The blast rocked Promesse to its core and shattered Beelzebub's Altar.

Wepwawet grinned ear to ear upon watching the explosion through his Champion's eyes. Alpine's alchemical fire cocktail was far too weak to destroy the entire weather machine, but it proved enough to destroy the Altar on top of it and send its pieces falling into the lake below. The resulting landslide buried Zelesto under rocks and crushed him like the bug he was.

Beelzebub's Altar has been destroyed! Beelzebub has lost the battle!

"Get bent!" Wepwawet taunted a livid Beelzebub.

The flow of mana coursing through the region immediately rearranged itself and caused the central lake to overflow. The destroyed pieces of Beelzebub's Altar reformed themselves atop the weather machine into a proud, wolf-faced statue whose Influence stretched across all of Promesse and beyond.

Wepwawet immediately gained complete awareness of everything unfolding within its confines, sensing Goreville and the others evacuating to safety, the possessed knights fighting Victoire's group falling unconscious as their hivemind collapsed with the death of Zelesto, and his Doctrines empowering the wereling soldiers fighting Beelzebub's flies. The swarm and the saucer remained a threat, but without the Lord of Flies' Providence to replenish the former's ranks and the latter about to crash, the battle was as good as won.

Penalty: Beelzebub has surrendered the Promesse Altar and the Pot of Gluttony Miracle card to you!

Pot of Gluttony

Rank 11 Ritual

During a Godly Battle or Titan Incursion: Draw three cards, then discard one card from your hand.

"I… I've been beaten by…" Beelzebub buzzed in rage upon seeing the message. "Argh!"

"Like father, like son!" Wepwawet boasted. A shame that Beelzebub wouldn't be expelled from Elphion like his previous opponent, but the loss of Promesse and the associated humiliation ought to cripple his plans in the short-term. "I told you your lack of faith in mortals would be your undoing!"

"This isn't over yet!" Beelzebub snarled as his godly projection began to fade away. He raised the same card he tried to use before Wepwawet's taunts caused him to change his mind. "I cast the Rank 1 Ritual Miracle Kamikaze Summon! I can charge one of my conjured creatures with explosive force and cause it to self-destruct!"

"What?!" Wepwawet protested. "You can't! The battle is finished!"

"I can! I'm casting the Miracle normally, outside the Godly Battle!"

Wepwawet's eyes widened in horror as he realized that, yes, he could do that since conjured creatures were always considered within a god's realm of Influence and his creation wouldn't disappear with him. The flying saucer soon began to glow with red energy, its flight path changing from Insupportable's den and making the dragon lose interest in it. Instead it now aimed straight for the battleground where Roynimalia's army fought the remaining flies.

The sore loser was going to crash his saucer onto Wepwawet's troops!

"Here's my parting gift to you, bastard!" Beelzebub gloated as he disappeared with the board's frontiers. "This world's very first aerial bombardment!"

The barrier surrounding the board disappeared and the world returned to normalcy, except for the flying death bomb aiming straight for hundreds of helpless troops on the ground.

Wepwawet quickly calculated the saucer's trajectory and then cast two Miracles: first Oath of Spring to heal Lourson before he could bleed to death, and then Ice Barrier at the edge of Promesse's battlefield. A frozen wall rose from nothing straight into the flying saucer's path.

Ice Barrier, Wolf House, Barricade Kit! Wepwawet grit his teeth as he poured all the mana he received from claiming his new Altar into casting all the defensive Miracles he had in reserve. An improvised glacier-fortification rose and thickened until it overshadowed the dumbfounded army of giants and werelings. It reached critical mass just in time for the saucer to hit it head on like a car ramming into a tree.

It detonated on impact in a cataclysmic crash.

Most of the glacier evaporated in an instant, sending steam and ice shards flying in all directions. The black metal debris of the saucer scattered across the land and left craters in their wake. A handful of soldiers and flies unlucky enough to be caught in the blasts were torn apart or wounded, while one giant took a rock to the face and fell onto his back.

Nonetheless, when the dust settled to reveal half of the saucer's broken husk sticking out of a collapsed hill of ice, hundreds had survived the explosion instead of losing their lives.

Wepwawet projected his giant face above Promesse, his stern gaze overseeing the clouds and giving hope to the werelings.

"Begone from this land, bugs!" he ordered the surviving flies, and swiftly punctuated his words by smiting one of them. The swarm buzzed and scattered to the winds rather than continue a doomed battle, much to the cheers and shouts of his soldiers. "Victory for Verglane! Victory–"

"Victory for Insupportable!" Insupportable boasted to himself from high above. The parasite in his ear fell off, most likely dead from a stupidity aneurysm. "I am the shiny that lights the sky!"

Since he was technically responsible for their victory today, Wepwawet allowed the dragon to get away with his boasting… just this once.

