The words were not aimed at us. Matron Etyl and I knew that much. But we found ourselves running up the stairs all the same. Eagerly, we followed the Elven Devil, skipping behind the five zombies who were in turn giving chase to the tiring rogue.
The halfling made it not halfway before he was intercepted with basic if not well-practiced martial arts. When he fell, though, there were no convulsions. Instead, the zombies continued, and Amun picked up the fresh corpse as easily as one would a basket of fungus.
His super-draugr stepped through solid ice moments later, appearing by his side before they sprinted up the stairs.
The rest of the draugr, on the other hand, were behind us. Their eagerness for battle forced our pace to quicken. So much so, that we took to the skies to retreat to the shores of the peninsula, choosing instead to use this 'second sight' to watch the proceedings in safety.
Although, I had the strong assumption that the Matron was attempting to experiment with the range of this device.
I had to admit, it was useful, if not distracting. In this situation, however, I could dedicate the entirety of my focus to two separate things. In that way, it was a bit like a play seen from impossible angles.
In this case, it was from above. With my physical eyes, looked down on five figures as a bird would. Yet I could see every detail of their pale bodies, sprinting across a field of white spread beneath the pale blue glow of the sky. Then, my second eyes lifted, revealing ice, ice, and more ice before spears, shields, and men occupied the entirety of the little window. It even estimated the numbers of the assembled humans, halflings, dwarves, and elves, counting nearly thirty thousand denizens of Alerus County.
Never before had we seen the humans of Shujen gathered in such numbers. Never has it been told of them uniting against a single foe. Much less a sole individual. And yet, here they were, pushed by fear into uniting with those they faced with blades mere months ago.
It was an event that would remain in the annals of history for ages to come. And so, for a time, I found myself of a like mind with my mother. Like her, I was eager to see the extent of Amun's power.
With the humans focusing on the familiar bodies closing the distance, their lines held firm. Meanwhile, Amun stood amongst his undead, muttering some strange somethings in an even stranger language while the one he called Zaraxus reached behind him with minimal effort.
A dense wave of magic flowed in the wake of his passing wave, breaking apart the ice into a fine mist that ejected toward the sky. Even from our physical bodies, we could see the plume rise to immeasurable heights before it finally met its apex and started to descend. From the 'second sight,' however, we could see the undead being fitting a blue-white ring around his finger while Amun held his palm towards the sky.
"New Moon." With those words, coupled with some unheard mutterings, twin waves of intense energy flooded into Amun's palm and shot skyward in a single beam of silver and purple, pulling all pairs of eyes to the sky. Away from the wave of black and gold tendrils that sunk into their feet.
Based on the mana being absorbed by his body, I assumed the entirety of his Mana Well had been deposited into that globe of deep purple and silvery-blue energy sent above. Whatever it was, it grabbed ahold of the falling ice and water, at first leaving the material suspended in the air before it started drifting towards the globe. Slowly. At first. Then faster and faster until it collapsed with the aggregating mass at the center.
It was a sight that removed any notion of battle from all minds present. Everyone watched in awe of the cosmic dance of ice and rock, spinning around a larger piece of material until it impacted in spectacular fashion. Somehow giving it the strength to pull more significant quantities of ice and rock towards its core until a great divine snowball formed to loom above the silent masses.
Their silence was broken by horrendous cracks and pained screams just seconds later. Many eyes remained at the object above, however, transfixed in awed fear as the silver-blue hue shifted to an unsettling red.
Those who looked down soon met the gaze of the blood-red rock, however. Similarly, those who kept their eyes raised soon noticed the fresh corpses rising towards the… third sun, settling in place to eclipse the rising sun.
Then, they heard the wild screams.
Although they had the element of surprise, the martial undead were cut down in no time and the humans were on the march, shielded by a wall of arrows. With a wave, the thousands of arrows were sent spiraling around a domain of that purple magic at an ever-increasing speed, orbiting like an angry swarm of hornets that were sent hurtling towards the front line at speeds that shattered shields and pierced armor.
Many fell and soon ascended to that rock, but no real damage was done to their army. Instead, I realized, Amun's aim was to stop the charge. And with that accomplished, Amun turned his grin toward the source of our scrying device and reached out with his hand.
Electricity sparked within, which somehow solidified into a strangely designed hand crossbow that deftly spun towards the humans, firing six shots in rapid succession.
For whatever reason, the little window split the moment Amun fired the crossbow. One showed the bolts themselves while the other showed a sacred figure that shook each time the weapon was fired, revealing a different sigil on each face that a small text revealed to be numbers.
It happened so fast, I would have only been able to read the numbers, were it not for the scale of the effect.
The first bolt, numbered 18, sailed slowly through the air, giving those in its path ample to time to raise their shields. Only for them to crumple beneath the bolt as if the steel-gray bolt boasted an immense weight.
The second and fourth bolts, numbered 2, arced out much faster, manifesting as green streaks of mana that pierced through dozens of humans, shields, and armor before they disappeared through the ice below.
The third, numbered 15, trailed a bluish mana that befell the ranks of countless men, forcing crystalline protrusions to grow from every part of their bodies until they were encased in a tomb of gemstones, leaving a glittering trail that stretched from Amun's position to the shores of the capital.
The fifth, numbered 17, left a similar trail of rust-brown magic that dragged a flock of weapons and a stampede of armored humans behind it, disorganizing the human ranks and leaving many of them disarmed. But as devastating as that, and the others were to the human's ranks, it was tame in comparison to the last bolt.
The crossbow was aimed high above and went out faster and further than any before it. Yet, Amun looked at the number and frowned once it sailed, then stored the thing inside his dark cloud with a sense of dejection.
