Chapter 68:
The Battle for Stonefall (Part 3)
The Children of Eris
The Sons of Tartarus’s main base was located in the biggest estate in the entire White Manor district: Lord Carlson Penwise’s mansion.
Its gardens and grounds stretched half a mile around the main house and had tall stone walls surrounding it. The main house was gigantic and there were over a hundred guards protecting it at any given time.
Carlson Penwise was a prominent and well-respected member of the noble class and he was also the head of the Sons of Tartarus, which made him one of the most powerful men in the Holy Empire.
If Lord Kelsey was backing the Sons and they in turn supported him, they truly might have had enough power to rival the emperor at one point.
With Lord Kelsey dead and the Sons of Tartarus on their last legs, it won’t be long until one of the greatest threats to his majesty is gone, Mimir thought.
Like they’d discuss, Mimir and the others set the Hierophant on fire, as well as a handful of buildings around it, ensuring that the fire would spread, before heading to White Manor.
Then, Mania teleported back to the Dread Keep to bring a few hundred skeletons and forty Machai to help assault the estate as Mimir and his Ravens began quietly assassinating the guards at the gate.
Then, with a small army at their back, the generals charged onto the estate.
The Ravens and skeletons quickly spread across the estate grounds whilst the generals and Machai charged into the main house.
Mania leapt up into the master bedroom, quickly killing Carlson and his wife, before opening a portal to the Dread Keep and calling thirty more Machai to take the upper floors of the house.
Mimir and Fenrir blew through the front doors, quickly slaughtering the guards, and letting the Machai inside.
Before the attack had begun, Mimir had given strict orders not to let any of the servants, slaves or prisoners they found to be harmed. The guards were to be killed without mercy but the buildings were not to be too badly damaged.
All across the estate, the Sons of Tartarus members meet the attackers and engage them in battle.
“Ah, this is so much fun!” Fenrir giddily cried as she killed two guards with a single kick. “I haven’t felt this rush in years.”
“I don’t mind you enjoying yourself, but please do remember we’re here on behalf of his majesty and his orders,” Mimir said.
“I know, I know, I won’t go against my orders or do anything like that.” She grinned when she saw two Machai come flying down the stairs dead. “Seems like we’ve found the boss.”
“Seems like our guests wanted to start the party without us, lads,” Herakles called to them from the second floor. He swung his bloodied club onto his shoulder, then leapt down the flight of stairs in a single jump. “I know we sent you guys an invitation earlier, but didn’t expect to see you so soon.” Herakles chuckled. “Either you’re really confident or really stupid. Maybe both.”
Fenrir grinned and took a step forward. “You don’t seem all that worried about this.”
“Why would I be? Honestly, you coming to us works out great for us. When you’re all dead, then I can finally start working on rebuilding the Sons of Tartarus’s reputation and this time.” He lost his happy demeanour. “There won’t be anyone dumb enough to cross us again.”
“If you can win.”
In the next instant, Fenrir had flown into one of the pillars and the whole house shook from the impact.
Neither Fenrir nor Mimir knew what had happened.
Since they’d arrived in Aangapea, Mimir had never once thought of the residents of this world as a threat to him or any of the generals. Not even to the Machai or Ravens.
Abaddon was strong enough to defeat a fifteen-metre-tall giant alone without getting a scratch.
Mania could cut through forty men with a single strike of her whip.
Mimir was faster than any other combatant he’d seen by a long shot.
Fenrir, one of the generals chosen by the Demon Emperor, whose strength rivalled his own, was launched across the room before either of them could react.
“Like I said, when we kill you,” Herakles said with a big grin on his face.
It’s like his majesty warned us, Mimir cursed himself. There are threats to us.
With a ferocious scowl, Fenrir pushed herself onto her feet and spat blood.
“I’m going to kill him.”
“Fenrir, stand down.” Mimir stepped in between them. He drew his sword and held two knives in his other hand. “He’s mine.”
Herakles grinned and swung his club back onto his shoulder. “Even after that, you still think you have a chance?”
“Funny. I was about to ask you the same thing.”
“Mimir-!” Three people jumped down from upstairs and surrounded her.
“You can play with our resident A-ranked adventurers, wolf-girl,” Herakles said. “I’ll be with you once I’m done with your friend.”
Mimir scoffed. “Don’t kid yourself.”
He’s strong and possesses a sound mind. Had we the option, I would have gladly tried to bring him into the fold. However.
“There’s no place for people like you in our master’s world!”
“Oh, and what sort of people is that?”
Mimir disappeared from sight and reappeared behind Herakles. “Those who are too free.”
He sliced at Herakles’s neck, but Herakles ducked beneath it, then spun on his heel and swung his club at Mimir. Mimir easily bent to the side of the strike, then stabbed at Herakles’s face with his knives.
Herakles blocked them with his shield, then kicked Mimir away from him before leaping back a few feet himself.
Mimir threw his knives at Herakles, but Herakles easily knocked them out of the air with his club. Herakles kicked off the ground with great power and flew across the room at Mimir with his club wound back.
Mimir dodged the attack but, just before Herakles slammed into the wall, Herakles twisted his body mid-air, kicked off the wall and leapt at Mimir again.
Mimir’s eyes widened in surprise at the follow-up attack and he blocked the club with his sword. The impact from the blow, however, sent him flying through the dining room doors towards a window.
