Arthur kneeled over Melania’s corpse, his lungs heaving for breath. He wasn’t exhausted, per se; his stats were far too inflated for that, but his time as The Nether Beast was quickly drawing to a close, and every breath he took was a struggle to maintain this form for a single moment longer. His domain had already flickered out, its only remnants his corrupted dragon fire that continued to burn wherever it found fuel.
Melania’s remains were now a human-shaped smear of pulped flesh and metal that continued to spread from beneath him. The only blood present here was the poison he’d introduced into her body, though the fine paste he’d made of the woman gave off the illusion she’d been a normal creature of flesh and blood. Arthur had destroyed her so thoroughly that all the soul mages in the history of everything wouldn’t have been able to reconstitute her if they worked together.
Still, he only let himself truly relax when the System oaths he’d made to Mysha and Rosano disappeared. If they were gone, it meant that Melania was well and truly dead. The mirror world around him gradually faded away, and Arthur found himself kneeling in a massive courtroom, with walls extending tens of miles outwards and millions of seats for a truly gargantuan audience.
Only forty-two people were present, though. The noise level, however, was through the roof; everyone shouting to have their voices heard, magic and concepts clashing as everyone tried to establish dominance over the sound in the room. It was like a fishmarket, everyone trying to get a word in edgewise. Arthur’s vision was fading in and out of focus; The Nether Beast was truly on its last legs. The only reason he was still conscious was because the ether density in the courtroom was a tier above the mirror world he’d just fought in.
Ezrial was here, at least, which he welcomed. The Weaver's presence, not so much. It took a while for everyone to calm down, but finally, there was blessed silence. The courtroom was finally in session.
“You surprised all of us today. Originator Ward.” The voice came from a man sitting on the raised dais, his face covered by an ornate black and gold mask. The man and woman sitting beside him were dressed similarly, and it took Arthur an embarrassingly long time to realise they were a tribunal of sorts. This was normally the time he’d make an annoying remark, something that would get his audience riled up. As exhausted as he was, though, he merely grunted in a way he felt accurately communicated how he felt about things.
“You must be wondering why you're here.”
When the masked man realised no reply was forthcoming, he continued unabated. “You see, my dear Originator, we’ve found ourselves caught up in a little dilemma, a trap if you will, that in hindsight, we should have seen coming from a mile away. Melania always was The Weaver's favourite pet project, so when we gained the opportunity to knock you down a peg and grant the mad scientist some much-needed inspiration… Well, you can hardly blame us for casting the stone that would net us such lucrative birds.”
Arthur could see where this was going. “You didn’t expect me to actually win,” he managed to rasp out. The sound of his voice managed to spread in a room so many powerful people had already locked down with their auras. That was a statement in and of itself, and he could see a few people look at each other uneasily.
“You have achieved the impossible, Mr Ward, and it is only our idiocy that blinded us. Our mistakes aside, though, Lady Melania’s loss will be felt keenly by our military. Her machines were responsible for keeping a logistical Nexus Point safe, three planets whose protection is of paramount importance in our continued battle against the nether. Four battalions rely on the resources we funnel through those worlds, 600,00 soldiers whose supply chain has suddenly been cut off.”
Arthur glowered at the man, finally finding the strength to return to his feet. The uneasy glances from before had grown into full-blown panic now. Oh, these bastards aren’t fighters, are they, Arthur realised. He sincerely doubted they were a part of the enigmatic Council either. No, this was a group of politicking nobles, people who’d never seen combat in a long, long time. Their power, while great, had been bought and traded for.
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“Why are you saying all this like it’s my problem?” Arthur growled.
“Because, my dear Originator, it is your problem.”
Arthur could hear the smug smile the masked bastard was sporting.
"You didn’t specify the kind of Sanctioned Battle you wanted when you issued your challenge, nor did you formalise any contract as per standard procedure. As such, we have gone back to our roots, to the very first of our Sanctioned Battles and the spirit in which they were carried out. A winner-takes-all approach, pinkslips to appropriate Earth's slang.”
Arthur could feel the jaws of the trap closing around him, and he could do nothing to escape it. Was this what the Weaver had been after all along? Schemes hidden within schemes. No matter how his battle would’ve turned out, Makora would’ve gained something. The only question was whether this was the optimal outcome she’d been seeking from the beginning.
