Apocalypse Reborn: Demon Lord

Apocalypse Reborn: Demon Lord

…

I’ll admit it.

I was pretty stoked to be born as the big bad evil guy of an entire planet.

Not just “a” bad guy.

“The” bad guy.

Not just the big evil asshole that all the normal factions have to beat, but also the supreme, evil individual with so much power that even the factions meant to give everyone else bad ends have to work together to fight you.

Then, of course, I realized that it was my fate that I have to fight literally the entire planet and win, and that even with all my innate talent… I’ll still need to train, still need to gather allies, and still risk everything for a shot at winning, since everyone else will do their best to kill me.

With that in mind, being the most evil, most powerful person soured real quick.

I know.

I’ve got the stats.

From birth, I’m talented, quick on my feet, strong, and my potential is insane.

However, I still needed the training, the equipment, the allies, the support groups, and they’re all not just going to fall into my lap. The big bad guy worked their ass off, ingratiates themselves into the strongest faction, and then usurps it from the inside as well as they can. On the surface, sure, it seems like it comes out of nowhere, but the in-game text shows you exactly how it all worked out, why the guy was so good, and how he succeeded at every mission.

I mean, even if you’re talented as hell, the missions Champions are sent on are fucking brutal and can get complicated real quick. Champions, the superhuman prodigies with powerful bodies from birth and immense magical potential, can die on missions. They often do. And, with that in mind, I’ll need to succeed on each and every single on that I’m given, while I make a ring of traitors to support me, and prepare to take all the armies of the faction I’m under?

Yeah.

The more I thought about it… the more I came to a simple decision.

I ain’t doing any of that shit.

I’ll find the strongest faction, work for them, fail and keep my life, and basically help them out so that we can survive everything else.

At the very least, that was my plan a few years after my birth after I got my bearings.

Unfortunately, I found out on my thirteenth birthday that wasn’t possible.

…

“That’s a Citadel control ring.”

“A what?”

“Why do we have a Citadel control ring?”

“You’re not making much sense, chief.” Father was a bandit. Born and raised that way in a tribe of bandits. He was a bandit, his father was a bandit, and his father before him. Generational assholery was our way, until I came along. Then, I beat them all and took the title of leader. “I’m afraid you’re just saying the same words.”

“Forget it. Get everyone back on horseback and get ready to start taking over other tribes.”

“Really!?”

“Yeah, we’ve gotta do it now.” I grumbled, while dear ole dad whooped and hollered, as he was excited about the imminent bloodshed about to occur. “Need the bodies.”

With dad away, some floozies who wanted to get on my good side approached, but pulling my sword out a bit gave them the clear message that I didn’t want to deal with their bullshit.

The message was received, I put the ring on my finger, and took in the lay of the land.

“This is horseshit as a starting area.” It was the generic, tutorial spot. Wolf-something. Average in every respect, so no weaknesses, but no strengths. Good for cavalry, though, and that’s what we had. The problem was that it was also filled with lots of warbands fighting for the small villages and merchants passing through. “Gonna need to pacify it… but I’ll need to fight a Champion or two.”

Generally speaking, I avoided fights. Fights avoided are fights won. Also, if I had to take a fight, I made sure to give myself the most advantages. That involved doing a lot of sneaky, stealth-archer bullshit, sabotaging water, poisoning, and burning down supplies. My troops are garbage and were practically just meat shields. If I got decent people, I’d take them all out back and send them on their way to their next lives.

Huh, now that’s an idea.

There’s gotta be a warband or two that I can just usurp and utilize.

They’ll have accountants, logisticians, officers, and other people who’d be able to do more than just swing swords and clubs around. In fact, I won’t have to fight Champions, if I just took that route in the first place.

Hm, but having a whole band of bandits at my back would be bad… and leaving them alone would mean letting them get out of control and hurting a lot of people.

