Tristan

You know what? Riding a horse was actually kinda nice.

Hardly something I was experienced in doing, but damn, I was good at it.

Not because of any innate talent, mind you, but simply because, during one of my earliest meetings with him, Genghis Khan had used a Skill to give me the skills and training necessary to fight as a horseback archer because … well, it'd either been a bribe or an attempt at recruitment, but either way, it had been freely given so I'd accepted it.

And now, I got to enjoy the full perks of his various horse-boosting Skills as my mount galloped along without any fear of falling off, the landscape flashing past so quickly I felt like I was riding the train instead … if it weren't for the damn wind. Even with magic to mitigate the air resistance and protect my face, it was kinda uncomfortable. Just not uncomfortable enough to remove, or even significantly impact, my enjoyment of the whole thing.

Though after two days straight of this, the shine was kinda starting to wear off.

Aside from the occasional stop to water the horses or have conversations with the locals, all we did was ride, sleep, then go straight back to riding, leaving me very glad that I could use [Restoration of the Old] to clean myself, and the proper, good, food squirreled away in [Diplomatic Pouch].

Though the talks with the inhabitants of Nidavelir had been informative, and not just because now we actually had a name for this place beyond "the other otherworld."

As for the locals, well, they were dwarves, straight from Norse mythology, though for some reason, every other one had had a name straight out of Lord of the Rings, including one who went by the name of "Gandalf."

That had thrown me for a second … until I'd remembered that that was almost certainly down to the fact that Tolkien had named a whole lot of characters after the dwarven names listed in the Edda, which contained most of what we today knew of the grand tale of Norse mythology.

And, of course, that did have some interesting implications … but I'd asked the locals, and they'd had no idea, while [Akashik Retrieval] was too precious to waste on such a trivial question.

In the meantime, I'd also kept activating [Roadmap to Victory] every time I could, growing ever more certain that what we were doing now was the correct choice. Especially since the "advice" updated based on my actions, where a video game's quest log would have led me to keep going until eventually hitting me with the ol' "you already did that" followed by a series of quests that were basically just the part that involved grabbing the reward.

While the exact nature of the "advice" the Skill gave varied, all told, it was still basically the same thing every single time: hit them hard, hit them fast, and don't let them gather their strength.

For that, there were two very important things for me to do.

Firstly, build and keep rebuilding traps and defenses with magic and [Restoration of the Old] to render any attempts to clear them out an exercise in futility.

And secondly, portals. The distance between the world gates was, well, a lot, but while I still couldn't use [Guide's Shortcut] to jump from world to world, there was absolutely nothing stopping him going from the entrance to a world to its exit in an instant, take one step to move into the next one, and jump ahead with the same ease.

I mean, I was Level 93, I had two-hundred-and-fifty-six portals per day, plus any that regenerated from [Escape Plan] in case I got in a fight.

And so on.

Even with the limit on group size on a per-portal basis, that could move a lot of troops, which would be especially impactful if the troops in question were the likes of Ancients. Or Mia, for that matter.

As for the locals, despite how short and simple our conversations were, I could already tell they were a fascinating people.

Long-lived, with an "if you do something, do it right" attitude that seemed to permeate every part of their society and, surprisingly enough, far more knowledgeable on matters of magic than expected.

Hell, as it turned out, Gandalf could be roughly translated as "magical being with a wand/of the wand," which, in turn, apparently referred to a master of magic.

As for dwarven goods … well, we'd only gotten one, a gift, a bronze orb the size of a billiard ball that could unfold into a map the size of your average dinner table that showed most of the local area, including up-to-date information on troop movements, both ours and the enemy's.

In other words, it was as great an intelligence windfall as we ever could have expected to get … if we trusted it. [Piercing Gaze] claimed it was all true, and that the dwarves' overriding priority was the prosperity of their own people and sticking it to the Fomorians, but a lot of people were still leery of a trap.

Between various Skills and my ability to fly, the info on most of the nearby places had been confirmed, though, as Genghis Khan said, that might just be a way to make us believe everything was true to set up a trap.

Though if so, that was a lot of Fomorians sacrificed to bait said trap.

Dropping a variant of my go-to storm spell on small garisons was usually enough to raze them to the ground, and those that were more directly in our path of travel wound up trampled into the ground, sometimes even literally.

That information was then compiled into a digital format and delivered back to the main body by yours truly.

***

And on the third day, we reached the gate to the next world, revealing a verdant paradise that, on second thought, looked pretty messy for a "paradise."

I mean, someone had hacked, slashed, and burned a wide road through the center that would allow for easy passage, and the plants in question were less "jungle" and more "northern European forest that got left alone for ten thousand years," but the overgrowth bordered on the ludicrous.