I wondered why a roll of 1 was not an issue but 20 was a cause for his sudden dour mood, and thus focused my attention on the number 1 bolt arcing down towards the center of the human armies, unknowing of the dark clouds rising from my feet.
Nor did my True Self notice, for I had his gaze focused on Amun and the few humans pressured into charging him. Many more organized into flanking maneuvers while a few more retaliated with a small volley of spells until they were reminded who they were up against. A drow. A being with innate spell resistance. However, his resistance went beyond that. The swirling vortex of mana that accompanied him flowed in the wake of his casual swipes, disrupting spells before they even came near him.
Smiling ever wider, Amun held his hand out before him and the air began sparking with electricity again, soon solidifying into a beautiful three-section staff that revolved ever so slowly around him. But he did not grab it. Instead, he raised his arms high and wide, palms skyward, just as even those least attuned to magic felt the power building within the bolt I had been focusing on.
An eerie silence soon spread across the battlefield once more, seeming to amplify the sudden crack of the small bolt breaking apart just several seconds before it hit the gathered humans. Thus releasing the sun itself.
My panic was met with relief once the dark clouds, infused with a divine golden light, embraced me. Relief turned to reverence when I realized the source of this magic, which soon lessened once I saw the dark cloud of gold surrounding Matron Etyl as well. But then, sheer disbelief came over me as a distant heat encompassed half of my body. Yet, desperate to see its effect, I turned towards the light regardless.
It was… humbling. The lucky ones were those closest to the blast. They were vaporized to dust. Killed in an instant. Unlike those further back. Just as quickly, they found their armor melted to their bodies and their weapons dripping around their hands. Exposed flesh was charred black in a flash. Hair burst into roiling flames.
Those even further back were severely burned and many more were blinded. But even that was tame in comparison to what came after.
The shockwave crawled across the lands like an ethereal monster that glowed beneath the red rock with rage. The ever-solid sheet of ice was nothing against it. It shattered into a tidal wave of fine powder that soon glistened red as it swept across the human lines like an avalanche spawned from the Hells.
Tens of thousands fell in mere seconds. Yet, thousands more were simply tossed into the distance by the force of the blast. Mostly those on flanking maneuvers near the shore and the rear detachment near the castle.
Their despair was palpable. Moreover, it only increased once the charred and ruptured bodies of the fallen began to ascend to that bleeding rock, revealing the fiendish drow who caused such destruction, sprinting across the waters with his three-section staff revolving around him.
The central piece was undoubtedly adamantine, but the other sections were of a metal unknown to me. I could only tell it was not steel, mithral, or adamantine. But that was beside the point. The magical energy it radiated was immense.
I leaned forward in anticipation as Amun approached the line, gripping the weapon to bring it into motion as an elf approached, sword raised in a horizontal block. A foolish move against such a weapon.
Predictably, Amun stretched his arm out just before the weapon came down. Extending the reach enough for the center staff to rattle against the sword, leaving the end piece with nowhere to go except down. Right into the elf's spine.
A deafening crack amidst the roar signaled his death. But those close by saw a gruesome shape protrude from his chest before he was thrown forward towards Amun, who reduced it to a red mist as he brought the weapon around to slam against an armored opponent's chest, where it… broke apart.
The staff shattered as much as the knight's armor crumpled, but it regrew just as fast. The pieces that remained were left to scatter across the area, carrying sweeping arcs of lightning in their wake that fried anyone not pelted by the absurdly dense shards of whatever metal the weapon was composed of.
As before, chaos ensued and subsequently died out in a field of electricity, bloody mist, and mangled humans raining towards the skies. Prompting Amun to Skip with the Wind towards the next crowd, exchanging his staff for a finely made spear of a truly nefarious make. Only to toss it into the pre-dawn sky so that it could be gripped by the darkness itself and sweep through the ranks with glee.
It hacked away while Amun displayed his newly awakened super-strength by engaging in unarmed combat, thinning the ranks until only a few remained in the area, wherein Amun grasped the weapon and somehow turned it into a scythe capable of hacking through souls, turning them into wraiths, specters, ghosts, and poltergeists that scattered across the lands to wreak havoc.
Such tactics continued for hours. From one group to the next, Amun darted at tremendous speeds, switching weapons before he engaged in a glorious display of acrobatics, strength, martial arts, and athleticism as he danced across the fields, dealing death until none in the area remained.
Eventually, though, he seemed to either grow bored or begin toying with his opponents. Or, he was simply exploring his abilities. He changed tactics and began using that silver-blue magic to anger the seas. With humans being able to manipulate the elements, however, he found little success. Granted, they could not manipulate water as well as he. But combined, they were a force to be reckoned with.
Seeming to find the simplest solution, Amun gave up on the tug of war and flashed the water to a cloud of scalding steam. Then used the cover to pick off as many as he could until they tried to turn that against him as well. They kept him occupied with spells and arrows while others clothed the distance.
It seemed to work, as Amun suffered blows from fists and blades alike. But not without returning the damage. Not by Ki, but by virtue of a bite to the elbow of a barbarian.
He howled in pain, then seemed to yelp in confusion before meeting Amun's eyes. And the moment the hulking man began to panic, Amun jerked his head back, pulling not flesh from the body, but an ethereal arm from the spirit, bitten clean off by virtue of the Elven Devil's jaw.
As anyone would, they leaped back in horror and wept at their withered arm. They pleaded with the clerics and witches with increasing desperation as they failed time and time again to restore him. Pulling their focus away from the wicked energy pouring from Amun until it was too late.
When they finally turned, they saw not the Elven Devil, but a shell of fleshy darkness wreathed in golden, unholy light. Radiating a voice of pure dread that echoed in the soul of every mortal present, including mine.
"You know me as Death's Reaper, destroyer of worlds. But my name is Amun, Supreme Void Imp! Look upon my works, ye mighty; and despair!"