Vigor Mortis

Chapter 143: Ironsoul

I can’t help but bounce excitedly a little in my seat as I wait for lunch to be served. Penelope sent us a ton of spices via teleportation, and even commissioned guides from the Hunter’s guild on where most of the spices could be gathered in the forest. I’m normally not much for flavor; food is food, and as long as it fills me up, I’m happy with it. This is compounded by my body’s universally dulled sensations ever since I became a living pseudo-Revenant all the way back when Norah was still alive. But no matter how much I insisted this was the case, the cooks just took it as a challenge, and they somehow managed to concoct a meal intense enough to bring joy to my tastebuds.

I’m surprised how much of the former Site 4 serving staff actually stuck with me, even after we made it clear we could teleport them out of here. I’m sure some of it has to do with the fact that Penelope insisted we use a sprinkle of cognimancy on anyone departing to make them forget where our camp is and that Penelope was ever there. But nonetheless, most weren’t interested because most of the serving staff is made up of former slaves. If they return to Valka, they’ll end up returning to servitude. And after I weeded out the bad apples, the former prisoners apparently ‘aren’t so bad.’

It’s honestly kind of amazing how much progress we’ve made out here in the last couple months. I wish I could even claim to be part of it, but pretty much all I do is make Risen and order them to obey other people that actually know what they’re doing. Everyone here has a home now, and between my hunts and the foraging efforts of some of the stronger people here, we’ve never had a day where someone goes hungry. That, more than anything, fills me with pride. We don’t have a currency here, everyone just helps everyone with what needs doing. When people disagree firmly enough on what that is, I step in to make the executive decision, but overall the place runs itself quite well. I doubt we’d have much success if our population was much bigger, but… for now, this little village is doing great. We’re even starting some farming efforts, since between Penelope’s biomancy and my undead we can keep the forest at bay pretty reliably. Of course, it’ll be months before our initial farms have their first harvest, but still!

“Your horrifying crime against the culinary arts is ready, Queen Vita,” a female voice announces, dripping with amused sarcasm as she plops my highly anticipated serving of stew and bread in front of me on the table. Yes!

“Hey, don’t blame me!” I jab back at her. “You guys took it on yourselves to make this.”

“That doesn’t make it any less horrifying,” she insists. “We can’t even taste test this thing without our mouths catching fire.”

This young woman is the same one I sorta-saved back at Site 4 when one of the prisoners started getting handsy with her. She calls me ‘Queen Vita’ as a joke; most people don’t do that and I don’t really expect anyone to. She also has a huge crush on me, whereas I can’t even remember her name. One of these days I’ll try to direct her towards the other hopeless lesbian in the camp, since everyone seems to be too awkward to just ask whether a woman happens to be interested in them, but I haven’t gotten around to it yet.

“Pain is a surprisingly enjoyable flavor,” I agree, shoveling the food into my mouth, where it proceeds to burn delightfully. “Never would have expected that, honestly.”

“Perhaps it’s a side effect of dating Lady Vesuvius,” Excorio manages to say without a hint of sarcasm.

Snorting with amusement at her comment, I shake my head. Most of the living members of the camp are here eating together, though they get a very different batch of stew than I do.

“I don’t let her torture me,” I clarify. “She’s already a bit uncomfortably horny without anything to get her excited.”

A few awkward and amused coughs resound from around the table, and I smirk as I continue to eat.

“I miss sex,” Penta complains with a sigh slowly absorbing the contents of a jar full of forest bugs. Many of the former-Nawra-now-ozoids nod their heads solemnly.

“Aren’t literally all of you virgins?” Norah asks. She’s not eating anything, of course, but she enjoys floating behind me and hanging out with everyone.

“Maybe technically, but most of our hosts weren’t,” one of the Nawra answers. “We know what it’s like.”

“What about you, To-Kill?” another asks. “Do your people fuck? You miss it?”

“I was never and likely will never be granted the honor of copulating with one of the immortal mothers,” To-Kill-From-Above intones. “However, my male partners are dead. I am willing to confirm that I miss them.”

