TOS - Vol 2, Pt 4, Ch 35

The Overlord Saga

Vol II. Versus

Chapter 35: Clash!

The Insurgent Leader was calmly, casually, even potentially serenely walking the halls of Fortress... When the dragon came careening through the window, shattering the stained glass and landing with a sickening thud at his feet. It was one of those incredibly awkward moments in which the Insurgent Leader merely stood, mouth halfway open, staring at the massive creature as it gave a few sick twitches and lay still.

“What...”

“We’re under attack!” Agent yelled, pulling out his sword. As he turned around, he was greeted with another spray of stained glass shattering, a missile sending him flying backwards, hitting the tile floor. The Insurgent Leader drew his sword, staring through the gaping hole in the corridor, his dark eyes widening as he spied the ANF forces marching through the melting ice towards the gates.

“... So soon?” the Insurgent Leader breathed in horror, then grabbed Agent by the arm, pulling him up, “Alert the Rebel Commander. It’s time.”

“Got it,” Agent nodded and raced down the hall, a trail of blood running down the side of his head from the blast.

---

Pharisee wasn’t sure what led him to the Insurgent Leader’s room. Maybe it was a thought. Maybe it was an idea. Maybe it was just a hunch. But he had initially been looking for the short blonde warrior when he came across a rather peculiar sight located in the Insurgent Leader’s closet. Standing with the door ajar, Pharisee eyed the unconscious Blondie, tied rather awkwardly to the clothing rack. A tap from his staff and Blondie was released, albeit Pharisee questioned if the less-than-bright warrior was even alive. A nudge from his shoe and Blondie stirred, groaned, then opened his eyes.

“Dude. You were in a closet,” Pharisee’s lip curled in disgust.

“The Insurgent Leader...” Blondie groaned, pathetically rolling over and clutching his side. Pharisee wrinkled his nose, nudging the useless DIB member with his shoe again before pointing the head of his staff at the armored warrior. A flick of his wrist and a spiraling white light met Blondie’s wounds, concealing them entirely with a flashy sparkle.

“Get up,” Pharisee barked, having no patience for the whiny blonde.

“He’s a traitor,” Blondie panted, “He locked me in here... He’s sided with the ANF! All of the Insurgents are planning on betraying us! You have to kill him before he can kill us!”

“So that little blonde runt is a traitor? And he put you in the closet, did he?” Pharisee quirked an eyebrow.

“Yes!” Blondie’s head bobbed up and down vigorously, “He did it!”

That was when the missile had struck, shaking the foundations of the Fortress to its very core. Pharisee was forced forward, gripping the doorframe of the closet as he braced himself. “Damn it, that must be them,” he scowled, grabbing Blondie by his arm and forcing him up. “You’re coming with me, punk. We’re going to see to it that these bitches don’t get away with this... Alive. I’ll need you to make your statement to the Nemesis.”

“What about the ANF troops?” Blondie gasped.

“That moron Jester will hold them off... For now,” Pharisee retorted, “That brat’s always looking for a fight anyways. Let him be the first corpse on the battlefield.”


---

Pharisee wasn’t far-off in his prediction. At the gate, as the ANF forces made their way to the front, stood Jester, jaw jutting out stubbornly as he clutched one of his battle knives in a hand. He loomed over the gates, dark eyes narrowed as he spoke to the captain of the DIB archers. “Kill them. They must be idiots if they think they can actually win.” Jester held his hand up, waiting as the archers scrambled to load their bows. As the lead archer shot Jester a spiteful look, he notched an arrow, oblivious as the Twin loaded her own bow from below, arrow pointed at where Jester and the archers stood upon the gate.

A release of muscles and the captain of the archers was impaled through the skull, falling back and landing in the frozen gardens. Jester viewed this rather passively, scratching his nose with a finger before making the command to the archers to fire. “What about the wolf?” an archer could be heard as he loaded his bow again. Jester cast a half-hearted look at Fenrisulfr, who had attracted most of the dragons away from the troops and was dealing with them rather accordingly.

“Don’t mind that bitch,” Jester replied, “Any who fire at it will get pushed off the wall and into the ANF forces... By me. You aim for the blonde woman at the head of the ANF forces. The Twin. Bring her and her little sister down. That’s an order.”


---

“Oh great. Look who it is,” Centurion Ifill remarked, drawing her longsword as she glared up at where Jester was commanding the archers. “The Overlord’s got the dragons off our backs, but we still gotta deal with this guy.”

