Metaworld Chronicles

Following a token greeting from the swamped Tower Master of Auckland, Gwen was assigned to Te Wherowhero, who took his pick of seven Mages from Gwen's entourage, including Aria. She was then left with Petra, Richard, and two of her seniors for Wellington—Caleb Ross and Jaxon Reid, an Illusionist and a Transportation Specialist, both inexperienced in combat but promising in utility.

After thanking the second team and leaving tasks for supply delivery with Aria, Gwen returned to the Auckland representative tasked with moving them out of the Tower's resonance range.

"Sis, I still can't believe you're a Magister. When we were in Sydney, you were an Acolyte."

"Bro, I can't believe you somehow got taller."

The man she spoke to was none other than the boy once assigned to her school competition in Sydney, the larger-than-life Whetu Tikitiki O Taranga. In the years since, the giant had blown past seven feet and had the girth to match, becoming a veritable home-grown avatar of Māui.

Like old times, the two embraced, giving Gwen the feeling of a kitten being hugged to death by a Greater Ursine.

When they separated, Gwen extended a hand.

"Provisional Magister Gwen Song of Cambridge, London, under orders of the Shard, reporting for Wellington."

"Magus Whetu Tikitiki O Taranga, of Auckland, assigned to the defence of the Auckland Frontier."

The two clasped by grasping each others' wrists, then introduced their teams. To Gwen's delight, she recognised the Ta Moko Enchanter, Opi Raharuhi in Whetu's group, who greeted her with a heartfelt "Kia Ora!"

"Shall we fly and talk?" Gwen gestured to the landing platform distending from the Tower's interior.

Compared to Gunther's ambitious semi-superstructural Tower in Sydney, Auckland's flying fortress remained firmly rooted in the frugal 80s, when Oceania first introduced Shielding Stations and ley-line Towers. With an overall shape akin to a ballistic missile with a hat-dome top, Auckland measured barely one-tenth the size of Sydney—which was reasonable, considering that the entire Frontier's population was scarcely one-fifth of Australia's south coast.

The ISTC array in Auckland was situated nearer the top, taking advantage of the height to broaden the clarity of Divination signals, meaning Gwen now stood in the outer circumference of a giant disc from which the defenders launched artillery-class sorcery, as well as sent and received Mage Flights.

Whetu and his team accompanied Gwen's small group to the staging zone.

The fighting in Auckland had thus far remained skirmishes and ambushes, but the Mermen Shoal visible from the flight deck was no less a spontaneous geographic formation parked in the Tipaka Moana, the gulf separating Auckland from the South Pacific.

"How's Wellington?" Gwen asked as they approached the flight deck. There were facilities for herself and the crew to change into their battle garbs. "Have you heard from Yue?"

"Yue saved the city, pushing back the Mermen there last night," Whetu informed her with a sigh. "As of this morning, the sea-saw along the city's cliffs continue. During the day, the Mermen won't launch an all-out assault. Are you disappointed?"

The news of Yue's arse-kicking undid the knot tightening in Gwen's chest. As much confidence she possessed for Yue's abilities and Alesia's contingencies for her Apprentice, she knew the dangers of assaulting a Merman Shoal without her particular skill set.

"With what?" Gwen said cooly, then cocked her head to regard her old companion. She had to cane her neck, for Whetu's enormous face was at least a head and shoulder above her own. Now in his prime, the Punamu Abjurer was a gentle and sentimental giant whose bearing was made doubly more impressive by the snake-like Ta Moko covering his body from his lips to his wrists.

"That I am not with Yue, and I need to leave yous as well," Whetu's tone reminded Gwen of a scolded puppy. "I had promised to protect all of yous."

"That was in high school, Whetu." Gwen laughed, slapping the man on the back only to feel like she'd just struck a wall of carved jade. Nursing her fingers, she gave the small of Whetu's back a gentle rub instead. "Simpler times, eh?"

"Yeah, those days were sweet as."

"Well," Gwen reminded the man. "Other than the Sobel thing."

"Keen." Whetu shook his head to agree.

They soon arrived near the change rooms. Gwen would love nothing more than to eat a pot of mussels and catch up with Whetu—but alas, Wellington was on the verge of being overrun.

"Righto—" her gaze swept the open vista of Auckland spread out beyond the disk's edge. The city was as hilly as she'd recalled from her past life, only here, each headland was illuminated with the brutalist visage of concrete-clad Shielding Stations. As Whetu followed her eyes, she pulled back her long hair and twirled the raven coils into a flat bun.

"Just one more question," Whetu asked, his eyes moving across her shoulders to her side.

"What is it?" Gwen asked, wondering if Whetu liked what he saw.

"Is that..." The giant grew contemplative. "Is that a duck?"

North Island.

Twenty kilometres south of Auckland, the sound of rolling thunder across a cloudless sky gradually dimmed as Gwen and company came to a halt.

