The Hundred Reigns 200: Unicorn Overlord (6) (Patreon)

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As expected of a demon’s castle, Verney’s fortress was full of traps. Hidden wands that blasted corridors with energy bolts, petrifying runes hidden in the walls, snake pits, and the ever-popular mimic. It didn’t surprise Simon that the archfiend representing wrongness would feel a certain kinship with shapeshifters. 

Thankfully, an Adventurer was nothing if not an expert at robbing such places blind, and they had yet to encounter a trap Alcyone couldn’t deal with. 

“Of course the Mana Goddess isn’t dead,” Frea insisted, her words brimming with pure annoyance. Her staff provided the light required for those who couldn’t see through the darkness in Verney’s undercroft. “The very idea is absurd. Anyone can see the Worldtree half a sea away from Illusea, and any dryad will tell you it stands at the very center of the wheel of reincarnation.”

“But have you actually seen her?” Alcyone pushed. “Has she ever shown her face in the three centuries you spent in Illusea?”

Frea hesitated before answering, “No, I have not. Nobody is allowed to visit her except for the Oracle herself and a handful of Augurs, who share her messages.”

The more Frea spoke, the more suspicious Alcyone became. “What about the dryads? Since they’re connected to the Mana Goddess, they should be able to talk with her too.” 

“I… I would assume so?” Frea shifted uncomfortably. “All I know is that the Mana Goddess is not to be disturbed and will walk among us again once the Overlord is no more.”

“Let me rephrase my question: have you ever met an elf in Illusea who has encountered the Mana Goddess in the flesh, besides the Oracle and the Augurs?”

“I… a handful. They said she stopped walking among the people a long time ago.” Which, when coming from an elf, probably meant at least a millennium or two. “Why are you asking me this, Alcyone?”

“Because my gut is telling me there’s something fishy about it all.” Alcyone stopped in front of a wall, then lazily pressed on one of the stones. A pit trap opened up a few feet away, forcing the group to walk around its edges. “The whole mess with the Light Manalith, the fact we only have one blessed Mana Sword, the goddess’ complete silence… aren’t you just a tiny bit suspicious?”

Frea pouted, but her doubts were written all over her face. “Does it change anything? Our duty is still the same: to destroy the Overlord and protect the world.”

“I’m in the room, you know,” Simon reminded her.

“Destroy the Class,” Frea corrected herself. “There must be a way to purify you of it without killing you.”

“Oh? Have you decided to spare my life?” Simon raised an eyebrow. “I’m touched.”

Now she looked almost confused. “You have freed my friend and saved Alphonse's life at no gain to yourself. Why would I want you dead after all that?” 

“I told you waging life and death battles together created the strongest bonds,” Alcyone mused. “Speaking of that, Simon, we need to talk about your battle tactics. Volto’s account tells me you have some room for improvement.”

Simon didn’t deny it. “If you are speaking of my spellcasting, I just didn’t expect Verney to be capable of disrupting my miasma control.”

“Well, you should have. You don’t become a high-level fighter without countermeasures to mages.”

“Yes, but I expected a debuff like those music boxes or the Silence ailment. Not something so unexpected as that Spellsunder Technique.” Especially since Verney hadn’t used that Technique against him during their first encounter, though it might have been because he was confident enough in his music box trap at the time. “How does it even work?”

“Beats me, but I would bet it comes from Fablan. Verney spent years there.”

“Fablan’s people invented many Techniques over the centuries,” Frea commented. “More than any other nation.”

Then perhaps Simon should dedicate a reign to studying Techniques there. The Monk had looked like a rather pleasant and wise individual at first glance, and conquering the Yamimakai region in the north would provide some much needed experience.

“Anyway, any high-level fighter will assume any high-level spellcaster will have covered the Silence weakness and use something else.” From the smirk on her face, Alcyone clearly enjoyed playing the teacher. “My tried-and-true solution is to blitz them in close combat, because their Classes generally have few options to fight in melee, tend to have low Agility, and rarely learn how to parry. I know Richard and other fighters love to disrupt enemy spells with Techniques and then follow through with a killing blow while they’re off balance.”

“We spellcasters tend to be on the frailer side,” Frea admitted. “But we do have spells to repel foes in close quarters.”

“If you’re fast enough to trigger it,” Simon said, conveniently keeping quiet about that reign where he killed her by bashing her face in with his mace before she could blast him. He didn’t like being criticized for his fighting style after spending over twenty reigns improving on it. “I think I have plenty of tools to deal with my foes.”

