What was once the eyesore of Maliterr had in fact become a mighty force to be reckoned with. Gone were the crumbling, decaying tower blocks that stood looming above the Gobhead settlements. Now they were replaced with a fresh, more modern style befitting a race that was on the rise.

Greenery and parks were there for the inhabitants to use at their own pleasure; clean running water and even underground agriculture had taken off.

Behind the shimmering materials that adorned the walls of these homes, and the turf that was laid on the ground however... a scene that would stir the worry of all but the most hardened adventurers.

Forges were lit, burning bright and strong. Producing thick smog that was seemingly sucked further into the underground, to places the Gobheads did not know. Hammers chipped away at ingots, as needlers wove the threads of silks and cottons into clothing.

They had become organized and self-sufficient. Their resourcefulness provided them all the tools needed to surpass what they once were.

The smiths had forged mountains of weapons and armours. Materials that were far beyond their capabilities of obtaining were now hammered into weapons that adventurers would want to wield. Swords that once held would light up with fierce flames, daggers that would pulse with cold and freeze upon skin contact.

Armours that adventurers would want for their own protection. Finely carved in details... tigions and draigs into the chest pieces and painted as if they were part of noble houses from a time long since passed. And potions that looked to be crafted by those well versed in the making of such fine things shook violently within their containers, bursting to be used.

And yet... one thing was similar across each of the items, their shifting colours. Explorers that had teamed up with gatherers obtained peculiar stones growing adjacent to mushay. Gems were mined, fibrous plant materials and the occasional beast for the leather workers were gathered also.

Gobheads stood in evenly spaced lines. Standing tall, proud and disciplined. The words of their trainers dictated what they were to do in the moment. A Gobhead more suited to taking hits was tasked with being attacked indiscriminately by their allies. Another unit comprising only long-ranged attackers fired projectiles towards targets. Arrows and bolts flew out at high speeds, alongside elemental orbs, beams and some higher tier Arts that shattered all the targets in a single blinding strike.

Off to the side in an area that appeared to be the remnants of a sports field from Terra, three humanoids were talking to each other.

"This is some of the easiest coin I've ever made." Anton Seldoro, Rank 33, Class Mechanoknight

"There will be more. And the spoils of war will be even grander than that. The tenners won't know what hit them." Garfisk Squin, Rank 20, Class Disciplinarian

"'Tis but an honest day's work, for the glory of change. Keep it together, there is still much to be done." Guido Fawkes, Rank 11, Class Conspirator

"What of the push back that's been occurring in the west? Those fucking cultists are being supported by someone powerful. I've not seen her in the rankings before either, that blonde-haired weirdo that wears the garb from Terra." Anton's words caused Garfisk to froth at the mouth. The thought of fighting a strong opponent got him riled up.

"I do not wish for us to become targets of those cultists. Garfisk, ease off for your own sake. The Gobheads' sacrifices will allow us to gain an insight into her skills. Time is of the essence here, look up. Her majesty will not take kindly to latecomers." The calming tone and words of Guido helped return Garfisk to a calmer version than before.

The three looked up to see Lizbuth, staring into the distance and appearing to talk to herself. Anton spoke first after staring at her for a few moments in silence. "There is something not quite right about her. The rise to power is so..."

"Unusual," replied Guido.

"Exactly that. From nothing to queen of the Gobheads practically overnight. It's quite an impressive and questionable feat." Anton continued to say. Though Garfisk was disinterested in hearing it.

"Heh, let's see when the battle happens. Lead the way, Guido." Garfisk drooled with lust filled words.

"Lizbuth. The time for action will soon be upon us. Are the plans put in place nearing completion?" The voice of the Invørsår entered her mind as she watched her compatriots effortlessly tire away, labouring to get things done.

"It is, Solin. We are almost at the point of completion. I'm told we will be done this Satuurdeh. The meeting between the generals is going to commence shortly." Her smile as she finished speaking was one of pride. If she could see Solin's, theirs was one seeking nourishment of the evilest kind.

"Solin, may I ask a question of you?"

Her words broke the smile invisible to her, and begrudgingly it answered her with the most sarcastic of tones. "But of course, my dear Lizbuth! Ask away."

