierce here.” He handed everyone the reports. “I’ve been studying these reports from the fronts. Note the plural form.”

“I thought we only had the Frigandor front to worry about,” muttered Elgrad.

“Initially, yes, but another front cropped up during your trip through the Realmgate vortex, focused on Crelima City’s northern border.”

“I don’t think I’ve heard about what’s going on in Frigandor,” interjected Arsha.

“A blockade, mainly. The Realm Trinity Empire set up their new base of operations there and used the population as their hostage. They cut off any elements of power. Heating, refrigeration, timekeeping, communications with the outside world, transport, you name it, it’s been cut off. We’ve made multiple attempts to give supplies and generators, but the Empire shot the ships down, killed the survivors, and took the supplies for themselves, leaving Frigandor with only the scraps.”

“Haven’t there been any evacuation orders?” asked Elmpam.

“Many. All of them were intercepted and then all attempts to leave were thwarted whether by imprisonment or by death. The Realmfleet Revenants, Arsha’s old crewmates that died at Plunder Island Stronghold, have reported that Dr. Borg will be doing the same to Crelima City as she did to Frigandor.”

“This isn’t like her,” muttered Arsha. “That’s now three civilizations that experienced or are experiencing being held as a hostage. Ever since Oyed went dark, the Trinnies’ aggression has been unfocused, making her an easy target.”

“Arsha?” asked Orbak.

“Wouldn’t this be a good thing?” quizzed Elgrad.

“No, she’s more put together than this,” said Arsha. “This feels like a distraction.” Arsha’s eyes then lit up. “Is she even counting on the bulk of our ships once being stuck in the Mid-realm?”

“Someone’s got an idea,” chuckled Malnar.

“We first need to fix the Under to Mid Realmgate and sync it with the Mid to Under Realmgate. Once that’s done, two fleets can easily get through. A smaller fleet will give aid to Crelima City along its southern shores and gather intelligence on the Empire’s movements while the larger fleet can rout any enemy forces in Frigandor and give aid to the people while also gathering any intelligence they can.”

“Malnar and I will focus on divvying up the ships,” called Orbak. “We’ll tell you when we’ve drawn up the plans.” A guard then rushed in.

“Your Majesty! Two more ships just came out of the Under to Over Realmgate!” he reported. “It’s the Majestic and the Divine Revenge! They’re requesting permission to land here!”

“Rellmeer and Reb?” asked Arsha. “What are they doing here?”

“Allow them to land,” ordered Orbak. “I have a feeling things are about to get real messy real fast.”

---

Rellmeer and Reb Rojam were escorted to the throne room as Orbak sat on the throne while his wheelchair stood by it. The two women bowed to him. “Rellmeer, there’s no need for YOU of all people to bow,” said Orbak. “Please, both of you, rise.” The women rose. “What brings you here?”

“We’re hunting down two terrorists,” explained Rellmeer.

“Specifically,” continued Reb, “the parents of that VILE Dr. Borg.”

“They’re enemies of the Fae Republic,” supplied Rellmeer, “and have made numerous attempts to my throne.” Her expression darkened. “On top of that, they have taken my beloved husband’s life! They would have killed every girl in my harem had Reb not intervened when she did.”

“I only regret not saving Emperor Embrek in time,” sighed Reb, dropping her verbal tic in shame.

“And you tracked them here?” asked Orbak.

“Every TINY scrap of intel says that Mama and Papa Borg are with their HEINOUS daughter and her spouses right now, LOUDLY cheering them on to godhood!”

“So, she’s not unloved by her parents, there goes THAT backstory. Arsha and I owe Lardeth 500 golds.”

“The Borg family is a very loving family,” replied Rellmeer. “They always believed that they and those they bring into the family are the superior beings. Dr. Borg’s grab for power is vindication for them.”

“Well, let’s cut that vindication short,” declared Orbak. “Empress, would you mind joining Malnar and I in battle-planning?”

“I would be honored, Your Majesty.”

“Oh, Captain Rojam?”

“Yes, my GRACIOUS King?”

“Arsha’s here. You might want to get your hellos with her out of the way.” Reb flinched.

“I’ll…get right on that,” she mumbled.

The Mid to Under Realmgate was the one of the pair that was given top priority, so it was completed first. Like last time, a comms probe was constructed. Everyone on the Endeavor manned their stations. “All right, ladies and gentlemen,” declared Arsha, “just like last time. Shalvey, transmit opening instructions to the Realmgate.”

“Transmitting instructions,” confirmed Shalvey. “…It’s received them and is ready to open on your command.”

“Nazay, open it.”

“Opening.” Once Nazay keyed in the command, they waited three seconds before the familiar vortex of colors appeared.

