Jircniv was silent as the blasts echoed through the ballroom. The night had been going so well before this. True, he had to speak with people that grated on his nerves, enduring small talk from people who only spoke what they thought the Emperor wanted to hear then what they truly believed, but it could be worse, he supposed at the time.

Yet at almost the exact moment he was set to declare the mustering for the Annual War, almost the exact moment he walked up the stairs and prepared to address the masses, the first explosion rocked the entire palace.

The eerie, shocked, calm of the first detonation gave way to panic as the explosions continued unabated.

The windows shook with the force of each blast. Some soft, others ringing loud. Distant, bestial cries rang out from the street level only adding to the growing sense of dread in the chamber.

Guards swarmed out into the throngs of guests to assure them of their safety. While guests were ushered into a safer wing of the palace, an impromptu barricade was being established near all the main entrances.

The other nobles and socialites whispered and gasped amongst themselves under the sounds of moving furniture, suits of armor, and distant sounds. Some shook in place, while others scrambled frantically to the exits. Either to see the devastation unfolding from the courtyard or to race for some perceived safety, he couldn’t say.

All the while, he kept a stoic expression and asked himself the only question that mattered.

Who?

This attack was timed too precisely to be a random act of violence. And on the very eve of his declaration of the Annual War. No, nearly the exact minute of said declaration.

Whoever was orchestrating this was hardly subtle with their message.

“Your Majesty?”

While the list of those who opposed him was vast, those with the actual means were pathetically short.

Re-Estize? A surprise attack, maybe even led by Gazaf Stronoff’s warriors?

No, he dismissed the idea almost as quickly as he thought of it.

While the most likely candidate, he would have heard something about this from his agents about an attack by now. The deployment of such an elite unit would have been noticed by someone.

And if it was Re-Estize’s regular forces, they were even less likely to have orchestrated such a bold strike. Ignoring the fact that the majority of their military were little more than conscripted peasants with pitchforks, the kingdom was simply not competent enough to launch such a deep attack into imperial territory without raising so much as an alarm.

One lord or another would have bungled the plan by this point. An overzealous charge against a border fort, some lesser lord breaking off from the greater host to pillage the countryside, or any number of dalliances that would have revealed their presence long before they reached the capital.

So, unless his border units were both blind and deaf, this was not the work of the Kingdom.

Then who else?

“Sire?”

Ignoring geography: The Elf Kingdom and Theocracy were too preoccupied slaughtering each other to think about antagonizing another state, while the Holy Kingdom and Council State were too focused on internal issues, and none of whom had any quarrel with the Empire.

As another blast rocked the palace, glassware shaking and cracking under the constant vibrations.

Perhaps this was not the work of a civilized nation, but one of a more bestial persuasion.

The Beastmen Kingdom, that force ripping apart the Dragon Kingdom. Could they have driven through his southern neighbor to decapitate one of the Dragon Kingdom’s largest benefactors?

Jircniv shook his head. Unlikely.

While that hag has been badgering him more fervently for material support as of late, she was not an incompetent. She’s been holding off the demi-human hordes longer than he had been alive; perhaps even before the time of his grandfather. While she was always shameless with her begging, even going as far to take the guise of a child to encourage certain emotions from the people, he refused to believe she would allow her nation to be torn apart so viciously and quickly that no word of such a host even reached his ears.

Well, that, and the fact that demi-humans weren’t smart enough to orchestrate an attack of this scale with any degree of subtlety.

The same held true for the Minotaur Nation. While they might be spurred onto the path of conquest from the constant successes by their kin in the Dragon Kingdom, the point remained that no demi-human host capable of assaulting Arwintar could cross the border without notice.

“Your Majesty!”

But what if it wasn’t a state actor? What if it was some other group?

Zurrernorn? Was some necromancer trying to repeat the ritual they recently attempted across the border? He’d heard nothing of the sort from his contacts amongst their ranks. What he has heard was that their failed stunt in E-Rantel cost the organization a hefty sum in both manpower and resources.

Eight Fingers? They were criminals, not terrorists. Attacking Arwintar provided no value. True, they could loot quite a bit of the city’s wealth, make off with some number of slaves, maybe even kill himself as some form of reprisal for cracking down on their operations in the Empire. But all that would cause would be retaliation unlike anything they have ever experienced, be it by Jircniv’s own hand or those of whoever was trying to claim his crown from his still warm corpse.

But who else was there?

Who in their right mind would be so brazen to-

“Your Majesty, please!” A rough shake from Baziwood finally brought the young emperor out of his musings. “We need to get you to the safe room. “

“Yes, of course,” he agreed. Baziwood held onto his shoulder to shepherd him along as Nazami and Nimble cleared a path through the frightened crowd. Leinas strode beside the pair, but her attention was clearly elsewhere. “Sorry, I was lost in thought.”

“I know, I know,” Baziwood apologized, “but can’t you wait to put that mind of yours to work until after you’re in a safe place?”

