TOS - Vol 2, Pt 4, Ch 38

The Overlord Saga

Vol II. Versus

Chapter 38: Henosis!

The rooftop. She didn’t know why she was feeling so nostalgic. She realized she hadn’t been up on the roof since the day she had thwarted the Uberlord’s plans for the second time. Standing there with her staff in hand, the Overlord looked out across the rooftop, which was mostly covered in ice, and focused in on the lone figure looming near the edge. Why had she not been surprised? “You’re always full of melodrama, Warwick. If you had hoped to hide-” the Overlord announced her presence rather loudly, boots careful not to slip too far on the ice. She walked forward, calmly, the wind blowing through her light brown hair.

“If I had hoped to hide... I would be gone already,” the Nemesis turned to face her, scythe in hand. She noticed how he was wounded, but seemed perfectly able to fight, still. Though she fought to keep herself upright, she knew she was openly limping. How was it that he was able to continue fighting? She didn’t understand where he got his strength from, but assumed it was due to some malevolent spirit or spell. Or perhaps it was a forbidden magic, one that not even the Insurgent Leader had dared to look into.

“You are... Not surprised to see that I’m alive and well?” the Overlord asked, voice level.

“I expected nothing less,” the Nemesis’ lip curled in a sinister smile, “But I wonder... How long will your body last in this state? You look a tad worse for the wear.”

“How is it that you’re still alive?” the Overlord asked, voice matching his in emotionlessness, “The fact is, Warwick... You are not greater than I am. We’re equals. In every way possible.”

“So this war... this fight between us will never end?” the Nemesis asked, eyebrows raised. “An interesting concept. So... Which are you, Overlord? Famed SVC member... Phoenix General? Are you Superman or are you Lex Luthor? Because in this light, you’re no less cheesy than one of those virtuous, caped heroes you claim to hate so much.”

“I’m the protagonist. But I’m no hero,” the Overlord responded icily, taking a challenging step forward, “I’ll never be a hero.” Both ends of her staff were alight in flame now, melting the ice around her. The Nemesis smiled, albeit sadly at his spirited foe.

“You’re so powerful. It almost saddens me to kill you.”

“No. Nothing can stop me now.”

“So you claimed before...”

“But this time... I mean it.”

The Overlord charged forward suddenly, staff twirled in her hand. As the Nemesis pushed forward a few paces, the Overlord slammed the staff into the ice, the head of the weapon standing up a little past her head in a blazing green flame. Eyes narrowed in anger, the Overlord inhaled a deep breath, hands folding together, as if to pray. The Nemesis continued charging at her, foolishly rearing his arm back to throw the scythe at the Overlord. Her eyes closed, yet her voice rang out above even her enemy’s battle cry.

“Henosis!”

She opened her eyes, catching sight of the scythe as it flew at her. ‘I’m going to die!’ she thought despairingly for a moment, but felt something change within her, as if a stirring in her heart. Everything went into darkness for a moment, her vision blanking out entirely. She pushed everything into the words she had yelled, her energy forced into her hands as she folded them together. She felt as though she was falling back, about to slam the roof tiles with her back. Though everything had faded, she saw glimpses of images- a golden gate, a magnificent city, and the depiction of a great tree within a garden. She saw flashes of winged angels, radiating with halos and singing praises to God.

Floods of emotion swelled within her, shaking her entire form. Though she was absent to reality, she felt herself shudder at the image of the Nemesis, looming in the shadows, next to him, her own broken self. Was she seeing through the Theurgist’s eyes, into his memories? She saw, next, the Evocator, crying into her chest and hugging her tightly. She saw a white laboratory, with jars filled with liquid, a steel table with patches laying on the surface. She wondered where this place was, and why it was significant. The Overlord felt the Theurgist’s presence alongside something holy, something so powerful she could not describe it. The images before, she realized now, had been through God’s own eyes. Images of Heaven, of Eden- things that seemed so far away from the rooftop.

Within her mind, she saw the Theurgist for a moment, standing there with an outstretched hand. As she took it, she looked past him, blinded suddenly by a light. Shielding her eyes, she looked away, unable to stare into it. As the light began to overwhelm her and the Theurgist, she closed her eyes...

... And found herself on the rooftop once more, unscathed and standing before the Nemesis, a sudden rush of energy flowing through her. There was a searing pain in her back and she sank to her knees, bending over as something ripped through her shirt and armor, followed by another and another. As it happened again and again, she allowed herself a scream, hands clutching themselves in agony. Had she done something wrong? Would God not accept her as the Eve for Henosis?

She felt as though she had many arms suddenly, and cast a fleeting glance over her shoulder to meet a rather powerful white wing. Startled, the Overlord felt the pulsing beat of seven wings, lifting her up into the sky as she felt her vision fading in and out of view. It was as if something was taking control of her- something akin to Saevio, but stronger, and with the sensation of serenity and benevolence. Relenting, the Overlord allowed the force to take control of her, knowing that this was what she had been intending to do in the first place.

