Chapter Seventy-Three – Requiem – Part Three

Carry the torch…

- Former UWO Colonel Novak -

The will to continue against all odds is something that my father taught me as a boy. There were no medals given to him for his sacrifice, no accolades, no special service. None of that would have mattered to him. He had a simple motto, one that caught fire with those who survived during the gate incident in New York.

Carry the torch.

At first, I didn't understand it, not really. But now, I think I do. Standing before the black gate leading to Azeroc's prime world, with no stack to level the playing field, I understand what it meant. Light the fire of hope, the fire of defiance that life has been lighting since the first form crawled from the primordial soup. Show others that in the face of despair, we do not kneel and cower. Show them that against all odds we still can rise to fight. Even if we fail today, tomorrow may yet come. Pass the fire, light the torches, and carry it until your last breath.

I don't know what is on the other side of that gate, but I know it is where my path leads, perhaps where it has always led.

When that nuke comes through it will detonate within seconds. Every second counts. I have less than an hour to try and tip the scales of fate.

"Abyss, are you almost done?"

Abyss… Abyss… Abyss…

"Take it all."

My stride lengthens towards the shimmering black portal. Abyss is finishing up the last scraps left on the field as I do.

"Where are you going?" Greymore yells after me, though he doesn't seem bothered by it, he's given up. That much I can see in his stance. "What are you doing?"

Thinking of Adaraic's memory, "If a man can do more, he should."

"What?"

I pause a mere breath from the Gate, the sinister swirls of darkness inviting me to venture forth.

Greymore isn't far behind when I say, "Tell her…" my jaw tenses, "Tell her I don't think, I know."

"What does that even mean?"

"She'll know," turning over my shoulder to look at him, "I haven't given up yet, neither should you."

With that I step through, heart pounding as time ripples and I'm sent flying through the chasm of space. I managed to hit the Nexus button, but the glitch isn't working, my system interface is definitely glitching though, the quest icon is spasming. Probably because I forcibly left the quest zone.

Meatsack, leaving a quest zone without permission granted by an Administrator. Congratulations on breaking your first rule. Naughty, naughty. Looks like they patched the time glitch while traveling between gates and accessing the Cosmic Exchange. Which means that you're likely being reviewed as we speak. Exciting… not that it matters, you'll be dust soon enough.

Fuck the rules.

Fuck the game.

I'm coming for one thing, and one thing alone… to burn it all down or die trying.

Meatsack, due to the nature of a rule break, all blessings and curses are removed during the investigation period to prevent outside influence. Congratulations, you're an idiot again, but not a complete one.

I feel the clarity of certainty begin to ebb from me. It feels like I'm myself again, the me that I was before all of this started. Everything is trembling around me in the space between spaces. Vibrating dangerously fast as though I'm not meant to be traveling through it. It feels like I'm being passed through a meat grinder. Pain beyond comprehension racks my brain.

Meatsack, don't die before we get there. It would be very anticlimactic.

I can't even speak to tell him to…

Light bends and reality shapes as I stumble out from the other side of the gate. My eyes take in a barren landscape of sand and stone. The air is hot, like a desert. As I slowly stand, I realize I am on a dune overlooking the sea of sand, I look out and don't believe my eyes at first.

Endless waves of creatures and undead stand in legions as far as the eye can see. More than that, giants of mythic proportions tower above, housing hundreds of archers upon their frames. In the distance I see a stone building that rises into the sky, piercing the clouds. Lightning spindles from it like a Tesla coil. The clouds are stricken dark above it, thunder booming across the land, then I hear it… Red's voice… Azeroc's voice.

You have dared to touch the sands of my domain… What is it that you hoped to accomplish? You are without your divine intelligence boon now. What is it that you think you can do in the face of my armies? Were you that eager to die? Do not beg to become one of my Lich, for I will not grant you such a prestigious role. You are foolish for coming here… but perhaps it is fitting, perhaps I will make sport of you to torture Ulana.

"I didn't come here to be your bitch," I say, hands shaking as the hordes take notice of me.

Thunderous laughter comes from the front waves of them as they point and ridicule me.

Your move, mortal.

Letting me make the first move, he will regret that. I'm scared… terrified even, yet here I am. No buffs, no concrete plan. Just me, saying fuck it.

"Abyss, I really hope you're hungry."

Abyss… Abyss… Abyss…

It whispers joyously. I'm surprised it can still eat after devouring all the weapons and armor Adaraic's army left behind. There are a few new items that I'm wearing now, a Wisdom boosting ring from Adaraic himself, as well as an Epic item that lets you do silent casting. That's useful, I didn't manage to find very many charges before I departed, just enough to top off, but if I manage to get more Wither Charges and a place to hold brands, I should be able to cycle faster than before. Then maybe I can stay alive with siphoning since I don't have Jaledi's debuff anymore.