Quickly, they landed on an empty hilltop on a secluded rise named Pōkeno. The selection was based on their inland route to Wellington, a sweet spot far enough away from the Halfing settlement of Hamilton and equal-distant from either coast to safely conjure Golos.

Very quickly, Gwen marked the area, laid down her ingredients, then made the familiar Mandala with help from Richard and Petra, who were now old hands at supporting their cousin. Petra could complete the Mandala in record time thanks to her multi-headed Spirit, even working solo. With the Cambridge Mages and a duck standing guard, the three finished the Greater Planar Ally within three-quarters of an hour, then loaded the operant Glyphs with crates of HDM "offerings".

Above, Dede's eyes grew orange with envy. Following the rules of the pond, however, the drake understood its place in the pecking order.

Therefore, without complication, once the passage of supernatural thunder and crashing lightning encircled the Mandala and turned the once-green hilltop into no man's land, Golos, Scion of the Yinglong, descended upon ancient Aotearoa.

Golos appeared larger than Gwen recalled, possibly reaching a good twenty meters from snout to clubbed tail. His growth only stood to reason, for the Wyvern had been bumming it at Ruxin's bachelor pad and crashing in Huangshan with access to Ayxin and Ruxin's old nesting haunts. With so much resource aiding in the Wyvern's growth, Gwen could only blame his maternal bloodline for not providing her Gogo with forelimbs and innate Draconic sorcery.

"Quack!"

"Lord Golos," the others greeted her ally.

"Gogo." Gwen patted her lizard's chest, marvelling at the beauty of Golos' blue-white scales. "You ready for some fun?"

"Calamity—" The lizard returned her greeting with a strange expression. "Step aside."

Before Gwen could ask why Golos looked constipated, the Wyvern inwardly coiled its serpentine neck and assumed the pose of a cat hacking up a furball.

"Christ, what—"

Gwen's eyes widened into the size of hen's eggs as the Wyvern flatted itself against the sizzling Mandala, planted both wing-claws against the ground, then began to regurgitate an enormous… something.

"Is Lord Golos alright?" Petra materialised a few Restoration Spellcubes, likely thinking that the Wyvern had damaged its internal organs mid-transit.

"Indigestion?" Richard observed with sympathy. "It happens to the best of us."

Cambridge's Mages dutifully took notes.

Gwen stumbled back as Draconic-acid washed over her Da-peng leather booties. Whatever made up Golos' eye-watering breath could only be said to be magnified a hundred-fold by the gush of yellow liquid oozing from his feeding orifice.

"Quack!" Their duck protested the sorry state of a creature it saw as a rare superior.

The Wyvern ignored the duck and persisted in his masochistic act of unhinging his jaw, appearing like a snake regurgitating an egg in reverse.

With a final grunt, what looked like a steel coffin emerged, its surface marred and scarred by his digestive acid.

Clunk! The steel something landed, pulverising the charcoal landscape.

"For you, Calamity." Golos nursed his neck.

"For me?" Gwen could only guess that perhaps, Golos wanted to bring her a gift. If so, why not put the thing in his Storage Rings?

Before she could ask, a series of taps came from the coffin, then—

CRUNK!

The coffin's lid flew open, struck from within by a shapely pair of emerging calves. A moment later, the doll-like figure inside dizzily pulled herself upward.

Gwen's jaw dropped.

Richard whistled.

Petra's expression grew contemplative.

Cambridge's Mages took notes.

"L-LULU?" Gwen could hardly catch her next breath. "LULAN? You were inside—THAT?"

She looked toward Golos, her mind a riot of possibilities.

Lulan was inside Golos?

INSIDE A THUNDER WYVERN?

WHAT THE FUCK?

Could a Summon Planar Ally be used as an ISTC relay? Or was that merely because Ruxin willed it? At any rate, is it even possible that a Human Being could survive such an excursion through the Quasi-Elemental Plane of Lighting? It wasn't as though Golos hadn't sent her men before through the array.

Or… was that the purpose of the steel box?

"A gift from brother." Golos' voice transformed from a hoarse croak to his usual confidence as his torn throat rapidly healed. "He says to bring him gifts from the Seats of Frost to repay him."

Rushing toward the steel coffin, Gwen grasped the calloused hand of the swordswoman and pulled her close. Lulan did not smell any better than the phlegm Golos projectile vomited, but Gwen couldn't care about that now.

"Lulu," she said softly. "Can you hear me?"

The light of cognisance slowly returned to Lulan's eyes.

"Saviour—" The swordswoman tried to smile. "I am sorry I stink."

"Quack!"

"Why..." The confusion returned to Lulan's eyes. "Why is there a duck here?"

Before Gwen could explain that ducks were for all occasions, the girl pushed herself abruptly from Gwen's arms, forming a posture not too different from when Golos had first arrived.