The army was within a mile of the Fortress gates, though had stopped their march as soon as the first line of arrows had thudded into the frozen dirt before their feet. The Twin held up her hand, keeping the ANF troops out of range of the archers. Fenrisulfr had torn apart the last dragon before the very doorstep of the Fortress, fangs embedded in the massive lizard’s throat. As the wolf thrashed its head about, it slammed into the gates, damaging them slightly. A few arrows had been shot at it (though this dismayed Jester very much), but the wolf was relatively unmarred except a few scratches to its flank. As the last dragon died, Fenrisulfr faded back into a golden entity, soaring back towards where the crystalline shield surrounding the Overlord was.

“Once the platoon gets the shield down, he’ll be a piece of cake,” the Twin looked at her sister, smirking and notching another arrow, “I’ve already shown him that he’s within my range. Wonder what the little freak will do now?”

“Ifill, you deal with Jester,” the Scholar looked at her, “I’ll work on getting the gates down. Ohhhhh boys...?” She looked to the Captain and the Lieutenant, “Have any more of those grenades on you? I think we might need to use those for... Something...” She craned her neck back as she looked at the massive gates standing before her. The Captain saluted her and began shuffling through his belt of miscellaneous weapons.

“How are we going to get to the archers if they’re all the freaking way up there?” Fish inquired in frustration.

“That’s why guns are better than chains, Fish,” McCoy tipped his hat to his comrade and aimed his machine gun at the archers as they reloaded their bows. “Advisor, let’s go!” He began firing, the Advisor bounding up beside him. As they ran out of bullets, they fell back out of range, frustrated as the archers fired back.

“Anyone know where the ninjas are?” the Grasshopper asked, katana drawn.

“Uhhh, duh, they’re ninjas, you can’t SEE them!” the Lieutenant remarked, loading his gun. The Captain handed the Scholar all of his grenades, cautioning her to be careful while holding them. The Lieutenant aimed a missile at the gates and fired, watching as part of the door fell away.

“Maybe we won’t need that platoon after all,” Fish glanced at the Scholar, head tilted to the side.

“Long-range fighters, pick at the archers,” the Scholar sighed, “We need to cause a distraction, not blast through. Though the grenades placed at the right location...” She gestured with her rod at the gates, “... And if they explode accordingly... Could result in a massive collapse in the walltop... Which means that Jester would be at our level on the playing field.”

“... So why are we talking and not exploding shit?” the Captain asked.

“LANGUAGE!” the Advisor shrieked loudly.

“You know, I hate to say it, but the Captain’s right. Bring on the explosions!” Venice chimed in, “Might as well do something while we’re waiting around! Lieutenant, Captain, explode the gates as best as you can. Then open fire on them until they collapse. It could give us a major upperhand here. All melee fighters, stay back with me until the gates are decimated.”

“I like the way you think!” the Captain grinned and took his grenades carefully from the Scholar. Whistling for the Lieutenant to follow, he dashed off towards the gates, ducking under a spray of arrows as he did. Cradling the grenades, he selected one delicately between two fingers, activated it, then threw it. As he repeated this process, the Lieutenant joined him, sending a flurry of grenades at the gates. A series of explosions shook the earth, terrorizing the Animal Tamer from where she sat atop Otto.

As the earth trembled, the Lieutenant and the Captain fell away from the gates suddenly, though both grabbed their missile launchers. The archers seemed too shaken up at this point to continue firing, leaving the perfect opportunity. Sending a missile each at the breaking gates, the Lieutenant and the Captain each made a daring, dramatic jump back as they pulled the trigger, watching the trail of smoke as the lethal projectiles went soaring. There was a deafening noise, a blinding light, and each of the ANF was convinced that the world had just ended.

Jamie was the first to open her eyes, heart racing as she saw the demolished gates. She didn’t even think to draw her cutlass- she merely stared at the rubble before the troops. Appalled? Not in the slightest. Amazed? In every way possible. Dust was beginning to clear, enough for the pirate to be able to see through to the frozen gardens. Just yards away, it seemed, rested the doorway into the Fortress.

“... That worked,” the Lieutenant breathed.

“We still got trouble,” Venice warned them, drawing her sword and striking a battle position as a wave of armored knights began to clank their way through the rubble.

“I... Don’t think those things are human,” the Twin remarked, watching the uncanny knights as they drew their barbed swords, glowing eyes locked on the troops. “Be careful!”

“Where’d Jester go?” Centurion Ifill asked, pulling herself onto her battle horse.