“Elmar, status of the comms probe.”

“Comms probe is ready to launch at your command,” reported Elmar.

“Malak, calculate distance from our position to the other side of the portal for it to land. Endea, refine those calculations.”

“Calculating,” replied Malak. “…Initial calculations complete.”

“Refining,” reported Endea as her eyes turned white. “…Final calculations complete.”

“Launch probe.”

“Launching,” reported Orthena as she pressed a button on her console.

---

A small device was launched from the Endeavor’s starboard bow torpedo tube. It sailed through the air and entered the vortex.

---

“Probe is inside Realmgate vortex,” reported Melandra.

“Here we go again,” muttered Denstra.

“Hey, Bashoon,” called Arsha.

“Yes, Captain?” asked Bashoon.

“Got another shanty stuck in your head? I think we could use the entertainment.”

“You familiar with Leave her, Marzii?”

“I LOVE that shanty!” called Malak. That seemed to be the general consensus of the crew.

“I’ll count us off then!” offered Arsha. She then slapped the armrest of her chair in a slow rhythm and the bridge crew began to sing.

“I thought I heard the shipmaster say

Leave her, Marzii, leave her!

Tomorrow, ye will find sun rays

And it’s time for us to leave her!

Leave her, Marzii, leave her!

Oh, leave her, Marzii, leave her!

For the voyage is long and the clouds don’t roll

And it’s time for us to leave her!” Just then, Shalvey’s console lit up.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she called, “but we’re getting a transmission!”

“Can you identify it?” asked Arsha.

“Doing so now…same results as last time! It’s the probe on the other side of the vortex! Audio-only!”

“Put it through. And call the Emboramiis up here. I have a distinct feeling they’re gonna want to hear this.”

“Already here,” called Malnar as she and Elmpam wheeled Orbak onto the bridge. The instant they took their places, a weary man’s voice came through

“This is Moggle Deksnar, Prime Minister of the Under-realm,” revealed the man. “Political i.d. 1-1-0-1. Your probe came out of a vortex over the Belsnath Citadel. The Over-realm did the exact same thing, and we synced our Under to Over Realmgate to their Over to Under Realmgate, so I presume this probe came from the Mid-realm?”

“You presume correctly, Moggy!” chuckled Orbak. “This is Orbak Emboramii, King of the entire Under-realm, political i.d. 0-3-9-7!”

“Your Majesty!” cheered Moggle. “Thank the Ones you’re here! My native Frigandor needs your help the most!”

“Frigandor?! Tell me when I get there on the Endeavor! It will be docking at my private port!”

“Understood! It’s great to hear from you again after all these months!”

“And your service to the throne will be rewarded when I get there! Orbak out!” The call ended.

“Nazay, take us through! All possible haste!”

“All possible haste; aye, Captain,” confirmed Nazay.

---

Meanwhile, in Frigandor, the Realm Trinity Empire was closing up shop. The equipment had been hauled into all the transports and the armed forces were going through final checks. Dr. Borg smiled at the efficiency being displayed. They were actually ahead of schedule. “Hey, Doctor!” called Femfaf.

“Yes?” asked Dr. Borg.

“Shall we have the Divine Ones and Oyed prepared to move as well?”

“…You know, I almost forgot about them. Thank you for reminding me that they’re here. To answer your question, why should we bring them? What would be the point? What would be the tactical advantage? They might put aside their differences and team up against us, giving Realmfleet victory over us. No, close down all heating elements and food stores. Have them freeze or starve to death here.”

“As you wish.” Femfaf headed off to obey Dr. Borg’s orders. As she did, Dr. Borg’s spouses and adopted daughter arrived.

“This is it!” cheered Jansha. “We’re gonna be gods!”

“I was thinking of being a naughty god,” mused Remsu.

“You’re naughty anyways,” chuckled Dr. Borg, “but it’s one of the reasons why I love you.” Her smile then faded as a thought hit her. “…We need to prepare to say goodbye to our families.”

“It’s only a ‘see-you-later’,” said Shefarn. “We’ll see them again in the After-realm.”

“I suppose. Though, it WILL be long after they…pass on. That will take many years, even for beloved Fae like my own parents. They ARE stripping themselves of their immortality, but it will be 40,000 more years of natural life before we meet them again.”

“Yeah, not the most pleasant aspect,” agreed Tensam. “So, we have to do what we can and answer their prayers. Gotta take time out of our future busy schedules as gods somehow.” Dr. Borg smiled again.

“I guess that WILL ease the separation.” As Dr. Borg finished, everyone shivered. “Femfaf works fast!”