"Oh, Christ." Gwen mouthed. If there's another fucking “gift" inside Lulu. She and Ruxin would have words! Did the Dragon think her friends were Matryoshka Dolls?

Thankfully, Lulan only evacuated the entire contents of her stomach over Gwen's one of a kind battle armour.

"Pats!" Gwen called for their medic.

Petra produced both a healing injector and a Restoration cube, then after a second, a Cleansing cube as well. Richard and Lea helped with fresh water to wash off the gunk on Lulan, hosing down the surrounding area befouled by Golos. Eventually, Lulan was relieved from her coffin, cleaned up, then restored to relative health.

Now that her Wyvern and swordswoman had established their bearings, Gwen stood between the two with a hand on Lulan's shoulders and another against Golos' knee.

"It warms my heart that you're both here," she said after a moments' thought. "That said, I can't advocate for Golos' oesophagus as a means of transport in good conscience. Lulu, you could have just used the ISTC arrays, you know? What's money if you travel safely? You know we have a lot of that these days, right? Couldn't Ruxin just Glyph you up with Dragon magic? Who told you to use the Golos Express?"

"ISTCs involved too many complications and paperwork." Lulan, still pale, gave her a look of pride. "Lord Ruxin said I needn't follow the rules of mortals and that if I wanted to join you as soon as possible, simply ask Mistress Ayxin."

"So, Ayxin put you up to this?" Gwen huffed.

"She taught me how to construct that." Lulan pointed to the coffin. In Gwen's eyes, the steel casket was what it resembled.

"Are you sure Ayxin meant it literally?" Gwen asked. "I mean, she is a spatial sorcery user, but..."

"Mistress Ayxin said that I'd be welding a coffin, yes," Lulan concurred. "I asked Lord Ruxin, and he said it was a brilliant idea, better than what he could manage."

Gwen looked toward Golos with questions.

A shrugging Wyvern was a sight to see, though Gwen was less than impressed.

"Strewth." Gwen chose to banish the matter for now, for the day was wearing on and nearing noon. "Okay, let's assume they meant well. How are you feeling, Lulu?"

"Good enough to fight." Lulan grasped at a space beside them, then to Gwen's wonder, materialised a gleaming blade of patterned steel. "I've learned a lot in the last few years. Lord Ryxi taught me everything from our Sect since before the Yuan Centaurs razed our temples. I've also picked up useful skills from the remaining four Sword Sects that he thought was useful. AND I've perfected the Panzerschreck you taught me—although Lord Ryxi said the name sounded like Lord Golos choking on fishbones—so he named it the Falling Star Sword. Oh, Ruì misses you too, though she's crazy busy with Lord Ruxin's appointments. We've expanded the Tonglv Holdings now, and the local government's more or less falling in line thanks to Professor Ma..."

As Lulan delivered her report, Gwen studied her illegally immigrated companion, perceiving that Lulan had grown a little taller, though not by much. From what Gwen could see with her Divination, Lulu's Heart of Iron was wholly tamed by the uncorrupted Sect-magic Ryxi had gifted as a favour. On a more aesthetic level, Lulan had lost the puppy fat on her face, making her once youthful mien more mature and aggressive. Her hair was kept long and folded back in a ponytail—possibly as a tribute to when she, Lulu and Petra had enjoyed themselves visiting Peaches' performances.

"Gwen," Richard interrupted the stream of consciousness from Lulan with a polite cough. "Wellington awaits."

The reminder restarted the engine of anxiety that had cooled with Lulan's unconventional arrival.

"Of course," she asked for Lulan to keep her updated while they flew, passing her one of the dozens of spare Message Devices made by her Dwarven artisans in the Bunker. "Do you know our mission, Lulan? Gogo? Did you inform Lulu?"

"I know. We're exterminating Mermen." Lulan's face broke into a grin, echoing the very same on Golos' face. "I'll protect you."

"And I am hungry for fish," Golos' protest announced his perfect candidacy for unbridled mayhem. "You said there would be more fish to eat than I could count."

"Oh, the buffet's gathering southward as we speak," Gwen assured the Wyvern. "Richard, how far are we now from Wellington?"

"Four hundred and twenty-four kilometres inland," her cousin replied. "But now that Lord Golos is here, shall we entertain a shortcut?"

"Yes, we should take the coastal route," Petra concurred.

"Magister Song?" One of the Cambridge Mages raised their hand. "Wouldn't we be beset by random encounters if we go outside the Green Zones?"

"We would," Gwen agreed, then gestured to the imposing form of her Wyvern stretching out its spines. Golos' spiked-club tail was of especial interest, for its bristles contracted and expanded like a living thing. "Caleb, Jaxon, you fellers ever experienced Dragon Fear?"

"I have." Caleb's complexion paled. "I was in London during the er… incident."

