“Is it so surprising?” Casval asked, his smile unwavering. “You have seen Prince Thal-Ass. He is making many enemies, and his father even more so. There are many in the empire that wish your kin dead.”
“Father has many enemies, that is true, but very few of them live long.”
“The Overlord is only human, and all men can die,” Casval insisted. “For all his strength, he needs an army to enforce his will. The more of his minions we take out, the more vulnerable he’ll become. Worry not, we have strength; it’s information and the right opportunity we need.”
“Information?” Simon scowled. “You want me to spy on my family?”
“Yes, of course. You said it yourself, Thal-Ass is bad, and Louis is even worse. Certainly, you wouldn’t mind seeing them knocked down from their pedestal?” Casval tilted his head to the side. “Moreover, there would be a place for someone like you in the new order. A bastard like you will remain stuck in his place should things stay as they are, but my sister does not care where you come from; only about how useful you’ll be.”
Casval tried to make it sound appealing, but the wording betrayed his kind’s coldness. Simon scowled and feigned hesitation. “How can I know this is not a plot of Thalas’ to find an excuse to execute me?”
Casval’s eyes turned into slitted reptilian pupils, and crimson scales appeared over his neckline.
The shift was so sudden that Simon genuinely bolted back in surprise. “What the–”
“Is this proof enough for you?” Casval asked, his voice suddenly far deeper than before. “I am not human. Within my veins flows the blood of Gargauth, the late true Overlord. Your family would want me dead even more than you.”
Simon clenched his teeth. If Casval was so bold as to openly reveal his true nature now, then he had to be prepared to kill Simon on the spot should he refuse to go along. “You must think me valuable to reveal this to me.”
“Yes, of course. We are friends. Friends trust each other.” Casval’s eyes and skin smoothly returned to that of his human disguise. “I have told you a secret; now you must tell me one of yours. It is only fair.”
His tone sounded friendly enough, but Simon could read between the lines. He knew too much now. Either he gave Casval dirt he could use as leverage to enforce mutual trust, or this alley would be his grave.
“The Overlord… has chosen an heir,” Simon said, while pretending to hesitate. “It’s none of his children.”
Casval’s eyes glimmered with interest. “Go on…”
“You’ve heard of Laurent Linconnu?” Casval nodded at Simon’s question. “All imperial forces are after this man because he’s the heir.”
“Interesting.” Casval gave no hint that he already knew that or was merely testing Simon. “But there’s more. You know more.”
Simon frowned and pretended to weigh his answer. In truth, he had plotted all of this long ago. “There is more,” he confirmed. “A secret I’ve forbidden to share under the pain of death, but…”
Casval squinted in impatience. “But?”
“My family will have my head should it become known. Revealing it to be public would be akin to declaring war on House Magnos.” Simon raised a finger. “You said you had enough strength to take on my half-siblings? Well, prove it. I need to see you have a serious shot at winning.”
“Let me guess, you want us to kill Prince Thal-Ass?” Casval crossed his arms. “I have been looking towards assassinating him, but he is too well-protected. His highborn entourage won’t let me near him either.”
This was the chance Simon had been waiting for. “What if I lured him outside town?”
He knew he had won the moment Casval leaned forward with interest. “You can?”
“Yes. I can lure him outside the city to any place of your choosing.” Simon scoffed. “If you’re strong enough to take out the Berserker, that is.”
“There’s no man in Beleth we cannot kill,” Casval replied. “What do you have in mind?”
“Here’s what you’re going to do: you will go to Antonine de Shax and tell her you have information on me that Thalas will be interested in. She’ll introduce you to him.” Largely because she had to prove her usefulness, since their engagement might be canceled. “You will tell him that I’ve confided that I've actually been dispatched to Telluria on Prince Louis’ orders. My job is to meet with the beastmen tribes and convince them to join Louis’ army and support his bid for the throne in exchange for greater rights, maybe even independence, and that I am to meet with their leaders outside the city.”
Casval immediately caught on to the scheme. “You think he’ll follow you personally to catch you red-handed?”
“Oh, trust me. He won’t be able to resist.” Simon smirked ear to ear. “Kill him, and my loyalty is yours.”
Everything went according to plan, and Casval gave him the go-ahead two days after their meeting.
Simon left the city with Meredith, Eole, and Leonard in tow on their way to the Redhands’ territory. It hardly took them twenty minutes for Meredith to confirm that Thalas, Antonine, Casval, and a small posse followed them. As Simon predicted, the fact that Thalas’ sycophants had already seen him leave the city once before only strengthened their master’s suspicions.