"Oi, this looks like a proper shitshow," someone says to my right.

I spin, blinking.

There are three special forces soldiers standing next to me, and more walk out of the portal.

"Damn, this should be fun," the next chuckles, spinning twin ruby colored blades, there's an aura around them, I'm not sure what kind of class they are.

Greymore steps through next, giving an eyebrow raise and a squint at the endless hordes beyond.

"We've seen worse," he lies, cracking his neck, then looking at the expression on my face, "What? Did you really think you'd be alone? Plus, for the record, I'm a full bird Colonel, not a fucking messenger bird, you want to say something, survive and say it yourself."

I blink at him. Every single soldier under his direct command is here now. Even some of the suits are here, however, most ran for the hills when they saw the gate change again.

"Why did you come?"

One of the soldiers pats me on the shoulder, giving a grin, "We were dead anyway, why not choose how we go. Besides," his eyes narrow as he unfolds a telescoping spear, "this is what we signed up for. Against all odds, we are the first in, last out."

"Why haven't they attacked yet?" someone asks.

"Azeroc, the shitstain God of this domain, he said it's our move."

Greymore spits, "Mighty generous of him."

"What are you thinking, boss?" one of the Lt's asks.

"Eh, dealer's choice," Greymore turns to me, "Where do you want us, what's your plan?"

Each of them stares at me intently, sweat beading on their brows, fear repressed down the bottle they've spent a lifetime crafting. They are the pinnacle of carved willpower, men and women who against all odds stand tall and look death in the face with a grin.

"I need to carve a path to the undead hordes," I point in the direction of the second wave behind the first. Azeroc was smart and moved the living forces to the front lines. "If you can get me there, I can…" I look at all of them, grit engrained in their bones, "Then I can turn the tide and start dusting their undead in droves."

"Good enough for me," Greymore says, rolling his neck again, "Wedge formation it is."

Greymore calls out commands to each soldier, individually calling them by name. The hordes of Azeroc stand cackling at our expense.

Meatsack, you realize that Red is toying with you right? You could take away their satisfaction by simply ending yourself. Food for thought. Last spiteful action. Or blaze of glory, though I think you'll be captured and mutilated if you try that. Not that I don't want to see you scream in agony, it's just that I don't want Red to get yet another one over on us.

I know that's what Azeroc thinks he's doing, but in reality, he's giving me… no, us, the sliver of a chance to win. Meant to be a torture of false hope, I get that, but I don't care, I'll take anything I can get to help balance this fucked up scale. The plan that enhanced me made was simple, stack until the moment comes… I don't know if I was right with my hypothesis that the entire plan was based upon, but I'm willing to trust it, especially since it's all I have.

"Ready when you are," Greymore says, checking the mag of his backup sidearm before putting it back.

The stack is not nearly as impressive as earlier, but it's a good starting point. Made faster due to the silent casting ring, if I had more charges I could definitely cycle it faster.

627%

"Ready."

Greymore turns and looks at me dead in the eyes, "No matter what happens, no matter who falls, do not stop."

I nod, "Understood, sir."

"What you did to Gaspers, if it helps you do whatever you're doing," he mulls his jaw, looking out at the endless horde, "You can use me."

I swallow, nodding. It's a good idea.

"Let's move!" Greymore shouts.

Our formation of over three hundred souls forms the wedge. The creatures in the army are salivating. Less than a hundred paces, looks like they won't attack until we do. Azeroc must be really confident… if I was right in my hypothesis, then he made a critical error here. If I wasn't… well, I'm dead anyway.

We shuffle forward at a measured pace that increases to a jog. I feel magic humming in the air, eyes in our formation starting to glow with their respective elements.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Azeroc's voice slithers into my mind.

She's watching, I thinned the veil around my world just enough so she can watch your demise. You shall become acquainted with the depths of despair and pain, even when you beg for death, I will not give it. Not until you are entirely hollow and your mind is broken.

I don't respond. Though knowing Ulana is watching, gives a small comfort, even if she won't be able to interfere here.

The first shot fires and the attack begins. The ground tremors as the behemoth creatures walk forward with their hundreds of archers and spell casters on their backs. Within three seconds I have seven new Wither Charges. Within seven, I have twelve. Blood runs across the endless sands, volleys of arrows that blot out the sky rain down, I splay Abyss above us, using the shields from the obsidian knights to cover us. But the edges are where the screams are heard.

We trample the ones that fall, we must… we can't stop.