“I’ll take that under advisement,” Jircniv joked, an attempt to add some amount of levity to the situation. After all, if the emperor was calm and collected in the face of danger, or at least as far as those looking at him were concerned, then is the situation truly that dire?

Admittedly, it was a crude way to evoke a sense of calm, but-

A force smashed against the ballroom entrance, a pair of thick wooden doors. The hush whispers fell silent as all stared. Knights began to form up around the doors.

Another thud beat against the door.

Then another.

And another.

Each successive thud caused the wood to creak and splinter ever so slightly. Some even shattered the windows nearby.

It took until the seventh hit for the door to shatter entirely. The guards barely had enough time to form a basic shield line around the door before jagged splinters and planks flew out in every direction. Most bounced against the knights’ armor, a few unfortunate splinters slipped through the slits in helmets or dug into the soft flesh between plates. Some fell, others cried out in pain, the rest remained resolute to hold their line against whatever force laid before them.

A force strong enough to breach the Palace grounds while the emperor himself was present no less.

But no army poured forth from the breach.

Nor any spells to clear the way.

Only a single figure marched forth. No, march was too strong a word, they strode into the main chamber.

They were… a maid?

Or at least it was a masked woman wearing a maid’s attire. The weapon she hefted over her shoulder with little effort, a bladed scepter like cudgel which was almost as tall as she stood, said otherwise.

Who in the world….

She turned to the knights around her and shrugged, “Don’t you guys have anything better to do?”

In a single motion, the dozen men surrounding her were dead. A clean sweep with her weapon crushed metal and bone alike. Their bodies tossed about like ragdolls or puppets whose strings were cut. Guests screamed from the sight before their eyes.

“And now you’re all dead,” the woman let out a sociopathic giggle as if some joke was told. The giggling stopped when she looked down at a downed knight before her, attempting to rise despite his injuries, and frowned, “I said now you’re all dead.” She brought her scepter down on the man’s head.

Finally satisfied with her work, the maid scanned the room. “So, who are all of you?” She looked towards Jircniv and pointed at him. “Hey blondie, you look like someone important. Do you know who’s in charge of this place?”

Blondie?

And she claimed he ‘looked’ important.

“Are you serious!?” he wrestled himself out of Baziwood’s hold and walked right up the railing overlooking the chamber. “I am Jircniv Rune Farlord El-Nix, the Emperor of the Baharuth Empire! I demand to know who you are!”

“Really?” She gave him an exaggerated look over from his declaration. “Well, if you say so,” she spoke to him as if speaking to a child, dismissing his identity. “As for who I am. I’m just here looking for someone actually important. Once I get her, I’ll let you get back to doing whatever it is you humans were doing here.”

‘Actually important.’ This woman had the nerve to march right up to-

Wait, what was it she said? ‘You humans’?

She used the word as if she weren’t one herself.

Or isn’t one.

“I suppose I asked the wrong question. The correct one in this situation would be ‘what’ are you?” he questioned the woman.

“Why would I answer that?” she tilted her head again, “After all, what right does an inferior being have to demand anything of their betters.”

“Inferior… being?” Those were words he never thought would be uttered towards himself. It sounded more like what the Theocracy whispered to themselves to justify their wars against non-humans.

“You dare insult the Emperor with such words!” It was Nimble who spoke up this time, the young knight glaring down at the maid.

“Insult? I wasn’t insulting him. I was just stating the obvious. You, and all human life for that matter, are inferior beings,” the way she explained and rationalized herself sent shivers down Jircniv’s spine.

What in the world was this… woman.

“Now then,” the woman grabbed a weeping elderly man, pulling him out of the crowd by the length of his petticoat, bringing him to the ground before her. “How about we start with some-“

In a split second, the woman went from lording over a noble to raising her weapon into a defensive posture.

A swift gust of cold smoky mist blew past Jircniv’s side

Mist that soon formed into a creature. Some sort of ghost or specter.

The maid kicked the hapless noble aside, the man hitting the other end of the dancefloor with a wet crunch, and swung her weapon into the misty apparition that raced towards her. It wailed like a banshee as the club-like weapon passed through its form, yet continued to claw and slash into the woman.

Despite this, it did not last long. The woman’s weapon glowed softly as it bathed in a golden light before being brought down on the specter once more. This time the creature wailed and vanished into motes of shadow.

What in the Gods name-

No sooner had the apparition been dispatched was a beam of magical energy racing past his head towards the maid. While the woman was able to sidestep the spell, shards of tile shot into the air from where it hit, inciting a new slew of panicked gasps and cries from party goers.

Then, a new voice.

“That’s enough!”

The new figure stood at the far end of the room, a young woman in a foreign looking black dress. The masses of party goers parted for her as she crossed the main floor.

“Lady Lilith…” he heard Leinas comment under her breath, looking back and forth between him and the woman as if wondering if she should join the newcomer’s side.

But that name.

Jircniv heard it before.

This was the girl the Fluder singled out and the one who healed Leinas? An almost waifish looking foreigner who appeared frail enough for a single hit to take down was the magic caster he was told about?

