Outrage of the Ancients

Charlemagne

A second nexus had been destroyed. But once again, it hadn’t been human power tearing deep enough into their foe to destroy the source of the beast’s power; it had been the beast’s own power breaking it to protect itself from being crippled.

They needed to find out how to hurt the Forgotten more reliably. The British king was mere minutes from being able to enter the battle, and yet another message informed him that the Irish omniscient lord would be here half an hour after that, but could they be enough to beat this beast? Especially before it reached Brussels in little over an hour?

Granted, the evacuation was going well now that he’d taken over, but there were still one point two million people to deal with, over a tenth of his empire’s population crammed into a single city. Just getting them out of the city wasn’t enough to get them out of the monster’s likely paths after it had destroyed the capital of the Netherlands.

No one had anything that could break the enemy’s unbreachable defenses long enough for salvos to land … unbreachable. A perfect defense rendered landing a good hit impossible, and young Tristan had just uncovered a way to destroy impossibilities.

So, how to make this happen in an optimal way?

Using something like [Knowledge Transfer] would have made this easy enough to arrange, but he didn’t. He had [Diplomatic Missive] to hand out smaller packets of information to people not under his command, and [Information Osmosis] would put everyone on the same page given enough time, but the former Skill didn’t have enough “bandwidth,” and the latter fell short in rapidly developing situations such as active war zones.

[Knowledge Transfer] should have been a part of his powerset too, damnit! Then he could have just sent the information to General Renard, and things would have worked out.

But that wasn’t what his Class was meant to do. An Emperor led his subjects; he gave orders, he didn’t teach them individually. He got information from them, either from their [Knowledge Transfers], or using [Nexus of Information] to passively pick up important snippets of knowledge and store them until they were no longer needed.

Of course, as a proper Emperor, he would also have been able to give orders and expect them to be followed, this entire situation would have fallen under his command. Instead, he was forced to negotiate. Not something that he was generally opposed to, it was just that it was severely inconvenient when lives were on the line.

“Excalibur should be able to knock down its defense, according to what you were told, correct?” he asked Tristan after thinking about it for a couple of seconds. It made sense to him, but honestly, the current situation was highly unusual, and doing what modern people called a “sanity check” seemed like a good idea.

“In theory, but the important question is how it does that. Would King Arthur have to know what we need Excalibur to do for it to have an effect? And how long would it last?”

So Tristan immediately understood what he was going for. Not bad.

“I’ll ask him to target the front left shoulder,” Charlemagne announced and sent off a [Diplomatic Missive] to that effect before continuing to talk to Tristan. “We should assume the effect is localized and temporary. Any modern military tactics that could exploit something like that?”

They’d been sharing information about the modern world the whole time, and Tristan was by no means a professional soldier or military scholar, but he did know plenty about a lot of random topics that interested him. Maybe there was something useable.

“A time-on-target salvo should be what we need,” the young man replied. “Missiles and/or artillery shells launched at varying angles and velocities to land on the target simultaneously.”

Which meant they needed to know where the monster would be at that point if they were using artillery so that they could properly coordinate, though missiles should be able to bypass that. As far as he could tell, modern smart weaponry had been adapted to the new reality of combat using temporary solutions at the very least, though there were doubtlessly some that had been properly overhauled.

“Please inform General Renard of the plan; I’ll coordinate with the newcomers.”

And then, Charlemagne proceeded to do just that, while simultaneously continuing to coordinate the evacuation of Brussels and even beginning the process of clearing Amsterdam of civilians in case the monster was able to keep going despite all their efforts.

***

Arthur

This had better be a Skill issue. Because if this Karl der Große, or “Charlemagne,” as he was referred to by most of Arthur’s countrymen, really talked like this in the middle of a warzone, then he had no business being within a thousand miles of anything more dangerous than a tea party.

The “letter” that had appeared in his lap had been … something. Using “Highly honored” as the initial greeting was a good start for something sent to a king, but everything else was insanely inappropriate. For the situation, that was. Half a novel to get through until the letter conveyed any useable information, then, that information was stretched across the second half of said novel, and a final chapter prior to the end.