“I didn’t think I’d feel cold,” remarked Jansha, “yet here I am!”

“Scorpo’s waiting for us,” remarked Remsu as she rubbed her arms. “I see no reason in delaying him.”

“Neither do I,” agreed Dr. Borg. “We better go.” They headed off to the shipyard.

---

They entered the Scorpion’s bridge two minutes after their conversation. The rest of the Imperial Council was already there, manning their stations. Dr. Borg and her family assumed their posts. Dr. Borg eased herself into the Captain’s Chair, then smirked. “Mr. Scorpo,” she began, “set course for the Divine Tower.”

“Course already laid in,” replied Scorpo.

“The fleet’s ready to move at your order,” called Remsu at the Comms Station.

“The order is given! Scorpo, onward!”

“Aye-aye, Doctor!” He keyed in the necessary command and they all felt the Scorpion move upwards and forwards to the desert of the Under-realm’s Eastern Continent.

With two Realmgates being rebuilt, it was taking a considerable amount of time to get the ships stuck in Rokanth back in the air and into ports to give the Halflings some breathing room. The Halflings were eager at the prospect of getting some form of normality back. As the sun rose for the new day, an alarm rang in Delselii’s quarters. He snorted as the noise woke him up, then groaned as he was reoriented to an extent. His arm simply slapped the nightstand until it hit the alarm button. The noise stopped and Delselii yawned. He swung the sheets off him, then sat up with his feet resting on the floor. Something felt off to him, but he decided he would think about it when he had his coffee. He got up and put his foot forward…then promptly fell to the floor. When he recovered, He sat up and started asking himself questions along the lines of “Why did I fall?”, “Am I sick?”, and “Why can’t I feel my right foot?” That last question alarmed him. He never usually thinks that in the morning. He looked down and did the only thing one could do in his situation…scream in abject terror.

---

Markulak’s recharge cycle ended. He was looking forward to the day, especially since he got actual quarters and met the Three Maidens themselves! With the Robot Liberation Front ready to find more allies, he anticipated a quick end to the Final War. “Hello, Endeavor and crew!” he sighed happily to himself. “Today is a brand new-!” He then fell to the floor. Questions like Delselii’s raced through his mind, only the last question concerned his left foot. He looked down and, like Delselii, screamed at what he saw.

---

After breakfast, Arsha made her way to the bridge. She saw Denstra, Shalvey, Nazay, Thangred, Endea, and a robot shaped like a dome with five long, spindly legs helping it move. It had five metal tendrils with five-digited pincer claws on each end to grasp and manipulate things. “Mr. Rultanga,” called Arsha, “how’s life on the ship treating you?”

“I am fully operational, Captain,” replied the robot, Rultanga.

“He’s been a perfect night-shift engineer,” praised Thangred. “Good thing we met him. Though, his emotions could use work.”

“What do you mean?” asked Arsha.

“He means that I do not have any emotions yet,” explained Rultanga. “It has been the dream of my previous iterations to have them. Markulak is in the process of teaching me to have emotions, starting with humor.”

“Oh yeah?” asked Arsha. “How did he start?”

“He introduced me to a concept called a ‘prank.’ He had decorated my main body in a pink color, and he attached stickers on areas he had missed. After a few crew members laughed and explained what he did, Markulak said that I was now obligated to ‘get even with them’.”

“You need to prank him now, hm?”

“I have already done so, him AND Delselii while I thought about it.”

“Whoa, wait a minute!” Arsha was a little apprehensive. “There ARE some unwritten rules of pranking and one of them is-!”

“RULTANGA!” roared Markulak’s voice as he and Delselii hopped onto the bridge, each missing a leg! The crew, sans Rultanga, cried out in surprise.

“What in the Depths?!” shrieked Endea.

“What happened to your legs?!” yelped Thangred.

“HE-” Markulak pointed an accusing finger at Rultanga- “amputated them while we were sleeping!”

“Ha ha. Got you,” replied Rultanga.

“WHAT?!” asked Delselii.

“I have retaliated against you and pranked Delselii in the process. That is my practical joke.”

“This isn’t a joke, you psychopath!” shouted Markulak. “You dismembered us AND you dragged an innocent guy into this!”

“I am confused. You said to be creative, and you said to do it when you least expected it. You also said to try pranking other people. I have adhered to all three directives. I DID use anesthesia on Delselii on the chance he would wake up while I tried to prank him.”

“Rultanga, you took their legs in the middle of the night?!” demanded Arsha.

“Of course, Captain Royana. It would not do to try such a joke during the day when they are more alert.”

“Well, where in the Depths ARE they?!” wailed Delselii.