"I have not," Jaxon confessed. "Is Lord Golos going to show us how it's done?"

"Indeed he is," Gwen confirmed their worst suspicions. "Don't worry. The nausea isn't so bad if the aura owner isn't trying to eat you."

"That way, we should be in Wellington before sundown," Richard confirmed their new coordinates on the map. "An hour to mana-up and pre-buff should be more than enough."

"Quack!" Dede also gave his two LDMs.

Having received her assurances, Gwen snapped her fingers, materialising another gift from her Draconic business partner, the Omni-orb.

"Ho," Golos remarked with appreciation. "Brother's gift."

"We're going to Welling to find Yue," she declared to the orb in translated Draconic. It wasn't how its divination worked, but Gwen felt that vocalising her intentions seemed to bolster the orb's accuracy. "Go!"

With the agility of a Golden Snitch from a money-printing franchise, the Omni-directional Orb lifted into the air and began to drift southward.

Gwen adjusted her orientation toward the direction indicated by the orb.

"Ariel!"

"EE—EE!" Her Kirin materialised.

"Caliban!"

"SHAA—!" A gruesome and faceless Da-peng birthed from a slit in space-time.

"Dede!"

"QUACK!" the duck quacked.

"Gogo!"

"Calamity. Get that thing away from me—" Golos drifted a safe distance away from the Da-peng with every feather on his neck bristling.

"Dick, leave Lea on overwatch and put our beasties into formation," she said to her majordomo. "Pats, Jaxon, Caleb, you're with me. Lulu will run rear guard. How's your Flight magic, Lulu?"

"I can keep up," Lulan replied without ambivalence. In the next moment, the Sword Mage materialised an enormous blade twice as long as herself, resembling the world's most dangerous surfboard.

She hopped on.

Cooing, Cambridge's Mages took notes.

Under Richard's directions, the Familiar, pet and Mage party organised itself into a spear point with Golos as the tip.

Yunnie! We're coming! Gwen told herself silently. Don't Fireball us.

"Alright!" she declared her intentions to the group with Clarion Call. "Let's go save us a city!"

Wellington.

WETA.

Magister Kawhena understood very well the Mermen were grinding them down.

Since the early morning, the Mermen had renewed their harassment, sending troops of chitin-covered Crabmen and Fishmen buffed with air-breathing sorcery to scale the cliffs overlooking Lyall Bay, attempting to flank the city from the South Sea.

With WETA burning HDMs, the Militia could abjure the foe from their shores with minimal losses by hiding behind spontaneous barriers, retreating to higher ground, and forcing the Mermen into kill-lanes.

Without Kawhena transmuting the landscape around Wellington's ley-node, entire patrols could be wiped out by the superior physicality of the armoured sea-soldiers, becoming vulnerable to the bolt-throwing hybrids who wielded anemones that shot bone-spines laced with nerve-toxin.

And so, Kawhena's team continued to work throughout the day, never resting, beset by one encounter after another.

After more than twenty hours, their mana was untouched—and the ley-node beneath WETA remained stable—but the spell fatigue assaulting their brains had grown significant enough to cause mana-feedback in the junior staff, incapacitating the poor sods for days, if not weeks.

Therefore, he had fallen for the Mermen's ploy. It was a cheap strategy, but a strategy nonetheless. That was the unsettling thing about a Mermen Tide led by notable personage from the Seven Kingdoms. The Sea Lords may not understand the extent of tactical limitations outside of the ocean's three-dimensional scope—but their disregard for Mermen's lives was more than made up for misconceptions.

"Are our Militias holding their zones?" Kawhena asked an aid.

"Magister Addison reports eighteen of twenty-four battlegroups are still in operation," the junior Magus reported, struggling to stay awake. "We lost contact with squads eight, fifteen and twenty-one entirely."

Nodding, Kawhena hid his alarm from the young ones.

"How's Magus Bai's team?"

"They're recovering mana after Purging hostiles near Miramar."

"Where the Fairies live?" Kawhena pinched his brows. "The Wisps didn't evacuate after all?"

"I think they'd prefer to perish with their Grove."

"Right." Kawhena pursed his lips. Far be it that he should worry about the Demi-humans. "Any news from Auckland?"

Te had pledged help.

But would that help arrive in time?

Before the junior Mage could answer, a Message spell bloomed beside the Magister's ear.

"Te?" Kawhena felt the weight on his shoulders loom like a swinging guillotine. "Tell me there's good news."

The voice that came across was at once pleasant and relaxed. "Brother, there's good news indeed! Of course, I had to confirm before informing you, lest our defences are misallocated. You've got your reinforcements! Guess what the Shard sent Wellington?"

"A Combat Flight?" Kawhena wondered if he'd dare to hope. "Lead by a Magister? Dare I ask if they sent an Ordo Purge Team?"

