(112) I Need You To Leave

Nephthys watched the levies retreat in a disordered mass. The main army had long departed, and even the dust cloud their march raised was fading from the horizon.

Bernard had sent the army away before dismissing the levies, foreseeing some issues if the conscripts immediately rejoined. A disgruntled, embarrassed commander could scapegoat them easily, especially considering their lack of contribution in the conflict, so measures were taken to avoid such an outcome.

They would have to rejoin the Sardvend force eventually, of course. There was no getting around the need to sail back across the Strait, but Radaar had done as much as it reasonably could to protect a portion of its enemy’s army.

It was fortunate that things had proceeded without issue, as Hannibal’s disguised summons had all vanished suddenly shortly after Bernard took the field. Nephthys’ heart had clenched, but she quickly calmed herself, assured that she would have been informed if there were a problem even Hannibal could not solve.

He had probably simply dismissed the summons to focus on something else.

She disengaged from the Conductor, vanishing from Falan’Dar and appearing atop the wall. Wrex rubbed his head against her immediately, making a small smile twitch at the corner of her lips.

“We are victorious, it seems,” Bernard mused, his arms crossed, gaze distant as he watched the army’s retreat.

“For now,” she replied.

“You don’t think it’s over?” he asked.

“It is not. Not unless you are comfortable with Sardvend holding a garrisoned fortress on your shores. They still control the Strait, a chokepoint for Ashreach’s access to the rest of the world, and it secures them a stable supply line.

“You are the Executor, but were it me, I would see that fortress occupied in the name of Radaar. Not only does it give you a defensive position along the coast, but controlling access to Vadenlaud, or Vadenlaud’s access to Ashreach, as it were, is invaluable economically,” Nephthys explained.

“Haa…” Bernard sighed. “Another problem for another day.”

“Yes, you should work now to stabilize your territories. If Sardvend mounts another invasion, it will be a long time coming. They rushed this one, and though their suffering was minor, they *did* suffer. They will not underestimate Radaar twice,” she declared, foreboding.

The two stared out across the field, blasted and scarred by the short but intense battle. Eventually, Nephthys turned away.

“I will leave you for now, Bernard. Please do not hesitate to reach out, should you need anything. I must inquire after my general,” she bid, raising a hand.

“Good luck to you, Nephthys. We will be in touch,” Bernard responded with a nod.

Nephthys sliced a gate into the air, prepared to float through, but a low gurgle stopped her. A glance back revealed Wrex, in all his primal majesty, scraping at the stone beneath him with his claws, glancing up at her with glistening eyes before quickly looking away, back toward the stone below him.

The corners of Nephthys' mouth twitched once again.

“Very well. You may remain summoned. Do not make trouble for Bernard, though,” she ordered, turning to Bernard next. “He eats quite a lot.”

Bernard looked between Wrex and Nephthys, his brow furrowing.

“Wha—” he started, but Nephthys was already through the gate, which closed behind her.

She gazed down, floating among the clouds, upon a damaged colony. A good portion of Chicolua’s second tier was flattened, the ground gouged and scraped, many crops uprooted or squashed.

The residential tier was mostly intact, but buildings near the outer ring were in various states of ruin. Some only had minor damage, while others were completely leveled.

A battle had taken place here, clearly. If the damage alone was not an obvious indicator, the presence of Ramose and four of her demons confirmed it. This was a significant portion of Nemesis’ military might, all gathered in one place.

“My lady,” Ramose said, suddenly next to her.

The demons joined him in a flash, and all floated around her in an arc, heads bowed, a hand on their chests.

“What is the situation?” she asked.

“Nightmare Amalgam was its name. It was a demonic creature whose level was in the mid-500s. It was likely ritual-summoned via mass sacrifice. Its level deteriorated constantly, but it was not fast enough.

“Chicolua would have been crushed completely, and the residents refused to evacuate. Thus, I asked Hannibal to come. It was he who identified its level, so I do not know what level it started at.

“It is of demonic origin, but we know nothing about how it came here, only what we have inferred after seeing it,” Ramose explained, his hands clasped behind his back.

“I see. What of the presences outside the Shattered Cap? I sense many, and they are spread wide,” Nephthys asked, glancing around.

“Fleshlings from the Amalgam. When parts of it are severed from the whole, they seem to gain some autonomy. They seek out nearby living organisms to consume, likely in an attempt to return to the main body with extra energy to replace the rapidly depleting ritual source,” Ramose reported.

“Why have they not been dealt with?”

“Hannibal directed us to remain here and guard Chicolua, my lady,” Alcander said.

“I see. Sensible, but I am here now, so we have extra hands. Ramose will remain and guard the colony. The rest of you, spread out and wipe all traces of the creatures from the Peaks. I trust the fleshlings are not also in the 500s?” Nephthys asked, a brow raised.

“No, my lady. They will be dealt with,” Alcander said, slapping his chest.