“If you are referring to the legs, I have hidden them. With the tracker installed in Markulak’s leg, you should be able to find it in a ‘humorous’ location, considering their importance to you.”

“You piece of s***!” snarled Markulak as he and Delselii jumped as menacingly as they could towards Rultanga. The bridge crew rushed to hold them back as they uttered all sorts of threats, ranging from scrapping Rultanga to unplugging him during recharge.

“Mr. Markulak, can you find the tracker’s frequency?” asked Arsha.

“Yes, but-!”

“Revenge can wait! It’d take some pressure off my mind if you just searched for your legs. Endea, Thangred, help them find their legs…never thought I’d give that order in my lifetime.”

“Aye, Captain,” replied Endea as she and Thangred led Delselii and Markulak off the bridge.

“You’re sick!” snarled Markulak. “I mean it! There’s something really wrong with you!”

---

“Teaching an unemotional robot that understands the concept of unwritten rules as well as a non-Sentina snail does about a prank war?!” Marshii barked at Delselii once his and Markulak’s legs were located and they were taken to Sick Bay and Main Engineering respectively. The elderly Mermaid was sewing Delselii’s leg back on as she griped “What were you thinking?!” She jabbed the needle into Delselii’s stump and brought it out below the seam, like she was fixing up trousers. The procedure is not exactly a pleasant one for a Homunculus, forcing the poor patient to yelp whenever they feel the needle enter their flesh.

“First off,” grunted Delselii, “I DIDN’T teach Rultanga about a prank war!”

“From what Bashoon told me during her physical,” Marshii jabbed the needle again, eliciting a yelp from the Homunculus, “you suggested it to Markulak! I’d say that makes you equally as culpable!”

“Come on, I didn’t tell Markulak to actually do it!”

“Well, you STILL should have stopped him!” Another jab, another yelp. Marshii finished up her work. “There, all done! Now, wiggle your toes.” Delselii did so. They responded to his brain’s signals immediately. “Now get up and try to walk.” Delselii got up from the cot and walked around the room as if nothing happened to him. “We’re done here,” declared Marshii.

“Thank you, Doctor.”

“If you REALLY want to thank me, don’t come in here while holding one of your detached limbs! It takes DAYS for people to stop laughing at the poor doctor who has to add this to her daily logs and transmit them to Realmfleet!” Delselii sighed and walked out of Sick Bay.

Over in Frigandor, Dr. Borg was waiting on the latest progress report concerning Largandra. “Come on!” she groaned. “When’s Kartambo gonna take the throne?!” Just then, her console beeped. She pressed a button. “Yes?”

“Mother, it’s bad!” replied Jansha’s voice. “A bunch of duplicates have been activated from multiple robot lines, the same lines we sent to Largandra’s wall.”

“Their duplicates have been activated? What for?”

“They’re experiencing activation confusion right now. I have a feeling you need to oversee this personally.”

“On my way.” Dr. Borg ended the call and left the room rubbing her temples. She had a feeling a headache was fast approaching. She made it to the induction room, a place where new robots are familiarized with the Empire and duplicates are given their previous models’ code and memories. Jansha was at work on a console, keying in commands.

“Still parsing the data from the previous models,” she reported. “…Got it.” A feared silence filled the room. “…I don’t believe it.”

“What?” asked Dr. Borg.

“Our robots in Largandra have followed Markulak: Model 7’s example and defected to Realmfleet! Temnasia: Model 4 executed Markulak: Model 8 as he was about to kill his predecessor! They helped a strike team set up explosives within the wall, then evacuate civilians to safer areas within AND without Largandra! Trosalga: Model 90 was the one who detonated the bombs! These bots are descendants of traitors!” Dr. Borg was trembling with rage.

“Order all loyal forces to pull back to the Under-realm!” Jansha looked at the Cyborg Sprite.

“We’ll be boxed in before we find the tower!”

“There will be no more running after this! We should have examined the robots more closely so we could rid ourselves of traitors before they even think of rebellion!” Dr. Borg turned to Temnasia: Model 5, quivering in fear like her compatriots.

“Doctor, if we could talk to our predecessors,” she suggested, “get them to change their minds-!”

“Perhaps you could reawaken their patriotic spirit?” guessed Jansha.

“Exactly!”

“On the other hand,” remarked Dr. Borg, “they’re just as likely to convince you to betray us.”

“Us?! Betray you?! Never!”

“You’re right, because you won’t live to get the chance! Jansha, activate Protocol Ten on these rejects!” Protocol Ten is not a phrase robots want to hear. Upon the protocol’s activation, all duplication programs are deleted from the target’s line and the luckless robot automatically reports to the nearest smelter’s yard. Their identification codes are deleted as well so other robots, especially ones working the yards, see them as mere raw materials. Temnasia: Model 5 pled on behalf of her and her fellows.

