Blacksmith of the Apocalypse

"Damnit! Why did this have to happen now?!" the blacksmith cursed looking down at the camps of black army tents surrounding the foot of Mount Agra.

For the past week or so, Cormac had been too afraid to leave his hideout or even light a fire to heat up some of his rations. He had just sat around, freezing, and observing the situation down below.

He was studying whether there might be a chance to either make his escape and find a way to the tree route by chance, or maybe get into the city itself. However, the skirmishes and fights he saw over the past week had wiped away that notion.

The attackers were not just strong and well-equipped but also had an outlandish ability to heal. Or rather, to not die even when they were dismembered by the adventurers from Agra or the overpowering Chimeras that helped them. The weirdest part was that they seemed familiar to him.

It had taken a while but Cormac managed to recognize some of the faces, items, and armor of the roughly 1000 members strong army surrounding Agra. They were adventurers from Y-City. Why did that incompetent leadership have to make a move when he was trying to flee?

The chosen of Hephaestus had a few days to come up with ideas. His initial one was that they might have been there for him. But it became evident from their actions, that they didn't look for a runaway blacksmith.

His best guess was that Y-City, or the Scene, decided to strike against Minas Mar now that they had declared their independence. The attempt to confine him and his subsequent escape might have been just a consequence of this decision.

The Scene had always been just a criminal organization in his eyes. A powerful one, sure. One that even had enough ties with the political world to steer the actions of Y-City lately. But why would they pick a fight with a single organization like this?

How would a craftsman be able to understand a criminal's mind? There was no way for Cormac to know why they did so but he knew that it was too dangerous for him to move. Even with Golden Bull and Eagle, he doubted he had a chance to escape.

The reason he thought so was not actually the undead from Ypsilon. There was another group of people among them and their sight froze his heart worse that the harsh mountains climate. People of unurthly beauty, so perfect it was almost uncanny. They wore unnaturally light and flowing clothes in the cold mountain winds and seemed to be surrounded by a halo.

Maybe because he knew what they were, he also perceived an aura of cold cruelty. Cormac was not there on that day, but he had heard the reports and seen some videotapes of the incidents. The bloodbaths of the Tuatha De, as they called themselves, were still vivid in his memory.

What were these monsters doing here, working together with weirdly mutated soldiers of Y-City? He had seen them mingle among the people from Y-City, which made the blacksmith even more suspicious. The human seemed to show no reaction at all, despite standing shoulder to shoulder with the creatures that had coldly and cruelly killed so many citizens of their home.

Cormac knew that the shiny people had been working to set up something, but he couldn't see what exactly was happening, however, he could see that the movements beyond the barrier that kept them from entering the mountain city had become more frantic in the past few days.

Today he woke up around noon. Like the other days, his wakeup routine consisted of cursing at the army below, the world, and his own situation, before eating his dry breakfast made up of some jerky, bread, and water. At the time when he prepared the rations, he didn't take into account that the inventory could keep food fresh and he would not have needed actual non-perishable rations for his journey. This may have been his biggest regret on the trip.

He had just finished his food and lay down on his perch for another day of studying the enemy when he noticed a change. The soldiers of Y-City had taken a defensive formation and were standing, still, staring in the direction of a ridge in the distance.

Following their gazes, Cormac suddenly spotted a black flood surging over the ridge. It wasn't a liquid, but a massive group of black-shelled bugs that formed a flood of bodies, legs, and antennas. As they got closer, Cormac gasped at their size and could barely believe his eyes.

Each beetle was massive, several heads bigger than a human and definitely several times wider, too. But what really took the blacksmith's breath was that they were not monsters.

<Black Beetle Tank

Golem

Age:0

Class: Guardian/Destroyer

Affiliation: Minas Mar

Health: 1000/1000

Mana: 25 000

Damage:2500

Physical Defense: 7500

Magical Defense: 4500

Durability: 5000

Strength:350

Dexterity:50

Agility: 210

Intelligence:110

Willpower:30

Endurance:550

...>

They were corpse golems! This was crazy. Someone had actually killed all of these bugs and refined them into a golem army. The next moment after he realized this, the battle began. Magic attacks rained down on the insect golem army, but they barely managed to graze the beasts' carapaces.

It was clear from their status, that these golems excelled in defense. They were like tanks rolling toward the immortal army. As they closed in, Y-City's soldiers charged in with harrowing laughter. They had shown little to no emotions outside of the fight, but when they charged into battle, they laughed like maniacs, as if they lost all feelings except the thrill of battle.

Probably because they had a taste of immortality, they had lost all semblance of a formation the moment the fight started. But they were not the only ones to reveal their true faces. When the front lines met each other, the beetles suddenly stood up, standing on their back legs, exposing pairs of claws or sickles!

The recklessly attacking soldiers in the front were dismembered as if they ran into a meat grinder. Despite that, their shocked reaction quickly turned into laughter as their dismembered body started to grow back together or regrow visible limbs at a high speed.

Cormac's heart chilled at the sight of the massacre. These sickles and claws had to have been reinforced with something, to easily snap rare-rated armor and weapons like that and dismember people without a problem.

The rush of undead turned into a tide of blood and their laughter soon stopped, as they realized that the only thing happening was them losing their items. Even if their skills landed, they put barely a scratch on the dark shell of the beetles, while their armor and weapons were snapped like hard candy.

When it looked like the golems were going to wash over the camps, the soldiers' uncanny allies finally stepped in. As they stepped forward, the blood on the battlefield came into motion and formed a bizarre glyph under the feet of the beetles.

The blacksmith could feel his skin crawl as a gut-wrenching aura filled the mountains. The blood turned black as if it was sucking the light out of the world before it formed a smooth black mirror. The beetles had already started retreating when SOMETHING grabbed the edge of the mirror from the opposite side and pulled itself into their world.

The atmosphere was filled with the aura of dread and an indescribable stench as Cormac felt his breakfast trying to come back out. Yet, the sight in front of him choked his throat so hard, he couldn't have vomited even if he wanted to.

As if to spite all the terrible signs of its coming, what emerged from the black mirror was a perfect humanoid figure. It was massive, with a skin shining as if it was hewn from black polished marble like a statue that came to life.

Just like the Tuatha de, it disturbed with its overwhelming beauty compared to its supernatural aura of cruelty. Tears of fear streaming from his eyes, Cormac could only roll himself into a ball and whimper as he listened to the noise of destruction that filled the mountain range.

Only hoping he wouldn't be found.