Shattered Sovereign

My Tireless soldiers continued their methodical advance through the broken street, their steel forms gleaming under the magical illumination that still functioned despite the destruction. Human defenders fell back step by step, some crying out as Tireless blades found gaps in their armor. My mechanical children showed no mercy, no hesitation; they simply executed their programming with flawless precision. A mage's desperate ice barrier shattered under hydraulic-powered strikes. A swordsman's parry failed against the overwhelming strength of steel muscles. Lives were claimed on both sides as the battle raged, but the tide was turning in my favor.

Then something plummeted from the sky like a falling star.

The impact crater exploded outward in a shower of black brick and volcanic sand as the figure landed directly in the center of my Tireless formation. Dust and debris clouded the air for a heartbeat before settling to reveal an elderly woman in pristine silver plate armor. Her gray hair was pulled back into a severe military bun, not a strand out of place despite her dramatic entrance. She gripped a massive glaive in weathered hands, the weapon's blade gleaming with enchantments. Her pale eyes, cold as winter ice, swept across my mechanical soldiers with professional assessment before narrowing into predatory focus.

In the space between one breath and the next, she moved.

The glaive became a blur of silver light as she spun in place, her form dissolving into motion too fast for normal vision to track. Wind erupted around her like a hurricane given human form, the cyclone she generated expanding outward with devastating force. The air itself became her weapon, invisible hands seizing my Tireless soldiers and hurling them skyward like toys in a storm.

Steel forms that had withstood undead bites and sword strikes flew through the air in helpless arcs. Some crashed into the walls of nearby buildings, their impact shattering black brick facades and sending cascades of volcanic stone tumbling to the street. Others hit the ground with crushing force, their frames bending and hydraulic systems rupturing from impacts that would have liquefied organic beings. The precision formation I had so carefully maintained scattered like leaves before a gale.

As suddenly as it had begun, the cyclone ceased. The woman stood motionless in the sudden stillness, not even breathing hard from her exertion. The air around her seemed to hold its breath, waiting for her next command. My surviving Tireless picked themselves up from the wreckage, damage assessments flooding through our shared connection, but they maintained their discipline and began regrouping automatically.

I didn't need to activate Analyze to identify this newcomer. The silver armor, the impossibly graceful movements, the casual display of devastating power; this could only be Sedna the Dervish, the level 100 Spear Master who served Kanis Rael. Her pale eyes found mine across the battlefield, and I saw righteous fury burning in their depths like cold fire.

Movement at the edge of my vision drew my attention to a tall, thin figure approaching Sedna with shambling steps. The man looked like death given human form: skin pale as bleached bone, eyes bulging from sunken sockets, lips cracked and dry as ancient parchment. His movements carried the stiffness of a corpse, and his eyes were glazed with cataracts that should have left him blind. Yet he moved with purpose, navigating the debris field without stumbling.

I activated Analyze and the truth confirmed my suspicions: Coln the Hand of Death, level 100 Necromancer, servant of Naori. The man who had likely created the composite abomination I had just dismantled.

"Is this it?" Sedna asked without taking her eyes off me, her voice carrying clearly across the devastated street.

Coln's head tilted at an unnatural angle as he studied me with those clouded eyes. "My Analyze cannot penetrate whatever it has become. The System recognizes nothing about this creature."

Sedna's lips curved into a predatory smile. "So it seems you have managed to attain godhood after all." Her tone held grudging respect mixed with absolute contempt.

I nodded slowly, allowing my twelve-foot frame to loom over the battlefield. Yes. I am now a god. You have no chance against me. My voice resonated with divine authority, each word carrying weight that pressed against mortal minds. You and your army should leave now, before more blood is spilled.

The Dervish frowned, her grip tightening on the glaive's shaft. "You are an abomination, not worthy of taking a seat among the gods." Her voice rose to a shout that echoed off the ruined buildings. "By the name of Kanis Rael, I will end you!"

Be reasonable, I said, spreading my tendrils in a gesture that encompassed the destruction around us. You cannot possibly take down a god.