“Signed,

“Carolus Magnus Rex, Emperor, Holy Roman Empire of the German Nation”

And that man couldn’t even keep his name straight.

Skills could be weird, Arthur knew that, after all, his [Royal Constitution] had left him suffering from a cold while preventing it from affecting his voice and appearance in any way, but could they be that weird?

His gauntlets tightened around the parchment that had been teleported into his hands, if it had even a remotely normal missive, it would have been reduced to shreds in a matter of seconds, but it remained stubbornly intact.

Yes, a Skill. But simply blaming the Skill was letting his fellow monarch off too easy.

At least the plan made sense. Use Excalibur to breach the enemy’s defenses on a specific point after calling it out ahead of time, then remove himself from the situation to avoid getting caught up in the artillery barrage that was meant to take advantage of the gap he opened.

Simple, logical, doable.

But did Arthur really want to trust a plan drawn up by such a shallow fop?

“One minute,” the pilot warned.

Honestly, Arthur could not give a single solitary fuck about how well the plan would work in the end. He’d hit the enemy, and dodge because that was the smart thing to do when facing a giant, giving a warning would barely be an inconvenience. How well the plan worked after that … it would be out of his hands, he’d just keep himself busy working out his frustrations on the single biggest punching bag he’d ever seen or even just heard about.

He might not have been the only person in this helicopter, but he was certainly the only one who was in any position to fight that beast. No one to interfere other than those who were already there.

The helicopter stopped in midair, a few meters above the earth, and the door was opened, finally granting Arthur his first direct look at the monster.

It was a gigantic beast, larger than most castles, taller than most towers, and yet, he didn’t feel the smallest whisper of doubt whether or not he’d be able to beat it. Sooner or later, this monster would fall, it wasn’t invulnerable.

Someone had already carved a massive gash into the monster’s side, and someone else had repeatedly covered the beast in shallow cuts that left it looking like that weird modern cheese, full of holes.

Arthur launched himself out of the helicopter, barely bothering to restrain his power, only limiting himself enough that the recoil wouldn’t damage the conveyance. His every step propelled him across the ground with superhuman force, letting him cross the ground several meters at a time as he charged.

Excalibur leaped from its sheath, practically vibrating with eagerness, the silverly blue metal of its blade gleaming in dusk’s light.

“You’re going to die today!” he roared as he brought his sword back, ready to strike.

[Royal Proclamation], activated.

[Army of One] … he was neither the only one fighting this monster, nor was he without support, but this was his charge, so its power flowed through him as well.

… And, reluctantly, he thumbed down the transmit button on his radio and announced, “I’m going for the right shoulder.”

Then, he leaped, slamming into the monster’s elbow, Excalibur sinking through the monster’s limb as though it were mere parchment, then dug his hand into an already existing crack and used that as a launching point, to the next crack he could spot. Grab it there, then hack off another massive chunk so he could place his legs there, and then, he jumped again, flinging himself over the beast, hanging in the air for a brief second before gravity reasserted itself.

[Moment of Glory] activated as he fell, Arthur grasped Excalibur’s hilt with both hands as he brought it down, and triggered [Grand Slash]!

A wave of energy erupted from the sword as he attacked and hammered into the monster’s shoulder with enough force to make the entire beast buckle for a brief moment before he landed on the monster and slipped, crushed and powdered bone not exactly being a surface that was easy to stand on.

Bollocks!

He fell, but he’d long since figured out that he could use [Royal Road] to create a path for him to walk literally anywhere, not just in the wilderness. The spectral pavestones only stayed physical for a split second, but that was enough for him to kick himself against the monster’s leg, Excalibur leading the way. It sank in up to its hilt, and he hung from it for a long second before the combination of his weight and his sword’s sharpness made it cut and thereby slip through the bone as though it were wet clay. And the monster was raising its left hand to crush him like an annoying bug. Oh dear.

