Inexorable Chaos

One of the largest buildings in the city of Tradefoot is currently being used for a meeting. But not just any meeting. It is a meeting of leaders, of one army to another. Centaurs sit in a circle on soft furs while a single Gejan sits on a crudely made chair. That Gejan is Thorous and she looks extremely unamused.

Frowning with her arms crossed, she glares at the Centaurs sitting down, watching as the [Herdmasters] from one army stare directly at those in charge of the other army. Her animosity rising from the fact that such a meeting is even required. They surrendered. The loser must accept the demands of the winner. It should be that simple.

But, she is quickly figuring out that it is far from simple.

“First, before our meeting begins, I would like to thank Ferran here for sounding the horn of surrender. Thanks to you, much fewer lives have been lost. Thank you for that,” Doreson voices, taking note of the angry glares originating from Gordon and Heliotrope and aimed at Ferran. Apparently, the surrender was not unanimous.

Ferran, surprisingly, ignores the stares directed his way, instead, he nods slowly.

“What was that monstrosity?!”

And as expected, the hotheaded Gordon can't seem to wait for the meeting to properly begin.

“That was Berosus, the boss of the second floor and the Patriarchs’ minion. I believe I already explained to you all that I am abandoning the floor because the Boss is now immune to the poison we had been feeding it.”

Dragkenoss voices from his seat, relaxing as though this meeting is of little importance to him.

Even so, Dragkenoss’s words have weight as Doreson watches the frowns forming on the mouths of the [Herdmasters]. They were there, they saw the monstrosity, they felt the ground shake and the bodies flying through the air. They saw their arrows merely bounce off, halberds unable to rend its skin, even the [mages] could do little since their range put them within striking distance of those tentacles.

If that is the boss of the second floor, then few could truly blame Dragkenoss for his decision, especially when said proof had single handedly defeated their forces.

“Now then,” Doreson starts, wanting to get this meeting underway, “You have sent armies against us, suicided thousands of forces, all without waiting for the [speaker] to call a meeting of Herds as the rules dictate. Thus, I will be moving the commands of your herds to Dragkenoss.”

“You can't do that! This is our herd, you cannot simply take them from us!”

Both Heliotrope and Gordon yell in outrage but are forced to quickly shut their mouths as several [Guards] and Oregan unhitch their weapons. Though those seated are without armor and lacking weapons, those surrounding the room are not.

“I… must agree with Gordon and Heliotrope,” Ferran starts, his voice soft and reasonable, “We can not just give up our leadership just like that. We must at the very least find a replacement.”

Gordon and Heliotrope look at Ferran with rage and disbelief.

“You would give up your leadership so easily Ferran? Have you no honor?” Heliotrope voices in outrage before turning to Dragkenoss, “and you, why isn’t the Patriarch here? Does he believe himself better than us? That this whole meeting is beneath him?”

Dragkenoss takes a moment, thinking about Quasi’s personality and the time he had spent with the man.

Then Dragkenoss nods, “Yes, more than likely he believes himself better than all of us here, though he would have come for this meeting if he did not have more important business to take care of.”

“He is arrogant and a fool,” yells Gordon with a snarl.

Ferran turns to Gordon, “This Quasi, the Patriarch, single handedly destroyed our army and forced our surrender. I do not believe he is arrogant but very capable.”

Gordon anger rises but is stopped as Heliotrope speaks.

“Ferran, why are you taking their side. Have you lost your honor? They want you to lose your Herd. Are you truly ok with that?”

Ferran frowns, seemingly saddened. He takes a breath, one laced with sadness and anger, “ As you know, my herd is known for having the best and highest Level [Healers]. It is my herds' pride... I have already lost half of them to the female.”

Many eyes turn towards Ferran, confused, while Dragkenoss and Thorous share a knowing smile.

“What female? What are you talking about Ferran?” asks Doreson surprisingly. He was not informed of such things nor of what is happening.

Ferran takes a moment, “The Female, the one that looks like the Patriarch. She is able to mend wounds in mere minutes, reposition bones as easily as molding clay while commanding with impressive authority. Those who follow her wear the colors of the Red Cross. Half my [Healers] wear the color now, and I fear even more will follow her.”

Ferran licks his lips, “They call her the Tyrant Healer.”

“Tyrant? Why Tyrant?” Heliotrope asks.

Ferran shakes his head, “The building currently used to treat the wounded after the battle is not far from here. Stay silent and try to listen. You will hear why.”

To his words, everyone at the table attempts to listen, their ears flickering as they focus upon any and all noise.

“No, please, don't [Heal] me!”

“Hold him down! His thigh is crushed. He won't walk without my help.”

“It's ok. I’m ok without walking, please no. No, wait, please put that dagger down. Don't!”

“Ahhhhhhhhhhh, HEEEEELLLLLPPPP MEEEEEE.”