"Foolish creature." Sedna's smile returned, colder than before. "You are a god, yes, but a new one. Right now, you are still weak. Your powers are comparable to that of a level 100."

I didn't argue the point. The truth of her words was evident in how my recent battles had challenged me, how I still felt the strain of divine transformation. She could not be swayed from her path, that much was clear from the zealous light in her eyes.

I raised my right hand and called upon Assembly. The familiar sensation of creation flowed through me, but now enhanced by the Mantle of Armament. Materials from the destroyed street (steel fragments, enchanted metals from broken weapons, even traces of silver from damaged armor) flowed together in my grasp. Within seconds, a new sword-lance materialized, longer and more graceful than any I had wielded before. Its dark blade caught the magical lamplight and threw it back in brilliant reflections, the weapon humming with barely contained power.

Sedna's smile widened at the sight. "Now you understand. Only one of us will leave this place alive."

To my surprise, she tossed aside her expensive glaive with casual indifference. The enchanted weapon clattered against the black brick street as Coln stepped forward, producing a simple-looking spear from beneath his robes. This weapon appeared crude compared to the discarded glaive, a plain wooden shaft topped with a dull, unremarkable stone point.

The moment I saw that stone, my body turned cold despite the volcanic heat around us. Recognition flooded through me from Vardin's inherited memories. The dull gray material, the way it seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it, the sense of wrongness that emanated from its surface. It was starstone. Meteoric material from beyond this world, the only substance capable of harming Primordial flesh.

Sedna's smile grew predatory as she watched my reaction. "My god has given me the weapons to ensure your death." She tested the spear's balance with practiced motions, the crude weapon becoming an extension of her will. "After killing you, I will gain the Mantle and join my lady as the God of War."

She lunged without further warning, her small form shooting toward me with inhuman speed. The starstone spear thrust forward like a striking viper, aimed directly at my chest. I lashed out with several tendrils, dragon heads snapping toward her with mechanical precision, but she somehow managed to dodge while still in mid-air. Her body twisted through impossible angles, using air currents to redirect her momentum and slip aside from my attacks.

My tendrils followed her movement, serpentine forms coiling through the space where she danced. The dragon heads opened wide, revealing rows of razor teeth ready to tear into her flesh. She stopped her evasive maneuvers suddenly and struck back, the starstone spear tip slicing across one of my extended tendrils.

White-hot agony exploded through my consciousness as the dull stone carved a deep gash across my supposedly invulnerable flesh. The sensation was unlike anything I had ever experienced; not the dull impact of failed attacks or the minor irritation of environmental hazards, but genuine pain that cut through divine immunity like it was mortal skin. The blood-red wound gaped open, stark against the pale surface of my tendril. There was no blood, no leakage; only a red scar that marred my otherwise perfectly white form.

The real battle had begun.

Sedna launched herself forward again, the swirling air currents around her compressing into focused streams that propelled her toward me like a living projectile. The wind itself became her ally, invisible hands pushing against her back and sides to accelerate her movement beyond what any mortal should achieve. I could see the calculation in her pale eyes as she closed the distance, already planning her next strike.

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I drove my tendrils into the broken street behind me, the dragon heads biting deep into volcanic stone and twisted metal. Using them as anchors, I pulled my massive frame forward with hydraulic force, meeting her charge head-on. My sword-lance came up in a defensive position as we hurtled toward each other, the blade gleaming with deadly intent.

She struck first, as I had expected. The starstone spear thrust out in a precise stab aimed directly at my face, the dull gray point cutting through the air with lethal purpose. I swept my sword-lance upward in a diagonal cleave that would have split her from hip to shoulder had it connected. The blade sang through the air with enough force to shatter stone, but she twisted away at the last possible moment. Wind currents grabbed her small frame and yanked her backward, turning what should have been a fatal blow into empty air.

The momentum of my missed attack left me slightly off-balance, and she seized the opportunity immediately. Air currents slammed into her back like invisible fists, launching her forward again before I could fully recover my stance. The starstone spear punched into my left side, the crude point sliding across where my ribs would have been had I had any.

