The Empire of Nyrnal had successfully invaded our territory. Had we taken the Popedom out sooner, they probably wouldn’t have dared. Thus, our objective was clear.
“There it is... Saania.”
I was standing with my Swarm army atop a hill, overlooking Saania’s tightly closed gates.
“Once this city falls, the Popedom of Frantz will be effectively finished. We have to take this city at all costs, then prepare for our counterattack on Nyrnal,” I said. “We’re short on time, so we need to end this as quickly as possible.”
We already had our siege weapons, the Carrion Cannons, at the ready. These devices would help us break through the gates. Given that we had no time to lose, we had no choice but to resort to a frontal assault. It took time to build those Carrion Cannons, so even the time spent on dividing my forces into units felt terribly precious.
Thankfully, the Masquerade Swarms had informed us that there were few enemies inside. Even with a frontal assault, I believed we could defeat them. The road to Saania was wider than the road to Siglia, so this was probably a wiser choice than needlessly splitting up my troops.
“We attack at dawn, four-thirty sharp. We’ll charge in and bring the battle to its late stages by the time the sun rises. Our enemy has to rely on sunlight to scout, but we can rely on scent. That gives us an edge.”
The Swarm excelled at battles in the darkness, as their sense of smell was much more acute than a human’s. The strategy game had a built-in clock and a day-and-night cycle; to make use of this feature, some units excelled during daytime while others triumphed under the cover of night.
While the Arachnea was one of the factions unhindered by nightfall, it didn’t receive bonus modifiers when fighting in the dark. Only undead units received those kinds of perks. Conversely, cleric units received bonuses during daytime. This was a double-edged sword, since the undead and cleric units saw a reduction in their stats during the day and night, respectively.
That was how the game kept things balanced. No unit or faction held all the advantages. The game was played as an esport, so it treated any changes in the meta or mechanics with extreme care.
Amusingly, this meant that I was, for all intents and purposes, an athlete.
“It’s nearly time, Your Majesty.”
“Yes, finally. We’ll win this time, just as I promised.”
I would keep this promise and grant them the victory they wanted. I’d keep my promise to Sandalphon, too: I would not forget my human heart.
♱
At half past four in the morning, the Arachnea began its assault on Saania. The Carrion Cannons fired hunks of flesh at the walls, scattering poison into the air and causing the ramparts to decay. Soldiers manning the ballistas on the walls were poisoned by the shots, falling over in agony as they died.
Before long, the gates started to crumble.
“Digger Swarms, commence your internal attack.”
The Digger Swarms started destroying the giant bolts on the gates, burrowing underground to go behind the enemy’s walls. Frantz’s soldiers were so surprised by the sudden onslaught that it took them time to start fighting back. That, as it turned out, was a fatal mistake. The gate couldn’t withstand the combined attacks of the Carrion Cannons and Digger Swarms, so it quickly broke apart. With this, we had created an opening.
“Forward march. Suppress Saania! But...” I paused. This was the most critical part of the operation. “Ignore the civilians. Kill only the soldiers. That will do for now.”
This time, I prioritized killing the soldiers alone. I didn’t have the time to waste on butchering the civilians. The Ripper Swarms that would come later on could handle them. At the moment, we needed to defeat the Popedom as quickly as we could.
“Understood, everyone? All right, onward! Crush them!”
“Onwaaaard!”
Rows of Genocide and Toxic Swarms marched into battle, led by Sérignan and Lysa. The Toxic Swarms, positioned in the rear, rained countless stingers upon the enemy soldiers. Sérignan and Lysa charged into enemy lines, and the Genocide Swarms followed after them like a surging wave, swallowing the soldiers as they pushed through.
Their coordination was perfect. The rear supported the front while the front defended the rear, and the hero units cut open a path. It was a flawless battle.
“Haaaaaaah!”
“Let’s do thiiis!”
The coordination between Sérignan and Lysa, in particular, was phenomenal. Lysa shot down the archers who threatened to harm Sérignan, ensuring her safety. Sérignan then rushed into these openings and hacked away at our enemies.
For a moment, I had to wonder if they were actually sisters. If nothing else, I desperately wanted Sérignan and Lysa to survive. Each of them was a one-of-a-kind unit and utterly irreplaceable. They were my valuable subordinates... and my friends.
My emotions were transmitted to Sérignan as she fought. The enemy’s resistance was gradually becoming weaker, and their defensive lines were growing thinner. At this rate, we would prove victorious before sunrise.
But of course, nothing ever goes quite as planned. Just as the Kingdom of Maluk had summoned angels to deal with us, the Popedom of Frantz was about to send forth a very tricky enemy.
♱
“They’ve broken through the walls! There’s nothing left to keep us safe!” This shout echoed throughout the meeting hall in Saania’s great basilica, where an emergency Cardinals’ Council was currently being held.
