The Hundred Reigns 224: The Land of the Warlords (4) (Patreon)

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They were halfway through the boiler room when Louis turned to face Simon with a steely smile on his face. 

“Brother.” Louis drew his rapier, the hue of the surrounding flames dancing on his Warrior outfit. “Fight me.”

And so Simon did. His eyes burned and hellfire poured out in a blast that put the boiler room’s fires to shame… but Louis was quicker still. He lunged at Simon in a blinding burst of speed, dodging the beams with grace and lethal intent. His rapier whistled even as Simon stopped its thrust with Balefire. 

Simon knew their Classes were evenly matched in strength, yet their clash sent him a few feet backwards as if he had been hit by a manatrain. He quickly summoned his mace from his Inventory in his free hand, deflecting a thrust with Balefire and countering with a blow from his other weapon. 

Louis didn’t bother dodging. He simply parried the mace with his rapier, the steel needle an unbreakable shield in his hands. Simon didn’t relent and followed through with a flurry of blows; slicing, smashing, and thrusting. Though his relentless assault pushed Louis back, his brother parried and deflected each blow with casual ease. His smile never left his lips and his defense was absolutely perfect. 

Simon had no idea how long this futile dance went on, the sound of pistons and machinery punctuating each clash of their steel. The heat of the boiler room would have left him sweating without his innate Fire resistance as manaliths fueled the furnaces and steam engines powering the Goetia Research Facility. Avoiding harming any of the devices and causing a disaster was half the battle. 

Louis eventually grew bored of this game and counterattacked after dodging a vertical slice, his blade aiming straight for Simon’s throat. That was the moment Simon had waited for as he used Chaos Wave to repel his brother when he least expected it, then followed it up with a spell of his own. “Invert.”

He had hoped to strip and turn Louis’ buffs against him to even the playing field, but there was no empowering effect to twist and corrupt. His brother was simply strong.

“Haste & Slash.” 

No sooner had the words left Louis’ lips than his movements grew even faster than before, and he closed the gap in an instant. Simon improvised by throwing Balefire at his head with his immense strength, then used Devil’s Arm in an attempt to grab his brother and strip him of his buff with Timethief when he was distracted.

No such opportunity came. Louis simply dodged the claymore, grabbed its handle in midair, and threw it back at his sibling. A surprised Simon hastily deflected it with a swing of his mace, which sent the claymore crashing onto the ceiling, then saw white as his brother’s foot hit him in the face. 

Heavy Physical damage!

The blow had somehow bypassed Simon’s immunity to non-magical damage. It would have likely torn any other man’s head off their shoulders, if not shattered their skull to pieces. Simon fell back onto his back, then felt cold steel pressing against his throat. 

“You are talented, Simon,” Louis said, his rapier within an inch of his brother’s vitals, “but inefficient.”

Simon grunted in frustration. He hadn’t expected to win after Louis accepted to train him to correct the flaws in his fighting style, but his showing left much to be desired. He guessed embarrassment was the price of practicing with the best of the best. 

He replayed the encounter in his mind, his eyes darting to his weapon still stuck in the ceiling. “I shouldn’t have thrown my claymore at you.”

“You lost the battle much earlier.” His tone implied Simon never had a chance in the first place, however. “Think back.”

“The Invert spell,” Simon guessed. “I shouldn’t have assumed you had buffs.”

Louis shook his head. “It is true we fighter-types tend to rely on buffs less than spellcasters and more gimmicky Classes, but you miss the real problem: action economy.”

“Action economy?” It was the first time Simon had heard of that concept. 

“Think of battle as a strategy board game. You put forward one piece, then the other player makes a move, and so on. You both try to press your advantage until you achieve victory. A talented novice may put a decent strategy in action or successfully disrupt the enemy, but a master?” Louis offered his hand to help his brother rise. “A master does both at once.”

“You say I should focus on moves that achieve multiple objectives in one action?” Simon asked as he rose to his feet. 