“The fish has taken the bait,” Simon noted. “Good. Remember your orders. We are to watch, and only engage at my order or if either side attacks us.”
“If I may, Your Highness,” Meredith asked while clearing her throat. “Did your father authorize this operation?”
“Yes. Either Thalas wins and proves himself a true prince of blood, or he fails and we can assess the enemy’s strength.”
The worst part was that Simon was convinced his father would pull something like this, and his retainers appeared to believe it as well.
Simon himself wasn’t exactly sure how it would turn out. He had no pity for Thalas after all of the indignities he had put his half-brother through, and his demise would free Anna from a forced marriage. There was hardly a soul in the empire who would mourn him besides his mother. Thalas had tried to have him executed a few years back and continued to threaten him with death regularly, so the sin of kinslaying did not cloud Simon’s mind.
On the other hand, Vouivre was a monster both figuratively and literally. If she could indeed kill Thalas, then she could likely match the likes of Dassein or Louis, which meant Simon would need significant level-ups before he could even contemplate fighting her.
Moreover, Casval had insisted that Simon bring Eole with him, which couldn’t bode well. The kish had made him promise not to surrender her to the scalefolk with more fear than she had ever shown. She truly considered it a fate worse than death.
Simon hoped he would have the leverage to protect her.
He sensed a voice reaching out at the edge of his consciousness, connecting to his mind through the Brand of Sloth. Duchar. “Your Highness?”
“What is it, Duchar?” Simon replied through telepathy.
“I have found a mention of Zodiac Fiends in a text. Is Your Highness familiar with the Age of Heroes?”
“Everyone is.” The Age of Heroes was the period of time when the elves bestowed upon human heroes the twenty-two Noble Classes nearly a thousand years back into the past, who would go on to found great civilizations that prospered before the Doom. Some scholars believed Mardok created the Overlord Class specifically to defeat those heroes, though they had existed centuries apart. “What of it?”
“I have found a tale, mostly forgotten, that says the Heroes once fought twelve archdemons that banded together to rule the world. After a long battle that tore the world asunder, the heroes banished them from the world and into space, where they became the constellations in the night sky. Hence the title of the tale, ‘The Heroes and the Zodiac Fiends.’” Simon heard Duchar scoff on his end of the magical link. “Obviously, the last part is rubbish, but the connection Lorimor has found between those ‘demonbarrows’ and the constellations certainly comes to mind.”
Simon pondered that information for a moment. The demons being sent to the stars clashed with Eole’s tale that one of them was buried beneath the Kish capital, but this could simply be the result of centuries of retelling twisting a kernel of truth.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
Father’s notes accounted for eight demonbarrows if Simon remembered correctly, and he theorized about missing four. This would make a total of twelve, the same as the zodiac constellations.
What bothered Simon was that these supposedly dead Zodiac Fiends had somehow caused his father’s demise six times in his past reigns. He had the gut feeling this matter might trouble himself in the future.
“Thank you, Duchar. Inform me if you find anything else,” Simon replied before spotting a forest facing the great plains of Telluria, alongside a hill overlooking them. It was the very same spot where Vouivre massacred them in his previous reign.
“We’ll have the best view from here,” he informed his men.
His group ascended the hill and then took position. Simon quickly caught sight of Thalas’ band riding across the plain on horseback. They suddenly stopped midway onto the plain, perhaps because they had smelled the trap.
Alas for them, it was already too late. Casval proved it by immediately transforming into his hybrid form and flying away too fast for a shocked Thalas to react. The reason why became clear a second later.
Hell rained down from the sky.
A fireball the size of a house crossed the heavens like a meteor and impacted the plains in a catastrophic explosion. The explosion unleashed a flash of light and fire so bright that Simon had to cover his eyes with his hand. His retainers immediately adopted their class outfits, even Eole, who now had a shimmering iridescent veil covering her mouth and dancer robes matching her curves.
When the light subsided, only ashes and charred bones remained of Thalas’ entourage. The flames had consumed men and horses alike… except for one figure.
Simon had rarely seen Thalas in the Berserker outfit, but he had to admit his half-brother cut an intimidating figure in it. His muscles rippled beneath a piece of clothing composed of a giant wolf’s pelt forming a cloak and hood, arm pieces of boiled black scales, and tattered pants. His chest was left exposed, yet the skin now shone with runes of power. Though Thalas carried heavy burns, he looked more pissed than hurt, and soon raised a black axe taller than any man to the sky. A roar escaped his mouth, so loud that Simon could hear it from the hill.
“SIMON!”
