N. Francis
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Chapter 135: Bleak Clouds Gather
🕑 Added 2025-08-07 14:00:10 +0000 UTC“Archers, fire!” The cry rang out, magical arrows flying through the air and slamming down into the horde of monsters, thousands strong.
“Activate defenses!”
The same walls from which the archers had fired began to spool up with energy, swelling with power like a hammer rising only to suddenly give way, launching a shockwave of solar energy that cut down the monsters like a scythe reaping wheat.
“Mages!”
Collected behind the archers, another group stepped forward, magic forming upon spoken chants or sagely staves.
“Unleash!”
All at once, the mages released their spells, bombarding the endless swarm of monsters with an extensive array of spells, blowing them apart or suspending hanging clouds of noxious fumes to choke the life out of them.
“Warriors, advance!”
They were severely outnumbered, a situation that was typical for siege waves. Only with coordination and their defenses could they hold back the hordes with the success they had.
A group of far more heavily armored combatants approached the edge of the wall, before stepping off, dropping over thirty feet before their armored soles slammed down upon the earth below. Hefting their weapons, they began to advance, all while arrows rained down on the endless horde and magical spells detonated further away.
Apostolos, for his job, sat back and watched, arms crossed. Only one other person sat in the tallest tower dominating their outer wall, Marcie looking bored.
“C’mon. If we got out there, we could clean this up in a jiff.”
“No,” Apostolos shook his head. “They need this.”
“But it’s so boring just watching,” Marcie rolled her eyes, kicking her feet up and leaning back in her chair.
“Siege waves are both our biggest threat and our best chance for growth.” Apostolos sighed. “We can’t just take all of it for ourselves.”
“You aren’t worried about Violet?”
“Not tremendously, no,” Apostolos said, shaking his head.
His wife could take care of herself, and she was expected to, after all, she was taking the role of battlefield commander.
“What are the chances we need to involve ourselves, then?” Marcie questioned, knowing full well the answer.
“Low,” Apostolos said, humoring her. “Considering this is only the fourth year that tier six monsters are appearing in a siege wave, and they’re all low-tiers, our own tier sixes should be able to handle them even without banding together. Ignoring that, we’ve got enough tier-fives together that they could probably repel even some tier-sixes with the added benefit of our walls.”
“And you don’t expect anything unexpected?”
“Once upon a time, maybe.” Apostolos sighed again. “Back when Rory was here, it felt like every other big event was just waiting for something to go to hell.”
“Ahh, yeah, The Founder.”
Apostolos shot Marcie a dirty glare, a look he only allowed a select few to see. Seeing his look, she raised her hands defensively.
“What?”
“You know I hate that name.”
“It’s been what, twenty years since people started solely referring to him that way? You’ve got to get over it, ‘Los.”
Apostolos frowned, lips pinching a moment later.
“You’re one of them now, aren’t you? You think he’s dead?”
“Dead, gone, who knows?” Marcie sighed. “I know everyone likes to see me as the bubbly battle freak, but it's been a long time since I was a teenager. Los, I’m not a child anymore, and you are even less so. He’s been gone for thirty years, even though he had never implied he’d be gone this long. Ten years? Sure. Fifteen? Maybe. Thirty? C’mon, let’s be honest with ourselves.”
“He’s not dead,” Apostolos repeated, anger bleeding into his tone. “He probably just lost track of time again.”
“Thirty years is a lot of damn time to lose track of.”
“He was an idiot,” Apostolos waved it off.
“Fine, whatever, I’m not disparaging the guy, he’s the reason all this-” She waved around vaguely. “Even exists, or at least how it all began.”
Apostolos looked out, able to take in the entirety of Ehkorrus from their vantage point. Thirty years ago, when Rory had left, the city had numbered fewer than fifty. Now? Averaging an extra ten people per year, alongside folks now having children, some of those children now teenagers as well? They’d exploded in size, closing in on seven hundred people in total.
And it was only growing faster with each passing year. Another twenty, and Apostolos was assuming they’d likely have thousands.
And it’s all because of Big Brother.
With decades of absence, Apostolos had cemented his view of Rory. Even though they weren’t blood-related, Apostolos would forever view Rory as his beloved older brother, who had cared for him and taught him when it was just the two of them. Ehkorrus, his beloved responsibility and pride, was here because of Rory. His wife, spitfire as she was, had found her way because of Rory.
Even his kids, his twelve-year-old daughter and his eight-year-old son, could be seen as being alive because of Rory; without his brother, none of it would exist.
So, for the entirety of Ehkorrus to either only know of the ‘Founder’ or otherwise believe Rory had gone and bitten off more than he could chew, dying in the process, stung more than anything. Even Violet seemed to feel as much, even if she didn’t ever state it outright to Apostolos.
He’s not dead!
“Oh, hey look, that’s an interesting monster.” Marcie pointed, noticing a creature slithering through the shadows. “Violet going to handle that, you think?”
Apostolos was forced to pay attention, dragged from his thoughts as he took note of the monster. “Our elites can handle it. Not worth the attention of one of our pinnacles.”