“Are you done with this senseless violence?” the girl questioned the intruder, her voice while soft echoed across the chamber. The crowds parted of their own accord as she crossed the hall, reaching the far end of the railing Jircniv himself was standing by. “How many more people have to die for this to be over?”

“Well, that’s entirely up to you, my lady,” the maid gave the newly arrived caster her undivided attention, even going as far as to curtsey to her. Going from talking about humanity as inferiors to showing respect to one, what in the world was going on?

“Are you planning on coming quietly?”

“…what,” he could hear the woman mutter under her breath.

“Lord Jalbadoath has ordered that you be brought to him as whole as possible,” the maid replied.

“Jaldabaoth? Really?” Lillith raised an eyebrow at the maid’s words, quickly looking out the window to the burning cityscape. “So, this was his plan?”

Jaldaboath? Jircniv had never heard the name before. But clearly Lilith had.

“Of course,” the masked woman nodded. “Our Master could hardly destroy the city on the off chance you were here. But now that we know where you are, why don’t you save yourself the trouble and just come with us?

“You know the answer to that question already,” she replied as a staff materialized in her hand. A rod of pure silver topped with a gem of cerulean blue. Jircniv could just make out etchings along the staff’s length, but didn’t recognize the letters or symbols. “Why bother asking?”

“A simple courtesy?” the invader offered with a shrug. “It’s only proper to show such respect to one such as yourself.”

“Myself?” she parroted back.

“Indeed. It’s actually quite the sight to see someone like you humble yourself so much by living side by side with such inferior beings. Your restraint is awe inspiring, misplaced as it is. How you endure it is beyond me.”

“…I don’t even know how to respond to something like you,” light glitter off the young woman’s dress, racing across its surface and replacing it with a whole new outfit more suited for combat than a gala. Did she just change, or had she been wearing it already and just dispelled an illusion? Did she anticipate being attacked? “Because that is what you were supposed to be, a thing. Just an imaginary thing that was never meant to exist in the first place. You, or the rest of them. But whatever I guess.”

“I suppose diplomacy had failed then? Very well. I gave you the chance to surrender. Remember: my orders are to bring you back alive, not unharmed.” the woman leveled her cudgel at the mage.

“Of course you were,” the mage, Lillith, was undaunted by the boast. Several magic circles appeared on the ground surrounding her. From their swirling masses, misty forms pulled themselves out of them like men climbing out of a hole. More ghost-like entities, like the one from earlier. One by one they clawed their way into reality. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Lit by the fires beyond scorching Arwintar, one figure stood across from a dozen, and the whole chamber held its breath.

--

--

Arche’s eyes snapped open at a loud sound just beyond her window. Two years of being a Worker had made her a light sleeper even in the comfort of her own home.

Trudging over to the window, she expected it to be nothing more than a tree branch falling, or perhaps some carriage on the main road falling apart with a broken axle.

She did not anticipate seeing the night sky overtaken by the glow of Arwintar in flames. The smoke billowed out like ashy fingers grasping for the night sky. Putting her ear to the window, Arche could even hear the faint cries for help in the distance. Faint, but numerous.

Before she could process the sights and sounds, another crash drew her eye to the main walkway towards her home. Her heart sank as she caught a glimpse of figures rushing through the now broken open gate to the front door. Dozens of them.

Arche didn’t hesitate to grab her staff and raced to find her sisters, not even bothering to get out of her sleep wear.

Barefoot, she raced down the carpeted hallways to the twin’s room. Further crashes and bangs echoed through the walls. Glass shattering, furniture splintering, all alongside the mute, but hearty, laughs of those pilfering what they found.

The mansion was being ransacked.

Who or why didn’t matter to her.

Why the city watch wasn't stopping them didn’t matter.

Why the city was on fire didn’t even matter.

What mattered was getting her sisters to safety. Then she’ll figure out what the hell was going on.

Thankfully, to her ears at least, it seemed the looters activities were restricted to the lower floors for the moment. They’ll have to wade through all the shiny, but useless, junk her parents bought before they marched up the stairs to the other floors.

Heh… the irony of that crap potentially saving her and her sisters did not elude her.

She almost smashed the door down to her sisters’ room in a panic. “Kuuderika! Ureirika!”

Thankfully, the twins were in their beds, safe, if groggy from waking up from the nose she was making.

“Thank the Gods,” she whispered to herself before rushing to their side.

“Big sister… why’re you making so much noise?” Kuuderika mumbled, rubbing her eyes.

“Yeah, big sis, why…” Ureirika yawned, following her twin’s example of rubbing her eyes, “-why are you being so loud?”

“I...” how was Arche supposed to explain to a pair of five-year old’s the urgency to get out since looters had broken in? That question solved itself when a window from a lower floor shattered under some sort of impact, causing the pair to gasp. “Bad people are here. We need to go.”

“What about mama and papa?”

‘What about them?’ Arche nearly snapped back.

