Hundred Reigns 133: The Overlord of Crime (17) (Patreon)

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Simon manifested in the Magvolian workshop with the thrill of power coursing through his veins. 

The rush of the new level-up was only matched by his pure glee and satisfaction. While he hadn’t managed to kill Verney and avenge Remedia, he had finally put the Cobweb in its place and settled many reigns worth of accumulated grudges; and their suffering across time had only just begun. 

Silk had once called the Prince of Spiders the Overlord of the criminal world, but Simon had proved her wrong. There was only one of him. 

Level 59 Overlord Perk: Unquestionable Ruler IV (Active): You can now utter Edicts, cosmic curses bending the laws of the world to the Overlord’s will. An Edict affects a one-mile-radius-per-Overlord level region centered around Frightwall or any Dungeon, but must include an escape clause when cast. Anyone caught in the Edict’s area of effect is immediately informed of the curse’s effects and escape clause. You learn the Edict of Endless Night. 

Edict of Endless Night: You deny the dawn to your subjects and foes, blotting out the sun and condemning the land to endless night. The sun does not rise in the affected region, Light effects are weakened, and Darkness ones are empowered. 

What the… a cosmic curse? Simon reread the text a few times as the sheer magnitude of the implications dawned upon him. He knew it was possible to curse people, items, and even buildings, but the idea that they could affect an entire region left him almost unsettled. If the first Edict involves blotting out the sun before I hit level 60, what will the others do? 

Then again, Simon’s ability to go back in time was literally called the Curse of the Hundred Reigns. He wondered if that was how the magic worked, by cursing him to live a hundred lifetimes, with the last one serving as the escape clause. 

“Your Majesty,” Duchar greeted him as Simon stepped out of the summoning circle used to bring him to Magvolia. Cassandra and her brother were present, though Hector’s helm was possessing a fetch rather than his usual body. “How did your meeting go?”

“Splendidly,” Simon replied, promising himself to test the Edict of Endless Night another time. “Verney and the sisters still live, but their Attic and organization are broken, their power base is shattered, and they’ve fled with their tails between their legs. Our enemies will be in no shape to interfere with our plans for the Darkwood.”

Creating new doors for the Attic likely required Verney or a fetch to be physically present to enchant the door, or else he would have opened up a portal into Illusea or other such sensitive areas. Six years of effort creating a worldwide network had just gone down the drain, alongside his federation of thieves and criminals. Simon’s flies, agents, and allies would eliminate the disorganized cells until they were driven to extinction. 

With the Cobweb destroyed and the White Unicorn informed of Verney’s true identity, the Twins archdemon and the Rogue sisters would probably spend the next couple months on the run or trying their best to salvage what they could from their organization’s ruins. Simon would begin hunting them down like dogs as soon as he completed the Dark Visionary ritual. 

Still, the first thing Simon did was check on Eole through the Devil Brands, in case anything happened on her end. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, we’re on our way,” she replied, which drew a sigh of relief from Simon. He had feared Vouivre would try something while he was occupied. “Did you succeed?”

“Yes, it went like plan A, Verney and the twins got away, but we shattered their Attic and slaughtered the Cobweb. The organization is done for.”

Her answer arrived late, and when it did, it carried far less joy than he expected. “I see.”

Simon frowned in confusion. “Why do you sound so… so downcast? We’ve destroyed the world’s biggest slave ring. No more Borshes will sell your people as prostitutes a world away, and everyone who profited from it has become fly food as we speak. If you’re concerned about Verney and the others, we’ll hunt them down soon.”

“It’s not that. I’m happy the Cobweb has been destroyed, I truly am… but I had to become a slaver to defeat other slavers. My voice inspires despair rather than hope now.” Her unease was palpable. “Have we truly made the world better?”

“Our alliance with Vouivre is just temporary,” Simon reassured her. “We’ll deal with her too in time, and then you can walk away from all of this with clean hands.”

“No, Simon, we can’t,” she replied. “We can’t wash away the stains on our soul. They will stick to us for as long as we live.”

No, only as long as I will live, Simon thought. Perhaps it was mercy that she would forget all of this once the newest reign began, and that he would bear the burden of their sins alone. “I told you from the start we would have to dirty our hands for the greater good.”

“Yes… yes, and I accept that.” A short silence followed her. “I simply hope that there will be a greater good at the end of it all, Simon.”

“There will be one, Eole,” Simon reassured her. “There will come a day when you can return to the sky, knowing you left the world below a better place than when you found it.”

