Fulfill Your Dreams of Conquest!

New Quest: Fulfill Your Dreams of Conquest!

Objective: Occupy all forts and eliminate the Bone King.

Defeat Condition: All your forts are captured or you are killed.

"Well, never let them see your next move," Dante mused, his eyebrows arching in surprise at the System's notification just as he stepped into what could only be generously described as a very basic, no-frills throne room.

The room itself was stark in its simplicity, dominated by what purported to be a throne—though, in truth, it bore a closer resemblance to a slightly oversized wooden chair that might have been rejected by a medieval tavern for being too unremarkable. The walls, assembled from massive, ancient stone blocks, spoke of past medieval splendor, now overshadowed by cobwebs in each corner—were skeletal spiders a thing?—diminishing any trace of royal opulence.

However, the true centerpiece of the room, the pièce de résistance that caught Dante's eye and ignited a spark of excitement in his heart, was none other than the vending machine. Yes, standing there next to the throne—its importance undiminished by the room's humble decor—was the protagonist of Dante's current saga: the mighty, the long-anticipated, the dream-maker itself, the vending machine. 

It stood there in all its glory, a beacon of modern convenience amidst the medieval austerity, an anachronistic hero ready to dispense not just snacks and drinks but dreams and desires. Its metallic surface gleamed under the dim light, promising adventures of the culinary kind and treasures far beyond the ordinary fare. Dante couldn't help but marvel at its presence here, of all places, as if it were a royal courtier waiting patiently to serve its next noble—or rather, hungry—visitor. The contrast between the ancient stones and the modern machine was a delightful absurdity, a testament to the whimsical nature of this world.

While the siren call of the vending machine's metallic embrace was almost irresistible, Dante knew he had to exercise some restraint. The thought of being ambushed by enemies while lost in the ecstasy of savoring the world's most delectable takoyaki was too disheartening to contemplate. Ensuring the sanctity of his current stronghold was paramount. Thus, he drifted towards the window to survey the landscape beyond his modest domain.

Expecting the comforting sight of a blue sky, a longing that had gnawed at him during his subterranean adventures, Dante was instead greeted by a vista that defied his expectations. To say the chamber outside was 'huge' would be an understatement of epic proportions. It was, perhaps, the most colossal underground expanse he had ever encountered—surpassing anything from his previous life, any fictional depiction, or even the wildest documentaries he had managed to catch glimpses of. The chamber stretched into the horizon, its vastness challenging the limits of his vision. The ceiling, a tapestry of natural wonder, was faintly illuminated by clusters of fluorescent mushrooms and what appeared to be oddly glowing stones. Dante squinted, cursing his stubborn refusal to concede to the practicality of eyeglasses, which now made discerning the details of this subterranean marvel a challenge.

However, it wasn't the breathtaking scale of the chamber or the bioluminescent flora that seized Dante's attention. No, those wonders paled in comparison to the scene unfolding directly beneath him.

"What the royal fuck!" Dante exclaimed, peering down to find his quaint, somewhat ramshackle castle under siege!

As Dante peered out from his vantage point, the scene that unfolded before him was something straight out of a nightmare—or perhaps, an overly ambitious fantasy strategy game. His small, unassuming fort, was now the focal point of an immense skeletal army's attention. This wasn't just a ragtag band of skeletal warriors; it was a meticulously organized force, boasting not only hundreds of foot soldiers but also archers and even skeletal hounds that prowled the edges with an eerie silence.

But the military spectacle didn't end there. Artillery towers loomed ominously, their skeletal operators coldly efficient, while catapults—yes, fucking catapults—were being loaded and aimed with a precision that belied their operators' undead nature. These engines of war stood ready to unleash destruction upon the fort's modest defenses at a moment's notice. And, as if to add a final touch of siege warfare authenticity, a battering ram was being maneuvered into position, its sole purpose to break through the fort's gates with relentless, rhythmic assaults.

"Shit!" The word escaped Dante's lips as he turned to Virgil, just in time to see his companion dash forward to confront this overwhelming force. Despite Virgil's enhanced abilities, Dante was gripped by uncertainty. Could Virgil alone turn the tide of this skeletal onslaught before their defenses crumbled? The pressing dilemma was compounded by Dante's own predicament. With the New Quest making it clear that his death was not an option—though whether it meant being killed once or a permanent game over (both him and Virgil dead at once)—Dante did not want to risk it. Venturing outside to assist with the Immortal Macro was a gamble he couldn't afford to take.

With a heavy heart, Dante retreated to the so-called 'protected' underground chamber of his fort, entrusting Virgil with the daunting task ahead. This chamber, now his temporary sanctuary, felt more like a tomb as he waited, the sounds of the impending siege filtering down through the stone. In this moment of forced inaction, Dante placed his faith in Virgil, hoping against hope that his lone defender could turn the tide of what seemed an unwinnable battle.