Nephthys nodded, and the demons split, each flying in a different direction to begin the cleanup operation.

“My lady…there is something else…” Ramose hesitated.

“I am aware. I can feel him from here,” Nephthys replied, staring off into the distance. “I will see to it.”

“Thank you, my lady,” Ramose nodded, descending back toward the colony.

Nephthys blasted away from the Cap, leaving a shockwave behind her. Even from this distance, she felt Hannibal’s titanic presence. It was erratic, seemingly moving in different directions at random, but it was unmistakably him. Even without Ramose’s explanation, she could infer what had happened.

His unusual behavior, broadcasting his presence so obviously, the creature he fought’s level, and the field of detritus near Hannibal’s current location all painted a clear picture.

Arriving above a jagged crater, her suspicions were confirmed by the sizzling bits of flesh decorating the rocks. Hannibal had successfully defeated the creature, but he had not been clean about it. It seemed as if a thousand wolves had torn apart ten thousand rabbits, though the scene was strangely devoid of blood and viscera.

“Oh, you came to me. That is convenient—” Nephthys started, turning toward Hannibal’s rapidly approaching presence.

A colossal fist crashed into her like an oncoming train, sending her careening across the ravine. She threw her hands out and stabilized her flight just before slamming into the wall, but not before she had traveled all the way across the canyon.

“Your transformation has made you berserk. You must strive to calm—” she said.

A paw the size of a building slapped her into the ground far below. She split the already-rent earth where she landed, her flight digging a tunnel dozens of feet deep before the rock refused to be compressed any further.

She stared up through the hole her body had dug in the stone as clouds passed lazily overhead, but her view was suddenly blocked by Hannibal’s enormous mouth, dripping with blue flame.

Her brow twitched.

“You’re gonna piss me off—”

A flood of hellfire rushed into the hole, filling it with blistering death. Skulls and faces writhed and moaned within the flames, as if a thousand souls were trapped in the inferno, crying out as they burned.

Nephthys stared down at Hannibal, who crouched over the hole she had just been in, continuing to fill it with flames. He was so focused on thoroughly cooking her that he had not noticed her presence vanish.

“Fine. I’ll wear you down first,” she said, her eyes glowing, matching the cold glow of the indigo moon that appeared in the sky.

Hannibal turned his head skyward, roaring with a guttural sound that shook the canyon around him. In a flash, he was above her, his right fist raised, as if intending to pound her back into the ground.

Nephthys held up a hand, and Hannibal suddenly vanished, replaced by a sea of blue flames that had previously been boring out the earth below.

A quick application of *Translocate* had swapped his position with the flames he belched into the ground. In *Prelude*, the spell could not target inanimate objects, let alone ethereal substances like fire, but this was not *Prelude*.

Nephthys brought her hands together before her, touching the tips of her fingers. A field of burning stars within a cold void appeared, filling the canyon with the indifferent darkness of space.

Below, the ground cracked and shook as Hannibal thrashed, tearing his way out of his stone prison. First one arm, then the other burst from the ground, followed by his torso. He stared up at Nephthys, who floated only a few hundred feet overhead, snarling.

Lowering her left hand and pointing at Hannibal with her right, she finished her cast of *Starfall*.

The starfield filling the canyon began to shudder and shake, as if the stars themselves had destabilized. The first one fell, rocketing toward Hannibal, who was pulling his last leg from the ground. It hit him straight in the chest, detonating in a colorful flash that temporarily made even the moon’s cold light seem faint.

Another star fell, and then another, and soon it seemed as if the entire sky had fallen on top of him. The canyon flashed and sparked brighter than even a lightning storm could hope to match, and the walls were blasted back, widening by hundreds of feet in all directions, sublimated by the intense heat.

The dust cleared, revealing Hannibal, who stood with his arms crossed before his head, guarding. He still snarled, but he was more cautious, observing Nephthys rather than immediately attacking. Flames dripped from wounds all across his body, the archdemon-equivalent of blood.

[Archdemon Azrethaal]

Yes, he was back in his world boss form, which was essentially a mindless titan of destruction. World bosses did not possess levels, having only a massive health bar that had to be chipped away. There would be no health bar in real life, though. She needed to be careful. She wanted to wear him down, not kill him.

With a hiss, flames blew from Hannibal’s mouth, falling to the ground like liquid. They collected and pooled until there were dozens, then hundreds of demonic forms, solidifying and becoming real. They came in all shapes and sizes, though they were not disguised as Radaar soldiers this time. Their grisly, gnarled forms were difficult on the eyes.

Adds were standard in a boss fight, after all.

“Apologies, everyone. I understand your positions, and I will return him to his senses as quickly as possible. For now, though...” she said, lifting her right hand.

A *crack* split the air as a portion of the mountains surrounding the canyon was torn asunder, a chunk of stone the size of several buildings hovering in the air next to her.

“I need you to leave.”