“Dead, I’d imagine,” McCoy remarked, “No one could’ve survived that...”

“Let’s hope he’s dead,” Fish nodded in agreement, summoning a duo of chains, “And let’s hope we’re not about to join him.”

“Is this the part where we yell charge and begin the most epic battle of all time?” the Lieutenant asked, glancing at the Twin. He was answered with a laugh, raucous and loud enough to rival the explosion that had incinerated the gates.

“Yes.”

---

“So we’re looking for this object,” the Swordmaster was trying to explain to the Evocator and the Witch, “And it’s usually found in a very secluded room. And in this room, there’s surreal lighting, usually a pedestal...”

“No, there’s almost always a pedestal,” the Corporal corrected him in a very matter-of-fact tone of voice. He held his handgun at the ready, creeping through the frozen corridors of the Fortress. “It’s like one of those rules. If there’s an important item, it’s always on a pedestal...”

“With surreal lighting!” the Swordmaster chimed in.

“Yes, and usually there’s very either serene music or dark and foreboding music playing. And it may or may not be guarded by a boss fight,” the Corporal continued rather lightheartedly as they turned the corner, running into a duo of armored knights. A few bullets from the Corporal’s gun and the knights were both down, unmoving and lifeless.

“You two seem to have a lot of experience with this,” the Evocator remarked, following the two Elite members down the narrow hall. She was trying to recognize bits and pieces of the Fortress, but it seemed so overrun with ice that it was unfamiliar. Belarus had lighted her firestick and was helping with the cold factor by warming the platoon up. But it didn’t help the alien appearance of the Fortress. She passed by the paintings and statues that decorated the eastern wing of the main floor, saddened by the fact that they seemed so unfamiliar to her.

“My dear, we’ve experience with everything. Pretty much,” the Corporal said charmingly, adding a toothy grin for effect (and effect only).

“Everything?” the Witch cocked a devious eyebrow.

“Yes. Everything,” the Corporal answered with an equally devious smile, matched with an eyebrow wriggle.

“This should be the main hall up here,” Russia pointed out, using her leadpipe to direct the Corporal and the Swordmaster, “The staircase to upstairs is here... Do you think the ‘all important item’ is upstairs?”

“It very well could be,” the Swordmaster inclined his head, drawing his katana as they approached the doorway into the large main corridor. “Main halls are also typically the hot spot for boss fights.” He added this with a warning look to the Corporal, who exchanged his nod for one of his own. The Witch took the hint and drew her wand, smirking all the way as she did.

But as the platoon entered the main hall, the Swordmaster was surprised to find that there was no large boss battle awaiting him. Instead, the main corridor was deserted. Empty. Lifeless. Its pillars were webbed with ice, the banners holding the Overlord’s insignia torn and battered. A pale, chilling wind blew through an opened window, causing dust to stir on the floor. But that was all- no life, no guards, mere desolation. The Swordmaster frowned and looked back at the Corporal, who seemed to be more concerned about the frozen throne than anything else. After trying to crack the ice, he merely plopped down upon the throne, wincing as the ice made the butt of his pants wet.

“Nothing?” the Witch sighed in disappointment, “And here I thought the story was getting better.”

“I guess this isn’t a very typical story, then,” the Corporal remarked.

The Evocator was distracted with something else. Walking the frozen halls, she looked at the pillars and how they were frozen, ice crawling up and connecting them. But what lay in the midst of the ice concerned her above anything else. She ignored the platoon, for their bickering didn’t seem to matter at the moment. Her eyes, dark and sharp as they were, had been unprepared for this. Heart stopping- if only for a mere second- and the Evocator was certain she was going to faint. Her mouth opened in a soundless scream, too stunned for words and too outraged for tears. Clasping her mouth with a hand, she stumbled back, almost falling over entirely.

“What is it?” It was Prussia. But the Evocator couldn’t hear at the moment. She just stood, transfixed by the form within the ice. Horrified.

“Dear God... It’s the Theurgist!” Belarus gasped, pointing at where the Theurgist’s body lay incased in ice, dangled high in the air as some sickening trophy. Russia pulled the Evocator back with a hand, trying to direct her away from the gruesome sight. The Swordmaster and the Corporal exchanged looks for a moment before moving from where they stood. Though something had caused the Corporal to hesitate.

“No...” the Evocator gasped suddenly, her entire form shaking. “No...”

“She’s going to faint!” Prussia yelled, “Witch, do something!”