Victoire, Blade of Winter; Filou, Brave Heart; Alpine, Devoted Innkeeper; Goreville, Werewolf Warchief; Lourson, Loyal Anvil; Viviane Coeurdelion, Lionhearted Archer; and Mistouffe, Intrepid Cat, can all Rank-Up!

Quest: Land of the Faithful II, completed! You've earned the Terraformer Rank 10 Animism Miracle!

Terraformer

Rank 10 Animism

Summons a terraforming machine on top of a mana locus. The area provides one less mana than usual to allow you to alter the climate within a three-mile radius. The terraformer cannot generate magical types of weather like slime or blood rain, but can otherwise achieve feats like freezing or warming up the atmosphere, generating blizzards and heat waves, creating thunderstorms, or disrupting weather patterns in the region.

New Quest: Land of the Faithful III

Raise Altars on all of Verglane's mana leylines.

Reward: Animism Miracle.

There was so much to process, but that would wait till later. Wepwawet focused on the weather-controlling machine and now found that it answered his will. He redirected the mana, reversing its freezing effect to warmth. Waves of heat surged from his Altar and began to melt the surrounding frost.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

It was time for this city of frost to thaw.

Thousands of souls once called Promesse their home.

Less than two hundred survived.

Victoire didn't have the final tally yet. Her men were still helping a few souls who had miraculously survived being frozen in ice—whatever sorcery froze Promesse preserved them like Grudu—but they were few and far between. The monsters who had taken over the city enslaved the best warriors among Glarmes and a handful of servants to cater to their master's needs.

The rest were fed to the flies.

Victoire's mind still struggled to accept it, even after finding some of the corpses and helping bury them. People she had spent her life with ended up devoured by bugs or sacrificed on a bloody altar. From gallant Captain Zachary, to gruff instructor Mott and his lovely wife Catherine… all dead.

If Victoire harbored any doubt about the threat the Titans represented, this horror had cured her of any hesitation. Those vile deities and their servants were once only a theoretical threat in her mind, great but hard to grasp. This massacre had made her newfound hatred for them all the more intimate.

This was personal now.

Such atrocities will befall all of Verglane should they win, Victoire thought as she moved to the Glarmes Keep's old east wing barracks. Her army had turned the old halls into an improvised infirmary to treat their wounded, whether they were werelings soldiers from Roynimalia, Glarmes knights recently freed from possession, or people thawed out of the ice. This is a war between life and death.

"We've won the first true battle," Lord Wepwawet's voice telepathically echoed in her mind. "That counts for something, Victoire."

She knew that, but this victory had a bittersweet feel to it. "Those parasites and the creature Goreville's group fought," Victoire said as she glanced at her shield. It had gone cold again, as if waiting for its enemies to return. "They were actual Lunarians, weren't they? The same creatures that built the slaverstaff."

"Yes," Lord Wepwawet confirmed. "Moreover, my foe boasted about leading this world's most powerful civilization. A single survivor in the middle of nowhere hardly fits that description."

"So there are others out there," Victoire concluded. She didn't relish the thought in the slightest.

"I doubt they'll show their faces again anytime soon after today's setback, and there's still time to prepare," her god reassured her. "We can discuss that at length another time. Your friends await you."

Victoire nodded to herself. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For saving this city." In spite of everything, Promesse had been her home once. "This matters more to me than you think."

She could almost see her god smile on the other end of the telepathic connection. "You're welcome."

Victoire arrived at the infirmary to find all the bunk beds filled and nurses running around to apply poultices, throw away buckets, or serve water to their patients. She immediately spotted Alpine among them. The weregoat was busy cleaning the bandages around Goreville's shoulders and Lourson's throat. The werebear was so large he required two beds for himself, but he otherwise seemed merely asleep rather than dying.

"Victoire!" Goreville waved a hand at her. "Have you come to check our new battle scars?"

"I've come to check on you and Lourson," Victoire replied with concern. Lourson had been a good friend since she settled in Narc, and seeing him in this state broke her heart. "How is he?"

"I put him to sleep with a special draught," Alpine replied with a tired voice. She had worked around the clock to treat the wounded. "It purged him of the poison. Thankfully, Lord Wepwawet healed his wounds before it was too late."

"So he'll make it?" Victoire sighed in relief. She had lost too many old friends today to add another name to the tally. "I'm glad to hear it."

"Of course he'll make it," Goreville said with a shrug. "The werebear is almost as tough as I am, and braver than most. No bug will put him in the ground."

"Bold words for someone who almost died today," Alpine replied before studying Victoire for a second. "How are you holding up?"

Victoire scowled and looked away. "I won't lie, it tears my heart apart to see these halls empty and stained with blood. I knew these people, Alpine."

"Yes… the awful things I saw in the dining halls…" Alpine shuddered in horror. "How could anyone do something so vile? What could be their reasons?"

"What is there to understand?" Goreville asked with a snort of disdain. "These Titans are monsters to be slain, end of the story. It's just that simple sometimes."