“I’m still surprised that Edward has grown so much,” Marcie said, looking away from the monster. “He was so quiet and unassuming.”
Edward had been one of the early generations following Violet, arriving five years after she had. He had opted to take the path of a combatant, which was a surprising choice, given his quiet nature; one would have expected him to be a scholar or craftsman.
Not just that, while the first few years had been finding his footing, once he’d begun to cement himself more, his growth rocketed, climbing the ascension ladder faster than anyone else, aside from perhaps Marcie or himself.
Or Rory, for that matter.
Standing at the peak of tier-six, he was one of three pinnacle tier-sixes, the strongest fighters they had of the tier, alongside his wife Violet and Manda, Violet’s former teammate.
Where Violet was all about pyrotechnics and Manda controlled shadow beasts, Edward had taken the path of a weapon expert. It reminded him to some degree of Rory himself, but the younger man’s skills almost all universally referenced one of Rory’s fellow founders, The Spear.
That’s another thing. Who knows how long it will be before one of them finds our city?
The thought worried Apostolos something fierce. Thirty years ago, when Rory had left Ehkorrus, he had already been tier seven, and he wasn’t even the farthest along from what he had admitted to Apostolos.
Could I manage? If one of Rory’s peers appeared, could I protect our home?
Apostolos and Marcie were the sole tier sevens in Ehkorrus, though Violet, Manda, and Edward were damn close, only a few years off at most.
Yet would a batch of fresh tier sevens hold a candle against a Founder? If they were still only tier seven, Apostolos believed it might be possible.
Tier eight? Not a chance. It would be a hundred, hundred and twenty years until he reached tier eight. There was a solid chance that, amongst the founders, some could potentially start hitting tier eight in as few as thirty years, based on Rory’s personal progress and his extrapolated estimates.
Not good enough.
Apostolos had to be the pillar that held up Ehkorrus. He pushed himself, pushed himself as hard as he could, but he felt the constraints of reality pressing down on him. Rory made his growth seem effortless, always throwing himself against challenges that nearly anyone else would balk at. Sure, Apostolos could afford to take risks with his spiritual body, but his ability to safely respawn in most cases that he had discovered actually reduced his ability to gain ascension energy, as if safety held him back.
I’ve suspected that for years. It’s why Rory always advanced so quickly compared to everyone else.
There was another glaring issue facing them, one that could rear its head around the same time as a tier eight founder would be possible.
Tier seven waves.
Oh, sure, for now, the siege waves weren’t much of a real threat, the monsters were a mix of low-tier six and high-tier five, a harsh battle for their combatants, but one that had the promised safety net of two-tier sevens watching from above.
But thirty years from now, when that first tier seven wave arrived? Apostolos doubted they’d have more than ten total tier sevens to defend Ehkorrus. He and Marcie could punch up a little, but punching up meant a whole lot less once you reached tier seven and the tiers expanded so significantly. If you were really generous, perhaps the two of them counted for ten or even twenty regular tier sevens of the same level. Edward, Violet, and Manda all counted for maybe five to seven.
Their combat strength, even when being generous, would average to that of maybe forty or fifty total tier sevens.
Within even the first five years, they would likely find themselves overwhelmed at that point, too many tier-seven monsters to handle.
It wasn’t pressure that only Apostolos felt. In a moment of weakness, he had shared his concerns with Gil, the head blacksmith, who had also taken on that burden. If they couldn’t physically span the chasm of strength, then with more powerful equipment, it might be possible.
But that was the other problem. As it turned out, if your artisans weren’t adequately tiered, something was lost in the equipment they made, a sort of conceptual restriction that was applied when attempting to create something above your own strength. It was a restriction that was only lifted when something was made of genuine epiphany or inspiration, but that was a spark that couldn’t be relied upon or forcibly recreated.
Gil was the highest-tiered artisan, a low-tier-six, level sixty-two. The problem with that was that they had no source of tier-seven quality gear, and their defenses themselves were only truly reliable up to tier-six monsters.
They lacked powerful personnel, equipment, and defenses.
It was a ticking time bomb, and one that Apostolos could do little about.
“Oh, hey look, Violet is taking direct action.”
Apostolos glanced over. The raging battle had been going on for long enough that he had tuned it out, only paying attention for any signs that he was needed. Following Marcie’s finger, Apostolos saw what it was that Violet had felt required her personal attention.
“Ahh. Makes sense.”
Standing well above the other monsters was a massive, green-skinned creature, skin like leather that had been slathered with green paste.
“Those Blight fiends have been appearing more and more often,” Marcie pointed out.
“It’s the Maw. Within the Uncharted Zones, some ongoing territorial clashes have been raging.”
“Still?”
“The Second Prince believes it two be the consequence of several Khan’s waging war against one another, looking to expand. The nearest to the charted zones, the Blight Khan, well-” Apostolos waved at the blight fiend. “Some of its spawns or summons or whatever occasionally find their way out of the Maw, through undiscovered means. I’m not surprised one got swept up in a gathering siege wave.”
“Level sixty-four. You sure we don’t need to step in?”
“No,” Apostolos shook his head. “It’s probably stronger than the wave boss itself. Violet will put it down, then take a step back.”
