Bloody hell! Eric seethed with fury, to find himself so effectively countered and neutralized by his foes, such that he had gone from the dread commander of entire legions to having all access to tools and summonings closed off. The air was now thick with the tainted ichor of curses assuring that Occam’s razor would always be taking his pound of flesh, did he dare anything beyond the pristine perfection of his sword, radiating such fury from its sheath… just an extension of his own.

The fact that he was almost positive, or at least willing to risk catastrophe channeling Epiritual Energy through mithril bound to his soul was one thing, but there was no way he would be able to close with over two thousand musketeers having clear line of sight on him. No matter how high his Damage resistance and how much of a boon Unified Restoration was, there was no way in hell he’d willingly roll the dice against 2000 potential lucky hits, with dark 50th level shamans doing all they could to assure that luck was forever on their side and their side alone.

Quickness check made!

And that wasn’t even counting the four 15-foot tall giants even now hurtling magically summoned rocks his way, cratering the ground just feet away from where he had been glaring at his laughing enemies, so confident in their prowess, so derisive of his own utter inability to close, that he was an utter joke to them, less than nothing.

For all Eric knew, the only reason why they weren’t chasing him down right now was to serve as a morale booster. If they could humiliate him here and now, if they could make clear the dark shaman’s utter invincibility before every tool Eric no longer even had access to, then that would likely serve as a massive moral boost to every orc trooper and commander still among the living. It would signify that the tide had finally turned. Making it clear to absolutely everyone that goblin Sages had successfully countered the Sylvan Alliance’s greatest hidden asset, assuring that the elven faction’s final hours were at hand.

Eric had to choke back the urge to howl his fury even as he was forced to roll and dodge yet another boulder, out of range of the storms of lightning if nothing else. Because he knew his howls, his powerless fury, would be as sweet as nectar to the smirking humanoids grinning so wide at his plight, every nuance of their expressions and mockery painfully clear to him with over 120 Perception, even half a mile away.

“Flee, fool!” One of the shamans mocked Eric as he took off as fast as he could. “You are now powerless before our might! So run! Run back to your clan and warn them of the death that will soon be theirs! Your mounting terror will be the finest of spices to sweeten your tender flesh!”

“We look forward to the gnashing of your teeth, your cries and lamentations!” Chortled another. “Your doom was sealed the moment our card was played! Your entire faction will be in chains before the sun rises once more, I promise you that!”

Eric refused to honor them with a single response, the mockery of their distant laughter searing through his skull. Fists clenched tight, fingernails cutting into flesh now tougher than any mundane armor, it was all he could do to maintain control, not to howl in mindless fury.

No matter how painfully his thoughts raced in endless circles, he was determined to focus. To calm himself. To think of a way out of this.

Any way out of this.

Then he saw it, the distant swaying of a far off copse of trees. Utterly insignificant, save for its distance, Eric only catching sight thanks to the unusually flat plains he now raced across.

His eyes widened, feeling such a shiver when the significance of what he saw finally clicked.

Of course. I’m an idiot! He thought to himself, not daring to call the surge of adrenaline flooding his body exhilaration, as he raced towards for the completely innocuous trees with absolutely no tactical significance whatsoever.

Save the most important significance of all.

They were miles outside of Queensland’s territory.

And deep into one of Bloodtooth’s very few remaining fiefdoms.

Eric flashed a fierce smile, mind flickering over memories of countless strategic war games, and what little he was taught of asymmetric warfare.

His enemies might have him utterly outmatched and outgunned, after cutting him off from every tool he had grown perhaps a bit too dependent upon.

Such that it was unquestionably true that if he met them head-on, or dared try to take them on even from Elonia’s repaired bulwark, his and his sister’s defeat and likely demise were all but assured.

So he wouldn’t fight them on Queensland at all.

“Elonia!”

“Eric, thank god! What happened? I could sense your panic… how bad is it?”

“Bad,” Eric snapped. “Very fucking bad. It’s worse than the curse mages keeping our storage spaces sealed and any complex tool prone to exploding in our faces… they also have two storm mages that can summon lightning storms to pummel you with multiple bolts that are pretty damn accurate, at least til half a mile out. Worse, I couldn’t even approach! They have two thousand musketeers that will slam me with a literal wave of lead if I dare get too close… not to mention a quartet of fucking stone throwing giants like fucking artillery at a half mile range!”

Eric winced under the weight of his sister’s sudden panic, her overwhelming despair.

“Eric, in order to complete the ritual circle that I can only hope will be enough to counter their spell ward, I’m going to need another hour, at least, to set up the seven circles! They’re only about 50 minutes off! Please tell me there is something we can do that won’t get either of us killed.”