“What do you want ME to do!?” the Witch snapped, “Get her away from there! She looks like she’s going to-”

“ALEXI!” the Evocator screamed, surprisingly enough not loud enough to shatter the ice. But something else did shatter, breaking through the stained-glass dome that lay above the main corridor. The Corporal had expected this before anything else, his gun drawn and bullets firing as the large creature came spiraling down into the hall.

The Swordmaster whirled around, katana drawn as the winged beast landed, separating the Corporal from the rest of the platoon. Its long neck arched in the air, its short snout parting to release a terrifying shriek-roar of its own. Wings beating through the air, the beast knocked Belarus and China down with its tail, clawing at the ground angrily as it eyed the intruders maliciously. “Jabberwocky,” the Swordmaster cursed, “Damn poisonous dragon...”

“I thought that died with the others?” China yelped, staring wide-eyed at the large creature.

“We’ve found our target,” Maverick appeared next to the Swordmaster. He hadn’t even seen her leave, though he knew that whatever she was doing was benefiting the ANF in some way. Maverick cackled, then said, “Jabberwocky... The item we’ve been looking for.”

“Great. So kill this and the shield disappears?” the Corporal asked. “Sounds... Fun.”

“Evocator... Evocator...” Russia was trying to snap the Evocator out of her panicked state. Eyes fading in and out of focus, the Evocator shook uncontrollably, her hands trying to tie her hair back into a ponytail. “You have to focus... We need you, now...” Russia said gently.

“I...” Evocator nodded her head up and down slowly, then stepped forward, a stinging tear rolling down her cheek. “... I n-need to do this...”

“You will do this,” the Witch said firmly, “Come on. We all know you can.”

The Jabberwocky was done eyeing his potentially dinner. Rearing up on its hind legs, it began to lash out with its jaws, striking at the Swordmaster. He rolled to the side, sunglasses still in place atop his nose. The Corporal exchanged his handgun for an assault rifle and began firing at the Jabberwocky’s wings. Its tail lashed out, slamming him and pinning him against the wall of the hall. The Swordmaster lunged forward, dodging the Jabberwocky’s venomous fangs and plunging his katana into the beast’s shoulder. Releasing his grip on the sword’s hilt, he dropped to the ground, pulled out a dagger, tossed it once, caught it, then sent it flying at the Jabberwocky as it turned to bite him. The blade raked across its snout, causing it to rear up in rage.

Belarus snuck around the back to where it had the Corporal pinned against the wall. Pressing her burning firestick against its tail, she cackled as it screamed angrily, releasing the Corporal. The Jabberwocky responded by reaching out and grasping Prussia with a clawed hand, holding her high above the ground. Mouth agape, the Saboteur hung just feet away from the Jabberwocky’s fangs.

“Oh no you don’t!” the Corporal had recovered by now. Closing his eyes, he tossed his assault rifle away, a swirling light surrounding his feet. Machete drawn from its sheath on his belt, he rushed forward, springing up. Manipulating gravity to give himself a boost upward, he swung the machete, allowing it to move with inhuman strength. The machete embedded itself through the Jabberwocky’s lower jaw, sticking up through the monster’s tongue. Prussia was released then, falling to the ground, unconscious (though whether this was from the landing or the shock, no one knows).

“Corporal!” the Witch yelled, sending a blast of fire magic at the Jabberwocky. As its wing caught fire, the beast began in a rampage, its claws sinking through the Corporal’s vest and into his torso. Its jaw had snapped his arm, fangs piercing through it in his brave attempt to slay the beast. As the Corporal’s bloody form hit the ground, the Swordmaster found himself paralyzed in horror.

“No!” the Evocator yelled, “Not him, too! I... I don’t allow this! NO!” Her palms began to glow- one red with fire and the other blue with ice. “Frost! Flame! EVOKE!” As the fiery lion rushed forward, an icy wolf did the same, encircling the already burning Jabberwocky. The Witch had rushed to the Corporal’s side, looking his arm wound over. The Swordmaster had gotten ahold of himself by now, and was running forward, second katana drawn. The frost spirit pinned the Jabberwocky’s left wing, while the flame spirit pinned the right wing.

Tears streaming down her cheeks, the Evocator screamed at the top of her lungs. A flick of her wrist and the frost spirit exploded in shards of ice, embedded into the Jabberwocky’s wing, while the flame spirit merely exploded into the other wing. As the creature reared up in pain, the Swordmaster leapt high into the air, throwing his sword directly into the Jabberwocky’s chest. As the blade made contact, the massive creature fell backwards, hitting the staircase and breaking it on the way down. Blood spurted from the gaping wound, spilling onto the floor and staining the ice crimson.

