The blight was cleansed, but like a sore pustule, it left a scar behind. The land was dry, barren, devoid of all life. Even insects, microbes, bacteria, everything.
I hovered over the desiccated corpse that was once the nation of Windere. I'd defeated the Elder Black Dragon King, a mouthful of a designation, but it was a Pyrrhic victory. With his dying breath, he condemned the entire nation to undeath, a fate worse than death. Trust , I know enough of both.
One thought didn't leave my mind. This was orchestrated. Planned. I bet a group of very unhappy people will enter Windere and plumt my happiness score. I closed my eyes and sunk into a ditative state. I needed to think, use the information I had to plan the best course of action.
Not all my geasa broke. I could still fee the connection, the burden that ca with having a person bound to your will. Several, indeed. I followed them and it led west, to the nearest Kingdom. I couldn't tell who it was, but I intended to find out. I flew over the stone gatehouses at my borders, unmanned. The roads, deserted.
I paused. There was a smarter way to go around that. I went around all the people that I'd placed a geas on. I didn't rember about the bandits but I doubted they were the source of my uneasiness. The nobles. I went over them one by one, placing contracts on them.
A wicked smile spread in my face. Most of the blue blood assholes were alive. And exactly in front of . I placed contracts on them and dashed down the road. So focused on getting the truth out of their bleeding assholes - maybe literally - I was that I didn't use the fastest thod of travel through the trees. Instead, I flew, blasting over the air like a screaming chrod bullet in my gothic plate.
Hours later, I was getting close to my contracts. Tracking them was way easier than the vague feeling of the geas. I wasn't surprised when I found them inside the Royal castle of my neighbor. Ghostly, I crashed down through the walls and into the throne room.
The King was holding court. The escaped nobles from Windere were kneeling in the middle, flanked by the local nobility and a host of priests of Bundeus.
King Vanagon was listening to the refugees from Windere. The whole country was cursed by a plague of undeath and these brave souls ca to warn them. The usurper King Robin of Locksley awoke a great evil in his thirst for power and dood his nation. Bundeus had warned them of that, but Vanagon regretfully didn't listen. Now he couldn't even look at his childhood friend, the archbishop of the local chapter of Bundeus' church.
He was about to issue a proclamation declaring the usurper a heretic and enemy of the nation when a figure clad in shining tal crossed the throne room roof and wards as if they were nothing. He {Appraised} the figure and despaired.
{KIng}
Level 137
"Who are you, that dares intrude my throne room?" Vanagon asked, knowing very well the answer.
The tal figure didn't answer. He landed and swiveled his head left and right, before issuing a command. "Kneel and don't act. Move or talk and die."
His ring broke. Vanagon looked at his hand and saw. The enchanted ring that prevented [Assassins] from putting a bounty on his head broke. He felt the power of that order washing over him, but nothing happened. {Royal Order}, maybe? There was a wave of burning anger in the intruder's voice. It felt as if death itself was at his door.
He killed the Duke and forr Queen of Windere with a lance that looked like Force magic. Then he looked at the air over the corpses and waved a hand as if to dismiss a servant.
Then it happened. Vanagon's MP started to drop and burn his health. Every other person in the room suffered the sa thing. A haze in the air, a fluctuation in the magic. It burned. The mages and priests were the most affected. His Knights tried to react and fell down, convulsing and dying. It took re seconds.
Vanagon prayed to Bundeus for deliverance. He received none. The last thing he saw in life was a System ssage.
You died.
The pain stopped. Vanagon looked down and saw his corpse slumped on the throne. Around him, the ghosts of all the people in the throne room. In the middle, the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen. A shining soul. It was warm and cozy. Inviting and heartening. It was the intruder.
the intruder, the shining soul, spoke in his mind. The voice was warm. Enticing. Caring.
Vanagon's ghost answered.
He saw their souls. The Duke and Queen nodded. The Duke said.
King Locksley said.
It was instinctual. Vanagon knew the souls couldn't lie. The aura emanating from King Locksley prevented them from becoming true undead as much as his presence prevented their souls from passing on their own.
Vanagon asked, looking at the spirits of his nobles that perished with him.
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