Eric flashed a bitter smile. “Only the tactics any good commander knows to embrace when your enemy totally has your number.”

“And what would that be?”

“Attack. With everything you have.”

“But Eric, you just said that would be suicide!”

Eric nodded. “It would. If I attacked those assholes head-on.”

“So… what’s your plan? Magic at range?”

Eric grinned. “My plan is to show them that there’s a price to be paid for putting all their eggs, or orcs, in one bloodthirsty basket. My plan is to let them know that if you leave your keeps with a skeleton crew in your efforts to wipe your opponent’s off the board… it’s you that just might get wiped.”

Eric could sense his sister’s wide-eyed surprise, and her lips curving in sudden fierce satisfaction as his interface range with messages he chose not to ignore as he had with so many earlier invasions. Because his goal now wasn’t to slip through under cloudy pretexts, but to make it clear as day what his intentions were.

You have entered Greensickle Province! You are currently at war with all factions claiming this Province! You are currently engaged in VENDETTA against the controlling factions of this province!

You have just made a Declaration of Intent! All factions claiming this province have been informed of your intent to claim it for yourself! All factions now know that you will offer no quarter! You intend to butcher and kill anyone and everyone who dares to get in your way!

Eric couldn’t help but flash a fierce smile as the interface seemed to almost gleefully convey that message, and somehow he wasn’t surprised at all to sense his Contender’s Interface message box now dinging with no less than a dozen fresh, unopened e-mails. Worse, a quick glance revealed that each and every message was either suspiciously blank in terms of sender and title, or showed off exotic silvered sigils much like the ones on Administrator Narri’s still unopened e-mails. And that was really all he needed to see.

Because it was clear as sin that this was one of those conquest games where even the House was against him, and he’d better plan, and act, accordingly.

If there was a single sliver of comfort, besides sensing a surge of surprise and fury from what were now distant enemies, it was that the tight, iron-hard clamping on his ES interface had weakened to merely being utterly impermeable.

At the very least, when he pressed his psyche against the barrier between him and his storage space, he could feel the tiniest amount of give. Which gave him a desperate sort of hope that maybe, if he were enough territories away, he could make use of his interface once more.

“Elonia. I’m going try and get you that distraction. Divide and conquer, right? But you’re going to have to send a few of your officers that can actually fill the role you and Mother so wanted me to fill.”

He couldn’t help but flash a relieved smile as the brisk northern wind whipped through his hair, his feet racing at a speed so fast that his legs were a literal blur, the grass and nearby shrubbery seemed to shoot right by him, the air alive with the scents of honeysuckle, wildflowers, winter grass, and desperate hope.

“Wait, you left my territory? Eric!”

“It’s the only way!” He hissed. “If this works… if we can distract them, cause any sliver of tension within their numbers…. Even if its just delaying them for a time...”

He sensed his sister’s thoughtful pause. “Do it, Eric. If there’s anyone that has a chance in hell of pulling this off… but you don’t really think we can hold that territory, do you?”

Eric flashed a fierce smile his sister couldn’t see, suddenly making out the massive wooden palisade he was rapidly closing in on. “That’s not the point, sister.”

Elonia laughed bitterly. “You’re right. All that matters is that our enemies won’t stand for it. If we’re lucky. And if they ignore what you did and just focus on wiping me and my men out...”

“That’s not going to happen!” Eric clenched his jaw so tight his molar cracked. He welcomed the sharp hot jolt of pain as the entire wooden keep ahead of him snapped into brilliant, crystalline focus, even two miles out, Unified Perception picking up only a couple dozen soldiers on the entirety of the complex series of interlocking battlements. And most telling of all, not one cannon could be seen. Perhaps it was because the structure was made of hardwood that might support a couple braces of 12-pounder bronze cannons, but certainly not the massive oversized 24-pounder iron behemoths.

It didn’t take a genius to understand where the invading force’s present quartet of mobile bronze cannons had come from. No doubt the last thing they had expected was what Eric was daring even now. Ignoring the single alarmed cry of an orc watchman catching sight of the human racing their way in a zig-zagging motion that was nearly impossible to hit with sporadic musket fire Eric refused to fear any longer as he approached the towering redwood keep, actually in bloom.

A keep that was as elegant vast and imposing. And all Eric had to do was allow himself a single bittersweet second taking in the awe he felt at the majestic structure, constructed with such care, craftsmanship, and attention to detail that he knew there was no way in hell any Orc could have made this wonder. It had been torn, no doubt, from the grip of whatever Sylvan Alliance clan had forged this magnificent arboreal citadel, as much living tree as wooden palace.

