Ben Bezarel Marches with His Full Might
Ben Bezarel began leading all his forces toward our position. At the Nebra king's request? No. Quite the opposite—the Nebra king had hoped Ben wouldn't clash with us. Ben, for his part, was simply thrilled at the chance to unleash his full power.
We kept the gathered civilians at a safe distance and prepared to meet Ben's grand army. There were roughly three hundred modified humans, not all of them strong, but the elite ones packed serious power. Then came about five hundred stone and wooden giants—not an overwhelming number, perhaps, but no one could ignore the sight of ten-meter-tall behemoths marching in perfect unison at their commander's order.
Flanked by his modified humans, Ben strode boldly to the front. I stepped forward alone to meet him.
"I've come, just as you wished."
"No questions for me?"
Ben had to have some grievances and curiosities. After all, a saint had suddenly branded him a public enemy and challenged him out of nowhere.
"I do, but what does it matter?"
Ben turned out to have a surprisingly straightforward personality. True to his mastery, he looked like a handsome man in his fifties despite being over ninety. He must have been quite the looker in his youth.
"Someone is furious that you've been abusing stone and wood so recklessly."
"I see. I did use stone and wood freely, but is that such a grave sin?"
Honestly, I wasn't sure about that part myself. Even if Ben had used vast quantities to craft those giants, were there no others in this world who felled trees or quarried stone? Compared to a large logging camp or quarry, it wasn't excessive at all.
"Ben Bezarel, I've been watching you for quite some time. I've let you live this long because you only experimented on the wicked."
"I see. So you've shown up now because of the corpses and prisoners?"
"That's part of it."
Corpses were forgivable. But using living prisoners for experiments crossed the line.
"Fair enough. Whatever. Let's just fight it out."
Ben let out a refreshingly bold laugh and fell back. It looked cool at first glance, but like most geniuses, he was no less mad than the rest.
I returned to my position, and Setas sidled up beside me.
"That's impressive, huh?"
"Figured anything out?"
I'd sensed him using what he called "scanning" while I talked to Ben, so I asked.
"Hmm, those human-looking ones are primitive androids. That's tech way beyond this era. And the giants are classic golems—magic that's long vanished from our world. Even improved, they have hard limits."
"These androids—are they strong?"
"Combat androids from my world? Yeah. About on par with Uncle Howard before he transforms. Even your average household model could match Sir Jayke."
A world that wars with gods, sure—but what kind of place has Master-level servants in every home? Setas's world was still beyond my common sense.
"Could you make them?"
"The theory's simple enough, but no facilities here. Mass production would be tough."
Ben's elite modified humans rivaled Argin in strength. If we could produce those, they'd be a huge asset in future chaos.
"No need for mass production. What about those golems?"
"Those are easy. Basic magic."
Wood was iffy, but crafting a few from the rocks littering the New Continent could speed up city-building there.
"How about making a few for construction on the New Continent?"
"Hmm, do we really need them?"
Setas tilted his head quizzically at my question. As his head leaned, Bastet swiftly smacked his forehead with a cat paw.
"Ow! We don't need golems for that. And they need a lot of maintenance, looks notwithstanding."
Setas rubbed his forehead and answered. Fair point. Elves could handle massive projects quickly with earth spirit aid. Akasha Territory might use them, but golems lumbering around the lands felt off.
As I pondered, Ben's side moved first. The five hundred golems advanced in unison—a truly imposing sight. Any human troops would have panicked and crumbled.
"Elder, you take the lead."
"Understood."
Numbers against numbers. "Children of the World Tree! Today, show the world the might of the elves!"
"Woooaaar!"
The grand elder led the elven army forward with uncharacteristically fierce words. He and the elders charged at the front. The elves skipped their signature archery—useless against stone and wood anyway.
Few knew it now—elves had long cut ties with the outside world—but they were master swordsmen too. Not that it mattered much against these foes. Still, their light, swift movements countered the golems' sluggishness perfectly. Binding feet with spirit arts and striking followed, crumbling the wooden golems swiftly.
The elves were especially enraged that trees—their friends—had been twisted into golems. Stone ones fared no better, helpless against elder-level elves.
"See? Not so great."
