Chapter 545 - Vs. Virillius Augustus VI

  Valencia was bursting with excitement. The crowd was cheering at the top of its collective lungs, shouting the name of Cadria’s God-King over and over as he made his way into the ring.

  It was a mood not quite shared by the foreign invaders. A hundred thousand Obloyd troops were in the sky above the city. They were split among three floating castles, all provided by House Verus. Flying Cadrian banners, the invaders blended right in with the countless vessels that dotted the sky. On most other days, the fortresses were explicitly kept outside the city’s bounds. But on the day of the last battle, the guards were far too preoccupied to issue their usual warnings.

  Still, the alliance was cautious. The warships slowly crept across the horizon, making sure not to raise any alarms as they inched into position.

  The commanders grew more nervous with every passing moment. They were waiting for the battle to reach its climax before committing to the assault. As things stood, they were ready to pull out at a moment’s notice. The goddess had assured them that Vel’khan’s champion would be able to hold Virillius’ attention. But even though they trusted her, they couldn’t help but want to be sure. There was only so much they could risk on her word alone. After all, she was but one god in a sea of deities. There was no telling if another would foil her plan.

  To that end, they’d planted just over a thousand men in the crowd. Their agents would be responsible for making the call—for informing central command when it was time to lead the assault. All of the spies were kacklors—insectoids capable of producing high-pitched sounds that only their own species could hear. It was a mission that required the men to be prepared to give up their lives. Higher pitched noises couldn’t quite travel as far as their lower counterparts. For their signals to reach the ship, the kacklors had to scream so incredibly loudly that they risked killing themselves in the process. Even if they escaped death, they would surely lose consciousness and give themselves away regardless of whether they called for attack or retreat.

  Still, it was a worthy sacrifice. They would die so Cadria could be taken—so that the alliance could finally free itself from the fear that gripped its eastern border.

  Their ships drew just a little bit closer as the announcer introduced the Vel’khanese combatant. The voice was still distant, barely audible. Or at least that was how it was before the fighter began to speak. Her voice caused half the commanders to shit themselves on the spot. Unlike the announcer’s, it wasn’t muffled by any of the distance or obstacles between them. Somehow, despite coming from far, far away, it was crystal clear.

  It wasn’t like it was being spoken into their minds. Rather, it was like the voice was coming from directly in front of them even though they all faced different directions.

  Still, the commanders quickly relaxed, thinking it likely the effect of some artifact or other. Until she announced her identity.

  The Vel’khanese representative was Claire Augustus.

  The sentiment in the command centre was mostly positive. Most of the commanders began to cheer, knowing that Claire’s presence had fulfilled their last condition. She would surely distract Virillius well enough for them to carry out the invasion.

  But there was one who paled.

  A pink, blob-shaped creature named Raynor rapidly blinked his single eye as he processed the news. Raynor had never wanted to be part of the assault. Hell, he’d never wanted the war at all, thinking that it was certainly a foolish decision. Though the Goddess of Fate had made him one of her heroes, he did not at all believe in her plan. It was purely by happenstance that he’d taken the position in the first place. He was pretty sure that it was originally meant for his brother, and that he’d only been given the role because Hlasten had given his life to save him.

  Still, Raynor had ultimately boarded the ship. The other commanders had dragged him along, citing that they needed all of the mission’s commanders present for the moment of invasion. It was the worst possible outcome. As one of Hemlik’s close confidants—someone who knew all the details—he did not want to stir up the hornet’s nest and incur a celestial’s wrath.

  But there was nothing that could be done.

  The others would never take him seriously even if he begged them to retreat. And in the first place, weakening the army ultimately served his purpose.

  Shaking his blob, Raynor fought back a sigh.

  He’d reached the point of praying for divine intervention. It was his one shot at survival.

  And to his surprise, it happened right as he closed his eyes.

  Flitzegarde descended right before the duel could begin in earnest and completely flipped the script. Her claim alone was reason enough to turn the ships around.

  Raynor tried to open his mouth and comment, but found that it was impossible. His perception had already been slowed by the goddess’ magic; the difference in actual and perceived time made it incredibly difficult for them to move their bodies in any coordinated way.

