< 119. The Collapsing City, Ptaha (2) >
*
[How dare you betray the gods!!]
The skeleton adorned with the most splendid relics and burial items from the ancient Empire of Ashit, Tutankhamun Gartep, glared down at his city from the palace balcony.
Fires raged throughout the city, and soldiers pointed their swords at each other. The magic artillery that should have been aimed outward was now turned inward, raining destruction on slums, bustling districts, commercial areas, and residential zones alike.
-BOOM!!
A magic projectile traced a pale trajectory before slamming into a building. And then,
-RUMBLE!!
The building and its surroundings crumbled into pieces as an earthquake shook the ground. The magic artillery, crafted by the finest magic engineers of Ashit, was modeled after the ancient dwarves’ technology. Its destructive power was akin to that of a god of ruin, and Tutankhamun Gartep trembled with rage.
[To betray the descendants of the gods!!]
A rebellion, of all things. In the days of Ashit, those who dared not carry the Pharaoh’s bloodline would never have dreamed of rebelling against the Pharaoh. Even in a weakened dynasty!
A Pharaoh was not merely a king in human society. They were the descendants, representatives, and incarnations of the gods. Only another descendant of the gods could dare raise a sword against them.
Thus, Pharaohs traditionally only distrusted their own kin. Tutankhamun Gartep believed that in this Great Wilderness, only two other Pharaohs of the Ashit Empire could turn their swords against him.
Yet, his own subordinate dared to raise a sword against him. How dare they? Tutankhamun Gartep’s hand shook with fury. The ornaments adorning his body glinted ominously, clattering as he moved.
[Oh Divine King, remain steadfast.]
[Kaharefer…! Is this something to remain calm about!]
[The rebellion was orchestrated by Prince Neferka. His forces are insignificant, and though they may seem formidable now, they are laughable.]
[You go!]
Tutankhamun Gartep shouted at Kaharefer, who was prostrated in the Audience Hall. With blazing eyes, he spat out his words as if cursing.
[Show him hell. Make him pay dearly for daring to defile the Divine King’s city. No, do not kill him. Bring him alive before the Divine King!]
[That may not be possible.]
[…What did you say?]
Kaharefer rose slowly and spoke respectfully.
[Oh Divine King, Prince Neferka is a court official who has received divine permission to enter the Audience Hall. In my absence, you will need soldiers to protect you should he dare to harm you.]
[What is Meremre doing now?]
[He has just arrived at the palace and has immediately headed to the battlefield. Prince Meremre is personally leading the troops to crush the rebels.]
[Good. Send Tamphtis and Sepses.]
[Shall I deploy all three Triarchs?]
[Order Tamphtis to halt the artillery at the spire. Tell Sepses to assist Meremre in capturing Neferka alive. Even if Neferka comes to the Audience Hall himself, you alone are more than enough to handle him.]
Kaharefer bowed deeply at Tutankhamun Gartep’s words.
[As the Divine King commands.]
Tutankhamun Gartep watched Kaharefer leave the Audience Hall, then turned his gaze back to the city descending into chaos.
*
-Screeeech…
A skeletal eagle traced a blue trajectory, gliding gracefully through the air. It was a minion sent flying through magic. The eagle circled widely before diving toward the residential area like a speeding arrow.
-Thud.
At the end of its flight, it landed on a rooftop where Fernandez sat, observing the city. He looked at the eagle that had snatched his forearm. A green glow flickered beneath the eagle’s skull.
Fernandez tapped and stroked the eagle’s head before retrieving a scroll from between its ribs.
The small note bore two ancient Ashit hieroglyphs. It was written in Kaharefer’s blunt handwriting.
‘The palace is empty. Anyway.’
Well, it must mean they succeeded. Fernandez watched the magic projectiles tracing their trajectories as they fell. Impressive technology. The city’s core districts were being destroyed in an instant, and even Prince Neferka’s small force was throwing the Pharaoh’s legions into disarray.
Shaksisi and Neferka had seized the magic artillery on the city’s outskirts as soon as the operation began. While Prince Meremre gathered the scattered guards to prepare a counterattack, the city was already being destroyed beyond recovery.
However, Tutankhamun Gartep’s true legions were not stationed within the city. News of this chaos would have already reached the legions stationed outside. Indeed, countless ravens were flying chaotically across the night sky.
‘We’re running out of time.’
No matter how capable Shaksisi was, and no matter how fiercely Neferka fought, they couldn’t withstand Tutankhamun Gartep’s main force once it began its assault on the city. Fernandez gazed at the Pharaoh’s palace with lowered eyes.
The massive inner walls and strict defenses. The artificial hill towering high enough to block the moon, crowned by the splendid palace. Though countless soldiers were pouring out from beneath the castle, the palace’s minimal defensive functions remained intact.
So, this was a race against time. Could he defeat the Pharaoh before Tutankhamun Gartep’s main force arrived? And—
‘Necro…’
The battle to open the gates of the Necropolis.