"Push!" Greymore yells, firing over the shoulder of those in front. The line is thinning and we're only halfway through toward the next wave.

Within two minutes more than half lay dead, their memories bleeding across my mind, fraying my thoughts…

Eyes look at me as they glass over, hoping that their sacrifice was worth it.

Carry the fucking torch.

4,567%

The whips from Abyss's Dark Vines are starting to crumple armor, exploding the occupants' organs. We can do this. The cycling goes faster and faster the more charges I brand onto Greymore, blue flames flicker around his shoulder where my hand is. Time constantly ripples as the passive, Messenger of Death activates when my charges get full. Everything is slower in those moments. Giving me time to see the carnage.

The man with the spinning ruby blades appears to be a blade dancer class of some kind. He stands near the front, carving like a butcher, blood coats him from head to toe, a trail of clumped sand in his wake… until he falls. An arrow in the eye, we step over his twitching corpse, taking his charge.

Azeroc is still toying with us, if the entire horde had descended, then we would have been crushed in a mere moment. It seems like they're avoiding killing me, three times a spear meant for my chest has veered at the last moment, the attacker bleeding from the eyes before they fall. Azeroc wants me to survive, he wants to make good on his promise to mutilate me in front of Ulana.

17,876%

It's getting there. We're almost there, the undead hordes are close, then I can start my work. There are only twelve of us…

Eleven…

Four…

Greymore turns to look at me.

"Carry the…" A spear stabs through his throat. He pulls his spare sidearm and unloads the clip into three goblins before he falls to his knees.

Blue flames lick at his throat as blood spills from it. I divert my consciousness to Abyss's tendrils grabbing a group of goblins and swing the other tendrils outwards knocking the horde back, crushing them under the enhanced damage of the swing. Wrapping us in a cocoon of Abyss vines, I yank the spear from his chest and transfer the siphoning into Greymore, his wounds close rapidly.

"We're not done yet," I say, pushing more Brands of Withering into him, "I still need you."

28,567%

This is enough to make it with Greymore as my Brand storage. There are hundreds of thousands of undead no more than thirty paces away. Almost there…

"Abyss, wrecking ball."

Abyss… Abyss… Abyss…

The cocoon spindles and thickens, pulling us up and suspending us in the center of it as it starts to roll, faster and faster, turning us in the center so we don't get spun with it. My consciousness travels to the outer layer so I can apply the damage stack to some of the vines. The ones that connect splatter the forces. As it moves, thousands upon thousands of wither charges accumulate onto Greymore in the form of brands. His eyes roll into the back of his head once it reaches ten thousand, flames scorching his skin as fast as it's being healed. Abyss's vines tangle him tightly as he thrashes, the madness has taken root.

Creative meatsack, though I suspect Red will send in their more elite forces now. This is the end of the line, unfortunately. Bravo for the blaze of glory. It was quite entertaining.

"I'm not done yet…"

53,567%

The sand tremors as we roll, creating a storm of dust around us. Almost there, just a little more. There are notifications popping up on the side of my vision. Level ups, titles and other shit, since I left the quest zone, I can technically level up again. I barely have the mental bandwidth to open them and manage Abyss and the stack cycling.

[ Congratulations, you have leveled up. ]

More and more, I don't need to roll for attributes, I just want the higher Wither Charge capacity. I swipe it away, continuing with the leveling up. Stacking more each cycle. It's exponentially faster without having to say the incantation.

76,876%

The hordes are endless, but we're making a dent, albeit small.

Meatsack, congratulations on reaching level sixty. Still won't be enough.

I'm not grinding for levels. I don't need them, if my hypothesis is correct…

Demigod inbound, meatsack, the end is here. Your stack may be enough for one, provided you can hit them… but I sense Red has called all of them. At least you made them sweat enough to play their trump card.

Almost there.

97,567%

Time distorts with gravity as I feel Abyss slowing, being held down by something.

Azeroc's voice enters my mind.

Entertaining… but entirely futile, mortal.

My teeth grit, almost time. I really hope that I was right. Abyss's roll stops as though it has met an immovable force. The vines are being torn through faster than they can spread. Light spreads from the hole, and a wretched face stares back at me through it. Mana ebbs from them like an ocean.

"There you are," their voice quakes the air with authority.

Hands of flesh laden with runes carved deep, glowing red stones embedded in it, a silver crown sparkling with more red stones. A glowing red aura wraps their frame, like their soul is so strong it manifests in reality and distorts it. They wear large pauldrons with black skulls detailed across them. Their chest is exposed, a fist-sized gem melded into the sternum. A man with pointed features, flaming red hair, and glowing crimson eyes, the sclera of their eyes black as night.