"Where will you go, once the lands have been claimed back?"

Fucking pissant, as if a thing such as myself needs to answer to you. "Oh I do not intend to go anywhere, I'll be here for a long time. Long after the Gobheads return to the surface and the stars."

"Your being here fills me with love and joy; I will never be able to thank you enough for this."

It would take many years for you to be truly capable of thanking me, you fool.

Lizbuth smiled as she walked back into the Palace of the People and headed to the meeting room.

"Good sirs and madams, kindly update me on today's happenings, if you would be so kind?" Lizbuth commanded with an authoritative tone, and her deep loudness did not match her physique.

A Gobeneral stood up to speak, his attire suggesting he was one that was more akin to fighting with bows at long range. "Your grace, I'm pleased to announce that there are now no combatants that are below level ten. Thanks to your most gracious gift. The E-X-P simulator has been a blessing for improvements, even the crafters and gatherers have been able to make use of it where possible."

Claps and cheers rang out in the room upon hearing the words. Lizbuth silenced them with a hand raise.

"And what of you sentients? What are your reports?" She asked the attending officers.

Guido spoke up first, sitting from his chair. "It's been a labour of love, sweat and a zero tolerance for tears. The brutality of the training regime given to each respective group will make them a force to be reckoned with... should the numbers stay high enough, of course, Lizbuth." Guido's words trailed off, sparking rebuttals from her own kind. "Address her grace with the titles she so deserves, Guido, lest I cut out your tongue."

"Hixxius! That's enough. They do not need to address me in such manner, and do not embarrass me during such an important time. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, your Grace, forgive my rudeness."

Lizbuth returned order to the room once more, raising her hand to signal the silence.

"Continue with the news. I know there is more to say, I hear things from the echoes, and on the wind itself. What say you, Skelter?"

Gobeneral Skelter Helk's scarlet-coloured garb shimmered as the light reflected off it, they had wielded a staff upon their back and as they stood up, so did the ranker beside them.

"The initial force did well to fight the cultists. But the arrival of one of their superiors turned the tide of fighting in their favour, your Grace. We are struggling to maintain our positions against her attacks; she is deadly with a blade." Wisely choosing to speak with a neutral tone to not attract weakness seemingly paid off for Skelter.

The ranker beside Skelter wore an orange robe with black lining the hood. Their staff was silvery grey, and a strikingly deep purple coloured gem was embedded at the tip. Continuing to fill in the details, the ranker stood up, to say "Reinforcements will be necessary to hold off the continued counterattack. We need more shield units or someone of far higher calibre lest they claim back all that was hard fought for." - Colter Teegal, Rank 45, Class Sermonista chose to speak with a more serious tone, unafraid to cause upset to get the point across.

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

Lizbuth was distressed in response to the news. Everything had gone to plan until now. Guido however reassured her, as she began to sink a large heavy head into her hands.

"From my understanding of the situation at hand, we are not the only group to be in conflict. Scouts and spies within the network have reported that the Mandems have also been fighting against the cult, and with almost zero push back. They have managed to clear a full path and taken the towns of Gellan and Looka. I believe that the cult is in dire straits and are spread thinly on both sides of the conflict. This fighter appearing so suddenly and causing us trouble is a desperate move. I am also of the mind that she may be the head of that cult, but I cannot say for certain."

Lizbuth looked up at Guido, thinking of what she should say next. A whisper in the wind came from Solin to guide her. "He is partially correct. This was a move most desperate for that cult to chance. Ensure your victory by sending the best of the best. Show your hand, let the world know your strengths, Lizbuth. Though keep one of your own and that one here, he will be your impenetrable wall." Solin's corrupting influence filled Lizbuth with confidence once more.

"Guido, you stay here with Skelter. The rest of you, I want to see a full show of force on the western front. A swift end will let us continue uninterrupted."

Shock and cheers filled the room as she finished speaking. Many of the attendees began to question her decision, particularly Garfisk and Anton. "Surely you are joking? You want to send all of us to fight a thorn, what a fucking joke," Garfisk growled, slamming a fist on the table in frustration. The resulting impact crumbled it in half and shattered the windows on the other side.