There was an obvious solution: he could just jump, but that was a little bit too easy. So Arthur reached out and grabbed yet another crack he could see sheathed Excalibur, and grabbed the crack with both hands. And then, he pulled, knees pressed against his chest, feet pushing against the monster’s leg. Yes, he was leaving, but he was not retreating without another chunk of his foe.

The giant palm of the Forgotten was closing in, and he’d rather dodge than get smacked by that, but he really didn’t want to … and then, he heard the crack. No, he felt it. A bone-deep crunch that traveled from the bottom of his feet to the top of his head and was followed up by a series of lesser cracking noises before he was launched away, clutching a chunk of leg that weighed at least three times what he did, and when the monster’s attack smashed into its own leg, several more bits went flying.

Arthur let go of the chunk and braced for impact before he hammered into the ground. Dirt exploded around him as he landed, force distributed across both feet and the right fist he’d planted into the soil, then he rose to his feet and glared at his foe. He’d done severe damage, ripped into the monster, but from down here, it didn’t seem all that hurt. Maybe he should …

That was when the world before him exploded into a storm of fire and fury.

***

Charlemagne

Now, this was how you felled a foe. Excalibur had opened the doors, then his own [Expounded Advantages] had taken that chink in his enemy’s armor and ripped it open until it was practically an invitation to punch the beast straight into the … ahem, unmentionables. Proverbially speaking.

Modern weaponry truly was a marvel when it wasn’t being negated by magic. And when it was actually available.

But when things did all fall into place, they surpassed everything that Charlemagne had ever seen, in either lifetime.

A ragged salvo of artillery shells led the way, having been fired last simply due to the fact that it wasn’t possible to redirect them after they had been fired and the monster was still moving.

Some weapons unleashed streams of plasma into the monster’s limb upon impact, others punched into the upper layers of bone before detonating, spraying bony shrapnel all over the place, and others still were simply powerful bombs that rattled the beast.

For a brief moment, the monster was obscured from sight in its entirety, but as the plumes of fire began to clear, the missiles hammered home. All of them. This “time on target” was a principle he’d have to remember.

The information network he’d built up told him that they’d cracked a third nexus, the first one that had been directly destroyed, before the same message arrived via radio. He grinned, but as the smoke cleared again, this time for good, he seemed to be the only one satisfied with the result. Granted, the monster’s defense seemed to have been reactivated, but the damage had already been done, and it seemed to be sticking.

“Merde.”

That had been the General herself, losing control. Not by much; the novel cussword had been spoken so softly that most people had likely missed it, but unless he was very much misreading the situation, military commanders were supposed to show more composure than that.

“What’s the problem?” he asked Tristan, eyes still fixed on the wall of screens. The massive monster was still there, still moving, but its left front leg had been reduced to a ragged collection of loosely held-together bone shards, clearly barely capable of supporting its leg. Even if King Arthur was no longer in a position to fully repeat the initial strike, the fundamental principle of the plan was still intact.

“That monster should have been dust after a hit like that. At the very least, it should have been down a leg,” Tristan whispered back.

“This is the first time they’ve seen modern weapons fail even when deployed properly, isn’t it?” Charlemagne mused, then continued that line of thought in his mind.

We’ll have to try and see if we can hire people with high levels. And figure out how to reliably tell people’s Levels and Classes, preferably without having to ask them individually. We can get our hands on these weapons and recruits, but power in the System’s world is tied to something else.

Ogier and his allies were now returning to the field of battle, having retreated when the missiles had come in, the perfect example of just what kind of power the Untersberg needed.

And once again, the radios crackled to life, announcing that another important personage was incoming. Fionn Mac Cumail, Ancient of Ireland, a master magic caster based on what Tristan had told him previously.

***

Fionn

There were few things more annoying to someone used to functional omniscience than blindspots, but he’d learned to work around them by now.

He hadn’t noticed the monster, he’d found it based on altered patrol routes and how the military had responded. He didn’t know whose Skills controlled the battlefield, but he could scry for which Ancient was present but off the actual field of battle. And while he couldn’t magically find out his foe’s weakest points, he could use his head and employ logic. Just because he rarely had to do so hardly meant he couldn’t, after all.

