N. Francis
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Chapter 156: The Final Faction
🕑 Added 2025-09-12 15:00:16 +0000 UTCFinal chapter of volume three!
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Essenya had failed.
Her home was burning around her, and people she had helped raise up were dead or dying.
She had failed.
Again.
“Of any I faced in the past, be it monster or not,” The source of her failure said, looking down at her from above. “You have proven the most resilient. To that, you have my praise.”
Essenya wanted to respond, but her throat had been torn out, her voice that she prided herself upon, lost.
“When we first met, it was you who spoke, and I who was voiceless. An amusing and interesting twist of fate, is it not?”
Essenya didn’t find it interesting, nor did she find it amusing.
“Decades we have clashed, but victory was always mine to claim. Resilient as you may have been, you were short-sighted, too content to advance a status quo without noticing the ground shifting beneath your feet.”
Essenya wanted to scowl, to glare, to do something, but she had nothing left in her; she was on her knees, arms hanging limply to her side.
Failure. Again.
Her mistake had been believing too strongly in their ability to overcome an enemy that always had the upper hand, an upper hand she failed to recognize. Once more, the ultimate demise, all because she hadn’t learned from the mistakes of the past universe.
And where had it led her? To the same fate.
It wasn’t supposed to be this way.
She was the Voice of the Precursors.
But maybe that was the problem. Over the years, she had let herself believe that her title meant anything. Really, what was a vocation? A title that also shaped what skills you were offered?
Essenya had let herself believe it was something nearly divine, a gift handed from above.
She was the Voice.
And she was going to die anyway.
This is not my story.
It was a harsh realization that passed through her mind, and had her vocal cords not been torn from her, she would have found herself laughing as her reality crumbled.
Everyone was the main character of their own story, but that didn’t mean their story was the story. Really, no one’s story was the story.
Arrogance.
It had started simple enough. The Invasion of Brilliant Feathers, the arrival of a monster that had been recognized as a fellow ‘founder’ after claiming the life of one of the original founders.
Over the years, they would clash, and for some time, Essenya had thought of the bird as little more than a rather intelligent monster.
But she hadn’t seen the obvious, the noose tightening around their neck. While she and her people, along with some tamed beasts, fortified their location, the bird had conquered the lands around them, forcing the monsters in the area into submission. Never fully committing, always slowly probing, leading them into a false sense of security.
And then they had finally struck with a calculated execution that they hadn’t been ready for. Every ‘assault’ until now had been nothing but a buildup. It started as a wave of monsters that assaulted their home, not too unusual given the presence of the Bird, but it never ceased, like a steady tide that prevented them from gathering resources they needed to restock.
A siege of monsters that wasn’t a desperate, hungering assault, but a well-led military operation, as conquerors of old led to claim lands for themselves. It was something they had failed to consider truly.
Their fortifications were worn down, eroded over time –not that they were immensely powerful to begin with. Then their people slowly started to fall. They weren’t a large conclave, shy of a thousand strong, so each loss was felt more strongly. The tamed beasts, whom they had come to respect as partners, even began to turn on them. It was only Essenya and her most elite retainers who found their partnerships unflagging; the monsters they had tamed never wavered.
Or, so they had assumed.
Essenya’s throat, torn out, was proof otherwise.
The endless siege had reached the fifth month, and exhausted but not especially guarded for a sudden uptick in the steady assault, the hammer blow finally struck.
A small army of elite tier seven monsters had ravaged their defenses and were tearing through their small community. Buildings ablaze, Essenya rushed to the scene, accompanied by her most trusted monster, Eidos, who had been by her side for almost the entirety of her time on Aelia.
Dealing with the monsters, her voice, empowered by the magics of this universe, had blown apart even powerful tier seven monsters.
And yet, it wasn’t a powerful tier seven monster that did her in.
Or, rather, it wasn’t an opposing tier seven monster.
Turning around to kill another of the monsters, she’d been too slow to react, far too surprised at what was happening, to avoid the serrated, chitin-clad tail as it ripped through her throat.
Eidos, her long-time partner, had turned on her.
It had been a betrayal most painful, both physically and emotionally, but she wasn’t completely defenseless. Spinning up some magic, that was when it appeared.
Descending from the light of the suns, like a bringer of heavenly judgment, Essenya could only stare in horror as the Bird descended.
