The Hundred Reigns 280: King of Spiders (22) (Patreon)

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Simon spent the weeks preceding the Zodiac Parade refining his crafting. 

The experimental flying pyramid was finalized and then unleashed for a successful test flight, where it released gallons of their ‘cure’ on Dead Island and sterilized the rock clean. Simon then sent it across the Dragonsea to help do the same with Valne’s coast and Magvolia. Infected regions in this part of the world would soon fall silent, though it might take decades to resettle them. 

Chrom Cruak did catch on to Simon’s operations, however, and made his displeasure known. “Your actions are foolish,” the mummy king warned him after another Weaver meeting. “You strengthen our enemies.”

“Our experiments showed a strong possibility of your plague mutating when crossed with the original strain, so safety comes first,” Simon countered icily. “Besides, what does it matter to you? Elves still die by the thousands.”

“You do not understand… why a living death is preferable to the regular kind,” Chrom Cruak argued. “Dying souls return to the manatrees and empower the dryads… a sudden influx thus strengthens them. Your sister’s genius was to starve them of death with undying horrors.”

Wait… was that why Illusea allowed the Endymian civil war and Zodiac Parade to run its course? To gather enough power to fuel their lunar migration? Belzemine had allowed them to leave on the first day of Abraxas’ return, but they might need significantly more mana to do it without her… that or they hoped to stockpile strength in order to better protect their remaining dominions.

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take compared to the alternative,” Simon replied, glaring at the bitter old undead. “Unless you would rather break our alliance over it?”

Chrom Cruak pondered his answer a moment before replying with a firm “No.”

“No, indeed.” Two could play this game, and Chrom Cruak was about as unwilling to pick a pointless fight with Simon as the Overlord was. “Dealing with the Archer and his kind is our top priority for now.”

“Then we should have our Chemists work on bombs… not cures.”

“Except the Archer can consume the souls of those it kills to heal its wounds, and might have the ability to control lesser beasts,” Simon countered. “Sterilizing our battlefield and the surrounding lands will spare us many headaches.”

“We have amassed a strong force… so I would say the odds are on our side.” Chrom Cruak came up with a battle strategy. “Minions will be detrimental if the Archer can indeed feed on weaklings… unless they have no souls to exploit like golems and mindless undead…”

Simon assented with a nod. “We’ll use those to reinforce our Noble Class users, all of whom will be equipped with Demonslaying weapons of my own creation.”

“Type-targeting may not be sufficient.” Chrom Cruak crossed his arms. “Can you use attacks of all elements?”

“Almost all of them except for the Metal, Wood, Water, and Earth elements.” He could technically inflict damage of the latter type with Edict of Wounded Earth, but it would harm their allies almost as much as their enemy. “You suggest that I craft things like elemental bombs?”

“If you have Perks boosting consumable damage,” Chrom Cruak rasped. “Otherwise… elemental oils applied to your weapon will work better… since they will benefit from proficiency.”

True enough. Chrom Cruak was a centuries-old immortal, and quite aware of how to optimize both builds and parties. He actually proved quite the asset when it came to drafting a battle plan for the Archer, suggesting excellent ways to improve team cohesion and efficiency.

“The hag is not mobile enough and landbound…” Chrom Cruak noted. “She would benefit from a flying mechanism like my wings… and polymorphing her coven members into portable items would let her benefit from the Coven buffs without endangering her partners…”

Why didn’t I think of that? Simon wondered as he took notes. Other proposals, like having Shabram buff long-range spellcasters to ensure they kept up the assault or having Bert’s soul reunite with Verney’s Hector-possessed corpse to create a better fighter, made quite a lot of sense. His tactical insight might be second only to Maublanc.

“I see you have much experience with these kinds of things,” Simon complimented him. He would have been tempted to leave Chrom Cruak fully in charge of the Weavers’ battle strategy if he trusted him more.

“I led wars and won them… knowing how to make the best of one’s troops is as important as personal strength.” Chrom Cruak let out a rattle. “Anyone below level 60 is likely superfluous in this fight… if not an outright liability. Pick your allies wisely.”

Neither held any illusion that this would be a clean and bloodless victory. The fight with Nodens had taught Simon to expect the worst. 

The question wasn’t if they would take casualties, but how many. 

