Book 8 – Chapter 47 – The fractal of Urs unleashed once more

“Did they really eliminate nine second-generation feathers?” To’Yiddrathil asked, her paper airplanes slowly rotating around her halo in a lazy swarm. “Were they defective?”

To’Qwarf held his greatbow with steady hands. The lady of the night’s fury still ringing in his ears despite it being a half hour ago. “They were not, no. Unless they all forged their records but…”

“Mother would have strung them up and ripped them limb from limb for the attempt to sully the second generation’s reputation.” To’Yiddrathil said, humming. “What kind of Deathless team can fight against nine and win?”

“It wasn’t a fight even. It was a slaughter.”

“That makes even less sense.”

He would know in detail, as one of these second generation Feathers had directly contacted him to warn of the impending danger. For the second generation to put aside their overinflated egos in order to put down a threat? He’d never seen or even heard of them doing such a thing.

However, the ones that had survived the encounter against these Deathless had been oddly professional. Clipped, quick communications on what to expect, no mention of luck nor excuses on why they’d been killed. Only the information needed to put them down as quickly as possible. It felt too practiced. As if they’d already done this before.

Third generations were pathologically incapable of setting their pride apart, and further down the line there were variations based on that generation’s quirks. The recent fourteenth generation had been rather mild tempered all put together. Not notable in any way like he was, but neither weak in any particular domain.

“It’s not the Deathless we need to worry about, nor their powers. It will be their gear and tools. Prepare the lessers to come down on them like a wave, and hide behind that wave until we reach them at an optimal distance.”

She huffed at his plan. “Optimal distance for you is a few miles off with that oversized bow. This field is perfect in your case. I have to get close enough to manipulate my airplanes.”

“You decided to dedicate your kit and theme to that, you pay the consequences of your own choices, sister.” He said with a shrug. “I prefer to see my enemy crushed and skewered into a wall. Of which I find there is a regrettable lack of them here.”

But he certainly had more of an advantage then she did. This entire biome was a mass desert of sand and ruined old human stone architecture half buried by it all. Columns of marble white, temples whose true layout remained sunken deep under the sea of sand, hints of a possible past story emerging.

A fake history designed by the mites to appear ascetic above all else.

He was standing on one such pillar, tilted off to the side. Before him was the gateway, equally tilted on a pedestal that barely remained above the sea. The highest dune in the area. A hill that venerated the gate itself.

And before that gateway was a sea of metal. Machines and lessers all brought here, to sit and wait for that dead gateway to turn back on.

A thousand guns all pointing directly at that mite structure. Prepared.

Not just lessers and greaters had been summoned here either.

Twenty seven Feathers and counting so far had arrived. The lady had outright screamed a mass message directly through the unity fractals themselves, and brought everyone in the local area to this biome. Everyone.

There was something attempting to escape. Something which Relinquished refused to allow. As she was currently herself moving to the surface, she could not personally curb the prison break happening here.

And yet it had to be done at all costs.

That was all he knew so far. From his peers, he’d learned it wasn’t one prisoner, but instead a small team of Deathless. Less than twenty.

For the first time in his own lifecycle, Feathers gathered here together would outnumber the Deathless they were tasked to kill. Usually it was always himself against a smaller army, he’d never worked with more than one other Feather. Today, they were the army.

Some of these Feathers further ahead preparing were centuries older than he was. Others were novices that barely spent more than fifty years in the world, and had under that number of Deathless killed. Some hadn’t even seen the light of day, exiled for terrible performance or instability. Quite a lot of the third generation existed in that bracket. They were mother’s failed children.

And now five of them were here, bickering with each other about who would claim glory in eradicating whatever it was on the other end of that portal.

Regrettably, one was critical. Apparently one of these Deathless could move through an alternate dimension, side-stepping dangers. They would need to pull that one back into reality in order to handle damage.

More Feathers were arriving each minute as well. By statistics, the ones here already were the fastest and most mobile of the Feathers. The harder hitting ones were still on their way.

The rest were being sent to the surface. To finally kill off humanity once and for all. Something he wished he could be doing.

He was quite certain all Feathers here equally wanted to be up there, killing humanity, instead of down here with a few thousand others to pin down a tiny group.

But at least the army assembled here was larger than To’Qwarf had ever seen in person yet. So there was that aspect that made him feel slightly better. There was no theme or unity to it unfortunately, the lady of the night truly had brought in everything she could without care for the details.

It all began in a flash. The gateway at the center of the biome flashed and exploded out in occult power, a bubbling wall of liquid water appearing at the center, expanding outwards until it hit the sides of the binding circle.

He triggered his overclock, slammed a bow into the column he stood on, and summoned an arrow out of his hand. A portal fractal linked from his palm to his real quiver, built several thousand miles away. A massive arrow slid out the portal and he grabbed the very end of it right as it completely exited.

The entire thing was larger than he was, and he pulled it back on the metal arch, aiming.

Ninety eight more of these arrows left. He wasn’t certain it would even reach the gateway before being shredded by friendly fire.

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Every gun and weapon in the army had opened fire. A stream of bullets, cannons and lasers were all constantly being fired right into the gateway. Nothing could possibly step through that and survive.

Signals being bounced around within the army suggested they could maintain this firepower for the next five days. Ten days if they cycled through in waves instead of all opening fire at once.

He held his bow. Firing into that mayhem would be a waste of firepower.

Nothing happened for a moment. Two minutes passed and still nothing had come through the portal. The firepower remained focused. Massive lessers loomed far above him, cannons opening fire with deafening shots, ripping through the rest of the bullet swarm, punching into the portal out the other side wherever it led.

They didn’t stop firing.

“Are they too afraid to step through?” One Feather from the front asked.

“No… they are sneaking through!” The third generation Feather, the one they’d brought in.

An occult pulse came out of him by the center. A massive wave that expanded outwards, dragging all of reality one layer at a time back together.

It was as if he’d kicked an anthill. All around them, everywhere, were occult ghosts. Thousands of them. All hovering in the air, awaiting orders.

Preparing this whole time in the higher dimensions.

“Mother of the night…” He hissed, watching the air itself be infested with the ghosts.

A beat passed, and they all began to move.