Despite how obvious her parent’s failings were to her, and their stubbornness to adapt even at the cost of everything, for the twins they were still ‘mama’ and ‘papa’. If there was a single positive thing Arche could say about them, it was that the two still acted like parents to the twins. Giving the twins genuine warmth and affection. It was affection tainted by stubbornness and a pigheaded refusal to change their way of life and actively stare down the bottomless abyss that was debt slavery given how much they barrowed, but affection none the less.

And still far cry from what most noble children could expect to receive.

“They’re fine,” she lied, rummaging through their dresser for any kind of shoes for them to wear. “I need to make sure the two of you are safe though.”

The pair seemed to accept Arche’s words, nodding and accepting the shoes she tossed out for them.

“Stay behind me,” she told the twins, getting between them and the window she sent a wave of energy to shatter it. Using her own body to protect the twins from the stray shards. Ureikirika let out a soft whine, but her sister was quiet.

“Now hold on as tight as you can,” she hugged the twins close, “and don’t look down.”

While Arche had never carried more than one person with her, they were light enough that it didn’t affect her [Flight].

She sped away from the home, the girls clung to her form.

There was only one place she trusted to look after her sisters while all of this happened.

Despite appearances, it wasn’t the whole city on fire. It seemed mostly relegated to the general forums and marketplaces. The barracks, military quarters, magic districts, and noble residential areas seemed unaffected.

Of course, saying ‘some’ of the city was in chaos was like claiming only ‘some’ of a person’s arm was cut off.

But from above, she could see frantic activity in the streets.

Monsters roamed the streets alongside bands of armed brigands. Those who fought them were mostly guards, others being adventurers whose plates glittered in the ember light. Bodies littered the streets in some areas while others were bereft of any damage at all.

What the hell was going on?

It didn’t take her long to reach the Sleeping Apple. Thankfully, it wasn’t on fire or damaged, but that was the only good news.

The bad was that it was being swarmed by monsters of all sorts. Smoke and ash made seeing too far difficult, but she did make out figures defending the inn. Most she didn’t recognize, guards or other Workers perhaps, but she thankfully recognized three people. She could see the glint of twin swords swinging into the masses and an armored form calling down holy magic against the creatures.

She could even make out a single elven figure firing arrows down into the vicious melee below.

“Imina!” Arche landed on the roof with all the haste she could, while doing her best at not hurting her sisters. She let go of her sisters as the purple haired half elf noticed her.

“Arche!?” The half elf gave the mage a single glance of acknowledgment before her attention returned to the battle below. “Thank the Gods you’re okay, we-“

“Please watch them, Imina, and you two stay close to her!” Arche didn’t even wait for the archer to respond, ignoring her sister’s calls, leaping from the rooftop into the melee below; casting a plum of fire to clear her landing spot. The creatures crumbled into motes of smoke under the fire’s heat.

She didn’t give the ones who avoided it a chance to recover, sending a fireball directly into their ranks. The blazing ball of fire spread panic among their numbers even as the city around them burned.

“Excellent timing, Arche,” Hekkeran greeted her, catching a downward swing of claws with one blade and severing the creature’s head with his second. He noticed her lack of proper clothing. “You alright?”

“Rushed, but fine,” Arche replied, sending a magic arrow into a hound-like creature’s head.

“Arche, thank the Gods you’re unharmed,” Roberdyc called out, slamming his mace into a monster’s skull. The current mass of monsters was thinned, but a few stragglers remained. “Is your family safe?”

“I brought my sisters with me, they're up on the roof with Imina,” she looked up as if to confirm her own words, sighing as two pairs of blue eyes looked down at her. “I didn’t take anything else though.”

“And your parents?” the cleric followed up.

“Are there any spare clothes here I can wear?” Arche ignored the question with one of her own, dispatching the last creature in the immediate area with a swift arcane bolt into its torso. With the last of the immediate threats gone, the mage allowed herself a moment to relax, leaning against the inn. “This dress isn’t exactly made with combat in mind.”

“We have some shoes in your size,” Hekkeran sheathed his blades, picking up the fact she didn’t want to talk about her parents. “We even have some of your older stuff stored in a truck down in the cellar. Might be a bit snug though.”

“Anything is better than this,” even with the adrenaline still flowing through her veins, the thought of walking around simply barefooted in a nightgown was enough to make her feel off.

“Then we’ll get the barkeep to get them for you,” Foresight’s leader held the door open for the mage and cleric, gesturing to a table. “But right now, you sit down and catch your breath.”

“You don’t need to tell me,” Arche happily took a seat on a plush cushion. Just as she sat down, two bundles of energy clumped onto her.

“Big Sis, you're safe!”

“Don’t do that again, Big Sister!”

“How do they move so fast?” Arche heard Imina question under her breath as the archer came down the stair’s moments later. “And good to see you safe and sound, Arche.”

“You too, Imina.”

“So, what does it look like up there?” Hekkeran questioned, sending poor Batholomew down to the cellar for Arche’s belongings. “Any more unwanted guests coming our way?”

“If you mean monsters, none that I could see,” Imina strolled behind the bar and grabbed the first bottle she could find, pulling the cork and taking a swig. “Then again, I can barely see anything further than a block out thanks to all this smoke.”