—---------

With a strategy in mind, Simon set his newfound formidable crafting expertise on equipping and outfitting his chosen troops. They had moved their manufacturing facilities—and Lauriane—away from Verney’s castle by the time Lorean authorities raided it, and production continued from Deepground bunkers instead. 

Simon designed anti-Demon weapons sure to inflict supereffective damage to Algozoa, created a demon-possessed glider for Granny Radhag, built new flying golems, and improved Deathmace by incorporating Nodens’ crystal into it. While it meant he couldn’t store it in his Inventory anymore, this enhanced weapon—Flaymace—would inflict both additional Metal damage and flay the victim on contact. It should come in handy against the Archer. 

He had even tried to recreate the Musan Sniper and field it, but quickly ran into issues. While Artisan of Wonders did provide Simon with its blueprints, he quickly realized that the original design was much simpler and weaker than the mechanical monstrosity which had cost him two reigns already. Studying the plans taught Simon that the creature had started out as a relatively simple golem with long-range offensive capabilities, with one tiny advantage that set it apart from its simpler cousins. 

It could self-improve.

Unlike any other automaton, the Sniper’s manalith core was so advanced as to serve as a ‘soul’ of a sort, with runic scripts and codes mimicking neural pathways patterned around a Crestone serving as the ‘brain.’ This was likely the exact same technology which had eventually led to the Godmind’s creation and allowed it to use the Crafter Class. 

The Sniper’s ‘mind,’ if that was the right term, was much simpler than the Mechanical Tower’s and utterly focused on a single objective: to become a better shooter and defender. It had steadily modified itself in the pursuit of that goal over the years, helped by the Crafter’s occasional upgrades, until it became something altogether different from its original prototype.

Recreating the Sniper as it was now would require years of experimentation and guided development Simon didn’t have, and he wasn’t sure he even wanted to. Creating a self-evolving machine with a high risk of evolving out of control somewhat defeated the point of a perfectly obedient golem. 

All these battle preparations took up so much of his time he found little space to practice his Techniques, spellcasting, and eidolon summonings, but it was time well-spent either way. The designs he had come up with—especially his Overbot project—would become game-changers in future reigns. 

“—are you even listening?” Elsa’s voice cut through his muddled thoughts. 

“Mmm?” Glorious images of a mighty army of golem doubles crafted in Simon’s own image faded away from his mind, and he returned to reality to the tune of high-pitched singing. “W-what?”

He found himself in an expensive leather seat next to an elegantly dressed Elsa, sitting on a balcony overseeing a splendid theater with shining crystal chandeliers, packed stands, and a set on which danced illusory flames conjured by magic. The opera’s main lead, a woman dressed like a knight, sang in front of a prop metal ogre.

Oh right, he had taken Elsa on a date to Bujan’s opera house, since it was one of the few places that still hosted public performances and where odds of being ambushed were low. 

“Ugh…” Simon grunted in embarrassment. “How long was I out?”

“At least thirty minutes. I could have sliced your throat, and you wouldn’t have noticed.” Elsa looked back at the performance, or rather, the stands. She seemed more interested in the spectators than the actual actors. “It’s a good thing you have mephisgoat nurses to take care of Benjamin, or you would make for an extremely lousy guardian.”

“Sorry, I’m still trying to compartmentalize better.” Mastering his crafting inspiration was like wrestling with a leviathan. “The information just keeps coming the moment I open the floodgate. It’s maddening.”

In a way, it compounded the issues Simon had faced with his build for the last few reigns. He simply had so many options available his mind struggled to focus without wandering off. 

“No wonder they had to use a giant living tower to manage it.” Elsa scratched his chin with her finger. “Tell me you at least imagined gifts for me.”

“I have, actually. I’ve been thinking about a dagger—”

“Mmm,” she cut in with a bored grunt. 

“One whose damage scales with your Agility rather than your Strength,” Simon added with a smirk, which immediately caught her full attention. 

“Oh, now we’re talking.” Her finger traveled down his neck and sent shivers down his spine wherever it touched. “Here I thought you didn’t want me to slice any more Adventurer throats…”

“I would have preferred it if you hadn’t, but I can’t wait to see you gut a Zodiac Fiend like a fish.” Elsa had certainly inherited Velvet’s bloodlust. “Enjoying the performance so far?”