“Exactly,” Louis confirmed. “Your Invert spell can be circumstantially decisive in battle, but it is a situational tool that achieves only one objective. If the enemy has no buffs, it is wasted. If they do have one, they can try to counter it or attack you while you’re busy casting. Either way, you at best stripped an opponent of an advantage without giving yourself one.”

Simon pondered Louis’ words. This put the issues with his fighting style into perspective. Although he had accumulated many tools over his reigns, they each served a single purpose. This left him locked in a constant dance of attacks and counterstrikes until he eventually found an opening or won through superior firepower. 

“Now, that kind of approach is fine when you are low-level or part of a team that covers other roles,” Louis explained. “Imperial soldiers are trained to each cover one aspect of a greater strategy. One buffer to strengthen the team, one debuffer to weaken the enemy, one defender to draw enemy fire, and one damager to carve the bloody path. This synergy brings forth victory.”

“But we’re both one-man parties.” 

“Yes, we are.” Louis appraised Simon for a moment before explaining his reasoning. “High-level fighters inevitably learn to cover more than one role at once. They damage and inflict an ailment, or buff and heal in one action. This wastes less time and puts more pressure on the enemy, since this increases the number of variables they have to deal with.”

Much like how Louis’s Haste & Slash let him attack and Hasten himself at the same time, rather than buffing himself and then striking. 

Simon needed to either develop or master abilities that gave him cumulative advantages. Hellfire Gaze was so useful because it could both damage an opponent and apply escalating ailments. 

“What about battle scripts?” Simon inquired. 

“I’m impressed you’re already familiar with the concept,” Louis praised him. “Battle scripts are useful, but in your case I would heavily focus on reinforcing your basics and your arsenal. Tactics will differ depending on the enemy you’re currently facing, whereas you will never part ways with your spells and Techniques.”

And Simon had a good idea where to start. “I should learn Magic Eraser. It inflicts damage and strips a foe of their magical effects.”

“It is probably the single best melee technique ever created, to the point the Worldsoul made it a key part of the Berserker’s kit.” Louis assessed Simon for a moment. “Our father had a Perk letting him learn Techniques at a quick rate. I assume you have it as well?”

“I do.” Simon scoffed. “I’m not sure Thalas will be too happy to teach it to me.”

“I can teach you Magic Eraser. Our father drilled it into my mind as soon as I took up the Warrior Class.” Louis chuckled to himself. “It might be good for you to practice with Thalas, however.”

“I don’t think so. Seeing me use his own Technique will drive him insane with envy.”

“Which is a net positive. Thalas always progresses faster when he has something to prove.” Louis turned to a nearby elevator, which swiftly opened and allowed Lauriane to step through alongside two guards. She was clad in the Alchemist outfit. “Right on time, sister.”

“I was watching you both from the control room.” Lauriane glanced at Balefire stuck in the ceiling. “Did you have to train him in the boiler room, Louis?” 

“He needs more training in battlefield control,” Louis replied before smiling at Simon. “I’m sure you have plenty of devastating area of effect attacks to call upon, but you will not always have the benefit of an open field. Learning to limit enemy movements, disrupt formations, or force them to waste time navigating obstacles will save your life.”

“You could have trained in another facility where a mistake wouldn’t risk an explosion.”

“Real risks lead to real progress.” Louis dismissed the matter. “Are you ready to give us a tour?”

“Yes, I am.” Lauriane cleared her throat as she turned to Simon, who flew to recover his sword. “What you will see might make your stomach turn, Simon.”

It can’t be worse than my father’s book of conquests. Simon wished he could have burned it to cinders twice. “Lead the way, Lauriane.”

Whereas his previous wedding with Euphemia had been meant to advertise and celebrate a peace that never came, Simon’s coronation would be closer to a military parade this time around. His supporters insisted that the army’s power be put at the forefront to drive up conscription and recruitment in preparation for the inevitable conflicts to come. They also decided that holding Malphas’ public execution at the same time would teach the population the price of disloyalty.  

All in all, Endymion could expect an iron hand to steer it into the future, and a heavy boot to fall on its enemies’ faces. 