Yes, Thalas, it was me, Simon thought with satisfaction. He felt slightly guilty for the death of Antonine and the others—they didn’t deserve this—but his half-brother’s roar of pain and humiliation sounded so sweet. I’m fine with not delivering the final blow… so long as you know it was me.
The instrument of his vengeance made her presence known with a terrifying roar that drowned out Thalas’ own. It echoed across the landscape and struck Simon to his very soul.
All stats sharply decreased!
Simon clenched his teeth as the same primal, instinctual fear that took him over during his previous reign crept in. Eole trembled like a leaf, while his other retainers tensed up. They knew the danger ahead was too great for them to conquer.
Meredith covered her mouth in horror upon looking up to the sky. “By the Light…”
Vouivre descended from the heavens in her dragon form.
Now that it was daytime, Simon could see her in all of her terrible glory. Her golden scales, thicker than any plate armor, glittered under the sunlight while her great wings cast the plains below in dark shadows. She was over sixty feet long, with a sinuous, serpentine neck, a maw large enough to swallow a man whole, and lizard-like hands that could seize an ox in their palms. She descended upon Thalas with blinding fire shooting from her maw to finish the job.
“Is that…” Simon couldn’t see Leonard’s face beneath his Dreadnought helmet, but the dread in his voice was palpable. “Gargauth reborn?”
“His daughter, Vouivre, from what I’ve heard,” Simon replied. “Now you see what we are up against.”
“She’s… she’s smaller, though,” Meredith muttered under her breath. “He was said to be so large as to cast entire cities in his shadow when flying.”
Thalas spotted the dragon, his face twisted into a snarl of berserk fury. He briefly crouched, his legs strained by his rippling muscles, then took a giant leap over a hundred feet upwards through sheer strength alone. The blowback sent dirt flying everywhere as he rose towards Vouivre with his axe in hand.
Simon had to give it to Thalas; he ran from no battle.
Whoever loses today, I win, Simon thought. He would consign every move of these two to memory. And should the Light bless us, we might be able to take out the wounded winner.
Simon could feel experience flowing into him the moment the thought crossed his mind. He guessed that manipulating his enemies into killing each other at no risk to himself pleased the Overlord Class’ spirit.
Vouivre breathed fire at the leaping Thalas in an attempt to incinerate him, but his mana-powered outfit let him power through until he reached her. Ice coated his axe’s blade as it struck Vouivre between the eyes with a blow so mighty that it sent shockwaves through the air. He failed to cleave Vouivre’s skull in two, but he managed to draw boiling golden blood. She threw him at the ground below, then pointed her claw at him. A small tornado immediately formed out of nowhere and swept Thalas back.
Vouivre could cast spells.
That behemoth of a dragon could cast spells.
It barely slowed down Thalas, though, who sliced the tornado with his axe in a way that somehow disrupted the dragon’s magic. Thalas dodged Vouivre’s attempt to stomp him under her feet, then countered with a slash that left a shallow wound in her belly. Vouivre swept him aside with her tail with enough strength to demolish a house, yet it only brought her a few seconds before Thalas leaped back to his feet.
Simon thought the Berserker was simply a brute force Class that mostly focused on increasing its user’s strength to unimaginable levels, but the way Thalas swung his axe and moved was akin to a dancer, deadly and graceful. Simon realized he was witnessing the ‘perfect proficiency’ Leonard had told him about in real time. The ice-effect coating his half-brother’s axe also suggested weapon enchantments.
He’s actually holding his own, Simon thought as Thalas and Vouivre continued to exchange blows, axe to claws, fist to fangs. But he’s going to lose.
Thalas was strong enough to pierce through Vouivre’s scales, but the wounds he inflicted were shallow, while her own claws tore all the way to his bones. His slashes started to slightly slow down, and Vouivre began to focus on incinerating him from a distance rather than engaging him in melee. Thalas’ lack of ranged options would doom him.
“What level would you give Vouivre?” Simon asked his retainers warily.
Leonard hesitated. “Sixty-five, maybe seventy.”
So we have no chance to kill her ourselves for now. Simon had expected as much, but sixty-five sounded surprisingly low. “Could she defeat Dassein or Louis?”
“No,” Leonard replied without hesitation. “Not on her own or without heavy support. The mere fact that she struggles with Lord Thalas is proof of it. Lord Dassein is an army of one, and Lord Louis is a god of war.”
True, if Vouivre couldn’t kill Thalas in a minute, then she had no hope of standing up to the stronger members of House Magnos. She probably understood it too, hence her plan to lure out Dassein to a place of her choosing.