“It is nice, but I would have preferred something more exciting, like a date in Gargauth’s hoard.” Elsa rested her head on his shoulder. “Have you ever been in love with someone, Simon?”

What an odd question… Simon gave it a serious pause. “Three times… maybe four.” 

He had loved Anna, Eole, and Remedia for certain; and while his feelings for Cassandra were more subdued, he still held much affection for her. 

“The bird was among them?”

“Is that a hint of annoyance I sense in your voice?” Simon mused. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous?”

“I’m annoyed,” Elsa admitted, much to Simon’s surprise. “First she turns you down, then she betrays you, and you still spare her life. It doesn’t exactly radiate strength to me.”

“Strength?” Simon didn’t like what she insinuated. “I have strength enough to destroy this whole city we’re in with a single sentence, but what doing so would prove other than me being a monster? Mercy is not weakness, Elsa, especially towards the weak.”

“It is when it costs you,” Elsa countered. “I ask again, why do you keep her alive when you’ve nothing to gain from it? Don’t tell me you still hope she’ll change her mind and let you pluck her feathers.” 

“I guess Eole’s my… conscience. I’m not a good person, but I’m at least trying to do better. Eole was one of the few who kept me on the right track, and I loved her for it.” Simon folded his hands. “I just lack the overwhelming power to make those lofty ideals of ours a reality yet, but that will come in time.”

Elsa studied him with an unreadable expression. “My Silk half gathered a lot of information on you during our early days,” she warned him. “As far as I know, you’ve only met that bird in the days following your father’s death. That shouldn’t have been long enough to form much of a connection.”

“It’s… complicated.” How could Simon word it without triggering the reigns’ self-defense mechanism? “My Dark Visionary visions let me vividly live possible existences. Years can pass in the blink of an eye from my point of view.”

Elsa chuckled lightly. “Are you telling me you hallucinated an entire life wed to a bird?”

“Yes,” Simon confirmed calmly. “As unbelievable as it sounds.”

“I believe you; I just find it funny.” Elsa crossed her legs. “Were we ever an item in your visions?”

“No,” Simon admitted. In fact, he had sworn he would never stop hating her components during the last reign. “We’re in unknown territory.”

“So I stole your heart? I like that very much.” The news clearly pleased her for some reason. “How does it feel then? To fall in love with someone?”

Since she had to ask, Simon guessed they weren’t quite there yet. “It’s like warmth filling up your chest. You think of the person’s happiness at all times. You want them to be in your life, and to be a part of theirs.” He looked at his hand as he recalled the feeling of holding Anna, Remedia, Eole, and other past ghosts. “You don’t want to let them go no matter what, and you’ll fight to keep or avenge them.”

“Interesting…” Elsa looked back at the stand with a thoughtful expression, a faint smirk slowly spreading on her face. “Mmm…”

Simon wasn’t sure he liked the mischievous glint in her eyes. “What’s on your mind?”

Elsa met his gaze without answering, then rose from her seat. “I’ll be taking a trip to the restroom,” she whispered in his ear on her way out of their private booth. “I won’t take long.”

Simon frowned slightly at her words, and focused back on the performance. What was she doing? He had the intuition that she was laying a snare of some kind, or putting him to the test. 

He tried to clear his mind and focus on the stage. Tonight’s performance, Song of the White Unicorn, had been banned in Endymion since it glorified the deeds of the eponymous Paladin that would give her name to the movement. Euphemia had only recently relaxed imperial censorship laws in an effort to ease people’s minds from the heavy travel restrictions and curfews. It was nice, but he struggled to focus as minutes passed without Elsa returning. 

“What are you doing?” Simon asked her through telepathy, but though his connection remained strong, she simply refused to answer him. It was an invitation if he had ever seen any. Fine, I’ll check myself. 

It had to be another one of her games. His lover had rather unorthodox ideas when it came to foreplay and entertainment. 

That certainty grew as Simon approached the restrooms to find the door to the ladies’ one half-opened. He heard Elsa chuckling behind it, alongside something else. Something that caused Simon’s blood to boil. 

A man’s voice. 

She wouldn’t. Simon’s vision went red and his blood boiled with fury as he moved towards the door and slammed it open. She wouldn’t dare!

But she did. 