“Yes, but do you know how to use them well?” Alcyone didn’t wait for him to answer. “Richard wasn’t wrong about the dangers of leveling up too fast. Have you had time to explore all the possibilities of your lower-level Perks? Have you fought so many mages that you’ve learned to immediately get close before they can cast spells, or to corner rogues to limit their mobility and then overwhelm them with areas of effect attacks they can’t dodge?”

“My visions taught me how to defeat Verney,” Simon pointed out. While he lied about how he gained his powers and memories overnight, designing the strategy to defeat him had taken a few tries.

“Yes, but you still had to consider your options in the fight, which wastes precious time and leads you to act rashly under pressure.” Alcyone shrugged her shoulders. “People who level-up too quickly all fall into two categories: either they have so many options they’re unsure which of them they should rely on, or they immediately abandon older abilities for newer, stronger ones without considering their Class as a whole.”

Now that she put it that way, Simon had been falling into that pattern for a while. She actually might have some wisdom to provide. “And what’s the difference compared to high-level individuals who grew into their power more slowly?” 

“Optimization,” Alcyone replied with a smirk. She had been waiting for that question. “They know which dance to pick the moment they hit the ballroom floor or meet the right partner. Honestly, you should take a whole year off just working on refining your combat tactics for each type of oppon—”

“Alcyone,” Frea cut in, “are you seriously advising him on how to become a stronger Overlord?”

“Uh…” Alcyone scratched the back of her head. “I just feel like it would be criminal not to point it out… and he did give us an exp dragon dummy… and he helped us uncover an evil conspiracy…” She smiled sheepishly. “Now I’m torn.”

“Don’t be!” Simon encouraged her. He had the feeling she had stumbled on a weakness he had to correct. “I love getting stronger!”

Alcyone just couldn’t resist giving one last piece of advice. “What I’m saying is that you need a battle script for each type of opponent. Find yourself facing a spellcaster? You know to open with this and that without thinking. Fighting a swordsman? Break their sword, then strike hard while they’re surprised.” 

Simon pondered her words. He could see the value of her advice; while he had indeed worked on ‘battle scripts,’ as she called them, they always centered around a specific opponent rather than a type of them based on his experience. He had learned to exploit Thalas’ lack of ranged options because he had seen that weakness in action in the past for example, but he didn’t immediately default to Darkflight and then ranged attacks when encountering fighter-type foes. 

For example, both Verney and Ser Richard ended their battles with an enemy swordsman by using their Bladebreaker Techniques to shatter their blades and follow through with a strong blow. This implied that it was a tried-and-true tactic to deal with enemy high-level fighters. 

Simon always approached each encounter as if it were unique, and that cost him precious time in battle. Between his spells, Edicts, Techniques, and Perks, he should have all the tools required to deal with anything, but knowing which of these hundreds of options was most appropriate was another matter altogether. He also didn’t immediately assume high-level enemies would have a way of disabling his magic either and thus plan around it. 

Simon had already been considering developing a single cursebuff and debuff to ensure he only had to cast one spell rather than a dozen for the same result. Perhaps he should focus on that after completing his memory-alteration curse.  

If his leveling was indeed slowing down, then he would be better off maximizing his current options rather than further widening them… 

Either way, the corridor they were in ended up leading them to an underground room full of strange curios, including murals showing stylized maps of the pre-Doom supercontinent, a stylized mosaic of a Navarran pyramid floating in nothingness with light shining from the tip, various crudely carved manaliths of various colors, and a rusty device similar to Voltobauta’s Musan pistol, albeit with a cannon the length of an arm. 

“The coast's clear,” Alcyone said after checking the room. “This must be Verney’s secret archeological collection; the items he doesn’t show to the public.”

“Is that a Musan cannon?” Simon wondered upon looking at the rusty device. 

“An early prototype, I would presume.”

“The civilizations before the Doom made many breakthroughs under the Noble Heroes’ guidance, such as mana-powered trains and the first golems,” Frea said, her gaze wandering to the manaliths. “Those must be dynaliths.” 

Simon recalled that dynaliths were humans’ first attempts at replicating Crestones. They couldn’t channel a whole Class’ worth of abilities, but they could mimic some of their individual Perks, grant stat boosts, or teach spells. They had largely fallen into obsolescence since the invention of Vassal Classes.

