PoV:
1. Elinor Irkalla (Ereshkigal, The Sumerian Goddess Of The Dead!)
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A cold breeze came from the east as morning came, dark clouds carrying rolling thunder as if the very heavens knew what it was about to bear witness to, and as the storm approached, she heard and felt Thor’s approach.
As he landed, no words were passed between them, causing the teens to jump and shift their eyes with apprehension; nothing had to be said while observing the preparing army across the vast, green fields.
Sari’aél excused herself to fetch Apate—Thor no doubt left the woman on purpose—and went to pass on the report Elinor had for Tiffany; it was time to pull the trigger on her plan.
She’d hoped their time together would break a few more barriers, but she’d probably need to have a private talk with the Personification if things were going to progress in that department; that wasn’t her concern at the moment, though.
Two battalions of the largest Ri’bot military force around her nation gathered in their companies; they were organized into platoons, specializing in their area of expertise. To the left, right, and center was the cavalry of Torlim riders, caretakers tending to them in the hours before war.
Machines beyond anything the Valley Ri’bot possessed, likely replicated from their exposure to the other Great Nations, were rolled into position. Still, they would be useless against a tiny, singular target and were probably just for show in their parade.
Rows of slingshots showed they were preparing to throw everything they had at her; many were resting after getting in position, using whatever time they had to rejuvenate themselves.
Elinor’s focus drifted between every position change, quickly spotting where the two Great Chiefs set their tent to relay orders to their colonels; she was impressed they hadn’t faltered, but the actual test of courage would come when the true slaughter began.
Thunder rolled at their backs in the distance as her Seraph returned with the disgruntled wine-haired woman, yet her agitation swiftly tempered as she saw the forces Elinor would face in the open field.
“You’re… going to face all of that… alone?” she mumbled, the first to break the silence.
A slight tilt came to the corners of Elinor’s mouth; she was a trickster by nature and wouldn’t dream of this approach. “You only need to watch, Apate.”
“I will be…”
Fingers tightening around her wrist at her back, Elinor’s gaze shifted to the angel floating nearby. Tiffany’s response?
“She is putting the finishing touches on the last of your projectors and, hehe, was quite surprised at where you decided to send them; they should be all connected to the final one by now and be on their way.”
Elinor shifted to look at the veiled island, only partially visible from their current position, obscuring their vision of her tower. It wouldn’t be long until The Covenant showed up.
Take everyone present into the air to observe; we don’t need the Great Chiefs getting nervous that I may have broken my word.
“I cannot wait to meet your children, Empress!”
“Okay, time to wait from above!” she chirped, golden hue encircling the teens, Thor, and Apate.
Just as they rose into the air, as she expected, a tense pulse reverberated throughout the entire battlefield, causing every Ri’bot to shiver and lock eyes on the phenomenal entities that encircled her, Sar’ollaz at their center.
A black-feathered, bird-like entity with a long, bony head, a mane of sheep fur cowling him, and rams horns poking out of the mess spread one bat-like wing wide before curving it to offer her a showy bow.
“My most humble apologies for the inexcusable ignorance, Lady Irkalla!” Baxter lavishly sang, seemingly overwhelmed. “I have followed thy elegant rise since my flaming descent into oblivion. I humbly admit my glorious defeat in the radiance of thy servant’s most divine—”
“Shut up!” Ke’Thra’Ma growled, the earth trembling as his massive feet shifted to glare at the petrified army, and a low chuckle reverberated in the air while working his necks in a slow circle. “Haa-haha! I can taste the fear.”
Orinvia flicked her fingers in the army’s direction, sending bolts of black lightning as if an afterthought; they were carried into another dimension by the Bringer of the Tide’s calming waves that rippled space.
“Why bother with such useless insects that aren’t even worth a second of my—”
Les’ndrassa’s tone made the alien entity hiss as she cut her off. “Can you have even a modicum of decency, Orinvia; you weren’t always this boorish.”