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry, dude.”

“Your apologies are welcome, but unnecessary. They died slaughtering the people of Verdantop, as was their honorable duty.”

“…Oh, uh. Cool.”

“I am willing to confirm that fulfilling the purpose of our existence is ‘cool,’ and express reassurance that I will likely perish before my duties require me to slay you. We may remain friends.”

The Nawra respond with various acknowledgements and awkward thank-yous. They’re a lot bigger nowadays, having substantially increased in mass since we finished reanimating all of them. A few humans also adapted to ozoid bodies fairly well, but the vast majority of them had similar reactions to Angelien, and I’m currently still storing them inside me. Though hopefully we’ll have a safer storage method ready soon.

I return to eating my heavenly meal, but soon a prickle at the edge of my senses distracts me. Frowning, I focus on it… and find human souls. Human souls in the forest, huh? Pretty strong ones, too. Wait… there’s more. I feel my eyes widen as more and more people start walking into my sensory range, a literal army of… no, wait. I’m being an idiot. This is an army, but not the army.

The Templars are coming for me.

“Shit,” I hiss, quickly gulping down the rest of the stew in one go and using the bread to clean the bowl before downing it. “It’s time. They’re looking for us.”

Excorio stands up, her gaze furious.

“Templars?” she hisses in confirmation.

I nod.

“Yep. A lot of them. They really pulled out all the stops, like Penelope said they would. They’re sweeping the forest, heading this way.”

“We will slay them for you,” Excorio hisses.

“You will stay here and protect the camp,” I insist. “Or… the town, I guess. And if the Templars make it here, you surrender. Understand?”

“Vita…” she growls, but I cut her off.

“I’ll retreat if things get too hot,” I promise. “But they don’t know what they’re messing with. They won’t make it here.”

“‘Retreat if things get too hot,'” Penta muses. “Was that a Galdra the Annihilator pun?”

“No.”

I grind my teeth slightly, Norah floating behind me as I storm off towards Theodora. She’s in her research warehouse, as usual, so I head straight there and let myself in.

“Tell me you’re ready,” I snap at her.

“I’m ready,” she answers automatically, then grasps the side of her head and shakes it. “Er, no, I mean I’m not ready. Not quite. We could maybe do some test storage, but I’m only about ninety percent confident that—”

“It’s going to have to do,” I interrupt her. “We’re out of time. Templars are coming, and I need to intercept them. Are your anima storage units going to be more or less safe than me fighting an army prepped for soul-killing?”

“Oh, fuck,” Theodora breathes, sucking on the inside of her cheek. “Probably… probably safer, yes. I’ll want Margarette and Jeremiah all here to help me keep an eye on things and manage possible failures, though.”

“It will be done,” I promise, and she leads me into a room of horrors.

Theodora’s mutated rat-incubators have come a long way since the first time I saw them. Their initial phase existed as a prototype for storing soulless bodies, but now they’ve been reworked into the opposite: a body in which to store dead souls where the Mistwatcher can’t sense them, in the same way my own body does so.

Our solution turned out to be relatively simple: make a body tangible to souls, and the Mistwatcher won’t mess with any souls inside it. But the obvious problem with making a body tangible to souls is the fact that souls can’t enter a body that’s tangible to them. I can make my body tangible or intangible to souls at will, mixing and matching the two however I like in whatever configurations I like, which is why my body can hold them. I can just ‘let them inside,’ then seal my body up to hold them in place.

Our ultimate solution is… a bit grotesque, mainly because we’ve been rushing the result in anticipation of having to use it ASAP. Penelope’s soul tangibility spell is either completely on or completely off, so to emulate the way my body stores souls we had to create the body itself in such a way that it allows souls to be ‘let inside.’ And thus, all around me I see the bloated, capacious bodies of tortured rats that have been reshaped so that they have a vast, hollow center on the inside. They have an entrance to that fleshy cavern now, but once I fill them with souls they will be sealed up, only to be cracked open when I return. This way, even if something happens to me, Angelien will be safe. …And so will the hundreds of other people inside me, I guess.