"HA—!" The laughter from the other side of the Message Device was enough to relax the nerves of all the younger Mages present in the makeshift war room. "They sent us Magus Bai's roommate!"

"You're taking the piss, Te," Kawhena protested. "This isn't the time for jokes."

"Before sunset—look to the horizon due north," the Paladin's voice rose in volume. "You must tell me how quickly the Mermen flee!"

"From who?"

"From Master Shultz's sister—" The Paladin's voice took on the cadence of a passion-fueled Haka. "—That's right, brother! They sent us the Devourer of Shenyang!"

Wellington.

Titahi Bay.

"I see the city," Gwen reported to the team, taking advantage of her Essence-tempered vision. "Any closer, and we're bound to be discovered. How are our Divination signals? Can we get anything across?"

"It's spotty. I am shocked we're not getting full signal even this close." Richard double-checked his Message Device. "I think we've been spoilt by living in London for so long. That said, Wellington knows we're coming—and it isn't as though we could be mistaken for Mermen reinforcements. The main thing is Yue, ha. She's not going to greet us with a Fireball, right?"

"We'll keep the broadcast going," Gwen affirmed her unequivocal desire to see Project Legion functional and put to use. "And yes, I'd love to surprise Yunnie, but let's not surprise Yunnie."

"Alright, as planned then." Richard nodded. "Lea, if you would?"

"Sure thing!" The Undine appeared suddenly beside her, twirled, and split her ultramarine hair into four separate Lake Sprites with slim, petite figures and vaguely human faces.

The plan was for Gwen's bevvy of beasties to douse fires near Wellington's struggling Militia. Before he had to leave, Whetu had left the group with a map of Wellington's dugouts and battle lines, which for a city small enough to be observed from the air, should be easy enough to discern.

Still, Gwen felt it best if Lea could direct her quintet of avatars to keep an eye on her creatures.

Of her monstrous foursome, Golos would be fine alone.

Caliban could fight until it was banished, though when pitted against "meat shields", the Void beast could likely riot until the last morsel.

Comparatively, though Ariel's lightning worked wonders on fish, she felt it best to assign Dede to protect her pseudo-Kirin from becoming swamped.

Petra, Jaxon and Caleb had the task of contacting and coordinating combat with WETA, first informing Yue of her arrival, then aiding the construction of Teleportation Circles as a contingency.

As for herself, she would form a Combat Team with Richard and Lulan playing interference while she performed what the London's papers had dubbed "The Dark Womb", despite her METRO dubbing the spell combination as "The Dark Egg". For the battle to come, she hoped to sow enough chaos among the Mermen with her Void lampreys to disrupt the Shoal's coherence while taking advantage of the fact that most Mermen were incapable of aerial combat.

"Gogo? Dede?" Gwen turned to her pets for proof that they were ready.

"Finally!" Golos' scales crackled with lightning as visible ripples of Dragon Fear distorted the air. That was another of the Wyvern's insurances. While Golos could be overwhelmed by numbers, that number first had to survive the crush of their fleeing friends' armoured bodies. "Their Essence is junk, but Ruxin said that quantity is a quality."

"Quack!" Gwen had no idea if ducks could salivate, but Dede sure as hell was making a good effort.

"Watch out for the Mermen leader and their magic users," Richard warned against her and her pets against boisterous confidence. "You're not fighting the Triffidus. These are creatures with complex societies and ancient civilisations. Pull their whiskers hard enough, and you're bound to summon something capable of giving us trouble."

"I wouldn't worry until we can thin out the Shoal," Petra delivered a point of insight. "Remember what I told you? The Mermen fight like we Russians do in the Old Country. We send waves of conscripted NoMs to colonise the Wildlands while the Mages sit back and wait for our foe to exhaust their mana."

"Ah yes, the Path of the Old Country, if only Humanity could spawn a thousand young a season, per female," Richard snorted. "But enough of that—because we have Lord Golos! Milord Wyvern, if you could be kind enough to show us how it's done?"

Gwen's impatient Wyvern needed no prompting to execute the ultraviolence to come. With a mighty blast of air that sent the Mages reeling, the Wyvern launched itself forward, forming its silhouette into that of a forward-pointing spearhead.

As a breathing thunderclap, Gogo flew forward and downward, his neck framed by a suddenly appearing and disappearing cone of air, shrieking toward Wellington as a white-hot mote of Dragon Fear, giving Gwen the strangest sensation of controlling a fish-eating, Core-shitting living airstrike.

Rongo Winiata, a native of Wellington and a one-time participant of the IIUC, put himself in the front lines to ensure that the NoMs could safely wield their Quasi-magical implements.

A working battle group, he had explained to the hundred-odd men and women under his command, was a product of symbiosis. With the Mages alone, the casters would be quickly overwhelmed by the oncoming crush of shelled bodies. Likewise, without the Mages to break up the rank and file of the crustacean shock troops, the NoM Militia would be filling gaps with new bodies every few minutes.