Simon’s first official trip as Overlord had thus taken him to Magvolia, both to secure the Darkwood and oversee the Goetia Research Facility’s warbeast program. Some would be used during the coronation parade, and Simon was considering expanding the project to create bigger and nastier creatures capable of tackling both the Zodiac Fiends and Illusea’s troops. 

Moreover, he hoped to learn how to better create monstrous servants on his own without relying on imperial facilities. 

“I’ve heard you pardoned Justine Eligos and put her on a supersoldier project,” Lauriane said as the elevator took them into the facility’s depths. “What would it entail?”

“I have Perks that let me merge souls and demonic essence,” Simon explained. “I plan to mostly focus on empowering equipment rather than people, but I want to push the idea to the limit and see if I can bind even archfiends to powerful warriors.”

Louis raised an eyebrow. “Archfiends are quite dangerous, brother. There is a reason why they are among the few creatures our bestiary argues to flee from on sight.”

“I know the risk, but I have Perks that turn me into a… figure of authority for demonkind, on top of brands to enforce loyalty.” Borsh and Lorimor had proved that Vassal Class users could merge with demons without losing access to their Crestones. A cadre of loyal soldiers merged with enslaved archfiends could form an elite force. “We will only test the procedure on a handful of cases, and I will be sure to put the project under your supervision, Lauriane.”

His sister nodded in agreement. “Good, it would synergize well with our warbeast development program.” 

“Anything else on our father’s Biographer project otherwise?” Simon inquired. As much as he loathed it, the coded message in his father’s cursed booklet confirmed the existence of a hidden archive. He would bet his hand it was linked to the mysterious project.

“I have set investigators on the case in partnership with Shabram, but our father covered his tracks well.” Lauriane crossed her arms. “It bothers me that he kept R&D projects away from me.”

“Our father was not so different from the Oracle in his own way,” Louis commented. “They couldn’t trust their subordinates with a morsel of power to ensure they couldn’t easily be replaced. How insecure.” 

Simon nodded in agreement. Things would have been so much easier had his father actually provided him with directions rather than traps and cruelties. 

Still, he wouldn’t lose hope. Simon had made progress on various fronts during his last open Overlord reign when it came to tracking down people involved in the Biographer project or the lost city of Raphta, so his troops began with a head start this time around. He would track down both eventually. 

The elevator eventually stopped in one of the Goetia Research Facility’s deepest basements. Tall open shelves crammed with scalpels, forceps, spreaders, syringes, and other implements lined the walls alongside anatomical drawings, bottled organs, and alchemical concoctions. Clean metal tables surrounded by sawblades, needles, and cruel-looking machines were abundant here. 

“This is where we surgically prepare some subjects to ensure they can survive more dangerous experiments or transformations,” Lauriane explained. “For example, we have recently replaced a basilisk’s bones with metal to ensure they wouldn’t break from a sudden increase in muscle mass.”

The clinical way she described the procedure gave Simon pause. He was used to Lauriane’s softer side, but she was no caring big sister here; she was the Alchemist and head of the empire’s R&D department, with countless wonders and horrors to her name.

The next room over was the actual warbeast production lab and quite the dreadful sight. Massive steel vats burbling with foul-smelling liquid and alchemical cauldrons were plentiful here, but Simon’s eye was mostly drawn to colossal vats built into the walls. Massive creatures floated inside alchemical liquid within a prison of glass, from chimeras composed of various merged animals to warped masses of protruding bones, baggy flesh, and hungry mouths filled with fangs. Some of the ‘alchemical waste’ kept in cauldrons also turned out to be pacified slimes. 

“If we exclude slimes and golems, there are three major methods to create warbeasts: surgical operations, mutagen exposure, or mechanical enhancements,” Lauriane explained. “Mutagen exposure is the quickest and easiest to mass-produce, but also the most limited and often unreliable procedure.”

Simon’s Devil Forgemaster immediately provided him with some intuitive understanding of the matter, on top of his own personal experiments. “Mutagens are potions that induce permanent or temporary physical changes in those exposed to them, am I right?”

“You are,” Lauriane replied with a hint of sisterly pride. “Father produced quite a few formulas I’ve improved upon over the years, and I have developed various strains capable of reliably inducing certain changes, such as increased muscle mass, improved intelligence, and so on. Some of the standard potions used by our army are watered-downed mutagens.”