“I will kill—”
“The little six-winged angel,” Arsheh huffed, waving her wing to the left to create white whisps around the alien. “We heard you the first two hundred times.”
“Don’t play with me, Arsheh!”
“Or what—you insult me—say you’ll kill me? Haha! You’re so delusional.”
Bo-Ko sat on Aidrh’ruz’s shoulder, laughing and clapping at the show. “Ooh! Spinny mindy games! Arsheh is so good at the mindy stuff; can we play—can we play more… Yay!”
Becdeth floated nearby, golden-masked smile tilted slightly to the left as he silently watched her. Kon’draga was nearby, restored to her Cosmic Form, and Sar’ollaz’s grizzly smile said nothing about his mood, psionic waves rippling the air around him.
The Covenant leader’s black armor was fully restored, and his voice silenced the others as he looked at Orinvia, causing her to look away; his tone was even. “Have you forgotten the rules?”
“No…” she snarled, arcane halo crackling with energy as a dark aura surrounded her. “I will not interfere in Irkalla’s goals.”
Bo-Ko bobbed left and right as the aviary woman spun clouds around his head with amusement, and Sylez’s infernal laughter quieted the rest of the members; Ke’Thra’Ma tried to puff up his chest to equal the Demon’s size, which was funny, considering the denizen of Múspellsheimr knowingly presented himself just a tad taller than the ape for that very reason.
“I look forward to the show, Goddess.” His flaming eyes lifted to Thor; the man’s fingers held tight to Mjölnir, and Elinor could sense his desire to destroy the Infernal Entity. “Hehe. It appears your Witch has impeccable timing; let’s not overstay our welcome.”
Lightning sparked from the dark clouds behind them to strike the Asgardian, electricity sparking from his eyes and hammer as Sylez gave him a snarky bow.
“My regards, Prince of Asgard. Hahaha!”
The Covenant’s focus didn’t leave the Primordial for several seconds as he wordlessly dared them to challenge him; it would be foolish even to attempt to face the God of Thunder with a storm at his back, but these were the type of creatures that could take that bet.
Ke’Thra’Ma licked his lips at the tense atmosphere, his blood no doubt racing for combat, but he knew his limits after facing Kon’draga. “What a time to live!”
Les’ndrassa gave Elinor a bow as water enclosed many of those present, transporting them to a plane they could observe without notice. Only Becdeth remained, transient male to female voice displaying a smile.
“A hallmark ripples through The Outlands, Irkalla; we await the hastening strings.”
Smoke swallowed him as the first raindrop struck her skin, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tiffany’s device soar out of the air; a mass of flesh, Jukal beaks, human lips, bulging black eyes, and runic symbols.
It’s time.
Above her, the largest display flew, projecting a colossal three-dimensional image of her throughout the heavens, and she took her first step toward the center of the field; it was still five hours before noon, but they would need that time.
She had Tiffany craft five projectors. Two would go to the Nalvean Empire—one for Shi’Shuka’s Main Square, the other, Mirelitel’s capital—another for Nethermore, and the fourth, smaller one, to remain here so the Ri’bot generals would know precisely where she was to direct their troops; the final had a special purpose after this declaration.
Yesenia would no doubt hear about her battle, and it was meant to be a warning; Voukey would have already arrived and informed the High Ruler of their mission, and it could provide a distraction to allow Yago to slip inside to slowly extract the humans they could spirit away in secret.
Elinor smiled as Great Chief Israg and Dralix mounted their Torlim to ride out to meet her alone, soldiers parting ranks to allow them to pass, and gasps were heard as the bright projection of her erupted in the darkening heavens, blotting out the sun.
The two leaders waited at the center of the field, grass bowing to the chilling wind, and the creatures fled from the heavy stomping of the army above; the men were tense as she took her time, and it took nearly an hour to reach the meeting point before she halted before them.
She appreciated their silence, allowing her to explain why she’d met them like this hours before the appointed time.
