Standing back to back, Horvac and Motark tried to break through. They cut down Irita as she blocked their path, but Francesca, now half a hundred levels higher than the pair, easily demolished both the ore and the ogre.
The two neutrals, Fang the gnoll and Adda the dryad, summoned mounts and tried to take off, but someone from Yoruba threw a net on them and nailed it to the ground with metal shards descending from the sky. The neutrals didn’t last more than two seconds after that.
The only survivor was Hinterleaf. The gnome must have had Crag’s buff. I couldn’t see him anywhere, but nothing else could explain the Modus leader’s huge supply of health. By now, the mage had put down almost the entire Yoruba raid with a series of mass spells, but he hadn’t reached the temple. He stood, assessing his chances, frowned. His eyes found me.
“Just a percent and a half… Scvth and you others… remember that there is a reason for your victory. Greed! One of our allies kept back a spare Armageddon scroll! That damn Glyph kept his artifact that could destroy any building to the very end! If he’d given it to one of the stealthers, the temple w^ould be destroyed! But no! Glyph wanted to complete Nergal’s quest himself! If only…”
While Hinterleaf gave his speech on human greed, I looked at my allies: after just defeating the united armies of civilized Dis, under the protection of the two strongest New Gods, they listened to the famous Modus leader open-mouthed. Did they at least realize that they were famous now too?
Babangida was the first to get it. He laughed, cut off the mage:
“Enough, old man! You lost. And that’s all we need to know!”
When the fire descended on Hinterleaf, he didn’t even tiy to defend himself. The old man was broken. He died without resisting.
The battle was over. A haze hung in the air. Only black craters remained of Tiamat’s oasis, but we’d done it. We’d protected the temple!
The surviving healers started reviving the dead raid group. Unfortunately, they couldn’t return the guardians to life. A scream tore me from my grief.
“There’s someone still there!” Yemi pointed.
Around three hundred yards from us, I saw the silhouette of a lone warrior. Focusing on it, I smiled.
“I’ll take care of this one.”
I flew to the last survivor of Nergal’s army of two hundred thousand—Tobias Asser, also known as Crag the warrior.
He tensed at first when he saw me, then smiled, waved.
“Hey, Scyth! This is becoming a good tradition,” he said, shaking my hand. “Did you win?”
“Yep. Why’re you here?”
“Modus’s strategists came up with the bright idea of burying me in the sand. Officially I was in the raid and buffing them, but I was actually just hiding from the allies. I see you’re alive again!”
“Yeah. Had to part ways with the Destroying Plague. You wanna rejoin us?”
“I really do,” he nodded. “But Hinterleaf and I have a deal until the event ends. After that, of course, they’ll want to eliminate me and I’ll try to escape… But even if I manage it, I’m afraid Nergal won’t approve, haha!”
“Whatever happens, Toby, even if you end up playing a new character, you’re always welcome,” I said. “Don’t doubt it for a second—your place is in the Awoken.”
“Thanks…” Crag looked around, businesslike. “Well, I’ll hit you first so Nergal doesn’t get excited, then you kill me as usual, okay?”
The warrior had reached level two hundred and six by buffing the Modus raid groups in the Lakharian Desert, but it still only took one hit to send him back to the graveyard.
I returned to my friends, looked at their grubby smiling faces, shook them and my allies by the hand. Then I remembered those we’d lost. Flaygray, Nega, Anf, Ripta, Patrick O’Grady… The sewer troggs of the Stone Rib, the ores of the Broken Axe… They were all dead, along with a thousand of the best mercenaries and gladiators from the Goblin League.
“We Yoruba will start gathering loot, I think,” Yemi told me, touching me by the shoulder. “There’s a great deal of loot!”
“We’ll help,” Crawler said.
They wandered through the battlefield, black and white with char and bones. I returned to Gvula to start restoring the temple right away. To my surprise, Tiamat was nowhere to be seen.
Gyula and I hugged. But he wasn’t smiling, and he didn’t say what I expected to hear.
“Something has happened at the fort, Alex. One of our boys contacted us, but didn’t give me any details—the connection cut out. I had other things to think about during the battle, but now nobody is answering me. Everyone is offline, even my sister Stephanie, and her shift only just started…”
The workers’ nicknames in the clan tab were all gray—offline. Feeling an insidious chill, I started casting Depths Teleportation.
“I’ll go see what’s happened. In the meantime, you restore the temple…”
The fort’s sole street looked lifeless. The Pig and Whistle tavern and all the buildings were destroyed. The Tree Protector was snapped and burnt. Not only that, but I couldn’t see any kobolds or noncitizens. The only surviving structure was Behemoth’s temple, but something was wrong with it too.
I landed and shock gripped my heart. A stick}’ slime covered the temple’s roof and columns. I couldn’t feel Behemoth’s presence. I walked around the temple and saw a small Plague Portal.
“I knew you’d come,” Mogwai’s acid voice carried down from above me. I raised my head and saw him sitting cross-legged on the temple roof. “How are things in the Desert, Scyth?”
“Where are my people?”
“People? Don’t make me laugh. Inwinova and kobolds. I put down ever\ last one of those whining dog creatures, even the cubs, and turned the inwinova undead. Didn’t you know that we need workers? One problem solved. By the way, how did you manage to turn yourself alive again?”
“How did you get to the island, dro?”
“Ah…” The Supreme Legate of the Destroying Plague spread his arms theatrically. “So rude! But what should