“SILENCE”

“Mhmmmmmhmmmhmhm”

The centaurs listen, wide-eyed at the cries of pain escaping the man.

“Why does she do this? Can she not use poisons to numb the pain?” Doreson asks, very confused. Apparently, he had not been properly notified of the situation regarding the [Healers] and the woman named Jessica.

“I asked, but she told me that it wastes time. Apparently, if you can take life by cutting someone open, then you should be able to handle the pain of being cut open. I don't understand that philosophy, but apparently half the [Healers] do.”

“Done. The bones are arranged. Send this one to have his wounds healed. Bring me the next injured.”

“Fast...” Oregan exclaims with a nod. Questioning eyes quickly turning to the fully armored [Lieutenant Guardian].

Oregan smiles, “You all have never lived your life as a cripple, nor have you ever had to deal with them. [Healers] have to deal with wounded all the time, in many cases, they are forced to tell people that they will never walk again. It is a heartbreaking feeling, one which every proper [Healers] can relate to,” Oregan chuckles.

“And then this woman appears and starts fixing these problems that [Healers] had been unable to deal with for decades. They revere her and respect her for what she is able to do that others cannot.”

Silence descends upon those at the meeting, digesting his words, listening in to the woman as she works.

“Send in the Next one. No, not that one. He only has a flesh wound. Just shove his organs back inside and [heal] him, that wound does not require me. Send me the one next to him instead, the one with the twisted spine sticking out his back.”

“Pick him up slowly, I can only fix what is alive. If he dies from blood los-”

“YYYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS”

Those at the meeting immediately widen as a slightly louder sound is heard from the complete opposite direction. They look at each other, confused.

“Yes! Harder! Quasi harder! HARDEEEERRRRRRRR.”

“Oh no… Tessa.” Thorous starts to speak, her face turning a very obvious crimson.

“Pound ME! MAKE ME SCREAM! AHHHHHHH”

Every eye in the room turns to Dragkenoss who can only smile in reply.

“How is having sex instead of being at a meeting to discuss what will happen to several dozen Herds more important?”

Unexpectedly, the question is asked by Doreson, who is looking just as confused and upset as the [Herdmasters].

“Quasi is an ind-”

“QUASSSSSSIIIIIIIIIIII AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH-”

The feminine scream returns, this time several octaves higher, before seemingly stopping all at once.

Dragkenoss takes a moment, making sure that there is no more noise before coughing in his hand.

“As I was trying to say, the Patriach Quasi is a being of immense power and knowledge, one that only the Kitsune can even compare. You have seen the monstrosity he commands but you do not realize how powerful such an ability is. The Patriarch has the ability to raise anything that has died into his minion, and that includes any champions from herds. Every loss against him would merely strengthen him further. It is why the patriarch does not need to be at this meeting, because in the end, he alone can combat anything our floor has to offer.”

Moments pass as they digest Dragkenoss’s words, fear slowly forming on the faces of the [Herdmasters] as they start to realize that they are insignificant in the large scheme of things. That neither they, nor their armies, are a threat.

Of course, the [Tactician Captain] is unconvinced. Quasi is clearly powerful and capable, but not nearly as overbearing as Dragkenoss is making him out to be. Mana is not infinite and as strong as the minion may be, the caster is still weak and capable of being killed, especially if focused down.

“So… why is he here?” Ferris asks, breaking the silence that had quickly engulfed the meeting.

Dragkenoss frowns now, straightening his back, becoming far more serious, “Well, he came to sav-”

*SQQQQUUUUEEEAAAAKKKK*

The wooden door to the room slides open.

“Ow, that is quite loud, but I guess it can’t be helped if the door joints are made of wood. Metal with a little bit of oil would have made this door rather silent, too bad this dungeon seems to have a racist thing against those elements.”

All eyes gaze towards the door, but more precisely, the human male which enters the room… with nothing on but a rather small towel around his waist.

A towel that is barely covering the enlarged girthy erection standing up, creating a partial flag.

Now, centaurs have much less focus on nudity compared to other species, but that is mostly due to their body mostly covered in hair. So someone naked does not phase them, but if the naked individual has a very noticeable erection, then that is something to be heavily frowned upon.

Of course, the subject of such nudity cares little for the thoughts of others.

Thus, the human waltzes into the room with little care and takes a quick glance at all those present. He frowns.

“Wow, the [Herdmaster] class sucks. Leveling it doesn't seem to even increase intelligence, only a barely noticeable increase in willpower,” Quasi looks to Dragkenoss, “man, no wonder you said all [Herdmasters] are idiots. Their decision making must be outright crap.”

Quasi shakes his head while the [Herdmasters] look at the man dumbfounded. This is their first proper meeting with him and they feel very insulted and confused.

Quasi quickly turns and faces Thorous, whose eyes are currently focused on his barely hidden erect member. Her face is bright pink.