“Mr Ward,” the masked man continued, “I am pleased to announce that you are now the proud owner of all assets Lady Melania owned in life, save only her rank of nobility. There, you must start on the lowest rung as a Baron. You now have twenty-seven planets under your name, Arthur Ward and an asteroid belt rich in lumperite ore. The logistical Nexus Point I spoke of falls within your domain.”
“And if I want nothing to do with it ?” Arthur asked.
“The nexus point, or everything?”
“All of it.”
“It's already yours, Mr Ward. The deeds of ownership have already been transferred in your name, and your System access has been scheduled to upgrade to tier 3. Those worlds belong to you now. You cannot just cast them aside.”
“And if I did. Cast them aside, that is.”
“Well then, you would be investigated, Mr Ward, and if the Nexus Point were to be compromised due to your negligence, then you would be sanctioned.”
The jaws of the trap were well and truly closing around him now. “And I can’t just give the Nexus Point away, can I ?” Arthur asked, despite knowing already what the answer would be.
“If you can find someone to take them off your hands, then sure, Mr Ward. Melania had been trying for the century before you killed her off, and she had a lot more to offer than you do. The ore that made them so valuable has already been mined, you see. Now their value lies only in their strategic location.”
“Just tell me one thing,” Arthur growled out through gritted teeth. It seemed that was the only kind of speech he was capable of in this form. “How long were you planning this?”
The masked man chuckled. “Me. I only learned of your existence twenty-two minutes ago. The Weaver, on the other hand…If rumours are to be believed, she’s probably been plotting since before your parents ever met.”
“One final question,” Arthur said, “Is this Nexus Point located in the vicinity of The Nether Corps usual hunting grounds?”
“That’s odd,” the masked man said, scratching his chin. “I don’t have your records marked with any clairvoyance capabilities. The Nether Corps actually has one of its reserve bases located on the Nexus Point's central planet. How did you know that?” Sarcasm was literally dripping from the man's voice.
Arthur grit his teeth and took a deep breath. Blowing up now would get him nowhere. He looked around the courtroom, committing everyone's faces to memory. His eyes settled on the cowled form of The Weaver. The cunning snake still didn't have the decency to show her face. Arthur memorised her aura, the way her magic flowed and weaved intricate patterns in the air around her.
Arthur's consciousness only hung on by a thread now. Any moment now, and he would pass out in front of everyone. "Ezrial, I think it's time you make good on your promise," Arthur muttered.
The fae king grinned. "I was wondering when you were going to ask, kid." Before anyone could react, Arthur and Ezrial disappeared, leaving a silent courtroom in their wake.
The masked man sighed and began signing the papers on his desk, clicking his tongue when the ink smudged. The Weaver was the first to speak.
"Why did you do that, Dantalion? Why did you turn the boy against me?" The irritation in The Weaver's voice was unmistakable. Anyone else in the masked man's shoes would be scrambling for the nearest knife to take their own lives with. It was a much preferred end to whatever The Weaver had in store for them. Dantalion just sighed again and ignored the woman.
With no reason to remain here any longer, the audience members quickly began to leave, first in ones and twos, and then in droves, until only the bravest and foolish remained. Dantalion finally looked up from his work.
"Because, my dear Weaver, there are consequences to all the schemes you weave. People are not just convenient plot devices in your dramas. It seems that somewhere along the road, you've forgotten that."
"Oh, please," The Weaver sneered, "The man with a thousand faces seeks to lecture me on mortal kind. You think I didn't factor in your interference into my plans."
"And this conversation. The manufactured outrage," Dantalion mused. "One must always wonder with you."
The Weaver spat at him, her saliva landing on his cheek. It was a substance known to burn through a Titan's skin. Dantalion merely raised a handkerchief and wiped it off.
Makora took a step back and removed her cowl. Now this got a reaction from the man. He raised his eyebrows in surprise, even as a hairline fracture appeared on his mask.
"You have made an enemy of me today, Dantalion," The Weaver spoke, her voice icy cold.
The masked man sighed for the third time in half as many minutes. "I'll add you to the list, Lady Makora. It's a very short one. Perhaps you will live long enough to see another name added."
Links to the audiobooks.
Etherious: Originator
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