At a time like this, Rongo wished more than anything that their Frontier city could have invested in Golems like the ones he'd seen on the Chinese Undead Front.

As a Mage, he could amass spells with far more complexity—but he was still one Mage in a team of five, while a well-protected Golem unit could be refitted and rearmed for firing by a couple of NoMs within the hour to wreak havoc to half of Wellington's coastline.

And if Wellington had two Golem units attached to each Militia? And if they had Magister Kawhena funnelling their foe into tight-quartered kill zones?

Would they even need reinforcements?

Rongo shook his head. He quickly banished his wishful daydream and checked that his mana had recovered. He was the most senior Mage in his unit, and he had to keep a clear head.

He was on his second injector already, and there were three more hours until sunset, when Maka and Timoti Wikiriwhi, the Magma Brothers, would finish their meditation.

"Erina—Rangi—with me! One more push! Keep them off the NoMs." Rongo's Ta Moko flashed cobalt as he leapt into the air, kept afloat by a surge of water commanded by his Taniwha Spirit, the Great Whale Shark tied to his ocean-fairing ancestors. At his mental behest, clarified mana tore through his conduits, materialising the overabundance of Elemental Water brought by the Mermen.

"Tidal Surge!"

The Mermen soldiers clambering blindly up the escarpment were struck by a sudden wave of white water, tearing them from the transmuted concrete and dashing those with softer bodies against the spiked exteriors of the shock troops below.

Erina followed with Fireball and Scorching Rays volleys, picking off the stragglers closest to the man-made wall on the harbour. At the same time, Rangi erected barriers of stone whenever their foes launched tridents, spikes, and sometimes fish at the Mages.

Behind the seawall itself, Rongo's support Healer mended groaning NoM militia members maimed by the barrier breach prior in the day. Not far, their final member, a Ta Moko Enchantress, maintained the dwindling array of Wand-implements used by the NoMs.

Rongo's crested wave reached an apex—then rapidly dwindled as his mana surge waned, unable to sustain the attack.

When he landed, winded and dizzied from the continuous expenditure, he unhappily realised that most of the monstrous silhouettes had remained.

Had his spell gotten weaker? Rongo wondered Or had the Mermen brought more substantial reinforcements?

Either way, he was about to learn a lesson from his Master firsthand: never leave a gap for a foe to exploit. He hadn't meant it, but he had been fighting since the morning, and he was bloody buggered.

Thereby, he could only curse when a crustacean with a crested crown like a Roman Centurion tossed a subordinate toward Rongo, catapulting the akimbo crab toward him as a living, flailing cannon ball.

Rangi was quick on his shielding, intercepting the crab.

Unfortunately for Rongo, he knew exactly how much the damned things weighed and that the first crab would merely be one in a volley of dozens. What's worse, despite the blue ichor prettily painting the semi-sphere barrier, the crustacean that clambered off Rangi's shield was twice as mad.

Before Rongo could activate a Jump or an Expeditious retreat, the creature had already taken a swipe at the Evoker, scoring a flesh-mangling gash across Rongo's bared chest, bypassing his innate Water Shield with minimum effort.

"Rongo!" Rangi's voice called out. "Watch out!"

Rongo couldn't hear his mates over the sound of howling blood in his head and his own foul-mouthed explicative.

He fell.

A few seconds passed as slow as molasses before Rongo's world returned to normal, realising that he had not activated his escape spell or triggered his Contingency Ring.

Instead, he was on the floor, ass-down and face-up, staring at the sky.

SHIT! Rongo tried to speak, but he could hardly catch his breath. The fucking crab was over him now, dripping blue blood and waving its Māui-damned limbs in some victory dance.

Rangi!—Erina—! he tried forcing his voice out. Get behind the NoMs! GET—

CRACK—!

Rongo's world turned white.

For a blooming second, Rongo was sure he had ascended into a higher Plane, for every muscle in his body had involuntarily tensed, and his bowels had threatened to release the Earthen Hounds.

When he painfully turned his head, his muscles buoyed on pure adrenaline, Rongo saw past the fresh-gauged cavity in his pectorals to see...

Rongo had no idea what he was seeing, though having fought the Crab-men for a day, he knew that they were capable of shitting.

And now—a whole legion of the bloody things had just shat themselves blue and brown.

"RONGO!" Rangi reached his side. Together with Erina, they began to pull him bodily backwards, dragging him by the shoulders. Above Rongo, his clawed foe remained frozen, unable even to twitch.

Fighting mortal injury and mental disorientation, it took Rongo a dozen meters to finally find out why the Crabmen were frozen like fish-dinners.

"Is that ours?" Rangi asked. "Or are we bunged?"

Erina was too terrified to speak, and Rongo knew the reason.

There—above them—hovering over the sudden descent of innumerable piles of reflexive faeces—was a Wyvern in blue and platinum.