Sure enough, a column of blue flames erupted as his wife took to the battlefield, the blue flames clashing against sickly green gas and blight dust.
The blight fiend was strong, stronger than anything else that would likely appear, but his wife was amongst the pinnacle class, someone who had been recognized as capable of punching up half a step within tier six. Having reached the peak of tier-six, it meant only an Alpha variant of equal level could match her, or a mid-tier-six Territory Alpha.
Fighting for several minutes, the rest of the battlefield gave them a wide berth. Columns of fire large enough to swallow up all but the tallest tree, the Sacred Star Blood Sequoia, erupted, burning away the blight dust exuded by the blight fiend. At the same time, she darted around the monster, her dual sickles biting into its body and burning it from within.
“And down it goes,” Marcie sighed as inevitably the blind fiend was felled, unable to handle his wife.
Sheathing her sickles, she flicked her hand upward, a flaming tornado swallowing the monster’s body and burning it away. Strength-wise, a squad of their elites could have handled it, but containing the blight effect of the blight fiend was an imperative if they wanted to avoid the spawning of plague imps that would multiply across the battlefield, using the mass of dead monsters as a fertile breeding ground. That same blight effect could also infect their people, though Apostolos feared that option less as the nature of their home rendered long-lasting illnesses impotent, only the lowest tier amongst them had to worry as much.
With the blight fiend handled, Violet returned to her position as battlefield commander, directing adventurers and guards alongside their defenses as the wave was slowly but surely repelled, not a single casualty to account for. Even the boss of the wave was handled by one of their up-and-coming squads of elites, a group of level sixty-three adventurers who had claimed the boss after winning the divine right through the most honored of trials.
Rock-paper-scissors, one of Rory’s favorite ways to decide amongst people.
As the wave came to a close, Marcie stood up, stretching her arms overhead.
“Well, with that handled, I’ll let you go track down Irene so you two can decide how to handle the rewards best. I’ll be off.”
“Where are you going?” Apostolos asked.
“Thinking I might take a trip into the Maw or otherwise continue exploring outward, if permission is granted.”
“You’re free to explore,” Apostolos said, waving his hand. “With the wave handled, you can disappear for a few weeks.”
“Great,” Marcie smiled. They had charted almost the entirety of the forest around Ehkorrus for up to several weeks' worth of travel. Still, beyond that, the level of monsters rose to the point that only he or Marcie could realistically make any progress without being forced to retreat. Marcie, being only one person, was limited in just how much exploration she could take on, especially as Apostolos preferred to have her check in no less than once every two or three months; the threat of losing the sole other tier seven, and one of her caliber, no less, was too much for him to give blanket permission to go off gallivanting.
Sort of like Rory, but in fairness, Apostolos had no ability to rein him in, nor would he have ever tried.
After Marcie left, bored of sitting around with him, Apostolos remained within the tower by himself. Technically speaking, he should have been off congratulating those who had partaken. The words of the Chief Protector meant something, but for just a moment, Apostolos wanted nothing more than to ignore them and take even a few minutes of alone time.
His wish was partially granted as someone eventually made their way up the tower, the single person he didn’t mind appearing.
“How was the show?” Violet asked, winking at him.
“It went well. You handled that blight fiend expertly.”
“Didn’t expect one to have gotten wound up in the wave,” Violet said with a shrug. “Manda didn’t have to act at all, did he?”
“No, he just sat around barking orders,” Apostolos said as he shook his head. “Edward either.”
“Glad to hear,” Violet said as she approached Apostolos, grabbing his hands and pulling him close, her lips pressing against his. “Smile.”
Jabbing her fingers into the corners of his mouth, she forced his mouth upward into a forced smiling expression. Holding it for a second, she pulled her fingers away as he sighed.
“Sorry, just a lot on my mind.”
We’ll figure it out,” Violet said as she gave his shoulder a small thump, keenly aware of what he was referring to given she was his wife. “It’s still thirty years from now, we only just broke into the tier-six bracket of siege waves, and you’re thinking about tier seven.”
“How can I not? As much as I try to, on our current trajectory, I don’t see how we can overcome them, not without grinding our people up as fodder. And what about once we finally reach the end? Wave one hundred, a tier eight caps it all off.”
“You don’t know that for sure.”
“Rory did.”
“And Rory was wrong sometimes,” Violet said, leaning in and nipping his earlobe.
“Relax,” Apostolos grunted, pushing his wife back a step.
Violet batted her eyelashes at him, the smile of a lioness on her face, as her eyes darted to the ground below.
“You know, as long as you make an appearance at the celebration kick-off, you can probably get away with vanishing for a bit.”
“Meaning?” Apostolos scrunched up his eyebrows, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips try as he might to suppress it.
“Oh, you know what I mean,” Violet tugged at his hand. “Let’s go relieve some stress.”
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So, quick update on relative timelines for anyone curious, it's been 37 years since the start of the Siege Waves, and around 50 years since Rory first appeared on Aelia (give or take a few years, I fudge months enough times that it's probable they'd added up, and at this point I'm not fixating on individual years as much)