“No one else has to die...” the Evocator sank to her knees, “I won’t let anyone else die because of people like them... No...”

“That’s great and all but this guy is dying,” the Witch looked over her shoulder at the Evocator, “He’s been poisoned! I-I can deal with his chest wounds... Evocator, I need your help!”

“I-is he going to be okay?” the Swordmaster had not yet gone to get his swords from the now very much dead Jabberwocky. Instead, he stumbled over, looking down at the unconscious Corporal. “W-Woody? Woodson... Get up... Come on...”

The Evocator closed her eyes, reaching a hand out to summon the healing spirit. As she did so, she fought back a sob, stifling it by closing her mouth. As Eirene spilled forth and glided over to the fallen Corporal, the Evocator allowed herself to sink to her knees once more, this time, next to the Corporal. The Swordmaster stood in petrified silence, shaking uncontrollably.

“Maverick... Can’t you help?” Russia asked quietly.

“Jabberwocky poison cannot be cured. Not by any means that Maverick does know,” Maverick spoke quietly. She perked up suddenly, turning to face an intruder in the doorway to the eastern halls.

“W-what’s happened here?” It was the Sorceress. She stood in her flowing robes, staff in hand as she eyed the dead Jabberwocky. “I-I followed you both... I couldn’t... leave you two...” She walked a few steps before she spied the Corporal, her eyes wide in horror. “... No...”

“K-Katherine...” the Swordmaster stammered, “No, he’s not dead... He’s just-”

She said nothing. In silence, the Sorceress walked over to the unconscious Corporal, glancing from the corner of her eye as she noted that the Witch was trying to heal his wounds alongside Eirene. “He was poisoned. By the Jabberwocky,” the Witch tried to explain, “I need all the help I can get. I can’t do this alone...” The Sorceress looked down at the Corporal, still unable to speak. She reached down and pulled some of his bangs out of his eyes, expression darkening as she noticed how he was sweating.

“H-he’ll be okay...” the Swordmaster sounded like he was trying to convince himself. “He’ll be fine... He’s my partner... He’s always fine...”

“He’ll die unless we find something. Some sort of elixir...” the Sorceress was trying to sound calm, but the Witch could tell that she was fighting back tears. “... We have to save him...” She was unable to control a tear rolling down the side of her face, and wiped it away quietly.

“We can buy him time at least...” the Evocator glanced at the Sorceress.

“But how much?” the Sorceress asked.

“He will die. He will die. No need to put spilled milk back into a cup,” Maverick said gruffly, “DIB frequents this place. Why stay?”

“Because it’s a life we’re trying to save!” the Sorceress snarled suddenly, pausing to stop the flow of her healing magic. Maverick quietened down then, watching the Sorceress as she returned to healing the Corporal, a few more sorrowful tears splashing against the stone floor.

“... Useless...” Maverick breathed, then vanished.

---

Stirring on the ground, the Overlord rolled over, finding herself freezing cold. Panting heavily, she pushed herself up into a sitting position, trying to collect her thoughts as she did so. What had happened? She didn’t remember. She could see images, as though it had been a dream. Dragons falling from the sky, blood staining the melting ice. It was as though death had rained throughout the Second Realm. She grabbed her hip, feeling a sting as though something had clawed her. Perhaps something had- she just couldn’t remember.

“You’re up early!” the Theurgist exclaimed cheerily, sitting on a log with his legs crossed.

“And you’re still dead.” She wasn’t in the mood for joking around. Forcing herself up, she cast her gaze across the frozen Wasteland, a pillar of smoke originating from within the Fortress. “I see it worked.”

“Of course it did. You only just mass-murdered an entire freaking horde of dragons,” the Theurgist whistled, “Didn’t think you had it in you. So what? Is that what happens every once a month? You turn into a large wolf and go psycho on someone?”

“... Eh, kinda the same concept,” the Overlord nodded. She closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath before opening her eyes once more, “How long have I been out? An hour? Two?” The Theurgist nodded his head and she stretched, “The shield must be down by now. I’ll go check in on my forces, I think...”

“Overlord, just one more thing...” the Theurgist had begun but it was too late. In a poof of light, the Overlord had vanished. Hanging his head, the Theurgist muttered, “... You’re gonna wish you’d listened to me... Again... I can already tell. You never listen to me. And it always gets SOMEONE killed...”