That is a demigod, meatsack. Strike at their gems, it's their tethering focal point for their power. If you can destroy those, you might be able to break their runes. Be fast, be decisive.

"It's time to test my first theory."

The demigod tilts his head at me, their deep crimson and black eyes hewn from nightmare stare through me.

My theory about one of my skills is that it will allow me to break the cap set by the system, if I use it in an unintended way.

[ Skill: Convergence of Decay ]

[ Usage: Allows the user to manipulate brands after application. ]

[ Effect: Allows the user to direct all applied brands to a single target. ]

[ Cooldown: 72 hours ]

[ Activation: Intention. ]

[ Cost: None. ]

The demigod pulls me out slowly from the cocoon of Abyss, and I do not fight him.

"I am Verik, do you know what I am?"

I raise an eyebrow, looking at his chiseled and gaunt face.

"Ugly?"

He chuckles, "It's a shame my god has decided not to recruit you."

His grip tightens, I can feel the power in the way the mana vibrates around him.

"Aren't you going to brand me?" he asks.

"Did you think that was my plan?"

He tilts his head again, curiosity brimming from his glowing crimson eyes as he releases me. I fall to the sand below him. Seems like he must have some way to negate brands, either that or he can heal through it.

"A shame indeed."

My eyes close as I feel the Brands of Withering all across the field, thousands on Greymore, and hundreds of thousands that I placed on living enemies as Abyss and I decimated the undead portions of the armies, placing a few brands on each target we didn't kill.

Come to me, my brands of withering. My intention resonates as I point to myself as the target.

Oh… meatsack, I can't believe I didn't see that coming. That will definitely be patched after today.

Hundreds of thousands of brands slide in an orchestra of blue flames that come across the sands. My mind nearly ruptures from carrying it all. The sanity boosting item is the only thing keeping me from biting out my tongue.

"That which has been… shall be again."

Brands begin cycling into charges, until I get a notification.

[ Error… System Conflict… Hard Limit Reached… 100 Wither Charges ]

So, they put a hard limit on the Charges you can hold, but they forgot about the brands. I guess I glitched the mechanics of it when I exceeded the level cap for my Class with brands which should have been my current level minus my current charges. Still, lucky that I was able to convert any charges at all. Another notification appears.

[ Congratulations Hunter, you have met the requirements to activate your class ultimate, Requiem of the Forsaken… Please state an activation command to activate. ]

An activation command… looks like I was right, though I didn't think it would hard cap me for charges. Still, one hundred charges is enough. My hand clenches as I say the activation command.

"Carry the torch."

A feeling comes over me, one of reverence as chords are struck in the skies above, the demigod Verik turns to look, blinking at the sky.

"That was my plan."

Though in truth, it's not all of it. I still have one last trick up my sleeve.

Meatsack… incredible… just incredible.

Verik laughs, not in spite, but in admiration.

"Marvelous, to think a mortal could procure such a thing. The power brimming from it is…"

Gunshots from behind me draw my attention, Greymore is limping toward us, unloading his last magazine at the Demigod. The bullets flatten against the gaunt skin, not even leaving a scratch.

"Rude to interrupt," Verik sighs waving his hand lazily.

Greymore's head explodes in a gust of wind. He's gone.

"Where was I?" Verik says, peering upward, "Yes, it's beautiful."

He bows his head.

"My lord, Azeroc, I beg you, take this mortal into your host. Think of the worlds he could decimate with a single command. Worlds that would become your domain…"

His head lowers, a disappointed look upon his face.

"Wasteful," he mutters, his head rising slowly, he doesn't strike me though, he stares onward at the glory that forms in the sky. A portal of blue flame that stretches towards the horizon. All the forces of Azeroc watch it closely, like moths to the flame.

Deep horns and instruments play like an orchestra as hundreds of thousands of souls that I have claimed rise to the occasion, moving down from a stairway made of blue fire. They all hum a chorus that shakes the sand, and stirs the heart. Their memories made fire. The foxes march at the front, behind them the massive Dragonfly Emperor beating its ethereal wings of flame.

I don't stop cycling, converting hundreds of thousands of charges, one hundred at a time, faster than a person could ever speak. The endless horde isn't laughing anymore. Blue flame covers the field in a glorious blue hue. Like a tide that cannot be stopped.

The foxes are the first to come for me. The air ripples in reverence to their flame.

"Well, I suppose that I should deal with this, since the others are taking their time," Verik sighs, flicking his wrist, air torrents, brushing mountains of sand across the descending flames, obscuring the entire battlefield. "Pity, it was very beautiful."

