Everybody loves large ch.., p.1
Everybody Loves Large Chests - 06, page 1
part #6 of Everybody Loves Large Chests Series
Everybody Loves Large Chests
Volume Six: Mortimer
A book by Neven Iliev
Prologue
The city of New Whitehall had suffered through hours of protracted battle between the Empire and the Republic only to then bear host to the titanic clash between two demonic Overlords. Their respective otherworldly minions wrought havoc on both sides and against each other, further adding to the chaos, death, and destruction. The chaos came to an abrupt end when Nagnamor’s Armageddon instantly destroyed himself, Liusolra, their demonic underlings, and a significant chunk of the city. What was left of the two armies was somewhere between a third and a quarter of their original number, rendering both sides effectively annihilated in terms of military strength. The immense damage to the city itself had left most of it either reduced to ash or in the process of becoming ash.
As if that wasn’t enough excitement for one day, every single person left in or around New Whitehall was treated to yet another absurdity in the moments following Armageddon.
[Clash of Fate has been invoked!]
[The Hero of the Hammer will now face the Hero of Chaos on the field of battle!]
[None may interfere in this righteous contest!]
[May destiny smile upon the victor!]
Most troops were aware that Teresa’s chosen would take part in the fighting, but nobody could have imagined that another Hero would stand in his way, let alone that one. The God of Discrepancies was somewhat infamous among the more seasoned adventurers and military officers, but largely unknown to the common soldiery. Mable was, without a doubt, the most obscure deity with the tiniest following, a seemingly insignificant player on the divine stage whose religion was more akin to a cult. It made absolutely no sense for Margaret’s Hero to be at New Whitehall, which, in a way, made it the most logical place for her Hero.
[Clash of Fate has been resolved!]
[The Hero of Chaos has defeated the Hero of the Hammer with a flawless victory!]
The old saying ‘when it rained, it poured’ was in full effect as the unlikely events piled on. The rogue variable springing seemingly out of thin air had triumphed over a man backed by the continent’s largest religion and most powerful nation. With a flawless victory, no less. However, the victorious Hero collapsed immediately after accomplishing that monumental feat. Given the situation, the surviving nine men and women who witnessed Keira’s duel did the only thing they could think of – retreat. They had no idea what sort of attention the flashy Clash would attract, so they decided to hastily depart the ash-filled desert in search of what remained of the Republic’s chain of command. Yet, before they left, the troops had to make a rather difficult decision.
“This don’t feel right,” a human scout grumbled. “This psycho killed Holt and the others, and put the Dec in a coma.”
“I’m with Mikey,” an elf soldier agreed. “Rather than bringing him with us, we should cut his balls off and shove them down his bloody throat.”
“Do you wanna get Taboo? Because that’s how you get Taboo,” Kaleera reminded them.
“How’d we get Taboo for that?!” the warrior questioned.
“Because Mortimer,” she simply said.
The Warlock was the closest thing the group had to an expert on the occult. Granted, she’d focused her Skills and studies on the practical applications of ruinous powers rather than their lore, but she knew enough.
“It is not our place to pass judgement on the dead,” Kaleera explained. “Whatever sins or crimes the man committed were forgiven with his death. This is the Final Mercy of Mortimer, the God of Death. To mutilate a corpse out of malice and vengeance is to go against that decree.”
Mikey wasn’t especially religious, nor did he care about getting a bit of Taboo. He knew plenty of people who had the stigma. However, the elf Warlock made a good point. There was no point in holding a grudge against a dead man. That was something both the Warrior and the Rogue understood and agreed on even though they were quite upset. More importantly, that matter had very little to do with Mikey’s issue.
“No, okay, I get that. I just don’t understand why we have to drag the fucker’s corpse back with us,” he argued. “His armor’s plenty heavy and would only slow us down even more.”
They already had to carry the unconscious redhead and what little remained of their fallen comrades. Hauling the dead Hero on top was a bit much.