“As I speak, what you see above is being transmitted to the Nalvean lands and my city so they may bear witness to the Great Morseng and Polsan Clans’ courage in facing sure death. I will reiterate our agreement, Great Chiefs. I, Empress Elinor Irkalla, shall face your 10,000 soldiers in open combat… alone.
“Many will witness this as a testament to my divinity as a Supreme Goddess in mortal form—Ereshkigal, Queen of the Great Earth—Jailor of the Eternities. You will bear testament as I force the heavens open to be welcomed by my host. Rejoice, those who do not falter will see me in Irkalla, and your families will have safety therein.
“A war rages in the Realms of the Divine that will shake this small planet to its foundations, but those that have faith in me will have power granted to overcome their challenges. I am the Goddess of Night Relief as much as I am a warden and judge over the afterlife.
“Soldiers of the Great Morseng and Polsan; what you see above us will go to the grand, unified city that is your home, where your families will witness your valiant efforts. One hour before our battle begins, I will allow your leaders a podium to display their conviction to their people…
“Now,” she looked directly at the black eyes of the hovering mass of flesh, “steel your courage; at noon, you face death.”
Elinor gave the two leaders an acknowledging nod as they flexed their fingers, observing her to discover how she moved her body; they were veterans, and she knew the battle would conclude in combat with the two well-seasoned Great Chiefs that were everything Krava wished to be and failed to achieve.
“Go beyond your limits, Great Chiefs… because your best will not be enough.”
Turning, she walked several hundred meters away before turning back to face the solemn army; a subtle resolve swept the throng with every hour as the appointed time drew near.
The heavens wept as Elinor strode forward, her skin dripping water and the ground becoming moist with the bellowing storm bearing down on them; visibility would be poor for the slingers, and lightning roared above.
As promised, she stood in front of Israg and Dralix as they gave their speech, the latter addressing his people first, trusting what she’d said to be true. He spoke up in the light rainfall, and his voice was strong and unrelenting.
“I know this must be a complete shock to many of you… None of you expected to lose your loved ones in the traditional march our Great Clans celebrate at our bond. I will testify to the Supreme One, Irkalla’s claims; we have seen her powers and willingly enter into this battle to show our faith in her word.”
Israg stepped forward. “We have been promised our hopes and desires to be fulfilled if we show ourselves worthy of Empress Irkalla’s respect. We will not dishonor our families or nation; we are Great Clans of the Ri’bot, and we will show that we welcome a battle with the Supreme Ones. Let our people be the judge of your word, Empress Irkalla.”
“Let it be,” she nodded. “Return and send your troops; I will show you the power of the gods.”
Determining she had gathered all she could, Elinor held out her hand for the Staff of the Dead to transport through space to her grip.
She held it up, creating a funnel for a beam of light that momentarily blinded all that looked at the dense, excess Life Energy that shot into the heavens—it had reached its maximum threshold—and a tiny fissure cut a crack between the Divine and Mortal Plane. It was all she needed; now, she needed to create pressure.
Flipping it to her back, Elinor’s pumping heart stilled. “Let’s begin.”
Lightning flashed through the heavens, the rain and wind gaining momentum with the rising river levels; the Great Chiefs returned, disappearing in the veil as they went beyond normal visibility, yet their life force couldn’t escape her vision.
Standing in isolation, she heard the drums pounding in the distance, signaling orders, and Elinor smiled as a thousand soldiers broke away, four platoons of spearmen with one cavalry. She patiently waited for them to surround her, following directions via the drums.
The cavalry circled wide, staying hidden in the downpour to flank her as the four platoons closed in on her left, right, and center—a hammer and anvil strategy—effectively funneling your opponent into a death trap.
Her fingers tightened as they closed in; spears and shields came into view with every foot they pressed forward, her fleshy projector showing her exact location, magically cutting through the rainstorm through the Jukal’s sharp vision, occult magic, and Runic powers.
The vibrations transferring through the earth struck her legs as the sounds of the beating flipped, and a loud roar came from the 1,000 Ri’bot that charged her. Waiting for the cavalry to come near, chains shot out between the even rows of mounted soldiers, latching onto her spirit and drawing her into the fray.