Mimir adjusted himself mid-air so that his feet landed on the frame, then jumped off it before it shattered. He landed on the table just as Herakles burst into the room with a nasty grin on his face.
Herakles roared and slammed his club down on the table, launching it and Mimir high into the air.
Mimir clicked his tongue and threw six daggers at Herakles. Herakles blocked them all with his shield then jumped into the air in pursuit of Mimir. Mimir twisted his body and narrowly dodged Herakles’s attack, then kicked the man in the ribs.
They cracked as Herakles was launched through the ceiling and into the roof of the building.
Herakles coughed blood and landed roughly on his knees, but his smile still remained on his face.
Mimir leapt up into the bedroom Herakles landed in and the two clashed again.
Herakles parried Mimir’s slash, then bashed him in the stomach with his shield, knocking the wind out of Mimir and sending him flying through the bedroom doors and out into the corridor.
Mimir landed in a crouched position and rolled out of the way of Herakles’s follow-up swings. He leapt up onto his feet and threw three daggers at Herakles, all of which the man caught in his club.
Herakles shattered the daggers using his shield, then hastily moved to block Mimir’s flurry of slashes. A couple lightly scratched Herakles, but they only drew a few drops of blood.
Herakles caught Mimir’s sword in his club and wrenched it free of Mimir’s grip, then, he launched a spinning kick at the side of Mimir’s face.
The strike was so strong that the entire house shook.
Mimir was sent flying down to the very end of the twenty-metre corridor and collapsed onto his knees.
Herakles spat blood and wretched Mimir’s sword from his club before breaking it in two against his shield.
Despite the intense rage and humiliation that Mimir felt, he didn’t let it show on his face.
His majesty always exercised caution and advised us to do the same in case we ran into someone as strong as Herakles, Mimir thought. He stood back up and brandished his daggers. We generals had no fear of these people because of our confidence in our own strength.
It is that arrogance that has betrayed me.
“I won’t let that happen again,” Mimir whispered.
Just as Herakles was about to charge down the corridor, Mimir struck.
He threw eight knives down the corridor, but not a single one was aimed at Herakles.
Instead, the knives hit the walls and the ceiling, reflecting off them and then bouncing off whatever they impacted next.
One knife went from the walls, to the floor, to the opposite wall, then to the ceiling, all the while gaining speed and advancing towards Herakles.
Just as Mimir hoped, Herakles’s attention was drawn to the daggers, giving him the chance to close the distance.
Herakles knocked three knives out of the air, but one landed in his shoulder and another in his waist, and the final three he caught in his shield.
Before Herakles could properly recover, Mimir threw another eight knives in the same manner.
However, this time, Herakles didn’t focus on the knives.
He charged directly at Mimir, not realising that he had fallen into a trap once again.
As Herakles ran past the knives, Mimir skidded to a stop, then wretched his hands backwards, pulling the blades with them on their wires. Herakles realised what was happening too late and the daggers stabbed and cut at his exposed back.
Mimir then spun forwards, whipping three of the daggers around with him, and sliced at Herakles in quick succession several times.
Herakles bit his lip and tried to block the slashes, but he had been badly wounded by Mimir’s last two attacks, and his reactions were getting slower as his arms grew heavier.
Herakles roared and caught Mimir’s wires with his shield-hand, ripped them from his grasp, and swung his club at his opponent.
Mimir rolled beneath the attack, took out Herakles’s legs, then ripped the two knives from Herakles’s back. Mimir stabbed them repeatedly into the man’s back as Herakles moved his shield to protect his neck and skull.
Herakles’s body twitched and jolted with every attack and Mimir didn’t relent.
Herakles rolled onto his back, knocking Mimir onto his side. Then, with all the strength he could muster, Herakles swung his club at Mimir’s head. Mimir tried to move out of the way, but Herakles wrapped one of Mimir’s legs between his own, holding him in place.
Mimir quickly assembled a net out of his wires before him to catch the club, but the strength behind the attack was so great that he felt himself being slowly pushed back.
Mimir had to act fast. If he didn’t, then there was a very real chance he could die.
Mimir’s wires dug deeper into the club, splintering it in a few places, then, with all of his strength, he pushed the club to his right and moved his head left, narrowly avoiding the club’s impact.
The impact destroyed the wall and several chunks hit them both as they fell to the ground, but Mimir had the chance he needed to end the battle.
He retracted all of his wires, dragging with them two still intact daggers, and then he stabbed Herakles with both of them; one pierced his heart and the other dug into the centre of his chest.
“You fought well, Herakles, but we who serve the Dark Lord are not permitted to lose,” Mimir said, pushing the dying man off him.
When Mimir stood up and looked down at the dying criminal, he expected to see a look of fear or horror on his face.
However, the look on Herakles’s face was of pure satisfaction.
Herakles chuckled, blood drooling from his lips, and he cracked a massive smile. “That…was the…best death…I could’ve…asked…for.”
Mimir grunted and shook his head. “Absurd. You and Abaddon probably would’ve been the best of friends.”
Herakles laughed and coughed up blood. “If…your…this…strong, then…I’d have…loved to fight…your Master.”
Mimir picked up his half-broken blade and held it right above Herakles’s eye. “I assure you, you wouldn’t have lasted ten seconds.”
He drove his blade down and silence descended across the mansion.
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