“I hope so,” she replied, a hint of warmth carrying through the telepathic connection. “Thank you, Simon. For believing.”

“Always.” Simon gently cut the connection and then turned to Hector. “How are you holding up, Hector? Is the new body acceptable?”

“I prefer a corpse,” Hector admitted, his natural voice merging with that of his fetch host. It was such a strange sight, to see a smiler with a neutral expression rather than a grin. “This puppet may have a hole for a soul, but it still has enough personality that my presence feels… ill-fitting. Our memories blur at the edge.”

“I wonder if this is how demons feel when they possess someone,” Cassandra wondered out loud. “Slowly melding together…”

“We’ll put an end to this experiment before the fetch starts influencing you,” Simon decided. “What did you learn from the creature’s mind?”

Hector gave him a detailed backstory of the fetch, which had been created by Verney-Valravn using dirt from Telluria and a splinter of the Attic door it was tasked with guarding. This gave the soulless puppet a supernatural link to its birthplace and allowed it to instinctively guide guests to it through the pathways. The creature had otherwise memorized a large chunk of the Attic, including pathways hidden from Simon. He immediately asked Hector to write a map down so his Abyssal Chronicle could record it. 

“Why would Your Majesty want this information, now that the Attic has been destroyed?” Duchar inquired with curiosity. 

“Because practice makes perfect,” Simon replied with a grin. This reign had been a practice run to destroy the Cobweb. Now that he understood how to annihilate the Attic and all related operations, Simon would refine the process until he learned how to eliminate or subsume it as soon as his reigns began. “There is always the possibility Verney manages to recreate his network, in which case this map will come in handy. We will keep an eye on the door inside the Midnight Market for safety’s sake.”

“Where is the hag Your Majesty told me about?” Cassandra asked curiously. “I do not see her.”

“She had to give her life for the cause, as did many others,” Simon replied. He would likely recruit Granny Radhag in a future reign now that he knew she could be turned in easily. Now that he had killed her once and would receive no further experience from doing so, eliminating her again would be a waste of experience and resources. 

“Were our losses truly necessary, Your Majesty?” Hector asked, while his sister frowned in slight disappointment. “We lost hundreds.”

Simon nodded sharply. “We only had one chance to pull it off, so we had to be sure.”

Yes, he had to kill a few hundred minions and goblinoids to collapse the Attic this time, but now that he knew the Abyssal Domain could crumble under sufficient metaphysical weight, he would spare fewer resources next time. He would refine the process until he could inflict the maximum amount of damage on the Cobweb for the least amount of sacrificed lives. 

Ensuring that this closet demonic cult remained out of commission was worth breaking some eggs.

A telepathic message reached Simon’s mind, the voice belonging to Eole. “We’re outside.”

Excellent. Simon removed his Overlord outfit and put on his Goldenhell appearance with Fiendmask. “Our reinforcements have arrived. Let’s greet them.”

Simon and his allies emerged from the Midnight Market to find the streets of Whispermire under occupation. Hundreds of great winged, scaled beasts had taken over the roofs like they were rookeries while raining fire down on the roads leading out of the town, blockading it whole. Lines of fire drawn in the earth and farmland kept the population hiding inside their houses, while dragons flew in circles in the sky. 

And there were no airships in sight to stop them. 

Simon found Vouivre in her human form outside in Eole’s company alongside a squad of wyvern-riding scalefolks. She faced another group, which included Odette Kano, a Fiendmasked Belzemine, Gregory, and Grimm. The dragon warlord was smiling ear to ear in contentment, while Odette’s expression was frozen in a deep scowl. 

“Goldenhell,” Vouivre greeted him, with Eole smiling at the sight of Simon. “You arrive right on time. This city’s mayor has just offered me the key to this town, alongside her manalith mine, in return for my mercy and protection.”

“I’m glad you could come to an agreement,” Simon replied, which caused Odette to glare at him balefully. “Do you intend to keep this place?”

“Who knows? From what you told me, the War Party is busy fighting off the White Unicorn fleet’s landing in the west. Establishing a foothold in Magvolia while my enemies are occupied could open up many new possibilities now that Beleth has fallen.” Vouivre shrugged and changed the subject. “But we can discuss military strategy after we settle our affairs. Who is the foe you wish for me to destroy?”

“Right here.” Simon pointed at the miasma tree towering in the distance. “I want you to burn that manatree to cinders, and pull it out by the roots.”