"For once, I'm tempted to agree with you," Victoire replied. Goreville's simplistic view of the world was unfortunately appropriate in this situation. The Titans and their servants simply wanted all mortals dead out of principle. There could be no understanding or negotiation with such relentless evil. "What we faced was senseless cruelty. I'm only interested in understanding how we can better fight them."

Hopefully studying that flying disk's remains would provide a few answers. Lord Wepwawet had ordered Mistouffe and soldiers to secure all the parts they could find and ship them to Wintresse for study. Victoire had no idea what kind of monstrous machine the enemy had fielded against them today—she certainly never heard of one capable of flight—and she doubted any of their mages or engineers could replicate it, but its pieces could be repurposed in other ways.

Victoire's assertion seemed to make Alpine slightly uncomfortable, but she didn't argue further. "We're treating your fellow Glarmes in the back," she said. "You should go check on them. The situation must be very confusing for them, and seeing an old friend's face should calm them down."

"I'll come with you," Goreville said as he began to stand up, only for Alpine to push him back onto the bed. "Hey!"

"You're not going anywhere in your state, Mr. Tough Guy," Alpine said. "You need rest."

"I'm fine, and I've got questions to ask–"

"Goreville, just shut up and you drink your healing potion!" Alpine raised a finger at Goreville, spooking him. He hadn't expected that reaction from the usually friendly innkeeper. "I don't care if you're a werewolf or a warchief, you're my patient and you do as you're told!"

Goreville clenched his jaw, but a glance at Alpine's iron stare silenced him. The warchief who had fought a giant bug monster without fear complied with the order. "Mmmmokay…"

"That's better," Alpine replied with a kind smile, her attitude changing in an instant. "Now, I have prepared a honeyed concoction just for you. You'll love it."

The scene brought a smile to Victoire's face. "Even heroes need rest, Goreville. Your duties will wait for tomorrow."

Afterwards, Victoire left a pouting Goreville in Alpine's tender care and walked to the end of the hall. True to her friend's words, most of the Glarmes' knights were being treated there, including Kale. Her old friend was soundly asleep, so she let him rest.

One face, however, caught her full attention: that of a familiar middle-aged warrior with icy blue eyes, a short goatee, and long, disheveled silver hair. The man used to take such good care of himself, but his time spent under a parasite's control had left him pale and shaken. He clearly lacked the strength to get off of his bed.

Nonetheless, Victoire offered him a brief bow out of respect. "It has been a long time, Lord Raymond."

"Victoire…" her former mentor and Knight-Commander of the Glarmes Order smiled back at her. "I had a feeling you would return to us in our darkest hour."

"I wish I had returned earlier. Many lives might have been saved otherwise."

"Perhaps… but I bear responsibility in letting you go in the first place." Lord Raymond glanced at Alpine and her helpers with frustration. "To think we would owe our survival to werelings… I have shamed our order's legacy."

His response caused Victoire to scowl. She had hoped being saved by wereling troops would have forced her former mentor to reevaluate his prejudices, but apparently not.

"This close-mindedness of yours cost you much, Lord Raymond," she said. "You closed off Promesse so well no one knew you were even under attack."

Lord Raymond clenched his jaw, but he couldn't deny her point. "When I look back on it, we were all such fools…" he muttered to himself. "We allowed evil to infiltrate us."

"What happened?" Victoire asked. "That creature our men slew in the Sacred Source–"

"Was the one we worshiped." Lord Raymond's face darkened. "Our predecessors… They found the Sacred Source, a secret paradise in the middle of snow, and that creature asleep in a cocoon in its heart, like a… a butterfly waiting to emerge. Only a benevolent creature could create such a beautiful place, or so our predecessors thought… they took it upon themselves to protect its cradle until its occupant hatched… but when it did…"

Lord Raymond put a hand on his forehead. "I don't recall much... just two eyes staring at me and my mind slipping away, followed by the cold kiss of ice."

"The creature is dead and shall cause you harm no more," Victoire reassured him. Wintresse was busy dissecting it as they spoke. "Promesse is yours again."

Lord Raymond met her gaze. "Why did you come back to us, Victoire? If you didn't know we were in trouble, then you must have come for something else."

Victoire nodded sharply. "The magmorians are launching an invasion of Verglane. I came to request the Glarmes Order's military assistance to repel them."

"I can hardly deny your request after you saved us all, but… you've seen the state of our order. It will take years for us to bounce back from this disaster." Lord Raymond thought over it for a moment before coming up with an alternative solution. "However… whereas we've lost many lives, our armories remain intact. Flies had no use for swords, spears, armor, and shields. We stockpiled enough arms to equip ten times our previous numbers. The knights still capable of fighting will follow you to battle too."

"That would help us a great deal." Verglane had plenty of warriors and only lacked steel to outfit them. "Rest well, Knight-Commander. I will introduce you to my god and superior soon to discuss the details of our alliance once you've recovered."

"Your god?" Lord Raymond scoffed. "I hope he is kinder than our old one."

Victoire couldn't help but smile. "More than you think."

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