He turns to me, with a disappointed expression still, "I'm also to begin your torture, apologies for that, but I can't disobey his lordship. Shall we start with your legs? Or perhaps skinning you?"

He crosses his arms then holds his chin looking me up and down.

"Or charring you, have you ever been burned alive endlessly? It's quite painful to have your nerves regrown as their burned. It's a delicate balance which I have mastered."

675,786%

Technically speaking, the Witherbrand Class Ultimate Skill Requiem of the Forsaken is constituted as an attack, therefore the damage increase stack… yeah.

From the obscurement of the sand, two blue flames roar, Verik blinks, turning toward it, squinting through the sand.

"Surprisingly hardy…" he states, uncrossing his arms.

The foxes descend upon him in an eye-blurring movement, their speed cracks the very air I breathe, they lunge striking him, sending him flying so fast it breaks the sound barrier and ruptures my eardrums, making them ring.

They nod at me before giving chase with thousands more that descend upon him.

It's strange, my consciousness feels spread amongst the Legions I have summoned, like part of me travels with each one. The Emperor Dragonfly crashes itself against the temple shattering it and sending it into a tumble.

1,476,230%

I don't stop the cycle, even as the madness threatens to creep past the buff of the item. I target the brands of insanity and convert them first. Giving me respite for a few moments before the next activates.

The battle sweeps across the land. If I could hold more, there are millions upon millions of charges strewn across the battlefield. It's a fucking massacre.

2,798,521%

My mind stretches as I lose myself in the blur of the cycling.

Meatsack… these numbers are sure to attract the attention of those beyond my superiors. It's inconceivable that you've done this. One of my peers will no doubt be obliterated for this oversight.

"Still think I'm fucked?"

Yes, meatsack… but you will be remembered for this… legacy, that is what you forged today. A mortal fighting toe to toe against demigods, bending and breaking rules just like the gods… poetic even if it is futile. Also, you have surely wounded Red's pride. That is no small feat, and other pantheons will surely ridicule them now.

"I don't know…" I say, kneeling in the sand, "I still like my odds."

Meatsack, I will miss you and your hopeless optimism.

I don't have long, too many brands have activated, I'm dying. With no vessel to transfer them to, I need to do it now. I look toward the skies.

"Azeroc, God of Cowards, come, slay me, just as I have your pride. Or are you afraid of a mortal? Are you really going to let me end myself with my superior flame?"

Meatsack, if you're attempting to get a god to come to you, I hate to ruin your fun, but it is such a tremendous rule break, that not even…

The world feels strange, like mana is being pulled to a singular point in the sky. Sage makes a fake coughing sound.

I stand corrected… Even with your stack, you do not possess the power to slay a god. Though few can say a god personally came to smite them. Congrats, meatsack.

The sky trembles as the air wails in defiance as a portal of red fire spews across the atmosphere. Swirling fire billows into a tornado, burning and melting the sand in front of me, shaping it to glass, thousands of runes etch. A figure emerges from the flame, ten times taller than a man, eyes that burn like the sun.

"I am no coward."

The voice trembles the very fabric of existence, a single swipe of his hand carved in bone that glitters like starlight evaporates all of my forces.

I have less than two percent life left until I die, less than a minute probably.

7,777,777%

Fitting number… if I was wrong in my hypothesis… well, doesn't matter, it's time for the last trick, the crescendo to the symphony I have written. Time is slowed as he steps toward me, raising a hand upward. Hundreds of spell circuits forming in front of his hand. I can tell he's fucking pissed that he didn't get to torture me first.

"Die…" he seethes, his words smash against me.

He's casting Smite, congratulations yet again meatsack, you've provoked a God to use the highest tier of divine punishment available. Unfortunately, it destroys the soul. So even if Ulana was planning a last-minute resurrection it won't help, your existence will be erased… but your legacy, it will live on.

Time slows in my perception as I flash Triage. I hold up the specially crafted ring, the one that I spent weeks perfecting in Abyss's forge, the same one that I could have used to counter Adaraic's massive fireball. The same one that I confirmed neither Sage nor the gods could see since it was crafted in Abyss's forge. Ceremoniously I have Abyss form it upon my extended middle finger directly at Azeroc, with a wide grin on my face.

The heaven-rending strike known as Divine Smite forms and comes toward me with blinding light. Everything has gone according to plan. My goal shall see fruition, and my friends will be safe from Azeroc. See, Sage told me something during the month I was in the Cosmic Exchange. A quest can only be rescinded by the maker, by the rules at least, should the maker die, so too does their quest.

As soon as the spell reaches me, I say one word, as only one is required for activation.

"Reflect."

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