Logout Error: My NPCs Now Worship Me

Stepping through the Great Gate of Khaz'Modan was like entering another world. The air instantly grew cool and tasted of stone dust, forge-smoke, and a faint, coppery tang of old blood. The grand entrance hall was a testament to dwarven artistry, with colossal statues of their ancestors lining the walls and a vaulted ceiling so high it was lost in shadow.

But the beauty was marred by the grim reality of war. The polished stone floors were cracked and stained. The statues were chipped from stray weapons. Crude barricades of overturned minecarts and piled rubble had been erected everywhere. Wounded dwarves, their faces grim, watched from behind the barricades as the silent, terrifying army of Nexus marched past them.

King Thrain led the way, his stride heavy but resolute. "The main infestation is in the Deep Roads, below the seventh level," he explained, his gruff voice echoing in the cavernous hall. "But the Crawlers are clever. They send scouting parties up through old ventilation shafts and forgotten tunnels. They can strike anywhere, anytime."

As if to prove his point, a piercing shriek echoed from a side corridor, followed by the clang of steel and dwarven war cries.

"They're in the Grand Concourse!" a dwarf shouted.

Thrain swore, gripping his axe. "Another breach! To arms!"

Before any of the dwarves could move, Kaelus held up a hand, a simple gesture that commanded absolute stillness. He turned his shadowed helm towards the commotion.

"Boom," he said, his voice calm. "Clear the obstruction."

"WITH PLEASURE!" the titan roared. He charged down the corridor, his massive armored boots shaking the very foundations of the hall. The dwarves stared in awe as the mountain of a man disappeared around the corner.

They heard a single, deafening CRASH, like the sound of a collapsing mine, followed by a triumphant, booming laugh. A moment later, Boom returned, wiping a black, viscous ichor from his warhammer.

"Just a few little bugs, my Lord," he reported cheerfully. "Barely a warm-up."

The dwarves, who had been preparing for a bloody, protracted fight, were left speechless. A threat that would have cost them a dozen of their own warriors had been dealt with by a single one of Kaelus's servants in a matter of seconds.

Lilliana observed this with a calculating eye. This was the purpose of this initial march: not just to reach the battlefield, but to demonstrate overwhelming, casual superiority. To cement the dwarves' awe and ensure their absolute compliance.

They continued their descent, level by level. Each level was a city in itself, connected by massive, spiraling ramps and colossal lift systems. And each level told a story of a losing battle. They passed abandoned forges, hastily evacuated residential sectors, and great halls stained with the evidence of desperate last stands.

The dwarven soldiers they passed looked at Kaelus's host with a mixture of fear and a dawning, desperate hope. They were seeing a true army, disciplined and utterly fearless. The Doom Knights moved with a chilling, silent purpose that made even the most veteran Ironbreaker feel like a raw recruit.

Finally, they reached the seventh level, the main staging ground for the dwarven defense. Here, the air was thick with the stench of death and the alien, chittering sounds of the enemy echoing up from the depths. The stone walls were covered in a strange, pulsating organic webbing, and the floor was slick with the same black ichor Boom had wiped from his hammer.

At the far end of the hall was a massive, adamantine-reinforced gate, bulging and groaning under the pressure of a great weight from the other side. This was the final barrier holding back the main horde.

"This is it," King Thrain said, his voice grim. "The Chasm Bridge is just beyond this gate. It is the only way to the Mithril Deeps. And the horde is on the other side. Thousands of them."

"Your strategy was to hold this gate?" Kaelus asked, his tone flat, betraying no emotion.

"It was all we could do," Thrain admitted, shamefaced. "We lack the numbers to push them back."

Kaelus looked at the bulging gate, then at his assembled forces. He had a thousand Doom Knights and his elite Guardians. He did not need to hold a choke point. He was the tide.

"Rose," he commanded. The Head Maid, who had been observing everything with a detached, analytical air, stepped forward.

"My Lord?"

"Remain here with a hundred Doom Knights," Kaelus ordered. "Establish a command post. You will be my liason with King Thrain. You will coordinate the flow of resources once the mines are retaken."

He then turned to Lilliana. "You will also remain here. Your role as envoy is complete. This is no longer a matter of diplomacy."

Lilliana nodded, understanding completely. Her game was played on the political board. The battlefield belonged to him and his monsters.

Kaelus then turned to the rest of his forces. "Gravity. Flora. You are with me. Spidy, take to the shadows. I want eyes on their Queen. Find her."

He looked at the remaining nine hundred Doom Knights. "The legion will be the vanguard. You will be the wave that breaks them."