Agony exploded through my divine form as the alien stone bit deep into my supposedly invulnerable flesh. This wasn't the dull impact of conventional weapons that had bounced harmlessly off my skin for months. The starstone carved through my pale surface like it was soft clay, opening another gaping red wound that burned with otherworldly fire. I hissed in pain and fury, the sound echoing off the ruined buildings around us.

My tendrils lashed out in retaliation, nine serpentine forms striking like angry vipers. Dragon heads opened wide, revealing rows of teeth ready to tear her apart. But once again the wind saved her, invisible currents grabbing her body and yanking her backward faster than my mechanical reflexes could follow. She danced away from my reaching tendrils with infuriating grace, her boots barely touching the ground as air pressure supported her weight.

I pressed my left hand against the wound in my side, feeling the depth of the puncture through my fingertips. The pain was unlike anything I had experienced since awakening as Vardiel; it cut through my divine consciousness like a blade through silk, reminding me that I was not as invincible as I had believed. The starstone's touch left a burning sensation that refused to fade, as if the alien rock continued to poison my flesh even after being withdrawn.

Sedna's lips curved into a predatory smile as she observed my reaction. "I expected better from a god," she called out, her voice carrying easily across the devastated street.

I sneered at her taunts, straightening to my full twelve-foot height despite the pain radiating from my side. Two small hits and you're already acting like you've won? My voice resonated with divine authority, each word pressing against her mortal mind. It took hundreds of heroes much stronger than you to put me down the first time. You'll need to do better than these little scratches to kill me.

Her smile vanished, replaced by a snarl of pure rage. The wind around her intensified, becoming visible as small cyclones that lifted debris from the street and set it spinning in tight orbits around her form. "Then let me show you what a real warrior can accomplish!"

She launched forward again, but this time her approach followed an erratic zigzag pattern. Air currents grabbed her body and threw her left, then right, then up and down in seemingly random directions. The unpredictable movement made targeting her nearly impossible; just as I aimed my tendrils at where she was, she would be somewhere else entirely.

I adapted my strategy immediately. Instead of trying to strike her directly, I spread my tendrils wide and began grabbing chunks of debris from the ruined street. Broken bricks, twisted metal, fragments of destroyed weapons; anything I could seize became a projectile. Dragon heads clamped down on the materials and hurled them at her with devastating force, filling the air with a deadly storm of improvised ammunition.

The barrage forced her to slow her advance, wind currents now devoted to deflecting projectiles instead of purely propelling her forward. She twisted through the air like a dancer, the starstone spear spinning in her hands to bat aside smaller pieces while air pressure diverted the larger chunks. But the constant evasion disrupted her rhythm and gave me the opening I needed.

One of my tendrils shot forward while she was focused on dodging a particularly large piece of masonry. The dragon head's jaws clamped down on her right shoulder with bone-crushing force, invincible teeth punching through her silver plate armor like it was made of paper. I felt the satisfying sensation of flesh tearing as the tendril ripped backward, taking a substantial chunk of her shoulder with it.

Sedna grunted in pain, the first sound of genuine distress I had heard from her. Blood poured from the ragged wound, staining her pristine armor crimson. Wind currents immediately grabbed her and yanked her back to a safe distance, but I could see the damage was severe. Her right arm hung limply at her side, barely functional.

"Coln!" she called out sharply, never taking her eyes off me.

The necromancer raised one skeletal hand, and I watched a sickly green glow envelop Sedna's wounded shoulder. The torn flesh began knitting back together with unnatural speed, muscle and skin regenerating in mere seconds. The bleeding stopped entirely, and she tested her restored arm with obvious satisfaction.

I cursed under my breath, suddenly remembering that necromancers were healers as well as death-dealers. Having a level 100 support mage backing her up changed the tactical situation dramatically. Any wound I inflicted could be healed within moments, while my own injuries would accumulate over time.

The solution was obvious: eliminate the healer first.