“Right, Thorous, I need your help. So I was banging Tessa really really hard, and, well, she passed out before I can finish. Apparently, her endurance is too low,” Quasi explains, shrugging his sweat covered shoulders.

“Uhhhh.”

“Yes, yes, I know I asked you to go to this meeting and whatever, but I need help now! Granted, I would have asked Lilly since she has even more endurance than you, but she also has over a hundred strength now. I don't want her to orgasm and then break my hips.”

*Shudders*

“Last thing I need is to have to explain to Jessica why my hips are broken. She would probably cut me open just to spite me.”

Quasi turns around quickly, waving, “Anyways, let's go Thorous, my bed awaits,” Quasi exclaims as he walks out of the building, his naked butt in full view.

As he leaves, eyes turn to Thorous whose entire body is now bright pink. She looks around, closes her mouth, realizes that she was actually drooling, and then runs out of the room.

As she leaves, one of the [Guards] closes the door, creating that annoying screeching sound before moving back to where he was standing.

Moments pass, but not a long moment. More like three seconds before Dragkenoss erupts into uncontrolled laughter, a laughter that spreads quickly to the [Guards], even on Orethons’ lips a smile finds itself .

Of course, the [Herdmasters] and the [Tactician Captain] are very unamused as they glare at Dragkenoss who is practically rolling on the floor with unbridled laughter.

It lasts for a good five minutes before he is able to calm down and sit upright.

“Hahaha, well, hah, that is the Patriarch for you. It is never a boring day with him around.”

“That was utterly disrespectful. How dare he come here with an erection and then insult us to our face about our class. Does he not have any manners?” Heliotrope exclaims in a huff, clearly very angry at being treated in such a way.

Dragkenoss smiles, all laughter and laziness gone. His expression now serious, muscles hidden under cloth harden, becoming more prevalent, his fur quickly starts to puff out, making him seem larger, “And what are you going to do about it? Throw armies at him and have them slaughtered? Insult him even though he could kill you with ease? You three have nothing,” he waves his hand, “The only reason we are even having this meeting is because it is tradition. Your Herds will be his, and if they choose not to follow him, then they will all die.”

“The herds would not stand for such execution,” bellows Gordon in outrage.

But Dragkenoss can only chuckle, “Oh, you misunderstand me, the Patriarch is merely offering those who follow him a way to live. He is not the executioner, that job falls firmly upon the dungeon.”

The [Herdmasters] share looks of confusion with each other, but Doreson is having an epiphany.

“The increased levels of the monsters and the tripling of awakened monsters. The dungeon is becoming more dangerous,” Doreson says quickly.

He had noticed it, as did many others. Levels are increasing, little by little, but noticeably enough. Not necessarily an immediate cause for concern, but if the trend keeps increasing…

Gordon snorts, “Ten levels won't kill us off.”

Doreson shakes his head, “Five levels last year, five levels this year... Fifty levels in ten years. It is going to keep increasing constantly, we won't be able to keep up,” he says before turning to Dragkenoss, “He is here to save us? How?”

Dragkenoss smiles, “He plans to conquer this dungeon and escape with those who swear loyalty to him.”

“Nonsense, you cannot escape. There is no escape, only the fog,” voices Heliotrope.

“Then where did he come from?” asks Orethon, interrupting them.

Heliotrope opens his mouth to explain, but stops as he realizes that he has no explanation. They have never seen humans, only told of their existence from very old stories that they live outside the dungeon.

“Dragkenoss, isn't the fog keeping us trapped?” Doreson asks the question on everyone’s mind, “Doesn't it even keep the kitsune from leaving?” he asks again, trying to clarify.

Dragkenoss smiles, showing his perfectly white, not at all sharp teeth, “The Kitsune have always said that the Patriarch will be far more capable than them.”

His words strike deep, even deeper to Doreson who opens his mouth, “So, he plans to conquer the dungeon and leave with those loyal to him. All others will eventually perish by the onslaught of high-level monsters that will eventually overtake our species.”

Dragkenoss lays back,” Yup, pretty much. He even wrote me down instructions on how to maximize the number that will follow him. Unfortunately, I hate reading. Several thousand pages is not something I am willing to go through, thankfully Doreson here doesn't mind.”

“What? I didn't agree to th-”

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH-”

Another scream, this one feminine but different, though it seems to have ended abruptly as well.

“GODDAMMIT, STOP PASSING OUT”

An aura radiates, exploding with emotions of ecstasy, anger, frustration, violence? The sheer strength of it ripping Dragkenoss own aura to smithereens. He looks around, finding that everyone in the room is affected. His eyes are wide, emotions running excessively deep.

“FUCK IT ALL”

“FUCK YOU LOKI”

“FUCK MY HIPS”

“LILLY, GET OVER HERE NOW!!!!”