Interlude - scene of massacre

The Capital of the Re-estize Kingdom.

Blood ran in shallow rivers in the halls of its King.

"It's just one person!" shouted a guard. A team of them, noble knights sworn to the service of the King, raised their shields and readied their spears. A few stared, unnerved, at the mutilated corpses of their fellows on the floor; and at the attacker, lithe bodied, clad in a yellow robe, expression hidden behind a cowl. "We don't need to wait for that peasant Gazef. Charge!"

Uttering a fierce battle cry, the knights trudged forward. Behind them, a caster began to wind up a bolstering spell.

Then, the enemy ran-no, leaped forward-its body sailing over them all. He landed in between them and the caster. Steel flashed, and the caster's neck erupted in a fountain of red. She fell, mouth uttering noiseless words, choking on a useless spell.

In that moment, they all heard a snicker. They caught sight of white teeth bared like a wild beast beneath the cowl.

"[Black Spike]."

The enemy clapped its hand once. Then a rumbling filled the chamber. Then, each guard, without exception, felt pain blossom in their chest. They looked down, and saw something impossible-spikes had inexplicably appeared from the red floor, sharp and brutal. When darkness claimed them, their bodies hung limp, impaled on these dread appendages. Blood dripped down the black spikes, joining the cloying mass on the ground.

The yellow robed intruder considered their bodies for a while before a sudden clatter of noise arrived from behind. A new set of guards had arrived, newly roused to repel any intruder into the King's private sanctum.

The intruder grinned. It twirled a small, curved dagger on its finger. It charged forward, with the surety of a pouncing tiger.

More blood flowed.

Gazef had been summoned by a harried messenger. He wasted no time, donning half of the treasures of the Kingdom granted to him by his Lord. The other half were presently with some noble from the Noble's Faction, who'd convinced the King of the "dangers" of letting too much power percolate in one place. Too easily stolen, they claimed. Or abused by the ambitious.

Still, Gazef was loyal to his King. And when the news was this dire, he had no time to dwell on such thoughts.

By way of the side barracks, he made his way up the palace. A horde of knights and common soldiery met him on the way, which he then split up to search the area. Without anymore intel, Gazef now banked on defending the upper areas personally while putting the whole place on lockdown.

He could smell the iron stench of blood. It was faint, but it was there, and was not normally in this place, the very heart of the Kingdom. He quickly consulted the King, bidding him flee by the hidden passages. If he wanted to curry favor with the man, he'd have staked his life on vowing protecting him by himself without making the King lose face; but he was pragmatic, and valued his lord more.

Besides, were he to fall here, then nothing stood in the way of the intruder and the King.

Is it an assassin from the Empire? the guards wondered. An assassin audacious enough for a full-blown assault was a mad one. Not even the greatest of Ijaniya would have dared-certainly not in this open manner.

The King's Audience Chamber, where he held court at day, was hastily transformed into a defensive field. Magic casters quickly overlaid the area with bolstering seals and enchantments, while archers and other skilled bowmen hid themselves behind barricades.

There came a rumbling from the great doors leading to the Chamber. Gazef and his men steeled themselves, as the hinges began to creak and wobble.

Bang! The doors fell, blasted off its hinges as if from some explosive spell. Within the smoke, Gazef spied the intruders. His eyes widened when he saw it was only one.

[Sense Weakness]. Gazef cast that martial art. He sighed-it was a nearly impossible task. [Sense Possibility] also gave him the same prediction. By himself, a thankless task-but with his comrades, he could bring it down.

As if sensing his mood, the archers fired in quick volleys, each flying for the one space where the intruder stood. Gazef half-expected it to duck behind the wall, but the enemy stood its ground.

But a blue mist shimmered around the enemy. All the arrows launched seemed to veer off target, as if hit by a sudden, strong wind. They clattered useless around the figure.

After a moment, the figure took a step.

"Halt!" Gazef shouted. "You are entering the domain of His Royal Majesty, King Lanposa III! Surrender now, lay down your arms, or face a swift death!"

The figure knelt down, and picked up something. When it stood, it made a swift motion with its hand.

A second later, there came a gasp, then a gurgling sound from one of the barricades. Gazef turned to look-an arrow was now lodged in the poor man's throat.

"Damn!" Cursing himself for the distraction, Gazef looked back at the door. The figure had disappeared. He looked wildly around, then spotted its yellow form flying high above near the ceiling.

"[Field of Oil]." said a voice.

After a flash, a thick, pungent smell filled Gazef's nose. He looked down, and saw some strange substance on the ground. It pooled around his boots, seemingly doing nothing-but Gazef wasted no time barking to the caster behind him.

It was just in time.

Just as his body felt faint from the effects of a hurried [Flight] spell, the intruder said, "[Fireball]". Then the whole chamber exploded in a sea of angry flames.

Gazef clawed against a nearby pillar, watching as those who were too late, or were dripping in the strange substance caught fire immediately. Agonized screams filled the room as the fire devoured their makeshift barricades and the people who weren't caught within the [Flight]. Gazef felt a wave of revulsion just hearing their cries, even as he glared hatefully at the flying enemy.

"Oh, I'm sorry," said a voice, though it didn't sound apologetic in the least. "What a mess. Silly me. I'll get rid of the fire in a jiffy. [Maximize: Force Wave]."

