The Hundred Reigns 216: The World of Ruins (10) (Patreon)

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A trap.

Of course it was a trap. Simon had been foolish to believe he could bargain with an archdemon. He had misunderstood Asterion’s affability and opposition to the Overlord Class for logical reasoning, when he remained a fiend through and through. 

“This is not an ambush, Simon,” Asterion tried to reassure him, though it clearly didn’t look like it. “While you may be experiencing some confusion—”

“Yes, let’s call it that,” Simon replied dryly. 

“—we are all fighting to save this world from the Overlord’s grasp.”

Simon sneered beneath his helmet. “By destroying it?” 

“It is the will of the supreme Duality, Your Majesty,” Mastemo—or Shin-Mastemo, as Simon ought to call him—replied, his voice echoing with a female one rising from the depths of his crystal. “An outcome preordained since before any of us were born.”

“When did you abandon the Light, High Confessor?” Simon asked dryly. “When the comet’s power proved too great to let you contain the evil in your forehead and your soul melded with it?”

“It is true the comet’s power opened my mind to the higher truths,” Shin-Mastemo admitted. “However, I have not abandoned the Light. My appearance has changed, Your Majesty, but my loyalty has not.”

“Yet you threaten your Overlord and ally with demons.”

“Beings of the Dark such as you and my comrades here are ultimately tools of the Light,” Shin-Mastemo replied with absolute confidence. “When the dark comet shone upon our empire’s ruins, I realized that my beliefs were incomplete and that the Maiden had blinded me to the truth: that the Light and Dark are two halves of the same supreme deity that ordains the universe!”

His tone brimmed with twisted faith born of madness. The demon inside the High Confessor’s head had melded its apocalyptic ambitions with its host's beliefs to achieve the worst kind of syncretism. 

“The Light wishes for this imperfect world to be drowned into the Dark, so that its radiance may recreate it anew!” Shin-Mastemo raised his staff to the sky, his soul overflowing with zeal. “Yes, a new world, a perfect world, cleansed of filth and flaws! As it has been, and so shall it be!” 

In the end, demonic possession had hardly changed Mastemo. He was the same determined fanatic of the Light he had always been; he had only opened up his faith to include the Dark, and now sang a gospel of annihilation. 

“Your words are the musing of a deluded fool, Shin-Drazil,” Exodeos commented with contempt. There was always a skeptic in every church. “There will be no new world rising from the chaos. Oblivion shall rule the void forevermore.”

“Either outcome is agreeable to me, if that is what it takes to break the Overlord cycle,” Asterion stated. “A peaceful end will be better than this endless chain of suffering.”

They were all insane, and deserving of their titles of Destroyers. Helel might actually be the lesser evil here. At least the world would survive her rule. Either way, Simon had no intention of indulging them. 

So he simply teleported away.

Exodeos proved quicker and cast Anchor on him, but a previously arranged Lovestruck arrangement with one of his ringbound demons allowed Simon to transfer it. The Great Chasm faded away, replaced with the fiery wasteland that surrounded the burning pit from which his Edict of Wounded Earth expanded from. 

“Huh.” Simon was quite surprised. “That was easier than I expect—”

A tremor spread through the air, and great claws shredded the veil of space as if it were paper. A rift opened a few feet away from a shocked Simon, with two immense hands ripping it apart. A wave of putrescent rot erupted from it and snuffed out the flames around them. 

Instadeath negated by Unyielding Essence. 

“There is no escape from this, Simon.” Asterion stepped out of the portal with steps that shook the ashen earth beneath. “Can we not talk this through peacefully?”

“What is there to discuss?!” Simon snapped back as he teleported all the way back to Frightwall’s throne room. He found a few refugees in the room, looking up to him in surprise, though no one was thankfully stupid enough to sit in his seat. 

That should give Simon enough time to think and prepare. He assumed that Asterion could only open rifts within his Darkwood territory and that a warded castle a continent away would prove too difficult for him to reach.

He was wrong. 