Well, I guess not having them would lower my bargaining power and potential hirers might want to try their luck instead of working with me.

Dang.

Dad and all his cronies, criminals, and rapist friends really get to live another day, before I’m done with them, huh?

I urged my horse to trot around and join the rest of small horde.

Time to find a warband to bully/make into replacements for these idiots.

Then, with a Citadel, I’ll see what I can do about securing a future that didn’t involve getting turned into a living sofa in the best case scenario.

…

Interlude: Riegert.

…

Rumors abounded outside of the Academy of a bandit king, of a leader of miscreants and monsters, who took on all foes, defeated them, and made use of their power. No more than tribes who found no other means to live than to use violence and take from others. Weak, with poor equipment, and with crude magics, against professional soldiery they were nothing more than a challenge to be taken into account whilst going from one point to another.

Yet, now, we looked upon the site of a warband utterly destroyed, weapons and armor missing, and signs of prisoners being taken.

“What are we looking at, Riegert?” Khanrow growled, his single eye looking upon the battlefield we’d stumbled on. Groups of our soldiers were rifling through the wreckages. Oswald was being thorough and scouting the perimeter on horseback. Still, something felt off, despite the fact we had an army at our beck and call. “Weren’t we pursuing a group of bandits?”

“We were, but it looks like they’ve got their own goals. Look at all the upturned ground, the hoof prints, and the wounds of the dead. This is the band of light cavalry that we’re looking for, but there’s intellect behind it.” I visualized the wreckages, found the tripled paths the horses took, and the ruins of temporary defenses in all directions. A grimace formed on my lips. “There were four separate attacks in each direction with archers on horseback. Good ones, too. The perimeter of the camp is surrounded in upturned mud… they fired their arrows, left, and returned again and again.”

“The hammer and anvil approach?” Khanrow blinked. “But with archers on horseback instead of heavy knights with lances?”

“Aye, and all the deadlier for it.” This force was lightly armored, but heavily armed. I found one of the few broken arrows used by the enemy. The head of the arrow was yellowed and barbed. The flesh I pulled it from was a dark purple in hue. It had gone through chain mail, if the bits and pieces left in the wound were any indication. A short bow on horseback wouldn’t be able to do this, and nomadic barbarians wouldn’t have crossbows at their disposal, either. “They either have a skilled user of wind magic or powerful bows made of some unknown material. Or, perhaps, both.”

“Will it go through plate?”

“No, but it’ll dent and weaken, then the next shots will. Our best choice in fighting them will be our aerial cavalry… but they don’t even have plate.” If we were lucky, they’ll crash upon the wandering barbarian tribes, but they’ll get mauled as they try to retreat. These poisoned arrows will kill them surely after the battle, too. “I have a bad feeling about this, Khanrow. We’re fighting someone devastating.”

Khanrow was about to respond, when Oswald’s horn resounded once in the distance.

None came after, so it meant he found something, rather than an emergency.

I blew my own, to signal where I was and where he could find me, and a moment later he was before us.

There was a child riding on his saddle, one of the urchins that stayed in wagon trains, and the child had wide eyes, sunken cheeks, and a long stare.

“Found this one hiding in the nearby grove, beneath a couple of other bodies. Seems that some of the barbarians wanted to play with them… they’re the other bodies. Whoever’s running the lot keeps them on a tight leash.” Oswald stated. He and the others looked upon the doings of the barbarians with trepidation when we found our fellow warband destroyed, but now there was a mote of respect in his voice. Why wouldn’t he? Some of our ‘fellows’ didn’t follow those rules themselves, and we didn’t accept their surrender. “The other children were taken away, and most of the wagon train was scattered instead of killed.”

I nodded at the report and locked eyes with the child clinging to Oswald’s back.

There was intellect in his eyes, not much, but there was a maturity in him that was beyond his years of living with a warband from birth.