Finally, he looked at Boom, Blast, and Force. "You three are the spearhead. You will punch a hole through their lines and lead me to the heart of their nest. No mercy. No survivors. Leave nothing but scorched earth."

The Guardians all bowed, their eyes burning with anticipation.

"King Thrain," Kaelus said, turning to the dwarf lord one last time. "You wished for salvation. Now, watch as it is delivered."

He strode towards the groaning, bulging gate. The dwarves backed away, expecting him to smash it down.

He did not. He simply placed a hand upon its surface. The gate, which was straining against the pressure of thousands of monsters, suddenly fell silent. The bulging ceased.

Gravity had stepped up behind him. With a subtle gesture, she had created a localized gravitational field on the other side of the door, a wall of pure force that was now holding the entire horde at bay.

With the pressure gone, Kaelus simply pushed. The massive adamantine gate swung open with a silent, effortless grace.

The sight on the other side was a vision from a madman's nightmare.

The Chasm Bridge, a marvel of engineering spanning a seemingly bottomless abyss, was swarming with them. The Crawlers. They were a writhing, chittering carpet of black-chitin horrors. They ranged in size from dog-sized scuttlers to horse-sized warriors with vicious, scythe-like claws. They had no eyes, navigating by sound and vibration, their mouths filled with rows of needle-sharp teeth. And there were thousands upon thousands of them, a living sea of clicking, screeching death, all currently pressed against an invisible wall of force.

Any mortal army would have broken at the sight.

The Doom Knights did not even flinch.

"Advance," Kaelus commanded.

With a unified, silent step, the legion of the undead marched onto the bridge, their burning blue eyes fixed on the horde.

Gravity released her hold.

With a collective, deafening shriek that shook the entire cavern, the sea of Crawlers surged forward.

The two tides met in the center of the bridge. It was a clash of absolute silence against absolute chaos. The Doom Knights did not cry out. They did not break formation. They were a meat grinder of enchanted steel and cold, unyielding bone. They swung their massive greatswords in perfect, synchronized arcs, cleaving through the smaller Crawlers, their enchanted blades turning chitin to dust.

The larger warrior-crawlers slammed into the undead shield wall, their claws scraping uselessly against the enchanted plate. The Doom Knights would absorb the blow, then retaliate with a unified thrust of a dozen swords, overwhelming the larger beasts through sheer, disciplined force.

It was a battle of attrition, and the Crawlers had the numbers. For every Doom Knight that fell, shattered by a dozen Crawlers at once, a hundred more of the beasts were slain. But the tide was endless.

King Thrain and his dwarves watched from the gate, horrified and mesmerized. Their finest warriors had been overwhelmed here. These undead soldiers were holding the line, but they were slowly, inevitably, being worn down.

"See?" a dwarven Thane muttered. "Even his army cannot stand against the horde forever!"

But this was just the overture.

Kaelus raised a hand. "Now," he said.

From behind the line of Doom Knights, three figures shot forward.

Blast was a blur of silver, his energy lance glowing. He didn't charge into the horde. He leaped over them, landing deep within their ranks, and began to spin, his lance outstretched. [Spear Art: Cyclone of Annihilation]. He became a whirlwind of pure kinetic energy, carving a perfect circle of death fifty yards wide in the center of the Crawler army, turning thousands of them into a fine black mist.

Boom landed with the force of an earthquake, his warhammer swinging. Every impact sent out a shockwave that pulverized dozens of Crawlers at a time. He was a laughing, roaring avatar of pure destruction, a one-man demolition crew.

Force moved like a ghost through the chaos. He didn't use wide, sweeping attacks. He flowed through the enemy ranks, his movements a deadly dance. A single, precise chop to a Crawler's leg would sever it. A targeted jab to a weak point in their carapace would shatter it. He was a scalpel, dissecting the enemy's strongest warriors from the inside out, his every move a masterpiece of deadly efficiency.

The three Guardians tore through the Crawler horde like gods among insects. They were punching a hole, carving a path directly through the center of the endless army.

The dwarven Thane who had spoken was now silent, his jaw hanging open. His king was equally stunned.

They were not watching a battle. They were watching a harvest.

Kaelus began to walk forward, Flora and Gravity flanking him. They strolled onto the bridge, surrounded by a bubble of calm in the hurricane of violence. Not a single Crawler could get within twenty feet of them. Any that tried were either crushed by Gravity's passive spatial distortions or ensnared by beautiful, deadly vines that erupted from Flora's every footstep.

He was walking through the heart of an army that had brought the mighty dwarven kingdom to its knees as if he were taking a stroll through a garden. And he was heading for the other side of the chasm, where the true darkness, and the true prize, awaited.