“I hereby accept Carolus Magnus Rex as the operational commander of this incident and place the Fianna under his command for its duration,” he muttered, and in an instant, he could feel a connection establish between him and the former emperor.

So, his guess had been correct: Charlemagne was in charge, and using a commander’s Skills required someone to be, well, the commander.

He might have been observing the fight via radio communications and scrying, but the direct information straight from “the man on the ground” was still better.

Seven nexi, one per limb, and three in its central body axis, sitting in the head, “heart,” and tail, respectively. Only the back left leg still had an intact nexus, the other limbs were clearly badly impacted by the loss of their associated processing center.

And in five minutes, Dietrich von Bern would be able to force the monster to sacrifice a fourth nexus to avoid being bisected.

But otherwise, very little progress had been made to destroy the beast. The greatest achievement of the people fighting it had been evacuating Brussels, buying more time before a failure to stop the Forgotten would cost lives.

He’d known modern weapons were powerful, and clearly, so were the Skills at play here, but it was magic that would turn the tide of battle here. The power to reshape the battlefield would stop this thing in its tracks.

The helicopter’s door opened up, and Fionn leaped out and went to one knee, pressing his palm against the muddy, churned-up ground that had already seen countless vehicles and boots destroy it.

[Quicksand Errosion] was a new spell, one of a whole slew of battlefield control spells he’d been awarded after the Fianna’s rather embarrassing start of the second Challenge.

As his comrades charged past, he remained there, staring at his foe as it began to sink, its front limbs’ lower thirty meters or so disappearing into the ground. No comical expression of surprise from the grinning skull it had for a head, for obvious reasons, but that didn’t matter. It. Had. Worked.

Then, Fionn cast his second spell, a combination of battlefield control, offense, and mobility.

[Century Storm]

It took less than sixty seconds for the skies to become overcast and existing winds to become fierce gales that lifted him into the air, granting him the power of flight. More and more energy built in the clouds as he closed in, flashes of lightning illuminating the battlefield in brief bursts until he started to unleash the full fury of the storm. Fat raindrops began to fall to earth, rapidly turning the monster’s path and only the monster’s path to mud, while forks of lightning crossed the intervening space amidst deafening peals of thunder, hammering into the already shredded limb until it collapsed.

Victory!

Well, not really, but it was a good first step. Getting its one front leg out of the quicksand would be hell.

When it had still had two, it could have braced one against the bottom of the pit to pull out the second, then planted that on solid ground to pull out the first. That wouldn’t work now.

And then, in an immense flash of silver light, Dietrich von Bern unleashed his most powerful attack once more. And, again, the monster sacrificed a nexus to prevent from being rent apart, the last limb-nexus, to be precise.

Two seconds later, Fionn learned that things weren’t quite that clean. For one, the Skill’s cooldown had been bumped up to six hours now. By the time they could resort to that ability again, things would have already ended, one way or another.

For maybe a quarter of an hour, the monster stayed put, desperately struggling to retrieve its arm, back legs unable to gain proper purchase on the rain-slick earth, turning the ground into a muddy mess that made it even harder to stay on its feet.

Eventually, [Century Storm] ran out of steam, and Fionn returned to the ground, but that just meant he could join the others in attacking the Forgotten’s back legs and tail, while the former King of England used the monster like his own personal jungle gym, hacking open the beast’s defenses for artillery to strike.

And then, they managed to break the nexus at the base of the skull, and all hell broke loose.

A powerful shockwave picked up everyone and flung them away, well clear of the monster, while a wall of white energy rose up around the beast, hiding it from sight. And based on how missiles and other projectiles splattered against it, damage as well.

“It’s a second-stage transformation, please tell Arthur to strike the barrier with Excalibur,” Charlemagne’s voice rang in Fionn’s ears. So, the king had put himself outside the chain of command. Interesting, but not particularly relevant.

“It’s transforming, Your Majesty, please break its protections with Excalibur,” Fionn announced, and Arthur moved in a flash, a sword that shimmered like the surface of a lake cutting through it as though it were less than air. With a sound like tearing cloth, the shield vanishing in an instant to reveal utter chaos.