Flipping around using the dozens of ethereal, lapis lazuli chains that acted as rope lines against their souls, Elinor ran across the interlinked metal, using the blind spots and her tethers to jump between rows of confused soldiers; every Torlim she passed was nicked by her spear, spreading the infection.
Jumping over barbed point and thrust swords, Elinor’s grin increased as several abandoned their mount to use her chains themselves, launching off the ghostly objects until fetters latched onto their ankles, halting their momentum inches before their blades touched her.
Screams were heard as the infection took hold, friend and mount turned foe, and high above them, a fissure sent a rope of ethereal metal to her hand, launching her into the heavens.
Sharp vision scanning the quick exchange through their life force, she wondered what they’d come up with to counter the zombie outbreak.
What have you learned from the graveyard I made of the Roxim and Komath camps?
“Oh?”
Light broke through the sky, followed by thunder, allowing her to see the faint outline of squads below gathering into tight balls to slam their shields into the ground and poking their spears through the edges.
Spartan tactics. Not bad.
The cavalry was breaking away to regroup with the three dozen zombies rushing toward the most accessible source of meat—the stationary spearmen—readying themselves for what the drums called for.
“Hehehe.”
Fingers tightening around her weapon as she fell, just before the first wave of ravenous Ri’bot and Torlim entered the formation, her chains latched onto several shields in the front line; Elinor was impressed as the warriors refused to let go, being carried out of the circle with a few others dragged with them.
They valiantly tried to close and secure the weak points—two succeeded—but the tactic didn’t work on most, with the rampaging Torlim plowing through the defenses for zombies to pounce on the stunned living.
Maneuvering further into the middle of a platoon, she landed shoulder to shoulder beside two friends; her spinning staff swept the first off his feet to defend against the second attack, using his own shoving momentum to dig the end of her spear into his friend’s liver.
The other soldiers quickly discovered her presence, cursing and shouting out her location as they recovered. She passively carved through living and dead flesh to create more mindless sacrifices and a future plot; her growing army overwhelmed many of the toads in their valiant struggle to stem the tide.
After five minutes, hundreds of zombies overtook the first and second platoon as the third and fourth at the edges dug themselves in, resigned to kill their former comrades without hesitation, despite the grim and stressed looks in their wild eyes.
They were all volunteers, no doubt; not one of these men believed they would make it out alive from their first assault; some companies would need to be sacrificed to discover her powers, yet Elinor had predicted precisely how this battle would unfold as she meditated through the night, selecting everything required for a total and crushing victory.
Dying screams and crying could be heard around her as Elinor shifted her staff behind her back to weave through the carnage of blood, guts, and severed limbs; they’d certainly discovered a zombie’s weakness from their study of the bodies she’d left behind, showing their intelligence in learning from others’ mistakes.
Unlike any regular general on a battlefield, Elinor kept a sharp eye out for potential recruits for the future; powerful soldiers could be cultivated, but strength of will was not something many had in the face of such horror.
Humming an old battle tune sung in a universe lost to antiquity long ago, she looked for any soul trying to play dead, yet not one could be seen. Of course, it wouldn’t help, considering such tactics didn’t work against the ravenous infected.
Minute by minute, zombies fell, cavalry rolled in to attempt to stem the spread, and the sacrificial lambs used everything they had to aim for precision to take down the undead.
She activated Life Leech Aura, rebuilding the reserves she’d lost, yet Elinor didn’t want to use the skill too often; it was required to build the pressure she needed.
Holding her staff in passing, Elinor fueled much of what she gathered into the swirling mass for what would meet the next company that assaulted her. Several brave Ri’bot managed to break past the growing horde, finding her in her casual stroll through the carnage, marking bodies.
“Yaaaahhh!”
She shifted to face him, only using one hand to parry and dodge his lunges and thrusts as he rapidly aged; four others paused as they saw their comrade’s skin wrinkle and discolor before their eyes with her effortless skill in outclassing his assault.