“Dr. Borg! Jansha! Wait! You’re making a terrible mistake!”

“That’s where you’re wrong!” replied Jansha.

“But our lines have done everything you have asked of us! I tell you, we’re loyal! We believe in the Empire! Jansha! Please! Don’t do it!” Jansha pressed a button on the console and the robots began filing out of the room, pleading for her to undo Protocol 10. The last robot left, and the door shut behind it. Dr. Borg sat down on a crate and put her head in her hands.

“Did we go too fast?” she asked.

“Mother?” asked Jansha.

“Did we drain the Divine Mana too early? Our Revenants are weakening, and robots are betraying us. What next, the Golems betray us?” Just then, a male Golem entered the room, beaming with pride.

“My Creator!” he called. “We found it!” Dr. Borg arched an eyebrow, then her normal eye widened in hope.

“A Divine Tower?!”

“Yes, Doctor!” confirmed the Golem. “It’s in the desert of the Under-realm’s Eastern Continent! Right at the northern shores!”

“What’s your name?” asked Dr. Borg as she smiled.

“Grabben, Dr. Borg.”

“Mr. Grabben, you and your team will be rewarded for this joyous news! Report to the meeting hall in two hours! Before we depart, every single one of you will be rewarded with the Medal of the Trinity Star!”

“We simply did our duty, Ma’am.”

“And that dedication is what earned you that medal! Congratulations, Mr. Grabben!” They shook hands and Grabben left the room.

“Finally,” sighed Jansha happily when the door shut, “some good news at last.”

“Have our forces be ready to leave in three hours,” ordered Dr. Borg.

“At once, Mother. Shall I order for the Divine Ones and Oyed to be moved as well?”

“No. They won’t witness our ascension. Leave them to rot here in Frigandor.”

“Yes, Mother.”

---

Meanwhile, in a private chamber, Oyed was strapped to the wall as a robot kept shoving pizza slice after pizza slice into his mouth. He tried to spit it out, but the robot wouldn’t let him. Yulduk entered the room. “Ah, when the stars align!” he cheered.

“Sir?” asked the robot.

“We found a Divine Tower!” answered Yulduk.

“Perfect! I’ll have Oyed prepped for-!”

“No, we’re leaving him and his children to freeze here. They won’t get to watch us become gods. How’s Oyed doing, anyways?”

“Yulduk, you miserable, rotten traitor!” growled Oyed. “I will have my reveGAHGHAHAGH!” Another slice of pizza was shoved into his mouth.

“Fabulous,” chuckled Yulduk. “He’s never looked better! Gotta say, ‘Master’, your normal eyes really do wonders for social interactions. I can’t fathom why mist always seeped out of them, but, oh well. Honestly, you being drained was the best thing for morale, really. With you mobile and prattling on about your endgame, it felt like we all married our mother! …Not that I…ever thought about that.”

“Stealing my Divine Mana and blending it with my children so you could take their places!” snarled Oyed. “That’s low, even for you and Dr. Borg! But why am I being force-fed pizzARGHA!” Another slice was shoved into his mouth.

“Oh, I just wanted to be mean. You’re never going to eat pizza gain at this rate! Imagine that, life without pizza!”

“YOU FIEND!”

“Gotta give some instructions, BRB.” Yulduk turned to the robot. “We’re moving out in three hours. Once I leave, you have two minutes to continue force-feeding Oyed. Once your two minutes are up, join us in getting things packed up.”

“Understood, Lord Yulduk,” said the robot. Yulduk grinned.

“‘Lord Yulduk.’ You know, I think I’ll stick with that when I ascend. Nice and simple, wouldn’t you agree?”

“It WOULD be easier on the vocalizer.”

“Then that’s settled! Lord Yulduk, it is! Now…” Yulduk then picked up a slice that had fallen out of Oyed’s mouth and onto the floor, “it looks like little Oyed’s hungry!”

“Oh, gross!” gagged Oyed. “It’s got carpet fuzz on it! I’LL DESTROY YOU FOR THISHGHRAGH!” Yulduk shoved the slice into Oyed’s mouth.

“Yeah, yeah, ‘destroy us for this!’ I’m not the one chained to the wall here, Oyed! Yulduk out!” The Flame Elf Revenant snapped his fingers in a sassy manner and sauntered out. Once the door shut, the robot grabbed another slice.

“Please! No more! HAVE MERCIAGHERGH!” The robot made itself deaf to Oyed’s protests as it continued its job, enjoying being able to do that to the former Titan.