Her consciousness found itself in a daydreamed state. Images flashed before her eyes, but primarily, she was focused in on concepts and ideas. Memories consumed her thought process. She saw things that she had never seen before, assuming they were the memories of someone else. There was a burning bush and a house somewhere in the Second Realm. She saw Lucifer falling from Heaven, hurled into Hell. There was the image of an Overling Council meeting that followed.

Vaguely, she saw the Nemesis retaliate, as if receiving a blow from something. Magic was spilling forth from her hands, consuming him and torturing him. He screamed as though he was being burned to death by the light, the scythe lost somewhere amidst the haziness and his machetes doing nothing to stop her. More images flooded through her mind. Though she tried to shut out the knowledge and the memories being poured into her, she could not. Another few images of the Nemesis came into view, her hands grasping his neck and lifting him over the edge of the roof. She wanted to throw him. She wanted to watch him fall, but he counter-attacked, one of his machetes clipping on of the feathery wings.

An image of the world its creation soon followed, and the Overlord tried to snap herself out of it, fearfully clawing away from the emotions being forced into her. She gasped, physically, drawing back and away from the Nemesis. As he lunged at her, some greater power blocked the blow with magic, and sent him flying as though he were a ragdoll. The next series of images depicted a burning castle, and some skeletal, fiery spirit that roared atop its spires. Soon after, there was a massive bird atop a mountain, shrieking loudly. A swirling storm over her head, and a village, sacked and ruined beneath a cliff. She wondered where these fearful images came from, knowing in her heart that they were not things of the past. As the Overlord attempted to, for the second time, evade the memories and shut them out, she caught a glimpse of the Nemesis charging at her once more, blood smeared across his face. Both hands lurched forward, driving some slicing spell through his middle and impaling him.

The world went blindingly white then. For what seemed like a century, the Overlord was suspended in nothingness, the silence ringing in her ears. She felt nothing, saw nothing, and heard nothing. For the moment, the Overlord couldn’t even tell if she was sitting up or standing. She merely gazed at the nothingness, not able to move or blink. The only thing she knew she could do was breathe, and that was satisfying enough to know she was still alive.

And then it all came into view- the black sky, the towers on the roof, and everything seemed even more clear now than ever. She stirred, rolling over onto her side before standing up. The wings had faded. The light and the images were gone. Her energy was almost spent, and she found herself fighting to stay on her feet. The Overlord didn’t even know if she could speak- she just knew that her mind was her own again.

A hobbling step and she found the Nemesis, laying on his back with blood splattered entirely over his broken body. Eyes still open, he stared at her, alive and beginning to rise from the ground. The Nemesis choked on his own bloody saliva. He began to push himself up onto his knees, “W-wait...” He tried to beg, blood seeping from his mouth. The Overlord knew he was mortally wounded. “S-stop...”

The Overlord pushed herself forward, both feet numbed. Her balance was off, her eyes unable to focus properly. Everything seemed hazy, as though she were dreaming still. Kagi was in her hand- she wasn’t even sure how it had gotten there, but it glittered in the dim light that was cutting through the black clouds. She walked to the gravely injured Nemesis, eyes ablaze.

“Dear Lord...” the Nemesis rasped for air. The Overlord merely paused to hear what he had to say, “Y-your eyes...” She didn’t understand his babbling. And frankly, she did not care to understand.

“You...” her voice was very weak, faded, but still full of bitter anger, “You killed me inside.” Her last remaining ounce of strength was spent reaching back with Kagi, and plunging the blade directly into his chest, her weight throwing her forward, falling onto him. Both the Overlord and the Nemesis fell to the ground, covered in blood. The Overlord’s hands slipped from their grip on the sword’s hilt. Though she could barely see, the Overlord caught a glimpse of some black smog drifting from the Nemesis’ chest, fleeing his corpse. Vision leaving her entirely, she allowed herself a few panicked shallow breaths before falling unconscious.

---


The main hall was quiet, full of anticipation and tension. The Ninja-Lord had returned to the gathered Overlings as soon as she had secured the rest of the Fortress. Though the bodies of the DIB members had yet to be recovered (except the Insurgent Leader’s body, the Rebel Commander’s body, and Blondie’s), the DIB forces had been chased out of the Fortress by the ANF forces. The Captain and the Lieutenant had seen the rest off alongside the Ninja-Lord and we busy securing the remains of the outer wall along with the Sabotage Team.