“Oh, I’m sure the higher-ups will find a use for it,” Kaleera’s eyes narrowed. “They might parade it around a bit, maybe trade it to the Imps for something valuable. We’re capturing a symbol here. It’s, like, a strategic and political resource.”
“Is it really worth risking our butts? There might be more demons or enemy soldiers around. Not to mention the city surrounding this crater is slightly on fire in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“I know!” the Warlock raised her voice. “I know, damnit. Ugh, really wish the Dec could tell us what to do.”
With Keira out of it and no way to contact Republic command, the grunts couldn’t decide on the best course of action. Not a single soldier among them had the military authority to make that call, though there was someone with an unmatched sense of superiority.
“Are you meatbags still whining about this?”
Fizzy hadn’t wasted any time on pointless arguments and instead focused on gathering her left arm’s shattered remains. The Artifact-grade shield-gauntlet that once adorned the limb was intact, but the rest of it was in over a dozen pieces. Both the item and the mithril shards were bundled up in an improvised sack that hung off the golem’s neck, resting against her chest. On the whole, she seemed to be taking this dismemberment thing surprisingly well. Given how notoriously self-obsessed she was, the others in the unit had expected her to go berserk.
She did a good job hiding it, but Fizzy was most assuredly upset at losing a limb. However, being a former gnome and a golem on top, she was over it. Boxxy had already humiliated and killed the meatbag responsible, which satisfied her spiteful side for the most part. Besides, odds were good she could have the arm repaired and reattached by a golem-smith. Therefore, her most pressing concern was her Hero’s safety. Boxxy was alive, but vulnerable, and the way those meatbags flailed around in indecision really ticked her off. She had half a mind to just grab Keira and run off, and probably would’ve done that if she didn’t feel incapable of adequately defending the unconscious shapeshifter by herself. She wouldn’t normally hesitate, but even her massive ego couldn’t ignore the loss of an arm.
Thankfully, like any good Artificer, she came up with an optimal and efficient solution to the grunts’ moronic dilemma.
“Look, I’ll grab the dead guy. I can easily lift him and his gear with just one arm. If things get dicey before we make it to safety, I’ll just drop him and we make a run for it.”
The troops instantly agreed to this acceptable compromise and went along with Fizzy’s plan. In actuality, the golem preferred to leave the dead bastard behind, but she knew Boxxy. The greedy shapeshifter would absolutely throw a hissy fit if Fizzy didn’t at least make an attempt at retrieving the Hero’s equipment, especially that Demonbane weapon. For better or worse, the group avoided getting into any scuffles and succeeded in linking up with remnants of the 2nd and 3rd Republic Legions. They rapidly made their way back to the half-demolished city hall building where the rest of their forces had reestablished a perimeter, so Fizzy’s group was able to deliver Bernard Samson’s remains.
Unfortunately for the golem, her consideration backfired as the Legion informed her that the captured equipment would be confiscated and locked away until they decided what to do with it. At least she tried. There was nothing left for her to do but to remain vigilant by Keira’s side until she woke up, which was precisely what she proceeded to do. Or, rather, attempted to do. Barely an hour after returning to base, a strange woman visited the golem and the unconscious redhead. She was a flat-chested elf with mismatched eyes wearing a high-ranking uniform common to the Republic military’s strategic officers.
She introduced herself as Primus Cecilia Underwood, and she had an outlandish yet disturbingly accurate theory regarding the newly revealed Hero of Chaos.
Chapter One
In Armageddon’s Wake
Part One
The Lodrak Empire and the Ishigar Republic had called an unofficial truce of sorts. There were no parlays, demands, or waving of white flags, yet both sides silently came to the same conclusion. Their armies were ravaged, disorganized, and demoralized beyond measure by the demonic incursion of not one, but two Overlords. Confusion reigned supreme, and neither military could accurately ascertain how many casualties were incurred. Was the Empire’s invasion force in tatters? Did the Republic troops possess the strength to sally out and push the humans back in a sudden counterattack? Would those responsible for calling those sentient disasters from the Beyond do so again if hostilities resumed?