No, calling it just ‘The Bird’ was doing a disservice to their harbinger of destruction.
Brilliant Feathers Garuda*
Level: 79
Without the power of her voice, the battle against the intelligent monster had been… fruitless, pointless even. Only the magic of her voice was ordinarily powerful enough to contest the searing, prismatic magics that the Garuda could call down. Its magic and powers were like rainbows of judgment, far from the cute, colorful things they would show children.
She had tried her best, but in the end, it hadn’t mattered as she found herself upon her knees, devoid of the energy to continue, the panicked cries of her people calling out to their leader to save them as she always did, unaware she had already been defeated.
“You shall anoint my ascension to the eighth realm,” The Garuda said. “It is fitting. My awakening occurred upon slaying a founder prior, and my next ascent will be marked by slaying a second founder.”
Is there nothing I can do?
“The Great Mother is never wrong, but I will admit, her choice in founders was clearly made while of a lesser mind. It is no fault of her own; once, I was similar. Your kin were worthy foes, yet your fall is entirely your own fault. You have led those you were supposed to guide to nothing. If one is to lead, they must always strive forward themselves.”
Lectured by a bird as I face death.
“I will grant you this,” The Bird said as it looked down upon her from above, its predatory eyes revealing nothing. “I am no mere beast. My rise was due not to my immense strength, speed, or even intelligence, as I once believed. It was my ability to rule over myself; rare are monsters that can ignore their instincts as I could. I will spare your people. Of Kin and Claw, I shall bring them under my own banner.”
Relief filled Essenya as the overwhelming avian spoke.
“You shall not live to see it, though. While you live, they may believe another path is available, that perhaps a chance for rebellion exists. No, I shall crush that dream before it is ever born. Instead, I will show them what a true leader is, who will grant them a path to grow, as you failed to do.”
Have I really failed them that terribly?
Had she so terribly coddled them? Perhaps. After she had secured her own power and those who would pick up arms beside her if needed, she had… grown complacent, admittedly. With their capabilities, they had an idyllic life, taming nearby forest monsters, growing crops, and foraging for what else they might need.
Yet, they were not in an idyllic world. Her failure stemmed from forgetting the feelings that had once burned inside her in those early years —the need to push herself. She had become bogged down simply making sure she provided for her people.
Maybe the death blow came before the Bird ever appeared. At that point, it was already too late; the rot had already set in without ever realizing it.
“I give you these words as proof that I am no tyrant. I am a conqueror.” The bird. “Now, fall before me so that I may rise ever higher.”
Essenya’s last thoughts, before a prismatic ray of light speared her through the eye, were a single question.
Where did I first go wrong?
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As the Varasian died, one of his Judgement arrows ending her existence, the Bird felt an influx of energy enter his body.
My ascent.
Accepting it, within moments, the Bird changed. A regal crown of feathers stood out even more prominently across his head, his tail feathers extended, and from his wings, slashing talons appeared, capable of gripping without needing to use the claws upon his feet.
Tier eight.
“It feels… powerful,” The Bird said to himself, no longer infusing his voice with power.
Speech truly is an interesting thing.
Before he had found the dwelling of the Voice, the Bird had not relied upon words to communicate with fellow monsters. Yet he had learned quickly, as an enlightened monster, it was only a matter of a few weeks of catching snippets of their conversations.
Now, I suppose I should assert my leadership with my ascent handled.
The Bird hadn’t been lying when he’d told the Voice that he had no intention of eradicating her people. Some of the warriors would be culled, of course, those who refused to bend the knee, but otherwise, it would simply be wasteful. All monsters naturally felt a compulsion to attack the enlightened races, to steal some of that enlightenment for themselves. It was just that some monsters were born capable of withstanding that instinct, varying degrees of enlightenment of their own.
The Bird had been one of those monsters, and it had fully matured upon claiming the spark of one of the original eight founders.
Without that instinct to kill enlightened races, the Bird saw no reason why he should commit to their eradication. The only reason he had waged his extended campaign against the Voice was that he could; she was a rival. Her people were not.
Of Kin and Claw, they could be made.
Flying higher above the small settlement, the Bird let out a regal screech as the monsters under his control ceased their assault. Flexing his prismatic magic, he instantly put out the burning fires, absorbing their heat.