Altarak of Mahras. The Pharaoh of Mosat City met his death at the hands of someone before he could fully harness his power. His life was not enough to open the gates leading to the Soul Realm of the Necropolis.
But the current dynasty of Pharaohs, who have fully established their empire, are different. Their souls could become the key to the Necropolis.
To fully unlock the seal and harness the power of Mumto, the lives of all three kings would be necessary. But for now, the goal is not to release Mumto into the world.
Just one person. If a small gap could be created for him alone to pass through, that would be enough. Fernandez looked at the back of his hand.
-Sssss…
The Dagger of the Necropolis cursed his soul, and through that gap, hellish magic seeped in, twisting his wrist grotesquely. The Blood of the Saint was offsetting the curse, but hellish magic poisoning wasn’t something that could be easily resolved.
Of course, given enough time, Diemonica’s body would recover its original functions. But that wasn’t what he wanted. So.
‘It’s a race against time.’
The arrival of Tutankhamun Gartep’s legion in the city. And the expulsion of the Necropolis’s curse and hellish magic corruption from his body. Both were a race against time.
‘So. I’ll go at the best speed I can.’
-When were we ever at ease?
‘Ha, never.’
In fact, he was familiar with this kind of battle. Insufficient resources, insufficient time, overflowing enemies and factors of defeat. Slipping through the cracks to seize victory and survive.
At twenty. The year he became a target of the Inquisition Officers. At thirty. The year he was pursued by the Empire’s Intelligence Agency. At forty. The year he was branded a public enemy of the world.
And by eighty. The year he brought about the world’s destruction.
The reason he could survive was that he was more familiar than anyone with battles fought under dire circumstances and against the clock.
-Tock.
He tore the end of the scroll. Palace / Empty. The Ashit hieroglyphs split into two characters. Fernandez tied the remaining piece between the ribs of an eagle and tapped its skull.
-Thud.
The eagle soared into the sky, carrying the message, ‘Palace.’
Soon, the reply that he would arrive.
*
The bombardment rains down. Relentlessly tearing apart parts of the city. Ancient stone walls, royal tombs. Relics from antiquity, buried for centuries, are once again turning to sand and dust as they collapse.
-Rumble!!
The magic bullets were the epitome of the Ashit Empire’s magical engineering. Artifacts meant to suppress the barbarians beyond and symbolize the dynasty’s authority. Now, those relics were being fired at them.
-Rumble!!
A massive crater forms at the impact site. Riding through the cracks, stepping on collapsing buildings, leaping across rooftops, Fernandez charged straight ahead.
Beneath his feet, skeletons and mummies are tangled in combat. Silently pointing swords and raising shields at each other. They communicate through psychic bursts. No sound escapes their dry vocal cords.
Thus, the battlefield is eerily quiet. The clashing of weapons, the pouring of bombardment. None of the screams and wails that should be heard. The only death throes are the sounds of rupture.
-Tak!
Leaping onto collapsing buildings without losing balance. Diemonica’s senses resemble those of a beast more than a human. Between each step, countless instinctual calculations and predictions are mixed in. He kicked off the roof of a collapsing residence and leapt into the sky.
Blue eyes quickly move to find the best path. Above him, the trajectory of a gray magic bullet follows closely.
-Boom!!
The shockwave enveloped his body. Magical destruction doesn’t just cause physical damage. The massive magical shock was blending the Soul Realm and the material world. Through it—
-Groan…
Mumto’s gaze is felt. The chains binding him squirm. Fernandez felt the creature’s stare with his entire being.
The gaze of a Great Demon, mixed with threat, is unbearable for a mortal body. They are beings that can kill with just a look. But unfortunately for him, he is no ordinary mortal.
Despite the spiritual gaze that mixes anger, fear, pain, and hatred into his flesh and soul—
-Sss…
The Stigma on his back glows. Like a torch lighting the darkness. [Unyielding]. He is never broken by external factors. This was akin to a guiding principle of his life.
Never give up. Never settle. The reason he could ultimately reach the pinnacle despite being chased, failing, and collapsing throughout his life was that he never gave up at any moment.
-Boom!!
Once again. The shockwave enveloped his body. As it did, he let the shock carry him, changing direction to charge straight ahead. He never stops. The Pharaoh’s palace was right before his eyes.
It’s almost time. The race against time was familiar territory for him.
“Wait there. Mumto!”
-Boom!
Fernandez shouted, aiming for the cracks in reality collapsing under the impact of magic bullets. The creature must have heard him. Ever since he killed the Pharaoh of Matras, no. Since he killed the Conclave of the Dane Kingdom.
It must have always been watching him. Even now, its body must be itching. Desperate to stop and kill him immediately.
But, wait. See how far I can go. How, and what I can do!
“Just wait, Mumto!”
I’ll come. You just wait. Powerless in that spot! A fierce smile crossed Fernandez’s lips. He leapt over the raining bombardment and the heads of wraiths being crushed beneath, charging forward.
Towards the Pharaoh’s palace. And towards the seal of the Great Demon at its end.
He never stops.
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