"As long as I get paid, I could not give a damn. But Garfisk is right. This is overkill, Lizbuth, and a total waste of our skills." Anton's words echoed as left the room prematurely.

"Ignore the words of cretins, they know nothing of their foe." Solin whispered once more to Lizbuth and her mind was set. "Those are my orders. We meet again tomorrow evening, make haste to the frontlines."

The orders were given and those asked to go began making their way to the west. Guido and Skelter stayed beside the queen as she watched over the labours once more. "It will not be long, this war of the Greys..."

***

"Rood Boiz! Ere me now! We az gotten to da surface, u get me? Two of da sentients towns belong to the bloc, ya kno wha am getting at? We iz gonna party big time, afta this is over. Scra Scraaaaa!"

"Soja! Soja! Soja!" the council members shouted. A long figure, unlike the rest of them, came forward. Wearing neon pinks, greens and yellows. A walking eyesore with obscene makeup plastered on their face.

"Bravo chaps! The fight is not over just yet, however." They were overly excited and happy, much more so than the rest of the room. Twirling on the spot, looking as if a flamingo did ballet on meth. Odd stares and the feeling of discomfort were common things amongst them. Soja tried to return the room back on track after the interjection of the individual brought the atmosphere down.

"Shamus my g, wot's good ye? Tell me what ya kno?" Soja's words helped to restore some calmness to the room. All eyes were on Shamus, anxiously awaiting what the weirdo would do or say next.

"MMM-more training is necessary~" Contorting themselves toward the floor and walking as if they were some sort of human spider, they crawled up onto the table, shuffled up and down it eerily silent, stopping as they reached the middle. "The E-X-Peril has done well to raise the status of your lot. I insist you spend more time investing in the troops. They have reached an average level of 14, but they will need more. The world is full of those much stronger than that."

Shuffling backwards and contorting themselves, they stood lumbering over the room.

Shamus spoke to the floor, "I hear news on the other front. MMM-more of those 'Sentients' have begun to reach the frontlines. Though I doubt they will hold off a champion of Kaiser so easily." Waving his hand in the air, pretending to be stuck behind walls.

"I suggest we keep things in motion?" Shamus nodded in the direction of Soja.

"I agree, Shamus. Analyzing da current events haz given me a welf of knowlij of da battlefield. We shood make our way to claiming otha towns innit. I fink Vavaya nd Castle Schloss. Da Sentients are mostly rasclarts there innit. They won't fite back, and a lack of guilds nearby wil make it easy yeah."

Looking around at each other, hushing whispers passed between them. It wasn't long before the decision was made. Soja stood up, "Ere me now. We follow Yeathe, innit. Half yaz stick wiv me and get the rest of Dems, da rest, ya can go wet some sents, ya get me? AITE!" Soja shouted and his council joined in with an "Aite!" A strong sense of community and union filled the members of the room. They stood united against the incoming tides of war.

Unaware of what was happening within their own territory, however, Soja and his people were unwillingly satiating the disturbing entity aiding them in their revival.

The Mandems were selected at random. The strong would proceed into the front entrance, those unworthy would enter at the back. Hidden away from view of each other, guided by the voice of Yeathe, a battle would commence through the VR setup: a plain field, an icy mountain pass. a luscious green jungle. Regardless of the location, the foe was always the same. A mutated friend, colleague, or family member would be turned into an abomination by the Invørsår cursed energy.

A lone Mandem watched as the abomination entered into his 'virtual' battlefield. All an illusion created by Yeathe. Shamus would guide them in the procedure: how to fight, to dodge, and take the least amount of damage possible should it be unavoidable. The Mandems were fast becoming relentless killing machines, blessed by the powers of two far higher unnatural beings giving them powers, unlike their opponents on the other side. They had become Freehanders, capable of wielding a wide range of weapons and changing what they fought with in a split second.

To add insult to injury, the weak and unworthy would be useful in other ways. If only Soja was aware what Yeathe had created for him. A region underground, powered by the bodies of loved ones. Both dead and alive.