As hastily as we can without making mistakes, I fill up the living receptacles and let Theodora use biomancy to seal them shut.

“Okay, well… everything looks good so far,” Theodora says nervously. “So I’ll keep them all safe in your place. Good luck out there, Vita. Come back safe.”

“I’ll do my best,” I answer, nodding.

She pulls me in for a hug, which I reciprocate. My heart keeps beating faster the closer I get to going out and facing the Templar army. There are hundreds of them! I can’t believe they’re committing this many troops against me while Ars is running around. I guess it’s good that they are, though, because it should mean Penelope’s part of the plan will go off without a hitch. She’s probably gotten her half of things started if the Templars are this deep into the forest already. So I have to do my part, too… and I have to protect all the former prisoners and slaves here in the town I somehow helped make. A queen has to treat her subjects as they deserve to be treated, and mine only deserve the best.

I exit the soul storage workshop, finding myself face-to-face with To-Kill-From-Above, who has been waiting for me.

“Athanatos of skin,” he greets me. I have no idea what it means, but from his soul I know he intends it as an address of great reverence. “I wish to face our mutual enemy with you, oh human Queen.”

I raise an eyebrow at him.

“There are hundreds of Templars out there,” I tell him. “And I have hundreds of undead. There’s no need for you to risk your life. I’ll be fine without you.”

He dips his head in acknowledgement.

“No Queen ever needs us. It is not a matter of need.”

“Okay, fine, but do I want you?” I counter. “What are you even going to do out there?”

A rush of air hisses out of the vents he breathes from, amusement tinging his spirit.

“There are many tall trees in the forest,” he informs me mirthfully, “so I shall kill them from above.”

I smirk. Alright, he got me with that one. But… hmm. I suppose he’s been pretty open about the fact that he inevitably wants to wipe intelligent life off of the island in order to claim it for his superiors, so I don’t really care that much if he dies.

“Sure,” I tell him. “Welcome aboard the Templar murder wagon.”

“Are we bringing a wagon?” he asks.

“No.”

A few more people all try to invite themselves onto my battlefield, but I firmly turn them all down. The only people that need to die today are Templars. To that end, all the Revenants I’m bringing along fall in that category as well. Manus and Ice Guy are going to be powerful backup, and the other Templar undead are all too happy to fight against their former allies as well. I’ve assigned them all squads of Dregs and Risen to command, since that should drastically increase their effectiveness.

Of course, there is one exception to my Templar-Revenants-Only rule. But… she’s invincible, and she makes me invincible, so bringing her along is kind of important. Gearing up, I make sure my new armor is fitting snugly and don my mask, the one Penelope had made for me years ago that mimics the appearance of my soul. No skin should be showing; otherwise, Norah can’t protect that part of me.

“Kick their asses, mom!” Vitamin cheers, and I give her one last squeeze before heading out.

“I’d have to be in an awfully weird situation if I’m resorting to kicking people,” I muse. “But I’ll see what I can do for you.”

She grins brightly, and I begin my march. Even after all my prep time, the Templars are still quite a few miles away. Miles of forest, so their progress is exceptionally slow. I almost wish I hadn’t cleared out so many monsters around our town since it makes approaching us drastically less dangerous, but I doubt they would have taken more than a couple dozen casualties on the way here anyway. It wouldn’t have been worth purposefully keeping the surrounding area more deadly.

Besides, they have a High Templar with them. Just the one, as far as I can tell, which strikes me as odd. I don’t recognize them, which means they’re probably High Templar Arden the Ironsoul. Feeling neither male nor female to me, Arden’s soul is like a massive desert: warm, dry, vast, full of hidden life but teeming primarily with death and danger. If this ends up as a battle, they’re my first target. And while it almost certainly will go to battle, I have to at least try to prevent a slaughter. One last chance.