No sooner had he found himself atop his Crimson Throne that Asterion’s claws tore open space into the hall. The Minotaur’s mere presence shattered the newly restored stained windows to pieces, and his footsteps left huge cracks in the floor. His horns shattered the roof and caused it to collapse, while his aura exterminated every refugee unlucky enough to share the room with him. 

They had been slain so absolutely that not even Frightwall could raise them. 

Asterion, the Maze of Time’s Final Death has prevented any revival!

“How?” Simon wondered in dread and disbelief. Even if Frightwall couldn’t prevent higher-level individuals from teleporting in, his Anathemic Secrecy should have ensured Asterion couldn’t follow him or learn of its location. 

“I have known about this place for centuries, Simon.” Asterion glanced at the restored walls. “It is I who destroyed it, so very long ago.”

Simon’s clawed fingers sank into the armrests. “Were you the one to annihilate Endymion?”

“Your family had destroyed much of it by themselves by the time Shin-Drazil sank it beneath the waves.” Asterion’s glowing gaze settled on the Crimson Throne. “I laid waste to Endymion’s ruins in order to break that throne, yet it would not flinch no matter how hard I struck it. I pounded this palace into dust, but this heart of darkness would not give in.”

“You were waiting for me to return, so you could complete the job.” With his avenues of escape mostly closed, Simon rose from his throne to do battle. “You will find me no easy prey in my seat of power! Invert!”

True to his usual battle tactics, Simon opened up by trying to strip Asterion of all of his buffs, and followed that up by blasting him with Hellfire Gaze. Frightwall’s buffs flowed through him and turned his hateful glare into a torrent of unholy flames. 

He might as well have been breathing on a rock for all the good it did. 

Not only did Asterion lack any buff to invert, but Simon’s Hellfire Gaze harmlessly bounced off his chest without inflicting any damage. The blast slid harmlessly on his flesh like water on a smooth stone.  

“If ending this cycle was as simple as breaking a chair, I would have done it rather than spend centuries warring against your kind,” Asterion argued, as if that somehow made it justifiable. “With you around, we might have quicker and easier options.”

“Like what, impaling me on the Mana Sword?” 

“Something close. The Mana Goddess’ power has shown it could disrupt yours. We could use it to break Mardok’s curse without wasting centuries hunting down mortals. Your cooperation would make it easier.”

Simon immediately saw the issue with that plan. “And if it fails, you will go through with your plan of wiping out all mortals off the face of the universe.”

“Yes, because any outcome is better than enduring this cycle beyond the end of time.” Asterion shook his head with a heavy sigh akin to a deathly rattle. “We exist in Mardok’s world; a universe where fear is law and a prison for souls with invisible bars. You are no more than its warden, Simon. You may have your privileges, but you are still on our side of the fence.”

“Not quite,” Simon snapped back as he struck him with a Darkflare. “I am on the side of the living, and you of the dead!”

A cataclysmic explosion followed his spellcasting. Darkness surged into a blast that had laid a lesser archfiend to rest in a single strike and nearly slain others. The very castle walls shattered from the mere shockwave. 

Asterion neither flinched nor folded and, when the shadows finally settled, the only hint that he had been hit at all was a tiny scratch on his chest. It was nail-deep and hardly visible. 

As it turned out, Asterion wasn’t invulnerable like Helel; he was merely unbelievably tough. 

Physical attacks might help, Simon thought as he activated Darkbound for a lack of better options. He grew to a colossal size rivaling Asterion and his Deathmace materialized in his hand like a tower of bone. What remained of the ceiling shattered on his shoulders and crown. If this fails…

Asterion did not look perturbed and continued arguing with him. “We were one before, my other half. I have been in your head, seen what you could have been. If you truly understood your Class’ implications—”

Simon answered him by smashing his face with Underworld Hammer. 

His Deathmace hit Asterion with enough power to raise a volcano from the depths of the earth. The shockwave shattered the remaining walls and caused an earthquake to tear the throne room apart, with flames and lava surging out of the cracks. Anyone close by would have been sent flying and deafened.

