Sworded Affair

Chapter 73 : Damned Apostle

"We were meant to have received a report by now, I'm pretty sure."

Felix's muttered comment cut through the crowded theatre like a hot knife through butter, drawing everyone's attention; understandable, given he'd limited his participation in the game until now to merely running the vote, not wanting to get too involved lest he exert disproportionate influence upon the other players, given his position of authority. The current situation was a bit too suspicious for his tastes though; enough that he figured making a statement of fact would be fine.

"You're right," Malcolm hissed in sudden annoyance as his eyes widened.

Malcolm had been one of the most active participants overall, an avid player of tabletop war games throughout his youth and the one who had pushed for deploying assassins after the debacle of the first advance. Kill the necromancer and her horde would fall, was his reasoning, one that proved quite persuasive in swinging the vote his way. Strangely though, nearly ten minutes had passed since the notification that the Princess was dead, yet thus far, the risen dead guarding the castle had remained right where they were.

"One assassin with a hammer enchanted to bypass magical defences, to get the team as a whole past the castle wards. Two more combatants with a mastery of poison and venom respectively, and a fourth member of the team specialising in surveillance to scout the castle whilst the others fight."

Malcolm spoke slowly, counting each assassin on his fingers for emphasis.

"An expensive deployment costing all our requisition for the next week, I refuse to believe they'd die so easily, not after succeeding at the primary objective."

"One of the zombies just fell over!" Someone yelled close to the front of the theatre, pointing at a corner of the screen.

Felix waved his hand, commanding the display to zoom in. The access he'd been given as part of the deal with Scholomance had been expansive; he still couldn't see inside the castle proper, but anything outside was fair game. Sure enough, it looked as though whatever had kept the undead in question active had started to run its course, the zombie simply toppling over where he stood. A few others joined him; not all or even most of the horde, but a noticeable number across the board.

"We didn't order any demolitions, did we?" Peter asked, scratching his head as the odd brick began to fall from the ramparts, smashing a few more of the undead on the way down.

"No," Malcolm responded immediately. "The equipment load-out was individual, and we paid points for every piece of it. The order was for poisons targeting humans in liquid and gaseous form, maximising the potency to work through resistances. There was nothing included that could break through stone; if we wanted that we'd have sent an actual assault, along with some proper battering rams."

"We should send all our mages in; help speed up the zombies dying!"

"What if it's a trap? There could be enemies hiding underground, or hidden from view? I bet the fallen will get right back up once our men get close!"

"I still say we should've gathered all our forces, never mind that it would've taken three weeks, and sent them all in at once. Why give the enemy a chance to destroy our force piecemeal?"

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"I bet if we wait long enough, the whole horde will be gone. Should we take a break for a few days? I want to see more gladiator games."

Conversations broke out anew, as everyone shared their opinions on what this meant for taking the castle, but Felix tuned them out, keeping his eyes on the screen for any more surprises. His quest log hadn't been updated since the notification of the Princess dying, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. He'd learned very early on that the System loved saving updates for later, often for maximum dramatic effect. Setting a timer to alert him once a day had passed, Felix resumed his silent vigil.

---

[Beginning Archetype formation.]

Since the arrival of the apocalypse, ushering in a time of great personal and societal upheaval, there had only been one constant that Emma could rely upon without fail. Her armor had granted a second lease on life, and whilst it had taken a fair share of blows (even decapitation, courtesy of Romulus), it had survived every experience intact thanks to the regenerative properties of Anima. Until now. Now, her armor was gone; turned to dust in less than a second as the pentagram beneath her erupted with raw magic far beyond its ability to withstand. Her intangibility had done nothing to delay the process, and now she was dead, except...

I'd rather not die, thanks.

Surprisingly, Emma found her request adhered to; whilst lacking a body, she was still able to think and even perceive the room around her, her senses seemingly unchanged by the fact she was now nothing more than a whisper upon the wind. There was no pain, despite the total destruction of her mortal shell; only a gradual sense of cold numbness that deepened steadily by the second. All the while, waves of fatigue crashed down upon her; urging her to relax, to let go and rest.

Like hell am I doing that!

Emma refused; holding onto consciousness partly because she wasn't sure what sleeping in her current circumstances would do, but mostly because she didn't like being told what to do without a reward offered for compliance. This was followed by the appearance of old, familiar faces long forgotten, beckoning her to sleep and be reunited with them. They vanished again as Emma turned her thoughts away; her will having denied their existence and companionship in equal measure.

Friends. I never did understand the point in them; why can't they just be satisfied with their own families and leave me alone?

Mangled bodies assailed her sight; many still bearing the marks of her blade as they whispered condemnation. Sleep, they urged her, so that she might finally find peace and freedom from her guilt, from her sins.

What sins? I've only killed those who tried to kill me in turn, or got in the way of my goals, or tried to steal from me, or gave me a bad grade that one time. I've done nothing wrong, and they all deserved it.

Gradually, the soporific onslaught began to weaken as Emma rejected each overture, her soul acclimating to the circumstances and beginning to resist in earnest. The cold faded in tandem, unable to bind her any longer. Eventually, as her soul reached a new equilibrium, Emma found that she was no longer tired at all. This realisation came alongside pure euphoria, as a flood of power rushed through her; the energies of the ritual circle no longer fighting, but instead flowing into her and beginning to empower her as notifications flooded her display.

[Quest - Align in the Sand updated!

Objective: Complete the Trial of Crowns (COMPLETE)

(Bonus) Objective: Complete the Trial without changing Alignment. (COMPLETE)

For tempering your soul and resisting the long sleep, 500 EXP gained.

For facing death and persisting by an act of will, Archetype unlocked!

Class: Revenant has been upgraded to Damned Apostle.

Race: Undead removed (you are beyond death).

Alignment: True Neutral removed (you are beyond judgement).

1400 Anima gained!

Ability gained - Null and Void (Cost: 5% base Anima): Disrupt a spell before casting completes.

Trait gained - Divine Conduit (Anathema): ???]