The pope attended this meeting in spite of his ill health, which stood as evidence to just how critical the Popedom’s situation was.
“Just who was it who said we’d be able to beat the monsters on land to begin with?!”
“That was Cardinal Pamphilj, of course.” Some of the cardinals, who remained expressionless even now, turned their vacant gazes toward Paris.
“Well, err, yes, I did suggest that we engage them on land, but all of you agreed with me!” Paris cried in a panic. “This isn’t just my responsibility! Everyone present is equally accountable!”
After Paris took over as head of the Department of Punition, he thought he was safe—but now the monsters were threatening his life. At this very moment, they were darkening his doorstep. If he couldn’t protect his own life, his political position would mean nothing.
“I still believe the responsibility falls on you, Cardinal Pamphilj.”
“He said we would be likely to win if we engaged them on land.”
Paris was finding the situation unbearable. Over half the cardinals were insisting the responsibility lay with him. They kept blaming him, as if to say they were in no way at fault.
“What an irresponsible lot you are! You shameless good-for-nothings!” Paris shouted, incensed.
“The only shameless one here is you, Cardinal Pamphilj.”
“Fine! Then we must use our last resort! We will awaken the Seraph Metatron! I trust no one has any objections there?!”
“This is your responsibility.”
“Do not think that using others will absolve you of your crimes.”
The cardinals ignored him and continued to repeat themselves.
“Aaargh! The fact that you’re trying to pin the blame on another proves you are heretics against the God of Light! Inquisitors! Execute them in the name of the inquisition!”
At his call, white-robed inquisitors entered the room.
“Wait, Paris. Have the inquisitors step back,” Pope Benedictus III interjected. “Executing cardinals will only cause unrest and bring dismay to the citizens. They will lose their faith and wander about in search of a leader.”
“But, Your Holiness—”
“I will hold you accountable for your assertions later, but for now, I approve of summoning Metatron. If Metatron’s power will spare us from defeat, I will absolve you of all responsibility. Is that acceptable? Hrk... Urk!”
The pope was suddenly assailed by a coughing fit. He was on the verge of death. For a while now, his old body had been failing him, with his lungs and heart being particularly defective.
“Very well, Your Holiness. I will use Metatron and grant us certain victory. And I should hope it will shut the mouth of these fools, who do nothing but push blame on others.” Paris gave the other cardinals a venomous glare.
“Hurry, Paris. Time is not on our side. I can hear the insects’ march just outside. You must put an end to this quickly.”
“Rest assured, Your Holiness, with the great Metatron on our side, we will be victorious. Yes... Armed with the Marianne’s ancient heritage, we will not be defeated.”
Supposedly, the Marianne was a faction from the same game as the Arachnea. Why had its name been invoked here? Paris himself was unaware of the deeper connection even as he strode off to activate the Seraph Metatron, the hero unit of the Marianne.
“Should Cardinal Pamphilj fail, he will be utterly finished.”
“He will have to bear the responsibility for this defeat.”
The cardinals controlled by Parasite Swarms transmitted word of what had transpired to the Arachnea’s queen. Paris was, without a doubt, under heavy pressure. What would they do once he was defeated?
But first, a more important question remained: who would win? Paris and the Seraph Metatron, or the queen of the Arachnea and her Swarm? The answer would come soon enough.
♱
We had broken through the enemy’s defensive lines, and we now stood before Saania’s great basilica.
“So, we’ve finally come this far,” I said, feeling oddly sentimental as I looked up at the grand building.
It didn’t look so much like a religious structure as some worldly king’s palace. There wasn’t even the slightest hint of spiritual mystique. Clearly Frantz’s so-called faithful valued opulence over the virtues of their god.
“Another gate, huh? We’ll have to use some pretty unpleasant means here.”
Thanks to our reconnaissance, we were already aware of this extra set of gates, but they vexed me now that we were so close. Setting up the Carrion Cannons here would be annoying. Employing the Digger Swarms was an option, but if there were armored soldiers inside, we’d just take needless losses.
This left me with only one option, and a pretty nasty one at that.
“Sérignan, Lysa, we’ll be busting through in fifteen minutes. Make sure you’re ready.”
“Understood, Your Majesty,” Sérignan replied.
I silently made my play and then waited.
Boooooom!
Suddenly, the sound of a rumbling explosion rang out as the gates were blown open from the inside.
“The Masquerade Swarms...” Sérignan muttered.
“Yep. I don’t really like suicide bombing, though.”
The Masquerade Swarms’ self-destruction blew a hole through the gates to the great basilica. With this, we had a free pass into the Popedom’s core.
Or... maybe not.
“You’ve come far enough!” someone called down to us from atop a long staircase.