And the crazy thing—

And the craziest thing—

Was that he recognised the damned monster!

"HMM…" came the rumbling of a familiar voice from the armoured flying fortress looming over a thousand Crabmen too terrified to shift limb or claw. "... a good appetiser."

The Wyvern opened its mouth.

Its sadistic, sunset pupils transformed into twin pools of molten plasma.

There was a sound of sudden thunder.

An abrupt blast of heat and light.

A simultaneous singing of Rongo's exposed body hair.

Then Rongo's world grew peaceful, blessedly knowing well that Wellington and his buggered body would see the dawn of a new day.

Northward of Golos' landing was Wellington Quay, once the crown jewel of the city's economic zone, now a wasteland of overturned ships and freight equipment.

When the Mermen came again, they emerged in the thousands, using the blasted ships from the tsunami for cover, climbing, clambering and scampering from shade to shade until they made landfall.

Unlike the Crabmen assaulting the main harbour head-on, these were the surviving locals, lead by a true denizen of the deep—a loyal attache to the Elemental Prince Shyvaphyr, seventeenth in line to the Coral Crown.

Anarr was the name of the attache assigned to the fodder, and he possessed only one job—to herd the cowardly Mudskippers to death or glory.

Hailing from the rare and noble Clan Ocellatus, Anarr was equally capable underwater and in the murderous air. Blessed with a gift of Essence from his Prince, the Eel-kin neared eight-feet standing on his transmuted dorsal fins, not accounting for his enormous maw, which weighed down his upper body and gave him the likeness of a bunched-back, bipedal toad.

"Faster! Attack more! Crush the air-suckers!" Anarr swung his serrated Coral Sword, sending ripples of Elemental Water outward to stimulate the Mudskippers, likewise informing them that should any flee or escape, he had them marked for feeding fodder.

In the distance, beyond the crushed lines of bobbing boats, flashes of Human magic pushed his men backwards.

Thus far, Anarr was thoroughly unimpressed with the progress of his coastal cousins.

As their terrestrial kin called it, the prime Material was seen by Anarr's lord and masters as a grand prize. To those in the deep, Terra existed as an inexplicable conjunction of the Elemental Planes, a place inundated by influences from the Plane of Water and, therefore, the Mermen's natural second home. To Anarr's superiors, here was a neutral world rich for colonisation and plunder, gifted by the Elders of the Deep.

Yet, much to their chagrin, the other Elementals were also keen on taking a fragment of the whale fall. Furthermore, the indigenous population on Terra not only saw themselves as the watery globe's rightful rulers but had the gall to nourish themselves by hunting the children of water!

Of course, Anarr's kinfolk ate one another—such was life so long as one and one's dinner weren't too closely related—but to have finless creatures biting into the sumptuous flesh of a fish-folk? That was gobsmacking.

And what was worse was that here existed land creatures that flew through the air—and hunted kin in the sea! What an aberration! A travesty of existence!

The first day he walked on the surface, Anarr had made his new sycophants retrieve these "Birds", as the Terrestrials call them. There was a plague of the fiends flying above the Shoal, meaning to bring them down required an effort.

Unhappily, other than a vague saltiness, Anarr could only say that he was disappointed.

He later tried the eggs of a creature dubbed an "Albatross" by the local kin and dozens of its screeching larvae. Those had been nourishing, and Anarr had immediately demanded a dozen be delivered into his gullet.

"QUACK—QUACK—QUACK!" A series of orifice-quailing barks made Anarr physically recoil, stirring him from the succulent recollection.

Anarr looked up at the sky.

There was an Albatross approaching, one clothed with the splendiferous hues of the highly prized Mantis-kin.

"Hah?" Anarr huffed, spraying spittle from his fanged maw as he hollered at the nasty thing. "Have you come for your children? Fish-eating fiend?! You're too late! For they rest now in the merciless gullet of Anarr of Ocellatus!"

"Quack?" The flying beast banked hard, descending in a rapid spiral.

"I want to eat that thing!" Anarr gave the command. "Mudfins! Attack!"

As his troops converged, the quacking fiend began a rapid descent, appearing larger and larger until Anarr's throat felt parched by the dry air.

This Albatross is a true Monster! Anarr thought. A Kraken-kin of the air! Anarr had eaten hundreds of "birds" by now, even a vicious "sea eagle" captured at the cost of a dozen Mudkin lives. Yet—this creature dwarfed them all in size, beauty, and sheer arrogance!

Just before the Albatross struck the ruined shipyard and its graveyard of metal, it pulled back both wings, causing such a violent gust that the dozen or so Mudkin with their nets and serrated spears were blown about, losing their footing despite their sticky dermis.

When Anarr's eyes met the creature's, he shuddered to discover that the creature's irises' were twin pools of pure pitch, depthless and without a hint of compassion.