While Odette looked at him as if he had lost his mind and quite a few people present blinked in shock, Vouivre’s smile only widened. “I see you have learned from my father’s example when it comes to fighting dryads,” she mused, her fist clenching. “It will be a pleasure.” 

“You are insane,” Odette said in disbelief, “that manatree has been dead for centuries.”

“It is not,” Simon replied. “The corrupted dryad is merely weakened. I intend to use this place for something, and I cannot have her interfere.”

Vouivre crossed her arms, her eyelids narrowing slightly. “You wish to claim the Minotaur for yourself.”

Simon’s heart skipped a beat, but though he managed to hide his surprise well behind a blank expression, the dragon warlord had already seen through it. 

“My father hoarded knowledge as much as he did gold, and the Minotaur’s power is of little interest to me,” Vouivre said, which suggested to Simon that she might have Gargauth’s notes or the Abyssal Chronicle on hand. “Between us, I believe he would be more useful in its current place, acting as a dormant weapon to ravage this hero-infested region once the seal is shattered on schedule.”

“On schedule?” Simon’s eyes widened as he put two and two together. “You know about the comet.” 

“And I am surprised you do too. Some of your actions make more sense now.” Vouivre scoffed. “We will have a very long chat after I burn down that garden for you. Do not try to skip town, or I will take it personally.”

Simon held her gaze. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

—-----

Simon and his troops spent the afternoon watching the Darkwood burn.

He had to give it to Vouivre and her forces; they were even more effective than the War Party’s airships at causing mass destruction thanks to their overwhelming numbers and superior mobility. They began by circling the Darkwood, creating a ring of fire to ensure nothing from inside could escape, and began to advance towards the center while incinerating everything in their path. Vouivre herself went straight for the miasma tree in her true form and bombarded it from above. Her breath was closer to a focused ray of light than her lesser kindred’s flames, and far more devastating. She simply vaporized anything she aimed at. 

“Have you found any leads on how Vouivre controls her crystal without a host?” Simon asked Eole through telepathy. 

“Not yet,” Eole admitted through the brand. “She summons my people to a chamber inside her pyramid, and they come out like this. I am not allowed inside.”

“I see.” Unfortunate, but not unexpected. Simon didn’t imagine Vouivre would be foolish enough to share such an important secret with an ally of dubious loyalty, even one who swore an oath of fealty. “She is bound to slip up eventually. Now that the Cobweb has been shattered, we’ll be in position to take care of her next.”

The fireworks were as beautiful, in their own dark way, as they were terrifying to watch. Duchar watched the whole thing with his customary passive curiosity, while Hector, Eole, and Cassandra looked somber; only Belzemine looked away halfway through, likely because it reminded her too much of what Mardok had done to her own home. Only Gregory and Grimm grinned wickedly at the spectacle. Only demons could rejoice in their home’s destruction. 

“The risk that we face a free and corrupted dryad in the middle of her forest right after we lift the seal is too great,” Simon reassured them. He had watched as the Muse pulled airships down from the sky after binding her with the Seasonal Key and survived her tree getting split in half by Louis. Moreover, he had no Paladin Crestone on hand to purify her fruit. “As painful and excessive as this looks, this is the most merciful and safest option for all of us.”

Eole looked at him, biting her lip. “Will it be worth it, Simon?” she asked, nay, pleaded. “In the end, will it all be worth it?”

Simon could tell she wasn’t simply asking about the forest, but the dragons raining down destruction upon the forest. Many had been her compatriots once, only to be transformed into warbeasts by Vouivre and sent to fight. She needed reassurance that this moral compromise would lead to a better future, the same way Simon had told himself destroying the Cobweb was worth all the murders, petrifications, and drug-running he had done this reign.

“It has to,” Simon simply replied, both to her and to himself. “In the end, it’ll be worth it.”

Eole nodded, and stared back at the flames without a word. 

“I should have brought human sausages,” Gregory commented, completely missing—or rather ignoring—the general mood. “Never had a barbecue like this.”

“Can we burn the city next after this, boss?” Grimm asked. “For dessert?”

“No,” Simon replied sternly, both demons groaning in disappointment. 

The fact that the Stone Muse remained sealed ensured the dragons had no fear of being knocked out of the sky, so it was a glorified execution. The Darkwood soon turned into a sea of flames that consumed the horizon, the telepathic screams of the Stone Muse hardly cutting through the noise of roaring fire. 

“Rise again I shall, and a cruel fate I shall deliver upon you all! My roots will stretch across the land and smother you in your sleep!”