Also …

"That road would make for an excellent location for an ambush," Genghis Khan said, loud enough to be overheard, but not to the point where it could be considered an "announcement."

Yeah, that.

He glanced at me.

"Once you've reported back, how long would it take you to line the road with storms, burn the path open?"

"Depends on how long it is …" I shrugged. The path through Nidavelir had taken nearly three days of non-stop riding at full gallop, making for a total distance traveled of around two thousand kilometers, similar to the distance of the southern tip of Italy to the northernmost edge of Germany, as the crow flies … though the mountainous terrain meant that the portals of Nidavelir were actually only around five hundred kilometers apart.

"… but I might be able to send a wide storm traveling down the road, but that would turn that into mud."

Because by god, that road was bad.

"I have a Skill for that," he responded evenly as he reached forward and patted his horse on the neck. "The ground would have to be far worse than merely 'muddy' to cause even slight issues."

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"Also, can you send a warning ahead without risking any of your people?"

"Yes," he nodded. "But for what reason would you want to let them know we're coming?"

"I'd feel really bad if any of their slaves got caught up in the storm," I said. Because while I did have a plan forming, it was kinda dangerous and destructive.

"Hm," was the response I got in exchange for the explanation, the judgment clear in his tone.

Then, he asked, "How slowly can your storms move? Could you send one slow enough for people to avoid it?"

"I don't think the Fomorians would let their slave population move over something as 'trivial' as the weather, no matter how bad said weather may be."

"Then why would they move over a warning?"

Shit. That was a good point.

"Send the storm."

I couldn't even tell what had changed about the way he spoke, but this time, it was obvious that he brooked no argument. Not anymore.

Should I … I mean, I could … but at the same time, I really, really, shouldn't.

I mean, this was Genghis freaking Khan I'd be disagreeing with on this topic, and worse, Genghis Khan, who had a point, so he'd push that idea a lot harder than he otherwise might have.

He patted me on the shoulder with one hand, the impact oddly heavy despite the fact that it hadn't carried more force than what gravity had put into it when he'd let his arm fall not even two centimeters.

And then he turned away, heading off to do something else, not bothering to make sure I did what he'd asked, or even saying anything. He just trusted that his orders were obeyed … I mean, he was Genghis freaking Khan.

From anyone else, that attitude would have come off as pure, unearned arrogance.

From him?

It was still arrogance, but it was one that sure as shit had been earned.

So … what would I do now?

I mean, I'd cast the storm, but what kind of storm?

[Spell Fusion] would be doing the heavy lifting here, and could take three spells. The first would, obviously, be [Century Storm]. The second … the second was actually equally obvious, now that I thought about it, [Tailwind] to move the storm along, to drive it along the "road," rather than letting it stay static here.

But the third … a firestorm was too mana-intensive to maintain.

Acid had a similar issue and was too cruel, in my mind.

And then I had an idea. I was trying to rumble and abushes, right? I didn't actually have to kill the Fomorians; I just had to make sure they couldn't stay put?

[Windblade] would make a huge mess of things, rip up the underbrush and generally scythe down the whole mess, which a follow-up storm could then blow away, leaving a devastated but bare landscape.

Also, while I still wasn't exactly happy to be potentially massacring the slaves I strongly suspected to be in the target area, the blades of compressed air should at least be dodgeable, if not potentially blockable by hiding behind a big rock or something.

Triggering the combination, I cast [Reaping Whirlwind] and the world ahead began to disintegrate.

Then, an hour later, I cast [Hurricane], which had swapped out [Windblade] for [Water Jet], which would both drench and hurl away everything still in the area, sweeping the way clear while also ruining the footing for anyone without Genghis Khan's Skills.

And then, finally, a few minutes before we set out, taking full advantage of the fact that [Rivers of Mana] had procced and was practically force-feeding me new mana, I sent a [Firestorm] ahead, making sure that anyone who left would have to run, or at least react in some way that would hopefully be noticeable.

As the horses began to trot forward, I caught the khan's eye. He nodded in my direction before fixing his eyes on the mess of a road ahead.

There was meaning, there, I just wasn't sure what.

Was it a matter of "first warcrime, huh? It gets easier," a regular "attaboy," or more something along the lines of "not bad, how about you come work for me?"

Either way … either way, while I was sure it was some flavor of positive, I wasn't sure that, in itself, was a good thing.

***

Unsurprisingly, having a proper road, and a straight one at that, helped out a lot when it came to moving quickly.

The landscape had flown by in a same-y blur, a churned, torn up, and charred mess.

On one hand … holy shit, I had done that. That was kinda awesome.

