4… 3…
The elf girl’s face appeared in my view, attractive, but distorted with cruelty. She triumphantly raised an arm with a fine blade in hand and, as if in slow motion, began to lower it, shouting:
“I expel…”
Second Life! You managed to dodge death!
Would you like to revive where you died or go to your linked respawn point on the Isle of Kharinza?
I made the obvious choice.
“…you from Disgardium…”
The world darkened and Scyth revived in Kharinza.
Chapter 4. Death to the Destroying Plague!
TRYING TO CONTROL my racing heart, I sat on the raw earth of the graveyard, felt Behemoth’s gaze, heard his call. I doubted the Sleeping God would approve of me giving up the second temple without a fight.
My friends logged into Dis, surrounded the graveyard and called to me, but I didn’t react. I was thinking, staring distantly at a bright green blade of grass and not seeing it.
My head was pounding. A storm of chaotic thoughts rushed through it, drowning out everything else: We have to take out the Nucleus or all our plans will fail.
Needless to say, Eileen managed shock both me and Mogwai. But I was even more shaken by how close I’d come to losing my Threat status. Counting the time in the cocoon, I’d spent two minutes with a single thought: Scyth is doomed.
Sure, I’d turned mortal, but I was 150 levels above Mogwai and had the highest Resilience rank, plus stats strengthened by Sleeping Justice! And I still lost. Although Mogwai’s invulnerability was nothing new, his ability to neutralize the Montosaurus was impressive. When I was a legate, I’d poured my plague energy into my own scant arsenal of three unarmed combat moves. The undead druid had far more talents than me, and judging by what I’d seen, he was actively experimenting, finding new ways to empower his abilities. I couldn’t figure out how Mogwai had avoided the penalties of the twofold difference in level to the monster, and that bothered me. The only explanation was that he’d unlocked something like Path of Justice for class skills.
I wasn’t the only one favored by the gods. I didn’t know how long Eileen’s cooldown was for Innoruuk’s Punishing Hands, but I really hoped it wasn’t short. The damage it dealt easily smashed through Sleeping Invulnerability, Resilience and the Cold-Blooded Punisher set, then annihilated my huge health supply. And that was with an aura and perks that lowered incoming damage. How did the elf girl take Mogwai out, anyway? She killed him with Destroying Plague Immortality active! I doubted Mogwai would forgive that stab in the back. They’d been a hair’s breadth from eliminating me! Nether, I still couldn’t believe how lucky I was. Most of all, why hadn’t Eileen let the druid finish the ritual? They were both participating in it, after all. They both would have gotten a Rainbow Crystal, opening a portal to the highest-class treasury!
But all that was their problem. My problem was that now that Mogwai was free, the fort could be attacked at any moment. That threat hung over Kharinza and the Awoken like the Sword of Damocles. And that meant the fort had to be upgraded to a castle, and any teleportation of strangers into its territory had to be forbidden. And since it had come to that, I would have to talk to Tissa after all and find out if her treachery was a one-time action or if Mogwai now had unlimited access to the island. Obviously, Tissa would have to be kicked out of the clan.
The workers, cultists, kobolds and troggs had to be moved to Mengoza — that neighboring island I found while stuck in the Nether. I couldn’t stay on Kharinza to keep them safe, and I wasn’t much of a protector anyway, as it turned out. There were also rich deposits of ore on the new island, Ruins of the Departed to keep Infect busy, and mobs to level up on. They could conquer the place while the castle went up. With Righteous Shield, Kharinza would be relatively safe, and then we’d take them back there.
I’d have to discuss all this at length with the clan officers, of course, but first, a hard conversation with Behemoth loomed. What could I expect from him? Would he take someone else as his Initial, like the Nucleus had? Not likely — it wasn’t in his interests. But I doubted the conversation would be much fun.
Rising up, I stretched out my stiff body and nodded to my allies and followers who had swarmed into the graveyard and were waiting in tense expectation. In the dead silence, I walked toward the temple. They hadn’t seen the alternate future, and what had happened demoralized them: the battle was lost before it began; the Initial left the battlefield; Nergal’s followers triumphed, and the Destroying Plague got a huge boost to its progress. Scyth had appeared at the graveyard, and that meant a stronger power than him had emerged. What could I do to stave off their pessimism and defeatism?
As I walked to the temple, I tried not to focus on the gloomy faces of the downcast followers of the Sleepers, not to notice the harsh glances from beneath brows, the air crackling with energy before the storm. My allies wanted answers. I wanted to tell them something encouraging, but I couldn’t say anything until I’d met with Behemoth; they would tell I was faking it. I began to press through the crowd silently, and once I got to the stairs, they lost patience.
“What is this, chosen one of the Sleepers?” trogg chief Movarak growled at my back. “You have betrayed the hopes of our