At first, she simply swore revenge and eternal torments on her attackers, but Simon ignored those threats… though it didn’t take long for them to turn into pleas. 

“Please, I beg of you! I will do anything! Many rewards I may provide!”

Simon ignored them too, as he recalled how the Muse had tried to betray him the moment he broke her seal… but then she went for the throat.  

“Mercy for the child!”

That was the one plea that gave Simon pause, for a brief instant. He glanced at Cassandra watching nearby, seeing the crestfallen look on her face as she heard the Stone Muse’s words ring in her mind. 

“Your Majesty–” she said, biting her lip. 

“No,” he said sternly, both to himself and to her. “She lies. It’s a trap.” 

He wasn’t sure whether or not Cassandra believed him, but he could see the shadow of remorse growing on her face when the pleas turned to screams and wails, then finally, to grim silence. 

Afterwards, Simon summoned his phantom steed while Eole called dragonmounts with her voice to carry the group to what remained of the Halls of the Minotaur. Everyone came equipped with Rings of Cursed Flames to protect themselves from the ambient heat and crossed the sea of flame safely. Vouivre continued to fly circles in the sky above the burning trunk, either admiring her work or waiting for Simon to conclude his business below. 

All that remained of the Halls of the Minotaur were smoking ruins and rubble. Its sanctuary remained mostly intact, probably thanks to its wards, so the group landed on its balcony, stepped down from their mounts, and then walked inside the room to find the petrified remains of the Stone Muse and the Minotaur crystal embedded within. 

A sense of longing washed over Simon when he saw its orange glow brightening beneath a screaming visage of burnt stone. He could feel the demon calling to him all the more strongly now that it didn’t have to share a body with a being of the Light, its joy at the approach of one who bore his sign and whose birth destined their union.  

“I hear you, my soulmate.” The voice that echoed in Simon’s head didn’t belong to the Muse, but Asterion himself. “Have you come to join your flesh with my spirit?”

“I have, Asterion,” Simon replied through telepathy as he approached it. He glanced at Cassandra, whom Belzemine held in her arms with strict orders to incapacitate her should she fall under the demon’s influence. “Your power will be mine.”

“But for what purpose will you use it? Revenge? Glory? Salvation? Your heart is shrouded in shadow, yet I perceive… guilt.”

Simon’s jaw clenched on its own. “I don’t feel guilty about the things I’ve done to save the world.”

“No… but you feel guilty about enjoying them.”

Simon’s fists tightened so hard his fingers began to hurt. What was this foul fiend implying? That he enjoyed watching the Darkwood and its dryad burn? Simon simply weighed her existence against his allies’ safety and chose the safest option for everyone. He only did this because he cared. 

Of course Simon found joy in crushing Verney’s organization and delivering just punishment on his army of criminals, slavers, thugs, rapists, and robbers, but who wouldn’t after all the betrayals, backstabbings, extortions, and other horrors he had witnessed? Borsh, Renal, and all their kind had gotten their righteous comeuppance, and Verney and his daughters would soon follow. What did it matter if he enjoyed tormenting the wicked or settling grudges? Any Paladin would probably feel the same!

Why did those words rattle him so much? Asterion was an archdemon; his opinion was the least of Simon’s concerns!

“It doesn’t matter,” Simon mentally replied before keeping orders to his allies out loud. “Belzemine, Eole, keep Cassandra away in case the Minotaur tries anything. Gregory, Grimm, you’ll keep an eye on Vouivre in case she comes down early. Hector, Duchar, come here.”

His allies quickly formed a defensive perimeter around the crystal, with Simon summoning his Crown of the Minotaur from his Inventory. He pressed its empty hole against the Zodiac crystal, and the entire Halls trembled around them in response. Phantom runes flickered around the room for a few seconds, much to everyone’s brief concern, but they vanished almost as soon as they appeared. The Zodiac crystal slipped out of its dead host and into the crown’s slot with a small click. The device warmed up in Simon’s hands, the symbols carved on its surface glowing, yet the device neither shattered nor unleashed a pulse of miasma heralding the archdemon’s escape. 

The elven seal had transferred to the crown without issue. 

So far so good, Simon thought as he slowly and carefully put the crown on his head. The metal was cold against his skin, the horns heavy, yet it was the crystal that felt the most uncomfortable. It pressed against Simon’s skull like a worm trying to gnaw its way inside an apple, and for a brief second, it seemed it would succeed… only for the Overlord spirit to jealously shove the intruder out.