It would be folly for any general to engage the enemy with so many gaps in their information. Both sides did what they thought best and entrenched their positions in and around New Whitehall’s ruined remains. The battle was over for the moment, but the war wasn’t. The number one priority was gathering the scattered troops and treating their injuries to return them to fighting condition. The catgirl of the hour was naturally given special care and attention. Unfortunately, the military medics couldn’t ascertain what was wrong with Keira. Physically, she was in remarkably good health,
The medics had no choice but to employ a ‘wait and see’ approach. They moved the redhead to a relatively intact house where she was given her own private room. The conscripts and soldiers under her command could do little but worry and pray for her safety. At first, they did so openly and vocally, but as the hours rolled on their vigil turned silent and grim. The only exception was the mithril oddball in the group. Fizzy wasn’t worried in the slightest and kept herself busy tending to her damaged equipment. The quiet scraping and clacking of her instruments and the muffled shouts from the street outside were the only noises permeating Keira’s bedside.
“Hnnn…”
And then, after twenty dreadful hours, she finally showed signs of activity.
“Dec? Dec! Guys, she’s waking up!” yelled Mikey with a stupid grin on his face.
Upon hearing the Rogue’s words, the other ten people in the room quickly surrounded the catgirl’s bed while a dozen more gathered outside the open door. They watched in awe and relief as the beastkin’s yellow eyes fluttered open. Her blank, lazy stare scanned over them, until it focused on a particular elven Warrior’s face.
“Sy… Syme?” she uttered in a low whisper. “Is that… you?”
“Yes! I’m right here, Dec!” he responded enthusiastically, moving closer to her side.
“I… Nnngh,” she groaned. “Your… your…”
“What? What is it?”
The elf knelt down to her bedside putting his ear closer to her mouth to hear her better.
“Your breath reeks.”
“… Huh?”
“I said your breath stinks,” she repeated, louder this time. “Smells like something crawled inside your mouth, died, came back to life, farted, and then died again.”
Syme and several others could no longer contain their joy and threw themselves at Keira’s upper body, hugging her from all sides while shouting with joy. The ones standing outside wanted to rush in as well, but the room was far too cramped so they had to wait for their turn while cheering loudly.
“Aaargh!”
That lasted for all of ten seconds before a scream of pain put an abrupt end to the celebration. One of the troops backed away from the Decanus while clutching his hand, which was bleeding heavily from three long cuts. Sensing their commanding officer’s ominous intent, the others immediately left her personal space. A passing glance revealed that the catgirl herself was the injury’s cause evidenced by the bloodied claws at her fingertips.
“If one of you tries to grope my boobs again, I swear to whatever God is listening that I will slice the offending appendage off and then ram it down your throat.”
She spoke in a voice dripping with bloodlust while her sharp, predatory glare caused everyone present to break out in a cold sweat.
“Are we clear?!”
“Yes, Ma’am!”
“Good. Now then. Syme – where are we?”
“We’re back at base, Ma’am. What’s left of it, anyway.”
“And how long was I out?”
“About twenty hours, Ma’am. It’s almost noon the day after you lost consciousness.”
The girl’s eye twitched involuntarily. That was way too long. Then again, the monster inside was told it would be out for days or even weeks, so this outcome was somewhat of a pleasant surprise. It would appear even Kevin had underestimated Boxxy’s mental fortitude.
“And the VIP?” Keira pressed.
“Safe and sound, Ma’am,” Syme reported. “She still hasn’t woken up, last I heard. As for our unit, everyone else managed to make it back without suffering… additional losses.”
Keira’s eyes and ears visibly drooped at the mention of casualties. It showed that no matter how strict or scary she seemed out in the field, she still cared about the lives of each and every soldier in her charge.