“Hear me, apostles and followers of the Voice.”
Any lingering fighting died down, with his monster forces ceasing their own attacks, the defenders stared up into the sky.
“Your leader is dead; the Voice is no more.”
A wail went up, his voice heard from every nook and cranny within the settlement.
“Dead your leader may be, but dead you are not. A leader is to be the representative of their Kin, but not their soul. I come to you not as an executioner, but as a liberator.”
The words flowed easily, as each and every one was spoken with honesty and belief.
“For too long, your guiding Voice has led you into nothingness. Before my arrival, you had stagnated, rarely doing more than necessary. Such slothfulness is but a slow-acting poison.”
The Bird's knowledge was based solely on what he’d learned from the monsters who had lived in the area before his arrival, explaining how the small settlement had grown for some time, only to cease as if they stopped caring, expansion slowing.
The bird was different. While he could defy his instincts, there was one instinct he never attempted to temper, the instinct to grow. Yet being a monster who sat atop a throne of endless corpses was no throne at all, but a prison. Perhaps his origin had to do with it; neither a bloodthirsty monster nor an exceptionally social one, it had shaped his current attitude. To truly rise to the top was not just a matter of personal strength, but also the ability to form a commune, a kingdom, of those who could admire that strength.
That was what the Bird was after. Greatness could only be truly enjoyed when some could admire it from below, those capable enough to appreciate one’s greatness for what it was.
“You shall be reshaped, given an opportunity to rise when you had none before. Strife and tribulation are opportunities. Many of you will have realized it yourself, how it was only from my appearance that years of stagnation were shaken off.”
The Bird was no fool; he could see that most, if not all, of the Voice’s people did not believe him, did not believe the one responsible for the death of their leader. Yet now that he had broken through tier eight, there was nothing they could do, and they all knew it.
It would take time. Time that the Bird believed was acceptable, an opportunity to consolidate himself, now that he was the sole power in the area.
But eventually, this too will be insufficient.
There were other founders to face. Among the names and titles he was familiar with, The Spear and, by extension, the Woodsman, would be the last; he had an inkling of her strength from the frequency with which E.O.N.-related updates were made with her title attached.
The First Monk was third to the bottom of his list; much like the Spear, there was power in that name. No, before he faced those who he knew would be powerful combatants, he would hunt down those whose power was less of their own making.
It had started with the Alchemist, though at the time it was nothing more than a powerful monster defeating an overly confident founder.
It had been followed by the Voice, whose strength lay in her voice and the might of her beast companions, rather than in her personal magics or the might of her arms.
The Primordial Rogue, given its name, would likely be rather difficult to pin down, making it someone to consider in the extended future.
Leaving only one possible target.
“Henceforth, while you may not accept it for the time, those who once followed the Voice are now of Claw and Kin of Brilliant Feathers.”
Once more, his sincerity was meant, and with his decree, a notification was sent out.
The Fourth Faction has formed.
The Bird put aside that apparently just moments prior, the Third Faction had formed as well, between the Primordial Rogue and the First Monk. At most, it further reinforced his belief that the Primordial Rogue was not meant to be his next immediate target.
While the Great Mother has voiced her ambivalence toward E.O.N., I can sense her annoyance at an existence greater than her own. Once things have been settled here, I shall come for you, the one responsible for its existence.
Releasing another regal screech, it was an unspoken vow, a commitment, and an ambition.
Who shall be victorious? I, the favored son of the Greater Mother?
Eyes staring far into the distance, the Bird could almost picture the future vision as reality.
Or you, the creator of E.O.N?
Feathers cascading with a brilliant, prismatic gleam, the Bird shook with anticipation. He could hardly wait to pursue his next prey.
Soon, it shall be time to slay an Architect.
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And with that, the final chapter of volume three! Originally I was going to have one more chapter, but I actually decided to shift that chapter to be the first chapter of volume four.
Anyway, I'll probably do a short write up this weekend (alongside answering the Q&A question, so last chance if you haven't asked anything or have any other questions) about my intentions and feelings of what went well or didn't go well with this volume. Aside from my supplementary posts, just remember that next week I will be taking a break. Volume 4 will officially start the 22nd.
Comments
TylerS
Another score for bird supremacy!