“So we’re blind for the moment then?” Hekkeran accepted Roberdyck healing a nasty bruise on his arm.

“At least until the smoke clears, or dawn. Whichever comes first.”

“Sorry for being blunt, but do you guys know what the fu-“ Arche bit her tongue, remembering that her sisters were hugging her side, her frustration at the current situation almost making her almost swear in front of them. “I mean, does anyone know what in the world is going on? Is the city under attack? The explosions woke me up even before our home was broken into.”

“No idea,” Hekkeran shrugged. “Was getting ready to get some sleep. Then the explosions happened, and next thing we know there was chaos everywhere.”

“Is it Re-Estize?” Arche asked, putting her sisters down.

“No idea,” Hekkeran looked out the window, “if it is, how the hell did they manage to keep this thing a secret?”

“Normally I’d say it was Zurrernorn, but the lack of undead wandering about makes me think otherwise,” Roberdyck added.

“Hey, Big Sis, is he one of your friends?” Ureirika interrupted, eyeing up the cleric with a curious gaze.

“Yes he is, Ureirika,” she patted her sister’s head, then looked back at Roberdyc. “That’s Roberdyck, that’s Hekkeron, and that nice lady over there is Imina.”

“Lady?” the half-elf’s eye twitched at the description. “I’m hardly old enough to be called a ‘lady’, you know.”

“Don’t mind her girls, she’s a very nice lady,” Hekkeron cut the archer off, letting the archer fume. “But getting back on topic. Arche, did you see anything while you were flying over here?”

“Anything in particular?”

“Stuff out of the ordinary. Beyond the obvious I mean,” her team leader clarified.

“Other than a lot of fighting, looting, and monsters? Not really,” Arche took a mug of water offered by the barkeep when he returned from the cellar and splashed it over her face. “The fires aren’t as widespread as they look at ground level, but not by much. Some of the residential areas are completely untouched.

“So, no idea where the monsters came from?”

“No, sorry,” Arche cleaned her face thoroughly with a nearby towel. Accepting the box with her old clothes, she crept behind the bar and started to redress herself.

“I may have an idea,” Roberdyck began. “It’s possible that whoever is attacking has a number of diabolists amongst their ranks summoning and controlling the demons. If we knew where they were, we could deal with them and end the demonic incursion. However…”

“They would have gone to ground before the attack to avoid that exact situation,” Imina grumbled to herself.

“Exactly.”

“Hey Arche, think you can use your talent to find them?” Hekkeran questioned.

“Maybe?” the mage fiddled with getting her old, smaller, outfit on. “All-Seeing Eyes can only see as far as the person’s sight range. If the summoners are outside the city, or somehow concealing their magical energy, they’ll be useless.”

“Damn it, just our- hey!” Imina rubbed her side after Hekkeran jabbed her for swearing in front of the twins.

As Arche finally finished getting herself into her old attire, bucking her gloves on, she heard her sisters’ awe-ing at something.

“Wow, what's that?”

“Yeah, why is there purple light in the sky?”

“Purple?” Arch questioned aloud, going over to see what her sisters were looking at.

True to their words, the sky, filled with ash and the hue of flames, had streaks of purple light racing across the night sky. There was no rhyme to the lights, they just appeared over and over again. Always for mere seconds before fading away.

Almost like someone was firing them into the sky at random. Or at something else.

That was not a good sign….

--

--

Fluder initially paid no mind to the explosions beyond his study. This was a research institute after all, many experiments ended in quite explosive finales. It would be a miracle if some explosive event only occurred once a week.

However, when the flames from outside began to interfere with his reading light he realized the gravity of the situation. Pulling the curtain back, he saw parts of the city engulfed in fire.

“Master!” The door to his study swung open, one of his students barely caught his breath as he made a hurried bow, his clothes covered in soot and blood. “The ministry is under attack!

“Are we now?” Fluder marked his place in the tome and gestured the young man to follow him to his Mirror of Purview; a magical artifact that allowed him to view events across the city. “Do we know who is attacking?”

“I don’t know, they just appeared out of nowhere and started attacking,” the student recalled with a wince. “I ran here from the main gate. It was just breached, but the knights and other mages were holding.”

“Hmmm,” Fluder mused the information as he gestured for a viewing mirror to show the events occurring at the Ministry’s entrance.

The situation was as his student claimed: A few dozen armed intruders racing across the ministry’s courtyard, slamming into a line of royal earth guard who had established a shield wall along the main footpath with mages providing magical support. Curiously, mixed among the attacker’s numbers were demons: mostly hellhounds and imps.

“Demons,” Fluder commented, watching as a cone of ice from one of his students cut down a rank of the creatures.

“Yes Master,” the student nodded. “It’s obvious that a warlock is among their ranks.”

“Not just a warlock,” the arch wizard reasoned to himself. The number, and quality, of the demons indicated a far more powerful variant of summoner. A dedicated demonologist? A diabolist? It was hard to say until he knew more.