That reassured Simon. All he had to do was share the information he’d gathered with Dassein and neutralize Firewand to cripple the conspiracy.
“We can still intervene to save your brother,” Leonard told Simon, with a tone that implied they should.
“No,” Meredith replied grimly, her eyes turning to the forest. “It’s too late.”
Simon glanced at the woods and spotted hundreds of heavily armed reptilian humanoids stepping out from beneath the branches. They were taller than men and akin to lizards with green, brown, and reddish scales, but a few instead resembled naked human women from the top up with serpentine tails instead of legs. Those had to be the lamias Simon had heard so much about; a thought that was soon confirmed when he noticed one of them had six arms, each carrying a sword.
The Redhands had come to witness their leader’s victory.
Meredith’s right, we can’t fight those numbers, Simon thought. His half-brother was doomed.
Thalas fought valiantly until his strength gave out. Vouivre stomped him into the ground, each of her blows leaving a crater in its wake, then grabbed his mangled body with her clawed hand. She finally swallowed him alive the same way she had devoured Simon in the previous reign.
Simon thought he would feel satisfaction at Thalas’ demise, but the sight instead unsettled him to his core. Maybe it was the fact that his half-brother died the same way Simon did, or a sliver of guilt shining through. Whatever the case, it was over in an instant.
“Play along for now, no matter what you may hear,” Simon told his retinue, his gaze lingering on Eole as he addressed her in the kish language. “I will protect you.”
She looked up at him without a word, with a face white with dread, then nodded. Such was Eole’s fear that she wanted to believe him.
They rode down the hill to greet Vouivre, who transformed back into her human form, armor and all. Her gashes and wounds remained, though Simon could see them begin to heal already. Her resilience was utterly terrifying.
But what mattered was that she could be wounded at all.
Vouivre was beatable.
By the time Casval flew down to them, Vouivre spat out a small Crestone bearing the emblem of the Berserker into her palm. She held it up to the sky and watched it glimmer under the sunlight like a trophy, paying no attention to anybody else.
Casval glanced at the crestone with interest. “Sister–”
“Mine,” Vouivre replied with a sharp tone that sent her brother reeling. She then turned her reptilian gaze upon Simon’s group, assessing all of them with cold calculation. “Kneel.”
Simon immediately climbed down from his horse and bent the knee, though Eole proved faster. His retainers wisely follow suit.
Simon could feel Vouivre focusing on him. The sheer, inhuman pressure emanating from her sent his heart racing. How many reigns would it take for his body to conquer its instinctual wariness of dragons the way a man could conquer his fear of water? Ten? Twenty?
“You… Simon, is it?” she said without expecting an answer. “Look up to me.”
Simon did so and met her gaze. She was the very picture of an arrogant conqueror, her body standing in the sunlight and casting him in shadow. Her face showed no emotion, no hint of weakness.
“You have done well to bring me this sacrifice and to trust in my superiority… but you do not have a future yet.” She crossed her arms and looked down on him the way a master would on a new hound. “I proved my strength, and now I demand your loyalty.”
Or I will kill you here and now, went unsaid.
“You have it,” Simon lied. For this reign at least.
“Then answer me: what is this secret your house does not want you to reveal?”
Simon took a long, deep breath, and then dropped the fireball. “My father was murdered in his sleep weeks ago.”
The silence was so heavy, so tense, that Simon could have sworn time stopped between two ticks of the clock. He heard the snap of his retainers’ necks as they stared at him, their surprise greater than their fear. Only Eole didn’t react, largely because she didn’t understand the common tongue enough to comprehend the truth. Casval’s jaw dropped, and Vouivre…
“Is this a joke?” she asked, her tone menacing.
Simon met her gaze, and then it finally hit him.
“You didn’t know?” Simon muttered in disbelief.
Her disbelief gave way to astonishment. “You are serious.”
She didn’t know.
She didn’t do it.
Vouivre hadn’t killed Balzam Magnos, either through Firewand or someone else, or else she would have at least been informed of his death after so long. Even if she hadn’t received confirmation, she would at least have given the order and taken the news as confirmation that it had been carried out.
“Then… the reason why your army is looking for this Linconnu…” Vouivre quickly put two and two together, her face twisting into a scowl of disbelief. “The Overlord Class is in the wild?!”
Her shock brought Simon to a startling realization. He had made a terrible mistake. He had assumed there had been only one unified conspiracy against House Magnos, discounting the fact that multiple parties hated his father and might have been acting independently.
Someone had killed Balzam Magnos, and Simon had no idea who it could be.
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