  In other words, they’d been counted among the spectators.

  The sight was right there, in front of their eyes.

  Even right off the bat, their minds were blown.

  Ability scores were not supposed to be in the millions, let alone the tens of billions.

  There was simply no way the math checked out.

  Even if Virillius’ total class level was somewhere in the six digit range, he would’ve needed more first kill bonuses than there were species on Mara. Another panel popped up before Raynor could finish that thought and illustrated Claire’s numbers. They were still absurd, but far more sane than the nonsense that was her father’s. Or at least, they were to everyone else.

  The pink blob didn’t believe them for a second. It had to be a trick. She was probably fooling even the goddess of order.

  A few seconds later, and the battle began.

  And everyone’s decisions were made.

  Even without the ability to exchange words or glances with his peers, Raynor knew. All of the Obloyd commanders knew.

  They would be turning tail.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  They had no place in Valencia.

  If they wished to avoid outright extermination, their one choice was to fly beyond the horizon.

  ___

  The alliance’s commanders were not the only ones thrown into a state of panic. The divine realm was very much the same. Hundreds of divine entities had gathered to witness the duel between Claire and Virillius Augustus. And half had already devolved into protest and turmoil.

  Unlike the terrified mortals, most gods and goddesses were not put off by the ridiculous numbers upon the display, or at least not most of them. Though, there were still a few in the crowd simply incapable of understanding how and why mere mortals had managed to accrue such a ridiculous amount of power. Most of the spectators had come into the event with no knowledge of its background or history. They’d expected nothing from the duel itself and gathered purely for no reason beyond noticing the commotion.

  And their confusion was entirely justified.

  After all, the pair they observed were far more powerful than mortals had any right being.

  There were maybe seven celestials in the crowd able to keep up with the light-speed exchange, and even most of the gods had no choice but to skew their perception of time. Had she not known the circumstances herself, Flitzegarde would’ve also found their power levels to be outright unbelievable.

  Because, as gods and demigods, they were well aware that the battle had yet to reach its climax.

  Both fighters still had more in the tank.

  But again, while absurd, it was not the raw power that had the observers up in arms. They all knew that there were always outliers. After all, they themselves had, at some point or other, been described in that exact manner. One did not climb so high upon the divine ladder by chance. And even among those who’d achieved their final ascensions, there were still massive gaps in power.

  Nay. They’d only exploded into protest upon witnessing the spell that Claire had cast on Eudysseus.

  “This is insanity! If allowed through, this spell of hers will completely invalidate all of our predictions!” Archimess, the god of numbers, science, and countless other boring, inconsequential fields of study, screamed from his seat as he slammed a clenched wing against the table in front of him. “We need to stop her right this moment! It cannot be allowed to happen!”

  “I concur with the God of Poorly Optimized Spreadsheets.” Woodrow, the Celestial of Keeping Track of Things That Probably Wouldn’t Matter, tweaked the thousand glass frames hovering in front of his thousand eyes as he wrote his own words into the records. “This attempt of hers to recreate life is not only insolent, but a veritable act of rebellion. She is installing herself as the sole administrator of her dominated domain. If we allow this to pass, we will forever lose the ability to maintain its order.”

  “Who cares? It’s one tiny chunk of space that no one’s even using,” said Wrendle, Celestial of Less-Than-Hospitable Territories. “Let her do what she wants.”

  “We can’t. Do you not see how she’s using her dominated space to seize even more? Her domain is growing, and I doubt it’ll stop until she takes the seventh realm,” said Altea, the liar skilled enough at deception to become the Goddess of Truth.

  “It’s a clear abuse of the system.” Kael’ahruus, the God of Killing Weaker Creatures for Sport, twisted his jaw into a grin. “Give me the order, Flitzegarde, and I will break her neck between my jaws.”

  “Now that, I must say, would make for prime amusement.” Builledracht, the God of Malding Hard Enough to Somehow Harm Others, threw back his head and cackled. “The moment you enter the battle, Kael’ahruus, will surely be the moment that spells your end. Both will surely turn their blades upon you and strike you dead in an instant.”