He found her near the gilded sink, laughing with somebody he didn’t recognize; some handsome noble scion in his twenties going by his expensive attire and doublet, with coal colored hair and an easy smile. He was trying his best to kiss Elsa, who denied him that pleasure, but she still let him touch her with his dirty, grubby hands. She peered over his shoulder and stared straight at Simon, daring him to act.

Which he did, by punching the man’s skull into the nearest wall before he even realized Simon was there.

Even without his Class outfit on, he had grown so much stronger that the impact shattered his jaw and crushed a few teeth. Simon’s hand grew moist from the blood on it, while the man fell onto the floor with a crack.

And Elsa? 

Elsa burst out laughing. “My!” she said in between laughing fits. “You almost killed him—”

Simon grabbed her by the throat and slammed her against the sink’s mirror so hard it cracked. It only aroused her, and she pulled him closer until her lips touched his own. They tasted so incredibly bitter. 

Poison negated by Unyielding Essence. 

“Your lips are poisoned…” Simon muttered as he pulled back, his heartbeat pounding. He looked at the man on the floor, who backed away from them with a bloody face and terror in his eyes. “You planned to kill him either way.” 

“He was a mark I had almost forgotten about,” Elsa said with amusement, licking her lips. “A fraudster whose family got rich selling confiscated elven goods during the Reformation. I just had to give him a look over the stands, and he came running.”

Simon’s blood boiled in his veins. “What kind of sick game are you playing, Elsa?!”

“I wanted to see if you were willing to fight for me,” Elsa replied, her eyes settling upon their victim. “Even better, you’re willing to kill. Very sweet.”

“You are insane…”

“Look who’s talking, with blood dripping down your hand.” Her hand moved to undo his belt, and began to untie it while her mark was still watching. “You like it, don’t you? The power, the dominance… trampling others to take what you want. This is you.”

“It isn’t,” Simon hissed back angrily, but he didn’t push her back. His hand gripped her back with blood still slipping between his fingers. “I don’t want to be that kind of person.”

“That’s fine, Simon. I want you to conquer me.” Her legs closed behind him and caught him in a grip. “I accept you as you are… and deep down, that’s what you want too.”

Damn it, damn it… why did he find this as arousing as it was disturbing? She managed to unfasten his belt and kiss him again, and at this point he just couldn’t resist. They ignored the man running towards the exit for his life, teleported back to his base, and then pulled her to his bed with blood still on his hands. 

She had him again.

—------

What followed was probably the most intense lovemaking Simon had since Remedia. Neither his sweet times with Anna nor Eole compared. He conquered her, and owned her, and bled her. She surrendered herself to him body and soul, and somehow, it still felt like a defeat. 

“Why?” Simon wondered out loud once they finished, panting in the bed. “You’re a terrible influence on me, so why… Why does this feel so good?” 

“Because you desire me?” Elsa moved behind him, her arms enveloping him from behind, her breasts pushing against his back and her chin against his shoulder. “Because I let you be yourself.”

“Myself?” Simon grunted in annoyance. “Someone who nearly beats a man to death in a fit of rage because he touched his lover?”

“Yes, and someone who offered me kindness and gave chances to people who likely didn’t deserve it,” Elsa replied softly. “You’re a person of contradictions, Simon. You want unlimited power for yourself, and the greater good for the world… but unlike that bird of yours, I crave both of your halves rather than just one.”

“I don’t,” Simon replied icily as he stared at his hand. He could still see the blood stuck under his nails. “I don’t like that side of me.”

“Neither did I once, and I was all the weaker for it. You’re never going to be happy unless you accept yourself.” Elsa kissed him on the neck, her touch sending chills down his spine. “All of yourself.”

Simon shook his head. He just couldn’t accept that. “I may not be a good person, but I’ll never be a monster.”

“No, because you’re half of each, and one doesn’t erase the other.” Elsa sighed when he refused to answer her. “It’s okay. It took me six years to figure it out, I can wait a little longer for you to understand. And when you do…”

Her hands moved to his chest, her nails scratching the skin right above his heart. 

“I’ll make sure there’s only room left for me in there,” she promised him. “The world will belong to you, and you will belong to me.”

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A/N: a reminder that the new loop poll is available there if you haven't received the notification: https://www.patreon.com/VoidHerald/posts/hr-poll-which-do-172946445 ; remember to vote if you haven't, the two leads are currently one percent apart as I write these lines XD