This time, Asterion actually flinched from the blow. Deathmace’s spikes and the screeching souls inside cracked his fangs and the right side of his face, causing the Minotaur to nearly stumble. He caught himself at the last moment, then glared at Simon as he raised his weapon for a follow-up strike. 

“Fine,” Asterion said with a grunt. His skeletal hand clenched, unholy energies gathering around it until the very fabric of space appeared to warp around the edges. “Devil Fist.”

Simon never saw the punch coming, but he certainly felt it.

No other enemy besides Helel had done more than scratch him when he channeled Darkbound’s power. Asterion’s fist proved even being a giant meant his endurance had limits. It struck him in the chest with immense power, rippling through his armor, shattering his miasma plates, and causing his vision to flash white for a moment.

Massive Physical and Mythic damage!

The blow flung Simon across half of Frightwall. 

He crashed through wall after wall before ending his course against the outer fortifications. Half of it collapsed into the toxic sea on the impact, and Simon himself nearly fell into it. 

Ugh… Simon held his chest and struggled against the pain. He hits like a bull…

“Can’t you see that this is pointless?” Asterion asked as he walked through the path of destruction Simon had left in his wake. “What are you even fighting for? The right to watch your friends die more than once?”

“Your plan may not even work,” Simon replied as he forced himself back to his feet the best he could. Asterion could have easily gone on the offensive again, but he didn’t. He likely feared accidentally killing Simon would lead to a new reign. He knew his only chance was to either incapacitate him non-lethally, or persuade him to go along with his plan. 

Simon had the opposite problem. He was certain he couldn’t defeat Asterion on his own now. Asterion was at least as strong as the Maiden—and stronger than Nodens had been when empowered by Abraxas—and Simon didn’t have a small army of Noble Class users to back him up this time around. If he could barely harm him in Frightwall, where he was at his strongest, then he had little to no chance of prevailing. Casting him into the torture demiplane might work, but the Minotaur had already shown the ability to tear space apart, and he would likely stop holding back should he realize Simon had a way of permanently destroying a Zodiac crystal. 

The risk of letting Asterion somehow permanently disrupt the reigns was too great, so Simon might have to kill himself rather than allow such an outcome. 

Still, losing even one life was a hefty price he would rather avoid. 

“The Abyss’ pacts violate causality, and they…” Simon struggled against invisible hands on his throat. “They will remember even if everyone else is dead.”

To his credit, Asterion listened to his argument before dismissing it. “As I said, we have other options. The Megaliths still hold a sliver of the Mana Goddess’ power, and four of them are under our control. We can use them to purify you of the Class.”

“But it doesn’t have to happen now! I could go through with it…” Simon again pressed against invisible hands threatening him to shut up. “In a better time. I can swear to do it once I have achieved a better future.”

“I have no guarantee that you will abide by such an oath.” 

“Yes you do, because you have been me,” Simon pointed out. “If we have indeed shared our thoughts in the past, then surely you know my word is my bond, and that I have no interest in a future Overlord inheriting the Class after me.”

“And what do you think happens to a world that commits the sin of outliving you? It is undone as time unravels, consumed by the Abyss and recreated anew.” Asterion pointed at the nearby corpses half-buried under debris. Simon recognized refugees who had had the misfortune of ending up in his path when he had been hurled across Frightwall. “Can you fathom the mountains of corpses you have left in your wake? The graveyards Mardok and your predecessors have filled? There is not enough space on this planet to fill them, Simon.”

“So you would rather add this world to the mass grave?” Simon snarled back as he switched Deathmace for a sheathed sword, in case he had to use Quickdraw to put some space between them. “Even if you can somehow end the Overlord cycle here and now, I can’t let this wasteland become our future! Too many lives depend on it!”

“Those lives were condemned the moment they were born into your world, Simon,” Asterion replied. “They will perish one time only with our method, and their souls will hopefully find rest wherever they will go. We offer an end, where you promise empty relief and eternal torment.” 

“It doesn’t matter!” Simon grit his teeth. “If you’re right that I go back, then… then only the final time matters. It is the only one to stick after everyone and everything is erased.”

Asterion studied him a moment before asking, “Are we?”