  “They can try,” snarled the thing that Flitzegarde absolutely refused to acknowledge as a cat. The fur around his neck clearly made him something else entirely. “I will destroy them both.”

  “What is your take on this, Xekkur?” asked Lohor, God of Shiny Objects. He was a sentient lump of gold in the shape of a morbidly obese, middle-aged man. None of the sounds he made were based in physics; his speech relied strictly on systemic generation. “Obviously, I know very little about your domain. But to me, it appeared as if the daughter had violated the concept of death. I do believe she resurrected an entire planet’s worth of systemically recognized organisms?”

  “I have no opinion to give,” said the God of Detesting Sore Losers Incapable of Accepting Their Losses.

  “Talking to him will get you nowhere,” said Glarchest, God of Coughing Literally Forever. “He clearly favours them. The girl frequents his temple.”

  “If Xekkur refuses to move, then we must administer judgement ourselves,” said Archimess. “Flitzegarde, please. Put an end to this insanity before it spirals out of hand. This is our one opportunity. Wait any longer, and it will be too late. Her control will extend too far.”

  “The calculator is right,” said Kindleton, the Celestial of Not Knowing How to Add Single Digit Numbers. “We have to stop them. Flitzegarde, please give the order.”

  So on and so forth, the squabbling was endless.

  Flitzegarde was on the verge of returning to her own corner of the divine realm so she could watch the battle in peace. The most recent part had her especially gripped. She’d been trying to solve Alfred’s ridiculous magic formulae for the better part of the pervert’s existence, but she’d never quite managed to fully decode the sequence.

  She’d been hopeful that witnessing another seed of life—or perhaps the thousands that Claire was spreading across the cosmos—would provide new insight, but it was impossible to focus with everyone constantly screaming her name.

  Were she still the Goddess of Chaos, she surely would have lashed out with a yowl and clawed all the idiots invading her personal space. But having long committed to taking his place, she could do no such thing.

  “I have heard and understood all your myriad concerns.” The crowd finally fell silent as she began to speak. “It is true that allowing this battle to continue will, to an extent, disrupt the order of things. The exploit in which Claire Augustus has engaged is one that is expressly prohibited. It is precisely the sort of behaviour deserving of prompt denial.”

  Some of the gods began to relax, but only because they were fools incapable of reading subtext.

  “However, I expressly stated, upon this duel’s inception, that its participants would be free to use all of their power. And as such, there is to be no interference. Have I made myself clear?”

  “Are you kidding!? You’re going to let this happen!?” screamed Archimess. “You can—”

  “Have I made myself clear?” The cat met the complaining birdman with a firm look.

  “Yes. You have. I understand,” he cawed, reluctantly.

  “Excellent.” The goddess rested her hands on the table in front of her and swept her gaze across the heavens. “I understand that not all of you are satisfied with this judgement, but I assure you that we are on the right path, So long as no one does anything rash,” she met Kael’ahruus’ eyes, knowing that there was no stopping him, “this is the route that will best preserve order.”

  She could already feel a headache coming on. Everything would have been much easier had she simply imprisoned him for the crime he was sure to commit. But unfortunately, that just wasn’t how things worked. She had no proof of his conspiracy, and as the Goddess of Order, she needed to adhere to every last rule if she wanted the others to do the same.

  The best she could do was warn him, but she knew that it was futile. He was sure to ignore any cautionary statements and proceed as planned.

  Flitzegarde closed her eyes and took a breath.

  It was a nightmare of a lose-lose scenario.

  There was nothing to be done.

  The gods were already organising themselves into factions, forming secret alliances under the table and preparing to strike down their peers. As much as she wanted to prevent it, she knew that it was inevitable.

  A divine war would soon be inbound.

  But at the very least, by allowing Claire to stretch her wings, she had pushed it back—delayed it for as long as she could.

  The show was a message to the schemers actively working under the table—a warning that there were still mortals and other unknown factors capable of throwing wrenches into their plans. Mortals capable of striking them down.

  Masking a sigh, the goddess turned her attention back to the battle just in the nick of time.

  The myriad seeds had started to sprout. And with them, another thousand chances to pick Alfred’s secrets apart.