On the other hand … that was a whole lot of destruction. And now everyone knew I could do that. The glances people were throwing me when they thought I wasn't paying attention were, well, not necessarily comfortable to be on the receiving end of.

What I didn't see was anyone other than the humans around me. No locals, and, more importantly, no Fomorians.

I mean, getting the latter to back the fuck off had been the entire goddamn point of the exercise, but for there to not be even a single one out there, in the entire path between worlds?

That was weird.

But it did make things oh so very easy. Even the portal into the next world, the one [Roadmap to Victory] had declared to be the home of the Fomorians, was entirely unguarded, to the point where Genghis Khan called for a break while it was first checked for traps, then hosed down with all sorts of attacks, just in case the enemy had a way to remain hidden against Skills.

After all, unlike with the monsters, both sides here had full access to the System's powers.

The space beyond … well, it was weird.

At first, it had reminded me of the fields of Ireland we'd left behind nearly a month ago, but it was also barren, a dead, rocky expanse broken up by the occasional "hill" that was really more of a flat boulder.

And in the distance rose a city, with walls as tall as most apartment buildings, and buildings that towered ever higher the closer they were to the center, soon becoming skyscrapers in truth … it was the biggest city I'd ever seen by a long shot.

Not modern, not anything anyone even remotely human would have built, the closest comparison I could make was Minas Tirith, blown up to the size of London, built around a pillar that made the Burj Khalifa look like a child's sandcastle by comparison … yeah, it was impressive as hell.

And even with modern technology and magic at our fingertips, that outer wall looked tough enough to actually be impactful in a way no castle had been for hundreds of years.

I found myself so transfixed by the appearance of the city that it took the man riding beside me to nudge me with his elbow and point before I noticed the army camping outside it, to its left, from my point of view, apparently in the middle of drills when we'd appeared.

And then the order came.

"Blanket the city in storms, keep them from sending reinforcements, tell the others what we've found, then return and resume your suppression of the fortifications."

Uh-hu … gotcha.

I fused [Century Storm], [Stonecutter], and [Windblade] into what the System labeled as [Rending Sandstorm] and hurled the mess at the walls. It wouldn't do too much against the walls without a whole lot of luck, but it should make everyone keep their heads down, and perhaps mess with the area within by grinding up the stone outside and throwing it inside as gravel, sand, or dust, to cause as much chaos as possible.

Then, I turned and opened a portal back, to the rear of the formation, stepped through, then took another step into the world we'd just left, used a second portal to zap myself to the far end of that world, jumped into the world of the dwarves and finally teleported high into the sky around halfway between both portals, where I'd have the best view of the area beneath.

Take a second to locate the path, then one more to check if it looked like the main body had already passed through … yes, they had, so I teleported forward, halfway between here and the portal, this time locating the others with relative ease.

Thankfully, people knew better than to shoot at random birds that got uncomfortably close. I landed on the armored truck that served as the command center for the whole affair, shifted back into human form, and leaned over so I could knock on the door, then jerked my head back to avoid getting smacked in the face if it was opened a little too quickly.

From there, it was a simple matter of reporting, creating a new portal chain, and transporting every ancient that wasn't Charlemagne ahead to the space before the Fomorian city, along with as many other people as I could, while keeping thirty portal activations in reserve.

And then, I looked over at the city, which was looking slightly dusty but far less so than I'd have expected, considering the situation.

So I hurled a second [Rending Sandstorm] at it … except that spell snapped straight out of existence. And so did the regular [Century Storm] I created next, though that one took longer to dispel.

Hrmph. Not great.

And then I noticed how the Fomorian army was forming up, separating countless smaller units, each of which still outnumbered us by at least three to one …

Yeah, really not great.

***

Councillor Irgoll

So, the vermin had made their way to the homeland.

Granted, there hadn't been any question of that, considering how he'd arranged to have all troops pull back, but they'd been fast.

In fact, one would almost think they'd realized what he was doing, and sent ahead a fast troop to mess with his efforts … but they were in the heartlands of the empire now, containing about nine and a half of their nearly ten million people. Three times that if you counted the slaves.

Granted, getting slaves to fight was difficult, and even if you succeeded in making them work for you, they tended to get quite uppity afterwards, to the point where executing the whole lot after one's victory had become the norm, but all in all, it simply Did. Not. Matter. how good the humans were. These were odds no one, in the history of any world, across all of recorded history, all of time, in fact, could ever possibly beat.

It should be entertaining to watch. Perhaps they could even kill the king for him … it shouldn't be hard to get the musclebrain to take to the field himself. And considering how capable some of the humans had proven themselves, identifying the big bastard as "important" should be well within their capabilities.

They certainly did have some impressive magic users, even if their attacks were largely futile against the walls of the capital.

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