When we’re about a thousand yards away from each other, I send mana down my tendrils and start shaping it into a sound creation spell loud enough for their whole army to hear. A thousand yards may as well be a thousand miles in the forest considering how much dense foliage is between us, but I’m fairly certain they know I’m getting close. A magical projection of my voice rings out from above them, as I speak my words.

“That’s an impressive army you’ve got there,” I intone, the words rumbling through the forest and shaking my enemies. “But if you’re looking for Ars, you’re going the wrong way. He’s not here.”

I feel them all stop in their tracks, their march halted. Good. Now for the tricky bit: hearing their response. Remote listening spells are way harder than remote projection spells and they take a lot of focus, but mine thankfully seems to work as I catch the words Arden shouts back at the sky.

“And what would be the right way to find him, then?” they respond. Good! Okay, they’re interested.

“I don’t know, but it’s nowhere within a five-mile radius. And he’s not in Skyhope either, or at least he wasn’t when I snuck in to check. If he gets anywhere within the same city as me, I’ll know.”

“I take it there’s no love between Liches, then?” Arden asks.

“It has nothing to do with him being a Lich,” I grunt. “It has to do with the fact that a lot of people I care about don’t want anything to do with him. I don’t remember the so-called ‘Ars crisis,’ but people I trust do and they say he’s bad news.”

I take a deep breath. This is it.

“I wouldn’t have any problem helping you defeat him,” I say. “We both agree he’s the greater evil. This doesn’t have to come to bloodshed.”

I let myself smile a bit as surprise and consideration ripple through the Templar ranks. Good, okay! They’re thinking about it! Most of them, anyway. But for whatever damn reason, Arden speaks up before they get much time to do that.

“You seek to cut a deal rather than answer for your crimes?”

My crimes? This little asswipe! I don’t fucking acknowledge the Templar’s ability to determine right from wong, so they don’t get to judge shit! Is imprisoning someone who’s just trying to help the fucking city and then beating her half to death whenever they feel like it a crime? Huh? Not according to the Templars!

Still, I grit my teeth and let that response go unsaid, trying to restrain myself to being as diplomatic as possible.

“If you want to think of it that way, sure,” I project. “I just want the people I care about to be safe, same as all of you. If that means fighting Ars Rainier, I’ll fight Ars Rainier.”

“You’d fight your own father?” the response challenges.

I almost resist the urge to roll my eyes before remembering none of them can see me, so I just do it.

“I barely even know the man,” I explain patiently. “He is in no way my father. The only father I’ve ever known lives happily in Skyhope, practices no animancy, and spends his life helping the needy.”

“But you do know him,” the High Templar counters. “You know him from when you personally set him free, fought alongside him to kill dozens of good men and women, before ultimately releasing him on the world! He was an ally of convenience to you, just like you’re proposing with us. We will not fall for your capricious deceit! You, Necromancer Vita, are an enemy of the Church and state. And we will have justice for what you’ve done!”

And just like that, the Templars are against me again. Damn it! Damn it, damn it, damn it! Why are things always like this?

“So that’s it, then?” I hiss out. “You’re just going to piss your lives away fighting someone that offers you peace while the real villains wait comfortably for you to lose? This won’t end well for you. You’ll all die for nothing.”

“You think we’ve come all this way for threats to cow us now?”

“Why is it that people always interpret my honest assessment of a situation as a threat?” I grumble at them. “Turn around and leave. Those that retreat or surrender will not be slain. But those that continue encroaching on my territory will die.”

I wish I could say I’m surprised when every single one of them starts marching forward. I sigh. Fine. I’m disappointed, but I knew this was probably how it had to be. I order my army forward, gnashing my physical and spiritual teeth with frustration. Arden comes first, followed by every single Inquisitor I can sense. Considering how many people have a soul shield spell on, they really didn’t make it difficult for me to find them. I’ll have to scythe through most of the army to get to them, so… I guess I’ll save Jelisaveta for last. She’s here, because of course she is, alongside Lark, Bently, and… that Melik kid from Litia village, I think? Damn, okay. Well, the hope now is that when all the annoying loudmouths are dead, Jelisaveta can convince the survivors to retreat. Because if not… it’s gonna be only her again. And judging by the dread in her soul, I think she knows that.