I bent down and grabbed a massive boulder from the rubble around us, the chunk of volcanic stone easily weighing several tons. My divine strength made it feel light as a pebble as I hefted it over my head and hurled it at Coln with all the force I could muster. The necromancer's clouded eyes went wide with alarm, but his corpse-like body was far too slow to dodge.

The boulder crushed him like an insect, his thin frame disappearing entirely beneath the massive stone. Blood and other fluids spread out from under the impromptu gravestone, and I felt a moment of satisfaction at removing the tactical advantage.

But Sedna didn't even glance at her fallen ally. Her pale eyes remained fixed on me with unwavering intensity, as if the death of her support meant nothing to her.

Without a single look at Coln's body, she launched herself at me again.

I struck out with multiple tendrils simultaneously, dragon heads spreading wide to create an impenetrable net of steel teeth. But she flowed through the gaps like liquid wind, her small frame twisting through impossible angles to avoid every strike. She closed to melee range in the space between one heartbeat and the next, the starstone spear slicing across my left bicep in a shallow but painful cut.

I countered with my sword-lance, the golden blade sweeping toward her in a horizontal arc that would have bisected her at the waist. She brought the wooden shaft of her spear up to block, the crude weapon somehow strong enough to stop my long blade. Sparks flew as wooden shaft met steel, and wind currents immediately grabbed her to carry her back out of my reach.

I didn't wait for her next attack. Instead, I drove my tendrils into the street behind me and pushed myself forward with explosive force, closing the distance before she could fully retreat. She couldn't back up any further without crashing into the human soldiers behind her, so she chose to meet my charge head-on instead.

She twisted and swerved through the air as my tendrils lashed out, her body moving like smoke given form. Each strike missed by fractions of inches as wind currents redirected her momentum at the last possible moment. She struck out with her spear in return, but this time I managed to intercept the thrust with my sword-lance, the golden blade turning aside the starstone point.

She tried to pull back using wind propulsion, but I was ready for the maneuver. My sword-lance shot forward in a precise thrust aimed at her right knee, the golden tip seeking to cripple her mobility. The blade missed by the barest margin, close enough that I felt the displaced air from her dodge.

But I had anticipated this outcome. As the sword-lance extended to its maximum reach, I triggered the hidden mechanism within its hollow construction. The mana charge I had stored in the weapon's secret chamber detonated with a sharp crack, launching a lead projectile from the concealed barrel at tremendous velocity.

The bullet took Sedna completely by surprise. She had been focused on dodging the blade itself, not expecting a secondary attack from the same weapon. The projectile punched through her right knee with devastating effect, shattering bone and tearing through cartilage before burying itself deep in the joint.

Sedna's scream of agony echoed off the ruined buildings as she was carried backward by her own wind currents. She landed heavily some distance away, leaning on her spear for support as blood poured from the mangled joint. Her right leg was clearly useless, the knee joint destroyed beyond any hope of normal function.

"Coln!" she called out desperately, her voice cracking with pain.

I almost laughed at her desperation. Had she forgotten that her ally was nothing but paste under several tons of rock? But then I saw the familiar green glow enveloping her wounded knee, the torn flesh beginning to knit back together with the same unnatural speed as before.

Confused, I looked around for the source of the healing magic. Coln's crushed corpse remained exactly where I had left it, clearly beyond any possibility of casting spells. But nearby, I spotted a human soldier with glowing green hands extended toward Sedna. The man had numerous wounds covering his body, and his face was pale and bloodless. Most disturbing of all, his eyes were hollow and dead, exactly like Coln's had been.

A chill ran through my divine form as understanding dawned. This wasn't just a soldier; this was one Coln. His "body" were corpses animated by necromantic magic and possibly controlled remotely. The Hand of Death wasn't truly dead at all; he was simply operating from a safe distance while using disposable bodies to maintain his support role. After his previous puppet had been destroyed, he used his powers to reanimate one of the dead corpses here to bring himself back onto the battlefield. It was a clever and devious strategy.

I was forced to shelve my shock as Sedna, her knee now fully healed, launched herself at me once more. The starstone spear gleamed with deadly intent as she closed the distance, and I knew this battle was far from over.