That being said, the exchange between the knights, his students, and the intruders seemed quite favorable for the defenders. He could even pick out Miss Noia cutting down swaths of foes with volley after volley of third tier magic. Lances of liquid blue fire cutting down man and monster both while the very ground opened up beneath several attackers, swallowing them whole.

An impressive display of magic.

While proud, he sighed at her antics. She might think she is conserving her mana by not using her fourth-tier spells, but casting so many third-tier spells in rapid succession was costing her just as much. And here he thought he had gotten through to her last time he explained it to her.

Oh, the youth, a time in one’s life where everything is a sprint rather than a marathon.

Still, if the skirmish continued as is, the battle would be over in short order.

But why risk further casualties by letting this farce play out to its natural conclusion when he can end it all with a single spell?

“Please return this tome to the shelf,” he ordered his student. With no other words, he teleported himself directly over the battlefield. Hovering above the combat, he allowed himself a moment to take in the sheer scale of devastation across the city.

Given where the fires seemed to be, the damage appeared to look worse than it actually was: mostly contained in the eastern and southern portions of the city.

But that was for the firefighters to deal with for now. He had a ministry to secure.

One spell was all it would take.

“[Flamewing],” the spell took the form of a large bird made of bright liquid fire. Its wingspan was wider than a carriage, and its fire potent enough to melt stone. With the subtle flick of his wrist, the bird took flight and strafed the area in fire.

The results were immediate.

The attackers burned under the creatures’ flames. The demons who moved alongside them simply disappeared as their mortal coils were destroyed, while the men and women who fought cried as they melted like candle sticks. A force capable of fighting the Royal Earth Guard and his own prized pupils to a standstill broken under the weight of a single spell.

Such was the power of the sixth tier of magic.

A few tried to flee as he lowered himself to the ground, only to be struck by spells or arrows as they made a mad dash out of the courtyard.

The knights bowed at his approach while his students rushed over to see if he was ‘well’. As if he had not just saved their lives. Looking over the bodies he noticed one twitch.

Hmm, it seemed he had a survivor to interrogate.

Pointing to the man a pair of knights rushed over to secure the man, dragging him before Fluder. The old wizard forced the man to look him in the eyes while casting [Charm].

“Why are you here?” he questioned.

“I was ordered to,” the prisoner replied in a monotone, his eyes dulled of light as the magic compelled him to answer.

‘Of course you were,’ Fluder almost quipped. Charmed individuals, always taking questions so literally. “Who ordered you to attack and for what purpose?”

“…Jalbadaoth ordered the attack,” the man replied, “and its purpose was to provide a distraction.”

“A distraction?” he repeated the words, “A distraction for what? My vault?” If this attack was merely a diversion, his personal collection of magical artifacts and knowledge might be one of the few things worth the cost of so much effort.

“They’re secured, Teacher,” Sophia Noia spoke up, brushing flakes of ash off her coat. “Locked down nice and tight. Saw it myself before heading out here.”

“Good, good,” he thanked his student, one less thing to worry about. Even if someone had snuck into the depths of the ministry in the midst of the battle, he would have been alerted if any of the magical defenses had been tripped from an attempt of skullduggery. “Now then, tell me who this Jaldabaoth is?”

“I…I don’t know,” the charmed man tried to explain. “He wore a mask, and he wasn’t human.”

“Not human?” Before he could continue his line of questioning, a beam of energy shot through the night sky.

Beyond his own highly tuned senses and All-Seeing Eyes, he could only see the magical lances streak when they blotted out the stars themselves as they cut through the sky.

This sort of magic was easily of the fifth tier, if not the sixth tier of magic.

Who could possibly-

Ah.

With a single look towards the origin point of the lances, the royal summer palace, he got his answer.

Hmmm, how very interesting.

--

--

“What’s wrong, My Lady!?” The maid joked as she batted away another Citrinitas’s wraiths with her war scepter. “Has all this time with the humans made you soft?”

When Lord Demiurge informed Lupusregina she was going to fight Lady Citrinitas by herself, she’ll admit she felt a bit anxious about the whole thing.

“You’ll have to do better than that~” she tanked a spell directly to her chest, feeling the force of the blast press against her torso.

Despite the giddiness in her tone, the lycanthrope was under no illusions about the gulf of power between them. A chasm no amount of bravado or jokes could overcome. Beyond the simple disparity in strength, the maid was a mere level fifty-nine battle cleric who focused on healing magic and her ‘foe’ was a level ninety caster whose magic was specialized into causing pain and suffering before death.

That little spell she took a moment ago? If not for the attire the Supreme Begins graciously gifted to her, she knows she’d have a hole in her chest or a patch of rotting skin.

To make matters worse, Lady Citrinitas was not known for… jokes, play fighting, mummery, ‘jobbing’, and any other word used to describe people who tended not to pull their punches.

There was such a thing of not knowing one’s strength after all. Lupusregina would rather not be on the receiving end of such a painful miscalculation on Citrinitas’ part.

It would just take one spell; one powerful spell and she’d be dead.