“I always found it curious, his obsession with the pre-Doom era…” Alcyone studied the pyramid mosaic and then the map. “Where’s that point supposed to be?”

“An empty spot in the middle of the desert, as far as I can tell,” Simon replied, though he would have Shabram send a team there to check. “It could be related to Chrom Cruak.”

“His tomb, maybe? He’s a mummy, he’s got to have a trap-infested tomb.” Alcyone nodded to herself. “Let’s grab everything and bring it to the surface so my crew can put these things through analysis spells.”

The bleating of the faithful echoed in through the unclean halls, and Simon turned to face his remaining followers; undead goats he had raised from the dead after they martyred themselves blowing themselves up to destroy the Attic. 

“Shepherd, the area is purged of filth!” the lead goat said, its rotting lips still red-green with mimic blood. “We have feasted upon the unclean, for all the heathen weeds look like edible grass in the faithful’s eyes!”

“Thou hast done well, my holy creation,” Simon replied. Frea looked at him as if he were some sort of insane lunatic, but to ignore the skeptics was the mark of a true prophet. “Rejoice, for blessed with full bellies are those who believe in me!”

“You’re enjoying this a bit too much,” Alcyone commented. “Should we start calling you the Overgoat or something?”

“The Shepherd will do.”

“The Shepherd knows best!” his undead flock answered as one. “The Shepherd is the stick and the grain! All hail the Shepherd!”

It was good to be a living god. Simon could get used to i–

Alcyone slapped him in the back of the head, returning Simon to reality. “What was that for?!” 

“To expel a stupid idea working its way into your thick skull.” Alcyone put her hands on her waist and pouted at the goats bleating at her. “Are they complaining?”

More like calling for your burning at the stake. “You’re lucky I am a forgiving man.”

—---------

Looting Verney’s castle brought in a lot of curios, magical artifacts, and quite a few chests of gold—being a count doubling as a secret criminal mastermind paid well—but few clues on his allies. Simon hoped Voltobauta’s attempts to summon the bastard’s departed soul or Renal’s would correct that issue. 

Otherwise, he took a moment to visit Alphonse. The poor Paladin had been resting in his cabin under Belzemine’s care. He found them both there, with Alphonse having had his arm reattached and his bloody wounds firmly closed. 

The things a level 78 Healer can do… However, it only took Simon a glance at Alphonse’s face to tell that the psychological wounds were another matter entirely. The Paladin was sitting in his bed and looking at his own Crestone rather than at the Overlord in the room. He didn’t take his defeat well.

“How is he?” Simon asked Belzemine.

“His arm should be perfectly functional by tomorrow, Your Majesty.”

“Then what’s on your mind, Alphonse?” Simon asked after closing the door behind him and taking a seat near his bed. “That’s not the face of someone who just leveled-up.”

Alphonse looked away from his Crestone just long enough to glare at him, though that anger faded into impotent frustration quickly enough. 

“I’m weak,” Alphonse admitted out of the blue. 

“Yes, you are,” Simon confirmed. There was no point in denying it. “But you knew that already when you took up the job. There was no way you could catch up to someone like Verney in such a short amount of time, and you contributed well enough.”

Alphonse scoffed. “All I did was draw the enemy’s attention and survive the consequences.”

“I would say surviving five minutes in melee with a demon twenty levels above you is pretty impressive by itself.” The gulf between the Noble and Vassal Classes was vast, and the Paladin was indeed resilient when pitted against followers of the Dark. “Others faced better odds and died for it.”

His words fell on deaf ears. It appeared Valravn’s taunts about Alphonse’s weakness had cut deeper than expected. 

“My master was a great knight,” Alphonse said. “A powerful knight. Your family’s assassins had to murder him in his sleep to have a chance, after which the Paladin Crestone chose me.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“It’s a lie.” 

That caught Simon unaware. “What do you mean?”

“King Uther of Lore gathered his knights after my master’s murder, and I was allowed to attend the gathering on behalf of being his squire. The Crestone was put on a table and left to roll towards its new champion. For a second, it seemed it had picked Father… but then it stopped and rolled towards me.” Alphonse shook his head. “They said he was too old, and that though he could transfer his Knight levels to Paladin, his stats would have lagged behind. Father reassured me that the Crestone chose me because of my potential… but I knew better. I knew I was the second choice.”