A strong invisible force slammed into Gazef, pinning him against the pillar. He felt it jar against his body, making his armor vibrate, even peeling off some of the leather on his gear. He heard a loud, crashing rumble, before he finally fell unconscious from the strain.

He woke, groggy, his body burning with pain. His back felt like it had been liquefied and had fire poured down his spine. He tasted bitter blood in his mouth. He raised his eyes to the ceiling-but there was no ceiling. There was the clear night sky, the moon floating silent above. Gazef gripped the hilt of his sword and rolled on his back, gritting his teeth. He gasped.

Where before there had been a hellish forest of flames, now there remained a scene of much ruin. The walls, the ceiling, the door, had disappeared. The pillars stuck out like broken teeth, rubble lay on the ruined throne. There was no sign of the fire, or any of his men, save for the signs of charred carpet and stone. A wind blew softly around.

Groaning, he got to his feet. It felt surreal, like a dream. That any could hold such power as to sweep a building like this away like a child playing with a sand-castle-was it the age of heroes once more? He recalled Ainz Ooal Gown, that mysterious magic caster who had defeated the Sunlight Scripture.

He heard a soft clump of boots hitting the ground behind him. Then the voice said, "As expected of a genius warrior. You alone survive, where your fellows have failed. Bravo." The figure came into his sight, clapping its hands lazily.

Gazef steadied his shaky feet. He felt some pain down there, as if something had been broken. Nonetheless, he steeled himself, and raised his sword.

"Oho~ To the last, you fight. Barely holding on to your hitpoints, as long as your duty is kept. Pah!" The figure spat. It brandished a small, curved dagger. "That kind of behavior makes me sick the most. I gotta say, Gazef Stronoff, I'll never tire of killing you. It's just so satisfying tossing some guy like you into the mud."

"Who... are you...?" said Gazef, in-between pained gasps.

The person giggled. "You don't need to know. Pretty soon this world's gonna go up in smoke. It's my personal vendetta, you see? Any time-line without mom's not something that'll survive a week of me getting here. Whether it's that annoying dragon all up in Eryuentia, or daddy-o himself in his tomb. They all going up, yo. And here I'm starting with you."

A flash of steel-so quick it was obviously superhuman in speed-but Gazef still raised his weapon and caught it. The force behind the dagger was strong, though, and sent a painful shiver up his arm. Gazef took a breath and swung, meeting the enemy's shallow cuts with his blade.

Within the moments when blade met blade, the enemy said, "Hah! Where's your secret technique, boss? Not gonna use it?"

Gazef gritted his teeth, ignoring the mockery. His arms weren't in the best condition for that. Then, the figure disappeared, before Gazef felt his feet swept out from under him.

He landed on his back with a pained grunt. He made to stand, but the enemy loomed above, slamming its feet down on his chest. For such a light-looking figure, there was a lot of power in its body. Gazef couldn't even stand.

The enemy laughed in his face. "Boring, boring, boring! Like I said, I got no patience with weakling wannabes like you, Gazef-baby. So lie down there nice and snug, and let me do my frigging job, huh?" The foot lifted up and stomped once. Gazef felt his ribs break from the impact. He coughed; a sudden surge of blood had come right up his throat.

Through bleary eyes he watched the dagger raised high, its edge catching the moonlight. "I ain't a bad guy, but somehow I get..." the enemy hummed.

Gazef closed his eyes, resigned to his doom.

"The fuck?" said his would-be killer.

The pressure from his chest disappeared, accompanied by the sound of steel hitting steel. Gazef's eyes fluttered open.

There was a white-clad figure standing before the yellow-robed intruder. It had a red cape, and plate armor that shone like silver. Under its cape were some things that looked like black wings. It held a katana in one hand, which was bizarrely longer than anything he'd seen before.

Their voices were audible, but unclear, as if coming through a long tunnel.

"What the shit-who the fuck are you?"

"... I overheard your talk. So you enjoy destroying whole worlds, huh? Well, here I am-a Conqueror who enjoys defending worlds. You and me, fiend. Takemikazuchi Mk.8 shall drink deep of your blood."

The intruder's cowl had fallen, revealing a black skull mask covering a blond-haired face. The red eyes visible through the slit glittered in rage.

Another clash-their figures moved and danced like flies scrambling over food. Even Gazef, a born warrior, found it difficult to keep track. They moved at such superhuman speeds, that they may be even greater than the heroes.

There was a sound of steel shattering. The enemy fell back, cursing, its weapon broken. The silver warrior grunted, sounding satisfied.

"Shit! Take this, [Fireball]!"

A flash of silver-and the katana neatly dispelled the incoming spell like it was just an errant ember on the wind. Gazef now could clearly see the person-the man's face. It was a handsome, cleanshaven face, pale, its golden eyes glittering with unearthly light. Somehow, the horns on its head didn't seem unnatural at all.

"Listen, whelp," the silver warrior said. "I was the Conqueror, once. I have never met any who was my equal. Not there, in my home, nor through all those worlds I passed. And you don't even rate my top tens."

The skull-masked one only snickered. "Smug ass fucker. Alright, let's play. Let's see how you handle this!"

Shurpuff: Here's a fight scene I preserved from Godsfall drafts. I felt it didn't fit its original position, so I just fixed it up, and brought it here. Kinda short, but it's an interlude.

Thanks for reading.