“Thank you, Syme. What about the Empire?”
“They’ve been real quiet ever since the, uh, situation. I don’t think they have the balls to challenge us after everything that happened, and our side isn’t exactly willing to go at it either. Especially not since the whole Clash of Fate thing…”
“Oh… Right, of course. I guess that makes sense…”
An awkward silence descended upon the group until Mikey addressed the sphinx in the room.
“So… Dec… Ma’am. You were a Hero all this time?”
Keira averted her eyes and gripped the edges of the old blankets covering her.
“Yeah…”
Initially, the human Rogue wanted to question why she didn’t just challenge Bernard if she was a Hero herself. If she had, then surely Holt and the others would still be alive, right? However, once he cooled off and talked things over with the rest of the squad, he understood this was not the case. If she had rushed headfirst into that fight before properly studying her opponent, she would have been the one getting turned into salt. Then, with her out of the way, that guy would have pummeled the rest of them into dust. It wasn’t fair to put the blame of those three deaths on her shoulders. Sacrificing others for the sake of victory was an unfortunate yet necessary part of warfare. Besides, even if those guys knew ahead of time that things would turn out that way, they would have accepted their fate with smiles on their faces.
Rather than badger her about a past that could not be changed, Mikey instead chose to focus on the present.
“So… what’s it like?” he asked. “Being a Hero, I mean?”
“Uhm… There’s nothing special about it, really,” she nervously answered.
“But Heroes get those unbeatable divine Skills, don’t they?”
“I don’t know what sort of Skills others get, but being the Hero of Chaos is… It’s a liability.”
“A liability? How do you mean?”
The redhead took a deep breath before continuing.
“Remember when my hair caught fire a few days ago?”
“You mean when you messed up starting a campfire?”
“I didn’t mess up. It caught fire all on its own.”
“It… did?”
“One of those ‘divine Skills’ you mentioned? It causes random things to happen around me. If it isn’t turning my head into a torch, it might make me sneeze uncontrollably. Or maybe I get teleported twenty meters straight up in the air and break my leg when I land. Perhaps I’ll even transform into a potted plant for a while with no way to stop it. Sure, sometimes it’s helpful and amplifies my attacks or heals my wounds, but even then, I can’t really take advantage of it. I have no control over it whatsoever… I can’t even turn it off! I may just get struck by lightning and die on the spot one day! It’s… terrifying!”
The squad fell silent as they could only imagine the mental strain this must place on a person. That wasn’t to say that death couldn’t randomly sneak up on a person, but that Skill sounded positively sinister. Not only did it constantly remind its user that they could win the death lottery at any moment, but they also had extra tickets to it, too.
“Is… Is that why you haven’t told us, Ma’am?” asked Syme. “Or anyone, for that matter?”
“… No. I mean, if it was just that, then I could deal with it. But… the other Skill is even worse. At least the most that first one could do is hurt me personally. The other one, though… It causes disasters to happen around me everywhere I go.”
“Surely you’re exaggerating, Ma’am.”
“Don’t talk to me about exaggerating!” she snapped suddenly. “I mean, just look at my track record! I finally find myself a new home – a war breaks out. I go fight in said war – I suddenly have to play call-girl to some demon-loving stranger who, frankly, scares the crap out of me! Fuck, I had to turn five innocent dryads into weapons of mass destruction! Do you realize how ludicrous that sounds?! How crazy the very idea of that is?!”
“Ma’am, not for nothing, but aren’t those good things?” asked Mikey. “I mean if it wasn’t for-”
“Don’t you fucking say it!” she wailed at him, tears welling up in her eyes. “You’re not the one that caused a massacre by lying to innocent children! You’re not the one who has to worry whether their mere existence might destroy everything they hold dear! You’re not the one who had this fucking vortex of stupidity, and shit, and-and-and-and mayhem forced upon them by a God who just wanted to watch someone dance for his fucking entertainment!”