Simon frowned behind his helmet. “What?”

“Are we truly erased once you turn back time?” Asterion’s eyes glowed balefully. “I cannot say myself, because your predecessors locked away a key part of me… but I have the intuition we will not be that lucky. This is a curse, after all.”

Simon had no answer to that, but he sensed a doubt; an opportunity to seize. “Are you honestly willing to act on incomplete information? Vital intel intentionally locked away from you?” 

Asterion pondered his words. “You imply our methods are faulty from the start? That I am playing into your predecessors’ hands?”

“Yes. Think about it. If you try to destroy my Class and fail, although I wish nothing to do with it, then you will make an enemy out of me for the rest of eternity.” Never again would Simon trust anything Asterion had to say after such a betrayal. “I will do everything I can to spite you, and you shall never have your way. Will you gamble the loss of your most important ally for a slim chance of success?” 

“I see you still fight better with words than your fists, Simon… yet, I am given cause to wonder.” Asterion crossed his arms and fell into deep thought. “Could it be that you are correct, and that we are being hasty?”

“We need to find what you uncovered back then before we can reach any decision,” Simon argued. “There is still too much we do not know about how this ‘curse’ functions.”

“True.” Much to Simon’s relief, Asterion nodded to himself and appeared to see reason. “Did my previous self provide any hint or direction?”

“You said…” Simon hesitated. “I think you suggested I unlock your Remembrance, somehow.”

“My Remembrance?” Asterion sounded puzzled and skeptical. “We demons do not have those. Our death is the end, and reincarnation is denied to us. Unless you speak of our previous selves’ memories?”  

“Yes, I do. You glimpsed at them through the comet, and my third eye can see through time to a certain extent. There has to be a way to access that information.” 

Asterion looked up to the sky for a moment. He seemed to have reached a decision of some kind. “Do you know why you awakened in this era, Simon?”

“I assume it is because the comet is about to return?” Simon guessed. 

“Yes. I accidentally modified its orbit when I tried to bring it down four centuries ago. As a result, it is the Serpent-Bearer who will open the Parade rather than close it for this revolution.” Asterion stared back at him. “Since you are still connected to Mardok somehow, your powers are likely mere days from reaching their apex.”

Simon’s eyes widened in understanding. He recalled the one time the Oracle managed to seal him. He had successfully escaped it when Abraxas entered the Serpent-Bearer’s constellation, and he had gained access to powers he didn’t normally have, like regeneration. 

“I might be able to see more than I usually do,” Simon realized. 

“Or you could use the comet’s power to destroy us all,” Asterion wisely pointed out.  

It was something Simon was indeed considering, though he wisely kept it to himself. “I can swear an oath, and if I betray you, you will likely remember it.” 

“I will still have to take precautions to ensure there will be no foul play, but I suppose it is worth a try. I will convince the others to hold their hands. We have waited four hundred years, we can wait a little longer.” Asterion locked eyes with Simon. “I have your word you will not betray us or run?”

Simon met his gaze defiantly. “Do I have yours?”

“You do… but if you betray our agreement, Simon, or if you fail to see anything worthwhile, then I will have no choice but to take a gamble. We will also use your blood to track down that lich.”

And Simon would prepare for that outcome. “Will you halt your death march?”

“No.“ Asterion glared at Frightwall’s ruins and the desolate landscape. “We have to be sure we can end this, one way or another.”

Of course he wouldn’t stop. At no point did Asterion ever consider an outcome that wouldn’t involve destroying the world, whether in this timeline or any other. He was only willing to explore other options to destroy the Overlord cycle because it might be easier and less risky, but Simon had no doubt Brimir would earn no respite from the Minotaur. 

Asterion was the archfiend of inevitability. While he justified it with pity and compassion, the truth was that he simply couldn’t imagine an outcome that wouldn’t end in the death of all things. 

This will all end one day for sure, Asterion… but it will be on my terms. Simon promised himself that. I’ll decide when things come to a close.

That was the Overlord’s privilege. 

Next Chapter

A/N: the arc is approaching its climax so the poll will be up soon ;)