Through his connection with Virgil, Dante could 'see'—or rather, feel—the unfolding chaos of the battlefield. He experienced the rush as Virgil charged through the castle's corridors, his pace relentless, a blur of determination and might. Without hesitation, Virgil ascended to the castle walls, surveying the skeletal horde below before leaping into their midst. There was no call for reinforcements, no summoning of minions; in this dire moment, Virgil knew such actions would be futile. Instead, he summoned his trusty staff, the air around him shimmering as his aura shifted.

The battlefield was a meticulously orchestrated nightmare. Hundreds of skeletons, armed to the teeth with spears and shields, stood shoulder to shoulder, forming what seemed like an impenetrable wall of bone and malice. Their ranks were unyielding, a testament to the undead's unwavering resolve. On the flanks, skeletal hounds—agile and ferocious—moved with unnerving coordination, attempting a pincer maneuver designed to ensnare Virgil in their deadly embrace. Meanwhile, from a safe distance, skeletal archers unleashed volley after precise volley of arrows, each one singing through the air to create a macabre rain of bone aimed directly at Virgil.

Yet, in the face of such overwhelming odds, Virgil's power shone through. His Might attribute, having surged past the mark of 70, rendered him a juggernaut on the battlefield—a mechanized warrior whose agility and superior combat techniques rendered the enemy's efforts futile. With each swing of his staff, he unleashed great force, targeting the skeletons' shield formation at their weakest points and shattering them with overwhelming might.

However, formidable as Virgil was, the skeletal army before him was a force to be reckoned with. Each skeleton warrior, although individually outclassed, boasted a level above 10—surpassing Virgil's own. Yet, their primary disadvantage lay in their significantly inferior stats, a gap that Virgil exploited with devastating effect. Despite this, the sheer volume of their ranks, combined with their disciplined coordination, began to wear down Virgil's defenses, bit by bit eroding his HP through a strategy of attrition and relentless aggression.

Reacting swiftly, Dante re-summoned Virgil to his side, granting him a brief respite before sending him back into the thick of battle, his spirit undiminished by the setbacks. But the battlefield's dynamics shifted dramatically as the earth beneath their feet began to tremble violently. This was no natural earthquake but the ominous prelude to a new, more destructive phase of the siege. The skeletal army's catapults, previously silent spectators, had commenced their bombardment, hurling massive boulders through the air. These projectiles promised nothing less than total annihilation, marking the start of a relentless assault aimed at reducing the fort to rubble. The very ground seemed to protest under the impact, heralding a dire turn in the siege that tested the limits of Virgil's resilience and Dante's strategic acumen.

***

While Alice always maintained a composed and calm exterior, the truth was the absence of sound was starting to affect her. Initially, the silence might have seemed like a challenge, but as time passed, it dawned on her that she would never hear again. She realized she would never hear the rain, the birds' songs, the crackling of fire, or the wind against the windows. This reality impacted her more than she had anticipated, or perhaps, exactly as much as she had feared.

Having relied on sound her entire life, that was how she 'saw' the world. Now, losing that sense, and with the feeling of permanence growing stronger by the moment, felt like a persistent stab to her heart.

Her world had transformed: no sounds, only images. Adjusting was difficult, and she found sight slightly overrated. How do you gauge space? How do you sense the world in three dimensions instead of two? How can you 'see' behind walls or your back? You can't. For Alice, the world of images was lacking. Beauty wasn't in the visuals; it resided in sounds—the invaluable sounds of nature, flowing water, or the humming wind.

Despite the circumstances, Alice had no choice but to forge ahead. Throughout her life, she had always shown resilience, stealing her heart against adversity and pushing forward on her journey. Once the frail and blind 21-year-old Alice Fontaine, she had transformed. The young noblewoman, accustomed to emotional hardships inflicted by her own family, had honed her mental resilience to surpass that of her peers. Her innate mental acuity, a double-edged sword of gift and curse, fortified her mind into both a shield and a weapon.

Yet, Alice remained human, constrained by the societal expectations of marriage and motherhood that loomed large over women of her age. Her path to these expected milestones had been delayed, fortunately for her, due to her physical condition and complications with potential suitors—complications she had orchestrated behind the scenes. It was only at the last moment, when delaying further became impossible and staying at her family's house felt overwhelmingly constraining, that she 'chose' Richard, whom she was about to meet before arriving here.

But now, she was no longer Alice Fontaine, dressing up to prepare for a meeting with her future betrothed; now she was Alice the Seer, guide to Thaleia, the Amazonian Guardian of the Wilds.