“Goblinoids are especially good at handling mutagens due to their natural adaptability,” Louis said as he reviewed a vat holding a huge, twelve-foot-tall ogre with mechanical claws and other sharp implements. “We were hoping to create an entire breed of living rams that would serve as our forces’ backbone. A platoon of warbeasts at the vanguard of an infantry force with airship cover would provide a clear advantage in any engagement.”

“Mutagens can also be used to merge various creatures together, which lets us create chimeras without resorting to extensive surgical grafts,” Lauriane added with enthusiasm. She sounded rather passionate about the subject. “Still, I would say upgrading a subject by grafting new organs and mechanical parts has yielded our strongest living weapons yet.”

“I have Perks that can improve on this equipment,” Simon said, pointing at alchemical vats and cauldrons. “I take it you immerse subjects inside mutagens until they transform or die?”

“That would be correct. We’ve reduced the failure rate to below twenty percent, but we still produce waste now and then.”

Simon didn’t bother asking what happened to those. “I can infuse them with souls and demonic spirits to bolster the transformation, either to improve the success rate or strengthen the result.” This laboratory inspired him. “You could turn cows and goats into fearsome monsters, then merge them with demonic spirits in the process and bolster their intelligence with miasma.”

“An interesting approach… they would indeed be naturally docile, but their quadruped nature limits them.” Lauriane snapped her fingers. “Surgical operations to ensure they come out of the vats as bipedal creatures with hands would be optimal, though they’ll be at higher risk of psychotic episodes.”

“It’s nothing Devil Brands and faith-based conditioning won’t solve,” Simon replied. He noticed Louis looked a tiny bit disturbed at the discussion. “Herd mentality will ensure they stay in line.”

“And the younger the subjects, the quicker they’ll adapt to the mutations.” Lauriane nodded to herself. “That is an excellent idea, Simon.”

Simon didn’t expect to bond with Lauriane over creating abominations against nature, but he was glad they shared a passion. All in all, his visit taught him a few things: first of all, his father hadn’t been too interested in using Devil Forgemaster to improve warbeast production, most likely he preferred to focus on weapons and standard equipment; and second, most of the lab’s resources were spread across dozens of different projects that ranged from draconic chimeras to spider-centaurs.

Louis shared Simon’s issues with the current setup. “We should streamline production, Lauriane. End most projects and focus on mass producing a handful of successful designs. Our time to prepare is growing short.”

“We could, but several projects are on the verge of significant breakthroughs.” Lauriane was too professional to implore Simon, but she did send him a glance that tugged at his heartstrings. “I was hoping we could make some room in the budget for them…”

“We will,” Simon promised her. The sales of the Flauros Dukedom’s assets should help on that front. “Now, could you show me a handful of these mutagen formulas?”

Lauriane was happy to expand Simon’s repertoire with high-quality proprietary potions. The imperial army had indeed developed quite the collection of mutagens; a Chimera elixir capable of merging multiple creatures into one; a Megafaunus formula inspired by the Berserker’s Primal Regression that drastically increased strength at the cost of inducing occasional psychotic episodes and a vulnerability to Berserk; an Awakening potion capable of granting human-level intelligence to beasts, slimes, and other mindless creatures; and Lauriane’s proudest discovery, an agent called Vertigo capable of inducing extreme mutations on the subject based on its Tribe and species. 

Simon was certain he could recreate miasmic variants of each formula, though the ingredients and tools required would cost a fortune without the imperial state to provide for them. He had already noticed creating new breeds of monsters granted him some experience, with the more disastrous the beast, the greater the yield. 

Simon could hardly resist that growing, nagging demiurgic urge to create life in his image. The labs he created while working with the Cobweb or Vouivre were mere toyboxes compared to the tools available to him here in this facility. 

“Alright, I wish to try my hand at these mutagens,” Simon decided as he met Lauriane’s gaze. “Bring me goats and cows.”

“How many, Simon?”

Simon’s resolve hardened. “As many as it takes.”

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