Or worse.

While she did not fear death, and would gladly suffer through any hardship if it was the will of the Supreme Beings, there were plenty of ways to inflict pain on someone without killing them. The maid herself knew many of them,

Lady Citrinitas knew many, MANY, more ways to induce a fate worse than death.

“Oh my, you are stronger than you look,” the maid ‘mocked’, mentally referencing the various lines of ‘banter’ Demiurge had prepared for this stunt.

But thankfully, it seemed she worried for nothing.

Lady Citrinitas was clearly holding back on using any truly destructive magic on her for their entire ‘battle’, nothing above the fifth tier. Sure, she swung some blade she pulled out of her inventory, and yes, those summoned creatures were annoying, but these were things Lupusregina could handle easily.

The maid jumped to the side as Citrinitas sent another Eldritch Blast at her, the lance of chaotic energy cutting a hard ninety degree turn to avoid the humans she was previously standing in front of.

A part of Lupusregina dearly wished Lady Citrinitas would break character for just a moment and have a ‘stray’ spell hit one of the humans here. It’d be an accident. And it's not like any of these humans mattered in the grand scheme of things anyway. What’s the harm in killing a few for fun?

Watching pathetic humans squirm in their final agonizing moments was a hobby of hers.

And she wouldn’t tattle~

Sadly, it seemed as if Citrinitas was rigidly adhering to her guise of the….hmmm?

How did Lord Demiurge’s script describe it? ‘Waifish, kind-hearted, girl’? Or at least something of the sort?

Heh…

If only the humans here really knew who Lady Citrinitas actually was, they’d probably-

Lupusregina hissed as one of the homunculus’s summoned creatures cut into her skin with its claws, skimming her neck right below where the mask clung to her face. With a quick spin, she smashed the wraith-like creature into motes of dust with a muted growl.

Just how large were Lady Citrinitas’s MP stores? She must have summoned dozens of those things already!

“Alright, that’s enough for now,” Lord Demiurge chimed in over a message scroll. “We’ve achieved what we set out for. Disengage, and meet back at the safehouse.”

‘Finally!’ she kept that thought to herself, “Understood.”

“It seems my time is up for the moment,” Lupusregina did her best to keep her huffing and puffing out of her voice, thankful for the mask hiding her exhausted expression. “You acquitted yourself well, My Lady, as expect of one such as yourself. Quite the little hero you’ve turned into since you left.”

The maid deflected a quick bolt of magical energy the ‘hero’ sent to her as a reply.

“What occurred tonight was merely a preamble to what is to come,” the maid remembered the lines she was ordered to speak. “As you know, while our Master seeks to bring you back alive, the humans you ingratiate yourself with are expendable. You will present yourself to him at the place you were told to meet him at in two day’s time, or we will burn this city to the ground and slaughter the entire population.”

Lupusregina smiled as the few humans still watching the clash gasped and whispered amongst themselves.

“Farewell, Lady Lilith,” the werewolf bowed, “despite what you may think, I do wish you a pleasant evening, and a good night.”

Lupusregina teleported out moments before an Eldritch Blast tore into her head.

Reappearing before the Floor Guardian in the dingy warehouse, Lupusregina finally tossed that dumb mask off and wiped the sweat off her forehead.

“Welcome back. Oh, are you hurt?” Demiurge immediately noticed the shallow cut along her jawline.

“No, just a scratch,” the lycanthrope waved off his concern with a cheery smile, though wincing as she touched it with her bare finger. “So what now?”

“Now we prepare for tomorrow night’s events in Re-Estize,” Demiurge was giddy with excitement. “The night where the Dark Hero Momon becomes the Hero of Re-Estize, and the first stage of our Supreme Lord’s grand design for the world begins.”

“And what about here?” The maid cast a healing spell on herself to close the cut. “I said the stuff about seeing her in two days time, so how does that work out in all of this?”

“Ah, it’s quite simple. We reprise our roles for another night of activity here. A shorter, and admittedly less grand, showing then our Lord will be partaking in,” the Guardian explained. “The remaining humans who we didn’t use for tonight’s event will be dealt with then.”

“Like him,” the maid thumbed to the portly human passed out at a table on the far end of the building, a half-filled glass of alcohol next to his head.

“He’s an exception,” the arch fiend could barely hold in the chuckle, “I did promise to make him the leader of the Eight Fingers. Though the organization will be very different by the time the human takes the reins.”

“Oh~” the Pleiades smiled, catching onto what Lord Demiurge was talking about. While she won't have any part in their ‘processing’, what she heard from her sister Entoma painted a lovely picture of the humans selected to run the Eight Fingers would be suffering the coming days.

--

--

Fucking damnit!

Those were the only words I could think of when that werewolf maid teleported away, narrowly dodging my final [Eldritch Blast].

The moment I heard those workers earlier mention Jaldabaoth, I just knew Demiurge was going to pull some bullshit here. But this? An all-out attack on Arwintar? While my memory is a little foggy, I do know for a fact that Demiurge never pulled off anything like this in Overlord’s anime or Light Novel. Sure, there was a large attack on Re-Estize for Ainz to job against Demi in a fight as Momon.

