Chapter 825 – Spoils of war (Patreon)

The Lone Wanderer scanned the ravaged battlefield, examining the defeated faces of the survivors. The groans of wounded humans and the irregular buzzing of crippled wasps sounded unnaturally loud closer to the ground, though the skies were still dominated by the collective hum of millions of healthy insects.

Tens of thousands of nobles had fallen, but over seventy thousand remained. Most were Greens, though there were about three thousand Blues and a few dozen injured Violets. Almost everyone had dropped to their knees or collapsed onto their backs, mourning their losses or simply awaiting judgement. The few who remained standing only did so to support their injured companions, and not one of them dared to reactivate the Dance under the three-eyed construct’s piercing gaze.

Remembering the spells aiming at the settlement, Percy and Nephthys found it easy to argue that every last one of these people deserved to die.

While much of the blame arguably lay with the nobles’ incompetent leaders, the fact remained that they had marched on the Fungal Spire on behalf of a traitor and slaughtered countless Starry Wasps. They’d also tried to kill Percy and his loved ones, so he would be well within his rights to return the favour.

But the decision would affect a lot more people than those present. For every mage kneeling, there were parents, spouses, and children waiting somewhere beyond the horizon to learn whether they were coming home.

Executing the nobles in cold blood would breed resentment in the hearts of their families and might result in an entire generation of mages who hated Percy’s guts. Even the commoners, who typically bore no blood relations to the culprits behind the invasion, and who made up the majority of Remior’s population, would not look upon such a brutal act kindly.

Granted, some resentment was already unavoidable, and it wasn’t like there was any mortal on Remior who would be capable of challenging Percy anytime soon, but he would rather forget about the past and move forward with a clean slate. Fear might keep the peace for a while, but it would make for a brittle foundation upon which to build their civilization anew.

‘Perhaps a different message is in order, then,’ the Lone Wanderer decided.

Upon receiving his command, the wasps shifted again, causing the three-eyed construct to open its mouth and absorb copious amounts of ambient mana from the scarred landscape. The surviving humans followed the movement with mounting dread, thousands of pale faces turning skyward in unison.

The nobles braced themselves for another devastating attack, but the colossal construct didn’t fire a volley of spells this time. Instead, it flew upwards and transformed into a cloud once more, its shadow spreading across most of the battlefield as the formation lost its humanoid shape.

Lightning bolts of various colours lit up the dark, chitinous mass one after the other as Percy and Nephthys used their enchantments to spread the collected mana across their minions. Each bright flash was followed by an equally frightening thunderclap, shaking the hearts of those below.

The powerless nobles lifted their arms weakly and tried to shield their bodies with what little mana they had left when a shower of rain dropped on their heads. The first sticky droplets soaked their clothes with wet, heavy splats, causing several people to flinch hard enough to topple over, though it didn’t take them long to realize that it wasn’t acid.

A thick, amber fluid trickled down their bodies lethargically, washing away their caked blood, sweat, and grime. It slowly pooled inside the wide depressions left behind by the dried-up corrosive marsh, producing a magical lake of a far gentler sort. The glittering liquid gradually covered the blackened earth, displacing the acrid stench of acid and burnt flesh.

The defeated humans stared in awe as enough nectar to cleanse their cores for years to come was casually poured into a single reservoir before their trembling eyes – a gift of reconciliation from a man they had just tried to murder, and who they knew to be more than capable of ending them with a thought. No one seemed able to decide whether the gesture was an act of mercy or one final demonstration of power. In truth, it was both.

“This is what you idiots tried so hard to destroy. Was it worth it?” the heavens themselves roared with the furious buzz of the hive. “I’ll have it brewed into Aurora Dew and delivered to your provinces in the next few weeks. Just go home and never get in my fucking way again, or it won’t be nectar dripping down your chins next time.”

For several heartbeats – twice as many for Percy – nobody moved. It was nearly a full minute later when the surviving nobles began scattering. Most glanced over their shoulders more than once, as if expecting the lord of the Fungal Spire to change his mind. Hopefully, they had seen enough to abandon any thoughts of revenge.

Percy and Nephthys weren’t sure whether sparing the nobles – and arguably even rewarding them for their crimes – had been a wise move, but it had felt right to them. They had no interest in bullying already beaten dogs, and mercy would be harder to mistake for weakness when it was offered from atop a mountain of corpses.

Once the humans were gone, the Lone Wanderer ordered the wasps to return to the hive and begin working on their recovery. Streams of healthy and battered insects alike peeled away from the battlefield and entered the underground complex through various tunnels scattered across the mountain and its surroundings.