You’re not the second pick, you’re far below that. Simon would have been the Paladin in a better life, and his father had run roughshod through all the other candidates. But you were still picked from a very narrow list.

“So what?” Simon replied honestly. 

His non-pitying response took Alphonse aback. “My father would have been the better Paladin.”

“You said it yourself that your Crestone disagreed. And who cares either way?” Simon shrugged his shoulders. “Do you realize how fantastically lucky you are? Even if you were the second pick to become the Paladin out of millions upon millions of potential candidates, you’re still the Paladin at the end of the day. Countless men would take your place if they could.”

“Are you…” Alphonse squinted at him. “Are you trying to cheer me up?”

“I am, because I know what it is like to have been weak. I lived my childhood in the shadow of a brute who could have killed me if I spoke out of turn.” And though he had moved beyond his enmity with Thalas, he still loathed feeling vulnerable. “You will become strong one day. You simply need to work hard and be patient.”

“What has the world come to, when the Overlord sympathizes with the Paladin?” Alphonse studied him warily. “Why did you save me back there?”

“I don’t have any personal animosity with you, if that’s what you’re implying.” Simon and Alphonse had fought together against Casval-Nodens, and they only came to blows because circumstances demanded it. He kinda saw a bit of himself in the young Paladin. “In fact… in another life, we might have been friends and family. My mother was planning to elope with your uncle to Lore until my father decided otherwise.”

“So you’re saying that I am, what, your cousin?”

“I mean that together, we have a chance to end this destructive conflict between Overlords and Paladins that has poisoned Brimir for far too long. The Zodiac Fiends are our true enemies.”

“Bold of you to say that when your Class embodies evil incarnate…” Alphonse almost smiled. “But I suppose if I can’t live up to the Paladin ideal, then you fall short of the Overlord one too.” 

Simon returned his smirk when another newcomer teleported into the cabin. 

“I’m glad to see you’re doing well, Alphonse,” Alcyone said as she eyed him and Simon. “And it’s good you’re here. I wanted to talk to you both in private.”

“In private?” Alphonse frowned at her. “What’s going on?”

“I’ve extensively grilled Frea. I am now almost entirely sure she was simply sent to protect you from Overlord assassins without any other directive besides reporting to the Oracle now and then.” Alcyone stroked her chin. “She’s not in on the conspiracy.”

“The conspiracy?” Simon inquired. 

“Come on, you’ve noticed it too. The Zodiac Fiends, the Light Megalith, the Mana Sword, our absentee goddess, whatever’s going on with Firew—Lady Belzemine.” Alcyone cleared her throat at that verbal lapse. “Sorry.”

“I do not mind,” Belzemine replied, which crushed Simon a little. All the progress they had made in the Sanctuary reign, wiped away. 

“Anyway, something’s going on. Something the Oracle doesn’t want us to know about, and I want to find out what.” Alcyone stroked her chin. “I’ve asked Volto to work his way through the ancient Noble Heroes’ ghosts until he finds those who fought the Maiden so we can figure out what happened then.”

“Verney’s soul might know more, if we can summon it,” Simon pointed out. “I also have tools that can bind a Zodiac Fiend to an item and to the user’s will.”

“I’ll… think about that a bit more,” Alcyone replied uneasily. “I try to trust you, but letting the Overlord bind an archfiend into service is a pretty big ask for now. We can look into tracking down the other Weavers for information too.”

“What about Shura of the West?” Alphonse suggested. “He could tell us the truth about the Light Megalith and clear up this demon-angel misunderstanding.”

“That crossed my mind too. He’s supposed to test Paladins, and we have one right here.” 

“I think…” Simon’s tongue clicked in his mouth. “I think Belzemine is also connected to the Mana Goddess in some way.”

The way the Mana Sword reacted to her, her overwhelming radiance, that time when Junon mistook her for her sister… there were just too many hints pointing in that direction. 

“Then we bring her to the tiger’s den and to Serras to check on the Light Megalith.” Alcyone smiled at Simon. “Would you like to join us on this tour of the Holy Kingdom of Lore, Overlord Simon? In disguise, of course.”

“How kind of you,” Simon replied, his lips pursing into a smirk. “I accept.”

Everything should be fine so long as they stayed clear of the inquisitors…

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A/N: whoa, 200th chapter! Big milestone, I'm now a real web novel writer instead of a short novel one XD thank you all very much for supporting Hundred Reigns through all those tribulations!