But again that was in Re-Estize, not Arwintar!

What the hell did I do to have this sort of butterfly effect thing happen!?

Was it me saying other Players could be here to Ainz that caused this? Maybe Demiurge extrapolated some weird logic from it and decided ‘I must attack Arwintar’ this time?

And ‘where you were told to meet’? The hell does that even mean?

In my little mental musings, I remembered that I wasn’t actually alone at the moment. From a quick glance around, I saw what few people still remained inside the hall stared at me with a mix of emotions. Shock. Awe. Fear. It ran the veritable gambit of human emotions.

One figure stood out from the masses.

“While I thank you for your timely intervention Miss… Lilith was it?” To his credit, Jircniv looked calm as he walked over to me. The key word being ‘looked’. I remember enough about his character to know the literal hamster wheel that could be going on in his head at any moment.

The knights who flanked him looked far less at ease.

“Lilly,” I corrected him. While I couldn’t deny that I sort of liked Lilith in the way it meshed well with Lilly, I prefer the name I chose for this ‘character’ of mine.

“Regardless,” he took the correction in stride, “it appears you knew who that was, and who this Jaldabaoth she serves is. This man has not only antagonized you, but attacked the Empire with this stunt of his.” He pointed to the fires beyond, more controlled than before but still blazing. “It stands to reason that we ought to cooperate in bringing him to justice for his actions.”

Brining Demiurge to justice?

Why do I get the mental image of the Floor Guardian in a courtroom arguing with a judge?

‘Your honor, it was fully in the right to kill thousands of people because the salaryman turned lich I serve didn't say I couldn't. I rest my case.’

Heh…

Might as well try to get Albedo to not be thirsty for a skeleton.

“So, I guess you have some questions about…this?” I motioned to all the damage, a well-timed ceiling beam crashing down to emphasize the point.

“More than a few,” Jircniv agreed. “We can discuss this in a more…secured area.”

Being led away alongside the Emperor, I could just feel this was going to be a long night.

Looking out to the smoldering sections of the city, a somewhat selfish thought crossed my mind. In spite of the damage, death, and devastation, I had one personal concern that nagged me in the back of my head.

‘I hope my house is okay.’

--

--

As far as Flin was concerned, this was supposed to be an easy job: get in, plant the bombs, get out, get paid.

Simple.

No. It was more than that.

It was stupidly simply for what he and the other were getting paid for.

He didn’t know who the hell that Jaldaboath guy was, or how he got so much money, and honestly a part of him didn’t want to know. No one gets that rich without a mountain of corpses under their floorboards, a demi-human even more so.

But money was money. Doesn’t matter what race the man handing it to you is, coin was coin, and that’s all that really mattered in the end.

As for the city? Screw’em!

It wasn’t like he and his boys were destroying it and salting the earth. They were just blowing up a few places, spreading the fires around, getting the guard all worked up and confused so the boss could do something with someone somewhere, he didn’t really pay attention to the particulars. All he knew was that he had to place some bombs and he could loot some of the places while he was at it.

A win-win.

Besides, the places he was sent to were filled with prissy noble homes. Not only that, but most of them were at that party the Emperor was throwing or just outright empty. Beyond the small guard rotation and odd servant or two that stayed home, there was nothing he and the boys couldn’t handle.

At least, that’s what was supposed to happen.

No one said anything about gods damn super golems!

“They’re coming!” one of the men called out as he started running.

Flin turned around and saw them emerge from the ashy cloud.

From beyond the fires and smoke they marched in eerie unison. Metal boots crushing ash beneath them as they remained in perfect formation like a wall of vermilion. Each was red: red armor, red weapons, and red footprints mixed with ash from the blood they waded through.

At first Flin thought they were some knightly order or something. The kind rich enough to use magical weapons. Like the Earth or Air Guards.

But those suits of armor were empty, save for whatever magic animated them. And if that was it, there’d be no problem. A golem was a golem.

But those things weren’t just golems!

They never broke rank, they never so much as took a single step out of formation, except to cut down anyone who couldn’t flee fast enough. Men died with all the ease of swatting a fly, their blades cutting through plate and bone with equal ease.

Hell, they didn’t even spare the odd servant who raced out of a burning building only to get run through with a blade for getting in the animated armors’ way.

They were utter monsters. Unflinching in their desire to kill all before them.

And nothing worked against them.

The bombs didn’t work, martial arts didn’t scratch their armor, even third tier magic did nothing!

You could only run.

Run and ignore the cries of the men who slowed down.

But even running had its limits.

And those gods damned things were faster than they had any right to be!

Flin didn’t know what he tripped over. A corpse? A horse? Someone’s dog?

It didn't matter. He was down, and the ground was so slick he fell again trying to get up in a hurry. Turning around to see how far they were, he froze in fear.

It was too late.

The last thing Flin ever saw was the gory sole of the armored boot coming down on his head.