***

His shifting sand; Amuun's paradise. A realm that suffered a curse at the hands of the gods 'Time Constraints.' Taking in the poor creatures that dwelled in the Boigar desert of Terra and forcing them into becoming monstrosities through rapid genetic corruption through Phahl and Low Key's experimenting off the record, this was a location that was sealed off from only the most worthy of individuals due to its creation being unintentional.

Maelos, in his thirst for more power, traversed his pathways to this land in the far East. Few ever dared to tread here. Feral and terrifying beasts that could level a city within hours roamed freely, eagerly awaiting something to ravage apart in the blink of an eye. Counterparts to the Colossi, one may say. A singular large open world dungeon. Only the most unhinged would even try to live in such a hostile place. The sun shone upon his pitch black armour, but it did not reflect light back. The heat of the realm had no chance at harming Maelos. He had far surpassed this ever being an issue again.

A pack of roaming Giganto-Ulvmen tore across the scorching desert sands, bounding in giant leaps as they picked up the scent of something to sink their huge, razor sharp teeth into. The leader signalled to his underlings to circle Maelos, who met the commands by summoning his weapons around him. Weaponry that was meant for ending conflicts moved in a majestic dance-like fashion, eagerly awaiting to strike.

"Yes, this will be a good warm up. Warm crimson-filled flesh will attract a bigger prize." The thought circled his mind, and he let loose his ancient and devastating weapons upon the circling minions. Snarls and yelps rang out as elemental strikes electrocuted, froze, and caused debilitating effects in the creatures.

Dancing to their own rhythm as the minions struggled to comprehend how to fight such things, the leader of the pack engaged with Maelos. Blows that would shatter ground if they connected sent up vast waves of sand into the air. Swift, precise swings clashed against the rotating weapons of Maelos, who effortlessly stood there. Free weapons got the upper hand against the Ulvman, causing him to fight on the back foot and fall back.

This was not a creature that would be so easily defeated. It began to glow orange, taking in the energy from the surroundings. Maelos read his opponent's energy patterns internally. They had opened up the Kaha fully. This was an opponent that was well versed in fighting.

He summoned back his weapons fighting the small fry. They vanished and reappeared beside him and began to link together, forming a shield that had both attack and defensive features. The remaining weapons fused together, forming a dual-ended spear that oozed runoff, blackening the sand it dripped down to and spreading about quickly, contaminating the area.

The minions fell back and regrouped in fear as their leader sought to trade blows with Maelos once more. Stronger and faster than before, it tried to use this to its advantage by throwing feints into its attacks, though it needed to try much harder against an individual with as much experience as Kaiser's champion. Its attacks hit with explosive force that rang out throughout the realm. A figure atop the Palace in the distance watched on as a desperate leader struggled to achieve even the slightest of scratches against his adversary.

Turning the tides in his favour out of boredom, Maelos went on the offense. His first strike split the Ulvman's axe in half, leaving the beast with nothing but a sharp stump in his hand. The second strike failed to connect, and the beast ducked against a swing that flung a disc of wind so dense in power it split the Palace in two, continuing onward into the realm.

The figure watched the elegant white marble fall down to the shifting sands, sinking into it deeply. His gaze was averted to the fighting again, and he raised a hand. It stopped and began to disappear from view. He spoke out with his mind to Maelos, who was still fighting on and overwhelming his opponent. "Watch where you aim, boy. My world is not your playground."

The Ulvman saw Maelos lose focus and lunged at him with his single still usable axe, flew through the air with it, but the armour was too strong to penetrate. As it closed the distance, the shield separated into individual weapons, impaling its vital organs and sending it to the next. The blood flowed, darkening the sands as it touched and mixed in. The small fry ran in fear. A new pack would take them in.

Maelos looked around, failing to identify the voice he heard. He spoke to Kaiser, thinking he misheard, "Can you hear me, my lord? There appears to be someone here."

"I hear you, my champion. I sense nothing is here, barring yourself and the small fry running away."

"'Tis strange, my lord. I am certain there was a voice. Forgive me for disturbing your rest."

The figure began to slowly walk back into his chambers as Maelos scanned for several more moments and, failing to find anything, returned to the dead foe, creating a blood-stained masterpiece in the blistering desert heat.

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