“Keep your distance!”
“Use spears—pick up spears!”
Elinor continued toward them, evading their predictable throws while marking bodies with an x as her little spiritual snake exited the folds of her front to hiss at them. “I’m afraid not, Masmu; I need every scrap of experience.”
She hung her head and returned between her breasts as Elinor snapped her fingers, shackling the four mid-motion; shifting to look up at the fleshy camera, she gestured to the dyed grass and trail of moist sand she’d created in her path.
“You’re going to need to come up with something far more clever to stop me; even if the weather was clear, you could not hit me with such predictable… Oh?”
A small smirk brightened her bright eyes as a stone bit into the earth three meters away. “A volley, hmm?”
Dozens of fist-sized rocks flew out of the howling tempest to pepper the ground, and Elinor didn’t move from her spot; the deep blue, speckled stone of Irkalla’s gates flared around her as the force field deflected the projectiles.
Five minutes passed, hailing debris striking her shell before it ceased, and she disabled the shield; she’d been passively following the battle between zombie and Ri’bot, which was coming to an end.
After forty minutes, most of the cavalry and much of the four sacrificial platoons had been crushed under the onslaught; the observing army would be taking notes, yet there were still soldiers with fight left.
Less than a quarter of the fourth platoon was left as they slew the last zombie, four cavalrymen acting as decoys to the mindless rabble to spike them on grounded spears. It was a good tactic in the blinding weather, which she expected many of the companies were preparing for as they cleaned up the scattered packs running toward them.
However, before they could get too far away from the center point of the field, Elinor flipped their switch, killing them on the spot to collapse in the mud, blood, and pooling water.
Looking up at the rumbling heavens as she walked toward the recovering soldiers, taking a second to rest after dealing with the final infected, Elinor chuckled to herself.
Having an undead, tireless body after gaining Irkalla’s attributes to counter the physical drawbacks I had before is useful; my threshold keeps increasing, but… my Exp seems to be diminishing as I kill. At a certain point, the souls I kill won’t have the strength to stretch this mortal sleeve my divine spirit resides in.
Her emerald irises flicked to the soldiers as she came into their view.
“She’s here!”
“Formation!”
“Don’t falter… Keep your cool!”
“S-She turned—what did she do to m-my husband?”
“Calm down, Us’dra. We’ll see him soon enough.”
“Yeah…”
Elinor’s head tilted to the right as the drums shifted beat, three companies splitting up to move into position to pincer her; it would be at least thirty minutes before they reached her, yet their positioning had altered.
Interesting tactic, she mused, keeping her staff behind her back as three Ri’bot rushed her with the others preparing to kill them if they became zombies.
“Don’t… underestimate us!”
“We won’t—”
“No!”
Elinor skipped to the right, twisting to shove Us’dra into the direction of another man’s spear, digging into her ribs to puncture a lung.
“Ack…” she gurgled as Elinor spun her spear around to plunge it through her heart and into the man’s shoulder that jumped forward in an attempt to pull her away.
“N-No—you don’t!” He gripped the spear, trying to keep it in place as his friend intercepted her.
She nodded, stepping away while watching his body shrivel; his life was sapped by being in contact with the artifact. “Bold. Respectable.”
Letting go, she met the man that rushed her, side-stepping the thrust to grip the shaft with her left hand and backhand him with her right, denting his helmet, yet he refused to let go out of pure will; stunned, there wasn’t much he could do, despite his effort, and she shoved the butt of his spear between his armor to bury the wood into his gut.
An incoming blade caused her to duck, playing around the wounded man’s body out of entertainment as she danced away from the advancing five new combatants; the Ri’bot warrior, stubbornly holding onto her staff, collapsed under the weight of the dead woman he tried to save, strength failing him as he aged.
She couldn’t deny his resolve by recalling the weapon and slew the next five with their own blades, making the remaining thirty-eight Ri’bot squirm as they circled her.
“Maneuver 45…”
“I saw her counter that already!”