Eric ducked and rolled under the volley of musket fire, embracing it for the training it was as he sprung to his feet, now less than forty feet away from the massive walls of the keep. Just a single moment’s acceleration with a triumphant roar and his leap sent him flying right onto the keep wall. A painless smack and he was gripping tight against wooden joints that seemed both incredibly strong and oddly giving to his touch.

Eric wasted no time, taking full advantage of being flush against the wall and out the line of sight of the orcs glaring and roaring from the battlement above.

But all he had to do was look up to see the machicolations right above him to appreciate just how precarious his situation truly was. All it would take was the right orc looking down at the right angle from the slits to snipe him with a musket… assuming the ball didn’t roll right out of the barrel, of course, which was a distinct possibility. Especially with orcs.

Heart racing with exhilaration and tension as the shouts grew all the louder up above, Eric allowed the flow of Spiritual and Arcane energy to swirl in his core as he whispered words of power with which he could shape reality to suit his will.

“Debilito dicio ignis Plures dies!”

Suppression Chant successfully cast over entire keep! 750 Mana & 750 Qi spent.

Eric braced himself for the massive release of mana and spiritual energy leaving him in a rush as the shouts and roars from above continued unabated. He flashed a fierce smile of satisfaction even as he forced still-trembling hands upward, knowing the momentary surge of weakness he felt at shooting off a wad of 1500 combined points from his twin pools would pass in seconds. Indeed, his shaky grip soon steadied, and he was effortlessly climbing hand over hand, scaling up the grand citadel wall as easily as he could once climb a ladder.

“Where did the elf go? Did we hit him?”

“He leaped for the wall! Have the Berserkers circle around and cut him down before he can sneak in!”

“Fool thinks he can scale a keep wall? Ha! He deserves to get his skull cleaved just for being stupid!”

Eric couldn’t help but quirk a smile at the last, even as he reached the battlement overhang, taking a moment just to appreciate how incredible it was to be so strong that it was beyond anything he could possibly have imagined, not that long ago. Powerful fingers effortlessly gripped the wood, Eric now dangling upon a crenelation by the fingertips of one hand as easily as he had once held the lip of a pool while floating in warm waters less than a year ago.

He took a steadying breath, clamping tight to mindless fury, transforming it instead to iron-hard focus as he centered himself and waited for just the right moment to spring as he head a pair of shouting orcs get closer… closer… now!

With a pull and twist he was springing over the merlon and lashing out with the heel of his foot against the surprised-looking face of the nearest purple-skinned abomination. Yellow eyes bulged comically before the orc’s skull exploded as Eric dashed towards the second orc even now trying to back away and bring its musket to bear. The orc’s eyes widened in surprised disbelief when Eric effortlessly ripped the weapon free from the creature’s massive paws like it was nothing.

Right before Eric struck the orc’s jaw with a right hook that blasted the offending piece of bone and a pair of tusks completely free of its face, the creature’s eyes bulging as it sprayed Eric in a crimson shower of its own life blood before Eric ripped out its jugular.

You have successfully surprised your opponents!

You have critically struck both your opponents!

Two Level 15 orcs slain!

(You are over twice the level of your foes. Minimal experience earned.)

Eric allowed the messages to flitter past his mind’s eye, all his focus on the handful of orcs just ahead, the trio turning so slowly, at least to Eric’s perception of time, that it was as if they had been hit with multiple hinder spells. Which suited Eric just fine, he thought, with a fierce grin as he embraced the arts he had trained so diligently to master.

Iado skillcheck made!

Drawing and striking with his oversized dachi in a single cleaving motion as fast as thought, certainly faster than the closest orc could blink, seeming to look down in slow motion at the sight of the sharp crimson lines that had effortlessly torn open his chest, abdomen, and neck, as jeweled beads of crimson became a torrent of spurting blood.

The surprised orc’s eyes widening as he fell to the ground in a lifeless heap, just a heartbeat before his two companions did, death striking so quick that they were alive long enough to register the racing feet of their executioner and the distant screams of confusion and surprise before rapidly blinking eyes glassed over, chests stilling with final gurgling sighs as the distant shouts, screams, and dying gurgles so closely mirroring their own faded to eternal darkness.

Until ruptured intestines slurped back into gaping wounds that sealed themselves up as glassy eyes blazed with eldritch green light and near fifty score orc musketeers found themselves answering a call that transcended life itself, fists slamming against undead chests in perfect unison as they were called to serve once more.