Good.

Now then… dealing with Arden. They’re a long-ranged powerhouse, capable of annihilating huge areas all at once. But Penelope is fairly sure those areas have to emanate from Arden themself, not created in arbitrary locations. The fact that I sense Arden at the front of the army supports this; an Arden that could create a death zone detached from their own body would hide in the back behind cover, while an Arden that destroys everything in a line between them and their target has to stand at the front or hit their own allies when firing forward. So the safest place for me to fight Arden is therefore obviously in the middle of the Templar army.

“Full charge ahead,” I order. “Manus, I want you to throw me.”

“What?”

“Pick me up over the tree canopy and throw me as hard as you can into the middle of their formation,” I order. “They won’t be able to see me coming until it’s too late. Gooey, go kill.”

“Kill!” Gooey chirps excitedly, blasting off through the forest. “Kill me!”

“What a good boy,” I coo after him, feeling Manus’ talent lift me into the sky… until suddenly, it flickers and starts to fade.

I fall back down to the ground as a rush of wind… no, it’s not wind. Mistwatcher mana blows like a gale at my back, the pull too strong for any of my Revenants to take it into their own souls. It all condenses at a single point… or more accurately, a single person. Arden the Ironsoul. But why? They shouldn’t have any idea where we are. Are they just going to blind fire? Why would they…

My mind blanks out, a rush of terror halting my thoughts as I peer into Arden’s soul and sense their intent. No way. No fucking way.

“Fliers up!” I scream. “Everyone that can get off the ground, do it now! Manus, take my mana!”

I shove tentacles into my Inquisitor Revenant, pumping him with my own essence as he hastily lifts me and as many other people as he can high above the treetops. And then the world turns gold.

A brilliant beam of yellow rips through the forest below me, a cylinder of annihilation at least fifteen feet thick. And in barely a second, I watch it sweep, tearing through the forest in a wide arc, everything it touches obliterated by raw, concentrated power. When I can see anything other than the blinding flash of energy, I realize there is nothing below me. No trees. No animals. No undead. Just scoured stone. A shockwave hits us, mana and air rushing in to fill the void that is left as I gape open-mouthed at where nearly my entire army had once been.

Right. That’s what a High Templar is. I somehow forgot.

“What are you waiting for?” I growl at Manus. “Throw me in there. Norah, go cause chaos.”

“What!? But Vita—” Norah starts to protest.

“They’re grouped up,” I snap. “Literally everyone that gets in range to attack me is just going to die and the rest won’t be able to shoot at me. When they wise up and spread out I’ll call you to protect me, but until then I want you splitting their attention. Plus, Arden’s attack would kill us both even if you were protecting us. Manus, fucking throw me!”

He does, and I’m sent flying through the air towards the Templars. There’s no way Arden will be able to fire another blast like that any time soon, I can feel their exhaustion. Judging by the spread of obliterated trees, their range is under half a mile… or at least it is when there’s a ton of shit in the way. Maybe Arden could fire a lot further if there was nothing in their way. Still, my approach goes largely unimpeded, partially because the vast majority of the Templar army is still unable to see the sky through the canopy but mostly because Manus can throw things very, very fast. If they’re going to destroy my army, fine. I’ll just make a new one. Spreading my tendrils as far as they’ll go, collecting control shards and prepping them, I crash into the Templar army like a cannonball, every one of them within a dozen feet of me suddenly switching to my side as I rip their souls out and infect them with my own. I bark out orders, setting them to cut their former allies up. A twinge of amusement runs through me as I feel a few of them respond with mirth rather than horror. Some people just adapt to death really well.