It would not share a soul. Not now, not ever. 

Possession cancelled by Indomitable Crown. 

“We cannot join as one, wicked heart,” he heard Asterion’s voice whispering in his head. “Not so long as you bear a crown beneath this one.”

Unfortunately for the sealed archfiend, that one wouldn’t come off so easily. 

“Hector, I’ll need to store you in my Inventory for the time being,” Simon informed his vassal as his hand reached for the cursed helmet, “I might need you for something after we conclude the ritual.”

He doubted the helmet would follow him across time since soul gems didn’t, but… who knew? Maybe it could carry enough information to reconstruct Hector’s personality in the next reign should the ritual go wrong. There had to be a reason why his father invested in this device besides his foolish body-switching plan.

“As Your Majesty wishes,” Hector replied through the fetch’s lips. “I confess, I look forward to a body that does not think.”

“I will find you one,” Simon replied as he stored the helmet in his Inventory. The fetch barely had time to blink at its newfound freedom before a morning star blow to the face killed it in one blow. “Duchar, the potion.”

“Is it wise to run the ritual now, Your Majesty?” Duchar inquired as he pulled out a bottle of dark blue, viscous liquid from beneath his robes. “We could try it in a safer place.”

“It has to be here,” Simon replied as he grabbed the potion and pulled out the cork. “The site of my greatest sin as Overlord.”

Both in this reign and the past ones. This had to count as the third element of the ritual, and if not… if not, Simon had another possibility in mind.

Simon swallowed the liquid whole, the concoction flowing like rancid honey into his gut. It was heavy, more slime than drink, and tasted of rotting meat. A mere taste on his tongue gave him nausea. 

Poison and Disease suppressed by Unyielding Essence. 

Another man would have likely killed Duchar on the spot after seeing the notification, but Simon had come to trust the man’s expertise. He powered through the vile taste and the sickness that spread through his entire body. The mixture flowed through his blood and joined with his flesh, seeking to transform it. 

Polymorphy suppressed by Unyielding Essence. 

His own Perks fought against the potion, but Simon… Simon still sensed a change. His vision blurred, the shadows lengthening, the angles sharpening. The miasma floating in the air became clearer, heavier, more visible. Simon blinked a few times, yet the effect only increased in intensity.  

“What is… what is this?” Asterion whispered in his head, his words echoing inside Simon’s skull and reverberating within his soul. “There is… something wrong with the world… a trap I sense, but cannot see…”

“Your Majesty?” Duchar inquired with a hint of professional concern. Simon could have sworn his features changed for an instant, the bones beneath his skin becoming a tiny bit more visible. “Your Majesty, is it working?”

“Is this what you are looking for, wicked heart?” Asterion whispered, Simon sensing his presence behind his eyes. “The truth?” 

“It is, but…” Simon gulped, his mouth dry and pressure building on his neck as invisible fingers pressed against his throat in a silent warning. He looked at his allies, noticing a faint, nearly imperceptible halo of light around Belzemine. “It stopped midway. We need something… something to push us to the next step.”

“The Abyss calls, yet we remain stuck on the threshold…” Asterion muttered in his head, the demon sounding unnerved. “A beacon… I sense a beacon somewhere…” 

Did he mean the Crimson Throne, or the comet? If it was the second, then–

Then came death.

It arrived with a cold that chilled the soul and smothered the flames of dragonfire, strangled the warmth of molten stone, and silenced all breath. A sea of darkness heralded its coming, drowning out all lights in the Halls and putting an end to all things.   

Instadeath negated by Unyielding Essence.

Thump. Thump, thump, thump.

The noise of corpses hitting the floor rang out in the sanctuary as Simon’s entire retinue fell dead in the blink of an eye. Eole, the demons, Duchar, and Cassandra, all were slain, their souls snuffed out in the dark. Only Belzemine survived, her inner light dimming as her expression morphed into a silent expression of pure, deep, and all-consuming terror. 

“Here you are,” a sinister and all too familiar voice rattled in the stillness of death. “I have been looking for you.”

Simon’s acidic blood turned to ice in his veins as he saw the hooded figure stepping out of the shadows, clear and sharp in a blurring world. His two visible eyes and Crestone were like three baleful stars shining in a pitch-black night, and malice was his breath. 

“Greetings, my descendant.” Elios Magnos raised a lantern carved from the severed, mummified head of Chrom Cruak. “This belongs to you, I presume?”

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