Chapter 1034: The secrets of becoming an arch lord
The broodmother’s confidence was absolute. She seemed utterly convinced she could kill him.
"Invader," Jynara said, her voice unnaturally calm. "Tell me, where do you come from?"
Orion’s eyes narrowed. She wanted him dead, but the feeling was mutual. He had every intention of putting this broodmother in the ground and turning the tide of this battle.
Fzzt.
Orion vanished. He launched a surprise attack, his scythe carving through the space Jynara had just occupied. But she was already gone. The moment he teleported, so had she. His blade met only empty air, slicing through a fading afterimage.
CRACK. CRUNCH.
A sickening sound echoed across the battlefield. Orion snapped his head toward Jynara’s new position, his brow furrowing in disbelief. She was doing something completely bizarre. Her jaw unhinged to an impossible degree as she seized the guardian who had just been fighting the Dread Revenant and swallowed him whole. The cracking and grinding sounds were coming from inside her abdomen as she digested her own soldier.
"INTRUDERS. MUST. DIE!" Jynara roared, and her body began to distend.
Her form warped and swelled. Jagged, tooth-like spines erupted from her vertebrae. Dozens of new arms, a writhing forest of limbs, burst from her back. Orion made a quick estimate—at least fifty of them.
But it wasn’t over.
Her ribcage split apart with a wet tear, and eight heads—writhing on fleshy stalks—forced their way out from the gaping cavity in her chest. Each head was a twisted mask of agony and rage, and every single one of them was staring daggers at Orion.
So that’s it, he realized. He finally understood why none of the Gnasher Reavers or guardians he’d killed had left behind a body of faith. They weren’t individuals. They were just extensions of the Matriarch. The eight heads now squirming from her chest were those of the four Gnasher Reavers and four guardians who had already fallen in battle. With their deaths, their power had simply returned to the source.
This was the broodmother in her true, terrifying form.
"You destroyed our home," Jynara snarled, a monstrous grin splitting her primary face. "For that, you die!"
She teleported, appearing directly in front of Orion. Her fifty-plus arms, wielding a chaotic arsenal of weapons, descended on the Deathly Soul-Reaper from every conceivable angle.
Orion’s form dissolved into shadow, escaping the blow.
Jynara whipped her head around, spotting him a short distance away. She had only hit an afterimage. Orion had teleported out the instant her attack began.
"You can’t run!" she shrieked. The eight heads on her chest detached, launching into the air and scattering in all directions.
Orion watched them go, his eyes narrowing again. A moment later, he understood their purpose. He prepared to teleport, but it was too late.
SKREEEEEEE!
Eight synchronized, soul-shattering howls erupted, their psychic vibrations overlapping to form a perfect cage. The very fabric of space in the area locked down. He was trapped. Teleportation was impossible. He had become a caged animal.
"You’re finished," Jynara hissed. "Caught in my Voidlock."
As she spoke, the screams from the eight heads intensified, shifting into a frequency that attacked the soul itself. The psychic assault slammed into Orion, throwing the Deathly Soul-Reaper’s form into disarray. He was paralyzed, unable to move.
"Die!"
Jynara teleported beside him. Her fifty arms became a blur of motion, a relentless storm of blades and bludgeons that hammered into his body. Tendrils of shadow were blasted apart, only to writhe and reform an instant later.
Matriarch Jynara had anticipated this. She had countless arms, and her assault was endless. She knew the Deathly Soul-Reaper’s regeneration had a limit. Unless it was fueled by a true law of reality, it could be broken.
She just had to keep hitting it until it did.
And so the bombardment continued, a storm of destruction that fell again, and again, and again.
Silverwood Realm, The Stillness.
Tangere returned without issue, finding Orion waiting for him in the conference room.
Orion looked him over, a flicker of concern in his eyes. "Are you alright?"
Tangere subconsciously touched his neck, the site of his last injury. It was a good thing he’d already reforged his body into a vessel of pure plague; as long as the core strains survived, he could recover from almost anything.
"It’s nothing serious," Tangere said, his voice a little rough. "Just lost some of my primary plague cultures."
Orion nodded. That tracked with his expectations. As one of the Survivors, Tangere was bound to have a few aces up his sleeve.
"You must have a lot of questions," Orion said. "Ask away. I’ll answer what I can."
Tangere fell silent. He’d had a million questions swirling in his mind, but now, face to face with Orion, he didn’t know where to begin.
Orion wasn’t in a hurry. He pulled out two chairs, gesturing for Tangere to sit. He poured two glasses of a dark spirit. Tangere took one and downed it in a single gulp before finally speaking.
"That last battle... did we win?"
Orion nodded, understanding Tangere’s concern. If they had lost, their little invasion force would be packing up and heading home. A victory meant they could keep pushing into this new world.
A spark of light returned to Tangere’s eyes, and the tension in his face eased slightly.
"Even if I had lost that fight, I would have taken the Forest of Nature by force," Orion stated calmly. "And you would have received your share of the spoils. Don’t worry. The enemy is strong, but they’re not invincible."
His words were meant to reassure him. Right now, Tangere was the most capable asset he had, and Orion had no intention of letting his best fighter lose his nerve.
Tangere accepted a second drink before asking his next question. "What was that thing I fought?"
"Something similar to a body of faith, but weaker. Flawed. You know what a body of faith is, right? It’s the hallmark of an arch lord."
Tangere nodded. He had not only seen an arch lord before, but he had also been subjugated by one. He knew all too well what a body of faith was.
"The enemy used a corrupt secret technique," Orion explained. "It allows them to gather the dispersed faith within their followers to create those... bizarre entities you encountered. You can think of them as flawed incarnations."
Tangere nodded again, though the confusion hadn’t fully left his eyes.
Orion considered for a moment. As an upper Legendary-tier powerhouse, Tangere was close to the threshold. It wouldn’t be jumping the gun to give him a glimpse of what lies ahead.
"Since we’re on the topic, let me tell you about the secrets—and taboos—of becoming an arch lord."
He leaned forward slightly. "The most critical step in advancing from a Lord to an arch lord is manifesting a body of faith. Its creation depends on the amount of genuine faith you command. However... there are darker paths. Vile shortcuts that grant a fraction of an arch lord’s power prematurely."
"These methods rely on secret techniques to forge an incomplete body of faith."
Orion went on, explaining the intricacies of power, faith, and ascension. He hoped that by sharing this knowledge, he could build a stronger bond with Tangere. The man’s performance on the battlefield had been impressive, and Orion was beginning to see a much greater potential in him.