Setas chimed in, but they just had bad matchup. Those golems had proven themselves against human armies in civil wars.
As golems fell fast, Ben watched with keen interest. He issued the next order. Three hundred modified humans surged forward—but the top elites still guarded him.
"Hamakan, Jayke, Joseph, and the temple knights—go."
The named fighters burned with zeal and advanced on the modified humans.
"What about me?"
Argin asked, eager, but it wasn't his time yet.
"Not yet. Their secret weapons haven't shown."
Joseph and the temple knights loathed that humans were raw material for these abominations. Reformed or not, their inquisitor roots ran deep—they'd want to tear them apart on sight.
Druids had diverse, potent abilities like witches, but few suited direct combat. The thirty-two charged first, unleashing a barrage on the oncoming modified humans: upheaving earth like spirit arts, sudden tree roots snaring feet.
Hamakan transformed mid-charge into a massive silver bear, slaughtering with size and paws. Unlike normal bears, silver fur shrugged off their weapons.
Then Jayke, Joseph, and the temple knights collided. Disrupted by druid arts, the front ranks shattered under the knights' charge. We had fewer numbers but superior average power and synergy.
Not that their forces were weak—just outclassed by two Masters leading knights and druids.
We seized early momentum, but numbers couldn't be ignored. As the battle stalemated, hundreds of arrows pierced the modified humans from the flank—elves who'd finished the golems joining in. Their ultimate weapon: bows, now with a proper stage.
Caught in pincer attacks, modified humans fell. Cracks showed on Ben's face—he hadn't expected this collapse.
Time for his aces. "Howard, Argin—get ready."
"Me too?"
Howard seemed surprised it was his turn.
"No transforming, though."
That'd be overkill. Argin needed growth, and these foes were perfect. But alone was risky, so Howard tagging along worked.
Setas tsked at the collapsing modified humans. "Outdated androids after all. I could make way better."
"Don't they have better ones?"
"Efficiency issue. They guzzle mana, short runtime. Mine could go without recharge."
"Resources?"
"That's the catch. Need materials this world lacks. Possible, but research would take time."
Maybe capture Ben and force collaboration with Setas? The World Tree hadn't objected then.
Impatient, Argin drew his sword and advanced; Howard trailed lazily. I ordered the retreat horn sounded. Elves and temple knights withdrew in perfect order.
As we pulled back, surviving golems and modified humans retreated too. Now for the Grand Masters. Getting caught meant instant death.
The five elite modified humans guarding Ben shot forward like wind. A cold smile curled Ben's lips. Confidence earned—decades of work birthed legendary Grand Masters. Five of them. Justified arrogance.
Until blades pierced hearts.
Seven Grand Masters clashed in an instant, closing distances in a blink. Earth-shattering collision: auras stretched dozens of meters, hurled like blades. Each impact boomed, shockwaves upheaved earth, dust soared skyward.
Ben's eyes widened. He hadn't dreamed two could hold his five creations.
I shifted beside him. No escapes, or headaches.
He barely reacted to my sudden appearance, transfixed by the duel.
"Who are those two?"
"Howard Callista and Argin Tempest—my friend and retainer."
"I know Howard, but Argin Tempest? Never heard of him."
"Kid I raised from an orphanage. Twenty-five now."
"Ha ha ha!"
Ben laughed in disbelief. His life's work denied by some nameless youth.
Five versus two, but victory tilted our way. Same realm or not, modified humans lacked true warriors' honed skill. And weaponry mattered.
Howard's sword was fine steel—no edge there. Argin's? A dragon-forged artifact.
High-level fighters ignore weapon gaps—unless the gap is vast. Then it's fatal.
Howard slacked per promise, but few would notice.
"I lose."
No elites down yet, but Ben conceded cleanly. He signaled; they disengaged and withdrew.
I gestured Argin back as he pursued.
"Kill me if you must, but one request?"
"If it's something I can grant."
I'd been wondering if death was necessary. His prisoner experiments were evil, but nobles slaying far more in this civil war were everywhere.
"I'll transfer authority over my children. Can you care for them?"
Ben's face was deadly serious. But I couldn't oblige. Sorry, Ben—I picked the wrong guy.
Something massive was unfolding elsewhere.