“How many were there? What were they doing? Who fought the leader of your camp and killed him?” I pointed at the central tent, where the officers and commander of this warband had stayed. It seemed almost pristine, most of the structure intact and standing, if not for the blood that was upon the ground and walls of the tents. I’d walked through it. I found one set of footsteps going in, dozens and dozens coming forth from the tents, and yet only the same set had walked out while all the others were dragged out… either dead or barely resisting. “What monster are we dealing with?”

The boy understood what I was asking and spoke.

“It was the Bandit Lord. He went there and killed them all by himself with just a sword in hand. He was… just my age, but he killed them all.” The child dryly swallowed, and his shoulders shook. I handed him my water skein and he took it gratefully. “Everyone started to run when he did that, but then his armies came. They were so fast and their arrows struck all the time. Their bows… had strange curves and looked like they weren’t made of wood and they rode their horses like our own people, instead of other barbarians. They had saddles and stir-stir—

“Stirrups.”

“Yes.”

Things were growing clearer and clearer as we spoke. The Bandit Lord was a Champion. Someway and somehow, he was a peerless combatant that required another Champion to match him. That much we had discerned from his success. What worried me was the technological advantages his people had those other barbarians didn’t. They normally refused outside things, sticking to tradition, and telling tales of master’s that will come one day to kill all with technology and spare only those without. This powerful band was obviously using our own technologies… and creating their own.

They had stirrups and saddles while other tribes only used horseback, and had some sort of recurve bow by the boy’s description. Those bows, as well, were unlikely to be made of wood. Did they work with the bones of monsters? This region was suspiciously clear of monsters, after all.

The more I thought on the matter, the more my instincts told me to go elsewhere.

It was an unfamiliar feeling, but not an unwelcome one.

“Khanrow, I don’t like this. Either we’re facing some sort of prodigy with the abilities and talents of a Champion naturally, or the Academy has some sort of secret force here. The latter will be to risky to fight, and the former too much of an unknown to confront head on.”

Thankfully, Khanrow agreed and nodded at my words.

“You’re right. We’ll pull back, but keep watch over the region. We’ll go back to our old stomping grounds, and maybe go east.” A weight on my shoulders fell off at those words, but more weight fell away when Khanrow blew a whistle around his neck. Moments later, everyone was moving back to our base. “What do plan on doing with the kid?”

I looked over my shoulder at the rascal.

Short, skinny, and with the will to survive in his eyes.

No hunger.

No dream.

Just a wish to survive.

“We’ll drop him off at the nearest village. I’ll see him settled with someone as a laborer.” Khanrow nodded. I thought about getting Ilych a friend, but this boy had no chance of managing it. “We passed one by a day ago, right?”

“If it’s still there, we’ll make the stop, and give our boys a chance to rest.” Khanrow promised, before giving his horse’s reins a pull. The beast turned away to join our retreating forces. Retreat? Why did I think of this as a retreat? “Something wrong, Riegert?”

“No. Just feeling like we’re running away from a challenge.” I shook my head and moved away from those concerns. THey wer’n't the sort of thing that I should worry about. I had a daughter to raise, soldiers to train, and people to keep alive. This wasn’t the time to go and give chase after some bandit lord or some Academy operative sent to clear the way—

And, just as those thoughts began to truly run through my mind, the earth began to shake, and innumerable birds in the distance arose  from where they once dwelled.

My thoughts stalled and my voice caught in my throat, as a Citadel arose from the depths of the Earth, a pristine white spear of ancient power and might that seemed to stab into the sky itself.

It rose and rose and rose, a testament to the power and legacy of those who came before, as it was now in the hands of those who came after.

No.

I knew.

I knew in my heart that moment it arose the real and unvarnished truth.

That Bandit Lord had come here and killed the soldiers and leaders, ignored the civilians, and taken the logisticians, as well as all the arms and armor of the warband.

The one who ruled over that Ancient Wonder, the one who would claim all the continent, was the same that we just missed here.