The monster had clearly been moving inside but frozen as it became exposed, its body language greatly reminding Fionn of someone who’d unexpectedly found themselves naked in public, but that moment of shocked surprise did not last long enough for anyone to act. All the bones it had already shed formed into a wave of smaller monsters that charged at him and his fellows, while the main body continued its transformation.

Barely five seconds later, the monster blasted past him, less than half its original size, a six-legged beast whose body was reminiscent of a big cat and a smaller skull that now had an open mouth with a black void within.

A loud whistling sounded out, and barely a second later, several artillery pieces in the distance exploded, torn apart by projectiles.

Smaller, faster, with a longer tail that would make its tail club deadlier, and it could spit projectiles. It’d be easier to destroy, but it was infinitely faster and deadlier. And it was already too far for them to engage.

Shit.

***

Brussels was on fire.

The Forgotten’s new form was running through it back and forth, crushing buildings under its bulk as its tail whipped from side to side, pulverizing anything it struck, all the while spitting bone spears at anything that moved.

“How much longer before it moves on?” Dietrich asked from next to Fionn. They’d outrun the command post, it would be a while before it, and Charlemagne got close enough to bypass the monster’s anti-communications effect.

“It left Paris after it destroyed around twenty percent of the city, but that was the city center, with a high density of historical or important targets. To do a similar level of damage … maybe half an hour,” Fionn mused, rubbing his chin.

The armored giant Fionn now knew to be Ogier Danske cracked his knuckles, the sound as loud as gunshots.

“Way I see it, the city has been evacuated, and Tristan can fix anything we break. We can take our time, and set up a trap.”

That … that was actually a good point.

First, they needed to stop it. Conán was good at that, and the same went for Ogier.

Second … “We need to block those projectiles.” Fionn muttered.

A heavy hand landed on his shoulder, the living statue having approached him from behind without him so much as noticing. It tapped its chest, then pointed at his mouth, and finally gestured at the monster.

Fionn just hoped that wasn’t an offer from the golem to sacrifice himself because having him jam the attack was the best option they had.

And third, they needed to actually kill the monster.

***

The Forgotten had already ripped its way through most of Brussels, being far more destructive than Fionn had expected, but now, one hour after they’d gotten ready, it charged northeast towards Amsterdam.

Its grinning skull was turning side to side, blasting apart random things as it advanced, until suddenly, it found its mouth blocked by the Golem of Prague, who’d launched himself right into it. And as it started to try and shake the new blockage loose, two more fearless individuals stepped into its path.

One was wholly clad in metal, the other wrapped in cloth armor, but both held up their shields, and the monster impacted them before it could ever react.

A tremendous shockwave burst out from there, shattering the surroundings as the force of its charge was dispersed. Dietrich von Bern burst out of hiding behind the monster and hacked off its tail with a series of incredibly quick slashes.

Everyone else … just went straight at the monster.

Fionn was vaguely aware of the detached tail forming into a separate monster, only for it to collapse back into a pile of bone as the young woman Dietrich von Bern had trained slashed it apart with some kind of armor-bypassing attack.

Which just left the big sucker itself.

The Forgotten reared up, front legs free to attack, while the remaining four granted it stability. Fionn lunged in, spear flashing out to the center of its form, but was forced to dodge a claw swipe.

Ogier’s Cortain took a chunk out of that paw before he was backhanded into the nearest wall.

Conán took that as his chance to pounce, wrapping both his arms around the limb so that Arthur could slash through it, getting close enough to severing it that Conán could fully yank it off.

Caoilte activated every boosting Skill he had remaining and carved into one of the rear legs while Ossian made the other sink into a patch of quicksand.

And Fionn once again launched himself at the monster’s chest, spear about to run it through. It had already sunk in a meter when the monster twisted its torso, snapping the weapon in half and sending him flying across the street, but at the same time, the motion put it off balance, letting Ogier and Conán push it over.