“Watch the sky for the chains—ready to throw if she escapes through the air!”
“Toe licker!”
Elinor chuckled, summoning the Staff of the Dead to flip around her body. “All that wasted resolve.”
She spent the next four minutes killing the remainder of the 1,000 Ri’bot that had been sent to kill her, infecting twelve, and as the final soldier managed to kill them to face her.
Patiently waiting for the new sacrificial lambs to enter her field of death, Elinor stabbed her spear into the ground to motion to him. “Face me with weapons or hands; the choice is yours.”
If he were Roxim, she would have expected him to cast aside his tools in some bravado attempt, but this young man wasn’t so rash and cautiously approached her; rain slicked their skin as Elinor stood her ground, bending back or stepping to the side to avoid the sweeping attacks while gauging his skill.
His nerves settled as the seconds went, and he wasn’t terrible compared to the others she’d slain, yet after a minute, she disarmed the poor boy and slit his throat.
“Well… I suppose it’s time to unveil your next challenge,” Elinor mused while tapping the back of the sword’s flat side against her legs.
Tracking the approaching men, coming in tight waves, and in a wide circle, surrounding her; they’d chosen a new tactic to combat her zombies by having rows of two, with another set at their back if she took to the sky again.
They were going to play the slow, exhaustive route this time, yet Elinor puffed out a long, bemused sigh as they came into view, carefully traversing the battlefield littered with over 1,100+ bodies, including the Torlim.
Returning to her spear, she pulled it out of the ground to hold it at her back with one hand as she presented her right to the camera. “How fast can 3,000 soldiers die… A single snap?”
The last word left her lips with the crisp sound, barely heard past the pattering rain and savage gale, yet what followed wasn’t missed; nearly 800 corpses she’d marked in passing detonated, flooding her with experience and sending a bloody wall of fog to obscure the carnage.
Bone shrapnel launched in all directions with the crimson haze, denting armor and burying into flesh, but the worst was to come—the rosen mist carried the infection—instantly creating an unstoppable horde, yet in the screams that ensued, Elinor calmly held her staff in the air, preparing the finale.
The bloody atmosphere’s erupting momentum reversed, drawing into the flaming glove of her staff, condensing inside as she gained enough Exp for her next Lich skill and a style she’d never used in all her known existence.
Elinor flipped her shaft and slammed the radiant jade sphere into the now purified mud, the taint extracted from the dyed field, but not for long.
Bubbling gore frothed out, spiraling around her before becoming an expanding maelstrom, sucking in the bloodless corpses, zombies, and the shell-shocked living alike within a 150-meter radius.
Elinor observed the incredibly challenging process to set into motion play out. The snapping bones, ligaments, rending flesh, and torturous cries of the living, calling for their ancestors’ protection, filled her ears as everything was dragged into the horrific vortex, soon splitting into four funnels.
[Lesser Titan Abomination I]
Each condensed into 12-meter-tall, misshapen abominations littered with Ri’bot limbs, eyes, teeth, and fused tongues. Each pumping heart on the inside of their bodies represented the number of corpses that fused with them, and every one had to be destroyed for the titan to fall, and it took real power to bypass their dense muscle.
One closed fist held at her back, Elinor lifted her staff as lightning struck one, passing through the horrific amalgamation of flesh and organ, searing a portion of its meaty frame, yet its eight long limbs flickered into motion as she pointed the flaming orb at the end of her staff at the petrified army.
Panic hit the ranks, having just lost nearly 1,100 soldiers with over a thousand more injured, infected by the mist in an instant.
“Hehe. Maybe your siege weapons will have some use after all.”
Dozens of fleshy, bony jaws unhinged, showing rows of teeth and three-pronged tongues—lined with sharpened nails—shot out over 40-meters, each releasing hideous, high-pitched screeches.
“No survivors.”
Their eight limbs writhed, splitting into sixteen to display teeth and bloodshot eyes down their length, spinning to find their prey as they lurched forward at an incredible speed.
Maps:
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