Deactivating his new Extreme spell – the name of which he didn’t yet know – Percy allowed his constellation and mind to split from Nephthys’, erecting a wall between their personalities and memories. Their first separation was gentler than their first union, yet no less disorienting. A lifetime – or several lifetimes – that weren’t his own withdrew behind the new partition, along with instincts and emotions that had felt completely natural only a moment earlier.

Percy emerged from the shared consciousness feeling strangely smaller, and not just physically.

Micky was technically older than him too, but the gap was only a handful of decades, which hadn’t been all that burdensome to begin with, and had only become less so with time. There was no comparison to the ocean of memories that the reincarnated deity had inadvertently poured into Percy’s skull. If he wasn’t careful, he might drown in it.

‘But the benefits are equally large,’ he reminded himself with a faint smile.

The Ruby Queen – which would probably need yet another new moniker soon – landed on the ground and lowered her head for him to leap off. The indigo hue receded from her towering carapace to reveal the same multi-coloured glow that had previously been restricted to her crown. Like splotches of paint, the vibrant hues chased one another along the seams of her reinforced chitin, pulsing in a rhythm as orderly as the swarm itself.

The fusion had clearly given the two mutations the final push they’d needed to merge.

Percy could feel his Status tugging at the edge of his consciousness, though he’d realized after fusing with a former mind goddess that he could suppress his notifications and read them at a more convenient moment. It was admittedly quite a neat trick to discover after half a century and dozens, if not hundreds of notifications, but it felt almost trivial compared to everything else their brief union had forced his mind to process.

‘What do we do with these?’ he asked Nephthys and Micky through their connection while nudging the pile of corpses with his foot.

It wasn’t just the six Whites that they had to deal with, but also hundreds of Violets and Blues that the wasps had recovered and stashed away during the battle. Percy and Nephthys had ordered the bugs to deposit the bodies on a tall, fleshy mound before retreating to their underground kingdom.

Most of the cores should still be intact due to their high grades, and Percy wasn’t going to deny his friends such a rare and nourishing meal. While he was open to returning the corpses to their families later, whether there was anything to return would depend on the appetites of his fellow aspects.

‘Micky should have them,’ the reincarnated deity suggested.

‘Why me? I barely lifted a finger during the battle,’ the Huehuan protested. ‘Unless Percy has recently developed a taste for human flesh, they should all go to you.’

Percy would have gagged at his friend’s suggestion a couple of decades ago, but he’d eaten too much disgusting crap to be bothered by the imagery.

‘It’s not about who worked the hardest today, but what’s best for the team,’ Nephthys replied, before elaborating. ‘My beast core advanced naturally only a few years ago, while yours hasn’t since Acton. You’re probably close to your next evolution, and I’m sure that such a massive windfall will be enough to trigger it.’

Percy couldn’t argue with that logic.

While this was going to be the fourth natural promotion of Micky’s first core, he and Nephthys had already proven that a well-fed beast core would eventually outgrow even an elemental core that had been regularly cleansed with Gloomy Dawn. And it had been close to thirty years since the crow’s evolution in the Thirsty Valley, which was already longer than his first three promotions combined. Not to mention that he hadn’t lacked nectar or high-grade cores at all in recent years.

‘Fine, but I’ll owe you one,’ the Huehuan relented, eliciting chuckles from Percy and Nephthys.

They knew that their friend had been eager to awaken his gravity mutation for quite a while. Especially because that would also be followed by Micky’s version of the Thess’kalan ritual, which would hopefully cause the new mutation to merge with the other two and give them a better material for the Huehuan’s equipment as well.

Percy stored the corpses in his spatial seal and passed it through his soul to spare his fellow aspect the trouble of flying down.

Borrowing the Huehuan’s senses for a moment, Percy heard him explaining to his family that he was fine, and that there was no reason to rush over to him. Archibald, Elaine and Nesha had obviously watched the battle from atop the Spire, but they weren’t privy to the internal changes that he had experienced during the merger.

Percy couldn’t fault them for their eagerness to join him and celebrate their long-awaited victory, as he shared the sentiment completely. It wasn’t like defeating the Great Houses would be the end of their troubles, but it had been the most pressing and irritating thorn in their sides for decades. Machaon’s looming threat had cast a shadow over every breakthrough, homecoming, and long-term plan.

Percy and his friends could finally take a moment to breathe and carefully consider their next moves, as their next obstacles could be tackled in a timeframe of centuries or even millennia, not months or years. Perhaps, even Phoebe might finally get off her high horse and respond to his messages. Percy had yet to tell her about his brush with Baphomet and all the issues it had created.

‘All the more reason not to keep everyone waiting for too long,’ Percy thought as he finally gave his Status permission to speak.

And boy did it have a lot to say.