Swords flashed, spears stabbed, and bone shards flew through the air as they attacked, desperately trying to destroy the nexus, but it rolled over, crushing Ogier into the ground with enough force to leave a him-shaped imprint in the asphalt, and rose to the stumps of its back feet … then its head exploded, replaced by the still-expanding form of the Golem of Prague.

The sudden shift in weight distribution sent the monster right back to the ground, trapped under a mass of very angry earth.

Fionn lunged yet again, this time triggering [Final Strike] only for a freshly risen minion to knock into his legs. The spear still hit, ripping through bone with ease but missing the nexus.

He collapsed to his knees, spitting blood as the backlash impacted his chest, but merely having stopped him would not be enough to stop him.

[Second Wind] flowed through him as he rose to his feet, still injured, still hurt, but slowed for barely a second. [Force Punch] hammered into the area his spear had damaged, sending further cracks radiating across the monster’s body. Still not enough but a solid start, and an overwhelmingly powerful strike from Ogier increased the damage.

The Forgotten thrashed under the Golem, flailing sometimes, landing dangerously precise hits on other occasions, spitting out minions at the most inconvenient times possible, but at some point, it died, and they just kept on attacking, kept on tearing it apart, until eventually, the Guardian of Prague reformed into his standard humanoid configuration and stepped away from the shattered remains of their enemy.

It was also then that the System saw fit to acknowledge the victory.

[Warlord of Magic and Legend Lv. 59 -> Warlord of Magic and Legend Lv. 62]

[Physical Boost gained]

[Skill gained: Combat Precognition]

[Skill Boost gained]

Fionn stared around at his destroyed surroundings. He sincerely hoped Ogier had been right about Mr. Vogt being able to provide an easy fix because whether it was the 3rd century or the 21st, “we broke your city to save it” was not an excuse that would be accepted.

***

Général de brigade Renard

Danielle Renard had been born into the tail end of the post-World War 2 chaos.

The European Coal and Steel community had been created a couple of decades before that, starting the process of tying France and Germany economically together until any war would be ruinous for both parties and would eventually form the basis for the European Union, but the aftershocks of that war had still been felt.

As she’d grown up and joined the military, the Cold War had flared up repeatedly, incidents occurring that seemed to have the world teetering on the edge of annihilation.

Eventually, she’d reached her current rank, and by then, the world situation had largely calmed down. Wars still raged elsewhere, but it looked like Europe was peaceful, by and large. She’d spent her entire life preparing to defend her country and somehow wound up never having to do so, the conflicts had always been elsewhere.

In fact, she’d been less than a year from retirement, after a career of competent service, unmarred by major or impactful mistakes. A good one, she’d felt.

Then, the world had completely lost its mind, and she’d barely been able to do anything. Bringing down lesser monsters had been easy, but other than picking the placement of her soldiers, she hadn’t really contributed directly to that.

However, the Nation Boss … it had been untouchable, completely beyond her or her people’s ability to fight. She hadn’t been able to do anything.

For about two seconds after the fight had ended and the cleanup had been completed to the point where she was no longer needed, she’d teeterrédon the edge of a total collapse, now that she was no longer needed to hold up the efforts.

And then, she’d been reminded of the fact that as insane as the world had gotten, as powerful as her foes had become, it wasn’t just the ancient legends who could gain the power to reshape the world.

[Général de brigade Lv. 17 -> Général de brigade Lv. 20]

[Class Evolution: Général de brigade Lv. 20 -> The General Who Conquered Calamity Lv. 21]

[The General Who Conquered Calamity Lv. 21 -> The General Who Conquered Calamity Lv. 22]

[Skill gained: Coordinated Salvo]

[Skill Boost Gained]

[Skill gained: Like A Well-Oiled Machine]

[Capstone Skill gained: Supreme Commander]

[Skill gained: Unshakeable Faith]

[Skill gained: Force of Will]

And another two seconds after that, she started to ponder the potential issues that would stem from literally everyone becoming superhumans over time. Yeah, no way in hell she’d be retiring any time soon, even if her government let her.

Even if they survived the System’s challenges, humanity could still easily tear itself apart.