WHOMP—

The hungry bird landed, sending the half-shattered tanker ship to roll from the momentum of its descent.

Instantly, a dozen Mudkins piled upon the Albatross, hooting, howling and stabbing with their poisoned spears, trying to bring the flying fiend low.

"Quack, QUACK—!" the creature let loose a battle cry.

Anarr craned his neck. How would a limbless, armless imbecile fight? Could this airborne pathogen, this uncivilised low-order animal, even contest the Mudkin, who had been given magical implements from his Prince?

Abruptly, the Albatross made its move.

Anarr couldn't follow its movements, but from the way it rapidly waddled, distended its neck to and fro, and swung its wing-limbs, he instantly banished all thoughts of underestimating the creature's might.

A second later, Anarr applauded his wisdom.

The Mudkins who had made their move were all dead.

Where the creature had pecked with its oral implement, the unarmored Mud-kin erupted, exploding into piles of grey flesh, rendered sinew and liberated offal.

Those struck by the wings flew instantly away, shattering as though algae polyps dashed against a foamy cliff.

The worst was the few that somehow ended up beneath the creature, becoming crushed so entirely that their innards ruptured forth like stuck seaweed from the orifice of an underwater geyser.

But that was okay. Anarr had thousands of Mudkin and ten thousand more up the coastline.

"Attack!" Anarr gave the command once more. He brandished his jewelled trident in one hand, a gift from his Master, the almighty Seventeenth, whose depth the likes of Anarr, a mere Wolf Eel, could never reach. Enchanted by the Wave Witches, with a core moulded from a thousand-year old growth of Crystal Coral uprooted from the King's private hunting corral, his weapon would surely reach the fiend's heart.

"QUACK!"

Anarr ignored the massacre of his kin and instead focused all of his internal mana on the trident.

One strike—that that was all he needed. A single strike with the weight of the deep behind it, enough to demolish any foe, flying or otherwise.

"Prince Shyvaphyr, give me strength," Anarr prayed to the being to whom he had pledged his being, calling upon his patron's borrowed Essence. "May your reign—"

"EE—EE—!" A cacophonic cry, half-screech, half-thunderclap, resounded behind the eel.

Had the bipedal, Essence-blessed Wolf Eel survived the eight Lighting Orbs blasting him into fried dace paste, he would have protested that his world had first turned brilliant white, the kind attributed to that horrid sphere from the Quasi-Elemental Plane of Radiance.

Unfortunately for the Mermen lieutenant, a split-second wasn't enough for Anarr to comprehend the source of the adorable mewing, after which his world turned suddenly dark.

Southward of Golos' landing sat Princess Bay, one of a dozen inlets with direct access to the South Sea possessing geography low enough for the Mermen to land and make their way inland.

Presently, there were no Mermen.

There was, instead, a raging fire.

Evidence of destruction.

Eye-watering volumes of charred and cooked fish.

Exhausted Militia men, hiding in transmuted bunkers.

A group of bemused Mages from Sydney.

And a sulking Big Bird.

"Shaa—"Caliban moped. Its faceless mien was weeping large globs of grey goo. "Shaa—Shaa—"

Beside the sobbing monstrosity, Yue Bai, famous roommate of the Devourer, patted the soul-stealing reaper on its crow-black, feathery back.

"It's okay, Cali," she comforted the creature. "There's plenty of fish in the sea. Aunty Yunnie will get you a big old school of nasty Mermen next time, okay?"

"Shaa—!" Caliban hollered. Through its empathic senses, it knew with absolute certainty that its mates were having the time of their lives. "SHAA!"

In frustration, it lifted a dainty white hand-claw, picked up the body of a cooked King Crab, then tossed it toward the horizon, where it skidded across the surface of the serene surf, shedding limbs as it went.

The scene was so surreal and unsettling that, save for Yue, the NoMs and her team members all agreed to keep their distance. They had earlier fought the damned Crab-kin and therefore knew well that the King Crab lieutenant weighed a fuck-ton.

"SHAA—?" the fiend demanded of their sorceress.

"Alright, alright—" Magus Bai motioned to her team. "Someone give me a fistful of HDMs. Until Gwennie calls back her pet, Cali's one of us, alright?"

As if making its appeal known, the monster opened up its head-carapace, revealing a tri-petal maw with a dozen tentacle-tongues, each tipped with disc-shaped mouths lined with pearly teeth-blades. With minds of their own, the mouthy appendages then solicited their audience's sanity.

The group regarded one another, from Mage to NoM to Mage. The perceived consensus was the rejection of Magus Bai's proposal with extreme prejudice.

Which naturally meant tithing was quickly collected in a hat and delivered forward.

Then, overlooking a bean-green coastline, their leader sat beside the bird-thing, one hand holding one of its lady's fingers, and began to feed the monstrosity its ill-gotten gains one by one.