With their own troops now in their line of fire, I sprint directly towards Arden as my many flying undead descend to join the fight. Ordering them to converge on the High Templar, I feel that telltale rush of mana start converging on them. Shit, already!? Arden can already fire that thing again? Are they going to fire it at their own troops?

I suppose, from Arden’s perspective, it’s nearly impossible to tell whether or not the Templars in my general direction are their troops. Or maybe they’re just that callous. Either way, I need to move now. I perform an evasive zig-zag, bodily lifting up one of my new Templar Revenants and hurling him at Ironsoul, but I’m too slow. Their hand comes up, and they fire.

It’s nowhere near as massive and powerful a blast as the first one, only about five feet in diameter, but I still watch it obliterate every person still standing between Arden and myself as it makes its way towards me. I swerve to dodge out of the way, but instinctively feel I’m not going to make it. Panicking, I concentrate as much mana as I physically can into my own hand, holding it out in front of me so the blast hits it first. My mana fights the incoming beam of death for only a split second before being overpowered, but the resulting explosion hurls me head-over-heels out of the pathway of mana blast. Holy shit, I can’t believe I pulled that off. I survived.

Then I notice a splatter of blood eject itself from the stump of my shoulder, and the pain hits. It’s completely gone. Hand, arm, and every bit of my soul that threaded inside them. I bite down on a shriek of agony, closing off my broken blood vessels and continuing my rush towards Arden as they stagger in surprise. Tendrils lash out at them as I finally get in range, but balls of concentrated mana suddenly coat the Ironsoul’s arms and legs, allowing them to physically block the parts of me reaching out to yank out that massive, gorgeous soul in a flurry of martial-arts-style blocks and parries.

“Not today, Necromancer!” Arden bellows. “Not ever! The Templars have weathered worse. We prepared for you!”

“Now,” I hiss.

Arden’s arrogant ass actually takes a second to realize I’m not talking to them, and by then it’s too late. The High Templar’s head splatters like a watermelon dropped off a cliff, crushed into goop by two massive, invisible paws. Hah! All that offensive power, still trapped in the body of a weak, fragile human. ‘We prepared for you.’ I had nearly two months to myself, asswipe. I’ll admit, the Templars figured out some terrifying tricks.

But I found a fucking dragon.

Over fifty thousand pounds of flying, undead lizard with a stealth-based kynamancy talent. Invisible body, silent flight. And destroying the trees just gave it all the room it needed to maneuver around with impunity. It’s easily my most powerful Risen, though it’s not quite smart enough to be a Revenant. Dragons are terrifyingly dangerous animals, but still animals. They’re good at following orders, though.

Pulling out a shard, I spear Arden’s soul and bend it to my whim before placing it back in their now-headless body. Time to turn that power onto my side. I open my mouth to give the order when I feel a sudden flash of power from the the High Templar’s armor. A rune activates, and Arden’s corpse detonates in a massive explosion that not only flings me through the air but obliterates the soul I’d just then rooted inside it. Then, one after the other, self-destruct runes start to go off on all of my newly-converted Revenants, reducing their bodies—and therefore their souls—to dust.

Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me. Are they seriously all wearing remote-activated suicide gear!? Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck fuck! These insane, zealous bastards!

“Fine, then!” I howl. “You wanna destroy your own souls that badly? Then you’re all food! Norah!“

Shrieking with frustration, I burst through the army once again, their formations scattering as they try to get distance from each other to minimize the death I cause simply by moving. It doesn’t matter. As my scythe spins back into my remaining hand, decapitating everyone unfortunate enough to be in the way, we reap a bloody path from Inquisitor to Inquisitor, tearing through their anti-animancy experts like children. I feast on more and more of the fallen, feeling a tingle in the stump of my shoulder as a fleshy tentacle grows to replace my arm. I’ll admit, this fight isn’t going how I wanted it to at all. But between myself, Norah, Gooey, and my remaining undead, there isn’t much beyond a High Templar that I think can stop us, and I just took down the only one on the field. Though I suppose that does beg a question that has been nagging me since the start of this engagement.

Where the fuck is Galdra?