In the main hall, the Witch was attempting to heal Sexist’s wounds, though he protested loudly. The Animal Tamer was looking for Nard, who had gone missing during the battle and was frantically making McCoy and Fish help her search. The Soul-Keeper had found Christine and had vanished, despite the imminent danger that the Nemesis posed. The Advisor had taken charge of the Overlings in his absence, and was standing guard at the end of the stairs with her machine gun.

“The Overlord said you had to leave!” the Insurgent Leader was attempting to get the Advisor to lead the ANF forces from the Fortress.

“We’re not budging until she returns!” the Advisor argued stubbornly, hands on her hips. “We’re not just going to leave her!”

“The clouds are dispelling. That’s always a good sign...” the Scholar observed out of a shattered stained glass window. “I’d say she’s done it! We need to find her immediately! She’ll be wounded... Or, Heaven forbid, worse!”

“I’ll go look for her,” the Ninja-Lord nodded to the Scholar, “Twin! Let’s go!” She waved at the Twin, hopping over the Advisor and running up the stairs nimbly. The Twin merely pushed past the disgruntled Advisor, bow still in hand.

“Still... Something doesn’t seem right...” the Swordmaster stroked his goattee, looking around the messy main hall. “I still sense that something... Dark... is here...”

Sweeping down the stairs and past both the Ninja-Lord and the Twin, a swirling black mass of darkness came spiraling down into the floor of the main hall. The Swordmaster grabbed a dagger and threw it immediately at the black entity, dismayed as the dagger merely soared through it, not harming it in the slightest. The Scholar pulled the Witch and Sexist back, eyes wide as she watched the large smog. “That thing... No! Someone, stop it!” she screamed, watching as the smog made a beeline for the pillar of ice incasing the Theurgist’s body.

There was a blur of motion and something shot out at the ice, smoldering it in flames. Rearing back as though it had been struck, the black smog released a screaming noise, the fire keeping it at bay. The flames melted through the ice, devouring the corpse that held it within and destroying the preserved Theurgist’s body. At the end of the hall, stood the Evocator, still dropped in a fighting stance as she glared at the black smog.

“You’ll never have him...” the Evocator whispered, her palms formulating another spell. A rush of light and the black smog was cut into, dissipating as though it was being devoured from within by the light. Final screams tore through the air- the screams of the Nemesis’ dark spirit. As it faded, finally, the Evocator stood firmly, dark eyes focused and calm.

“What... What was that thing?” the Witch asked, arms folded, “It seemed so... Unnatural...”

“The Nemesis’ spirit. Attempting to find a host to live in. No wonder he kept the Theurgist’s body here for so long. It was his back-up plan,” the Scholar looked at the Witch, “The Evocator eliminated it...” She gazed back at where the Evocator stood, silently watching the fire as the Theurgist’s body burned within it. Head lowered, she said nothing, but calmly watched the flames.

“Her last duty to him...” the Witch whispered.

“The Overlord will be on the rooftop,” the Scholar advised the Ninja-Lord and the Twin, “Bring her here. The war is over. We have won!” As the Ninja-Lord and the Twin ran off to find the Overlord, Jamie ran out to the gardens to announce the news. The Scholar cast a glance out of the window, watching at how the clouds seemed to disperse, giving way to the usual twilight sky of the Second Realm.

“Eric...” the Insurgent Leader bent down next to him, a hand on his shoulder, “You look ill... Are you okay?”

Sexist’s hand was over his chest, a grimace on his features, “Yeah... I’ll be fine...” He stood up, thanking the Witch for her efforts at healing him, “The war is over... I didn’t think it would turn out this way.”

“No one did,” the Swordmaster replied, “I’m a realist. I didn’t think any of this was possible.”

“We’ll begin rebuilding as soon as we can...” the Advisor looked at the ruined main hall, “It will take awhile, but we can do it... We can make everything the way it used to be. Look! The ice is melting away!” She pointed at the ice that clung to the ceiling, and that laced the staircase. The Animal Tamer laughed, scratching one of Otto’s ears.

“Everything’s going to be okay after all...” the Grasshopper breathed in a sigh of relief, “I knew it would be, I guess... With you guys... We always figure out how to make things okay.”

“You’re going to be a fine Overlord when you’re older,” the Advisor smiled at the Grasshopper, putting an arm around her.

“This is going to have to go into the records! I need to record this all in my files!” the Scribe exclaimed despairingly. “And we’ll need a title for this war! Oh... How about... The War of Fire and Ice? The tales of how the Phoenix General slew the malevolent Nemesis and his dragon horde?”

“Sounds good to me,” the Witch nodded confidently, “And eh, who knows? I might be sticking around more. You guys are a little more fun than staying by myself. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course not!” the Animal Tamer exclaimed, hugging the Witch with such speed that it threw the Witch off-balance. “You can stay here as long as you like! ... Just so long as you don’t turn me into a toad.”

“I’ll do my best to refrain,” the Witch remarked dryly.