Return of the Tower Conqueror

  Clash of Kings (III)

It was all messed up, Eldur mused inwardly as a sigh escaped his lips. He sat on a marble throne decorated with jewels of earth, a striking picture to be certain, but a seemingly hallow one. The throne room was wide and long, a red carpet unfurled from the entrance toward him, glazed windows slated at a slight angle behind him, manufacturing fake natural light, copying what it would be like if it was facing the sun.

There was nobody else here besides him; all had either fled or went to fight. The madness had taken a hold of the Kingdom. He didn't mind the chaos but this was chaos that he could not control. It was not made by him or to suit him. This inevitability peeved him.

Sighing yet again, he recalled the cause of all this mess-- that strange Conqueror that dared challenge him so openly. He regretted ever inviting him and his group here and letting them meddle. Had he not, this entire story would have played out differently. It wasn't the fact that he would 'die' that bothered him, but that the current state of affairs would freeze all the way up until he was freed.

He didn't have a lock on his position and his powers, not to mention that Mael had also seemingly abandoned him. No matter how much he called for the old man, he didn't get a reply. His usefulness, he mused, must have ran its course. The Lunar Stone... yes. That was why the old man was helping him to begin with.

"They should arrive soon," his eyes looked forward toward the massive doors. He felt somewhat expectant, even if he knew there was no chance of victory. That was also a source of his bitterness-- those who managed to defeat the first Conquerors who challenged them got rewarded heftily.

It wasn't the end of the world, though; there would be plenty of other newcomers that he will defeat to gather up renown he would be able to cash out eventually. All the same, it still made him biter; this loss... was monumental. The pointless squabbles and machinations that he had been implanting ever since he was given this chance... all went up in flames in what felt to be a single night. All because of one man.

Though it was difficult to really claim that singular Conqueror had shifted everything, Eldur found it much easier to squarely blame him-- at least, that way, there was a target for his anger. And even if he couldn't win, he would at least be able to went for a little while.

Just then, in the midst of his thoughts, the gates to the throne room were flung open by force, some debris and dust finding its way in as over a dozen silhouettes appeared beneath the archway. He immediately recognized several of them, namely his siblings, causing him to sigh.

Their existence, more so than anything else, put a corkscrew on his future plans. After all, while he would be glued to this throne for who-knows how many years, they'd be free to roam about as they will be considered Conqueror's aids. This meant that they'd be able to grown stronger and more influential and potentially even return in the distant future to challenge him for the throne. It irked him. Peeved him. It was like tiny ants crawling under his skin with him being unable to do anything about it.

And there, leading the spread group that ran rampart through his palace, was a faintly-smiling figure of a lean and pale man. He had hands in the pockets of his trousers, a poor-looking cloak fluttering gently as he walked. His dirty-blonde hair seemed disheveled and uncouth, as though he hadn't taken care of it for months. Though not handsome, there was a certain poise to his expression, and a certain grace and nobleness to the look in his eyes.

Furthermore, there was the aura he was exuding-- it was an aura of the King and the source was the brilliant, archaic-looking crown floating gently above his head. Its spikes were like fingers pointing at the sky and challenging it. The imperial feeling Eldur got matched and even outpaced his, a ridiculous notion. The Conqueror before him, after all, was decidedly not a King. He was not even a noble. And yet, the edifice of regalia commanded that the man before him was closer to an Emperor than he, an actual King, was. It irked him. Peeved him. Cut into the veins of his pride.

The group separated, with only ten continuing forward while others, including his siblings, stayed further back. All of them, every single one, were strong. Dangerously strong. Impossibly strong. There were legends and myths of such Conquerors, but they were an anomaly that nobody took into account when planning for a Crucible. He was unlucky, is all. Unlucky that his trial happened to coincide with theirs.

His gaze went back onto the man in the lead, causing friction between the two. There was an almost instinctual feeling of anger funneling into Eldur's soul commanded by his Kingly Aura. It seemed to intrinsically despise the man's and wished to destroy it before all else.

"Yo'," the man spoke commonly, unlike his regal appearance. "Long time no see. Where's everyone?"

"..." Eldur could only laugh weakly. He wasn't even afforded a proper send-off, it seemed. But one of hollow mockery. "Did you have to invite them as well?" he asked, glancing at his siblings. "To stoke the fires of my shame further?"

"Invite them? Na, they just followed me randomly. I think they thought we were gonna get some candy or such."

"..."

"..." there was a collective sigh that echoed out throughout the hall, one which even Eldur himself joined.

Even Cain blushed slightly at such a response, coughing awkwardly after the fact. Looking around at the people who all refused to look at him, he shrugged and focused forward as a notification window popped up in front of him.

[You have initiated a 'Regal Imporium']

[The results of the battle will be marked down in the Histories. As it is a 'Regal Imporium', you may only take 'King's Guard' to the battle. The current number of your Guards is... 4. As it is their first appearance, they will be given Titles after the fact.]

[Victory will mark the completion of the 'Emergency Quest' dubbed 'Clash of Kings' (previously known as 'Crisis of the Sands'. Your rewards will be as follows:

You shall be granted access to the remnant Will of Divine and ask it 2 questions.

You will receive however many levels is necessary to reach Level 58.

You will receive 4 titles: King of Sands, Regal Victor, The One Who Conquers, and Kingdom's Destroyer

You will gain permanent access to the element of 'Sand', starting at (E) Mastery.

You will receive 'Regal Cape', 'Regal Blade', and 'Regal Robe'

You will receive 'Ring of Dissolution'

Your 'Guards' will receive a unique title each as well as 1 item befitting those titles]

[Good luck, Conqueror Cain Gregory!]

Cain sighed at the list of rewards-- they really were worthy of conquering an entire floor, especially the first one-- ability to ask 2 questions of a Divine's remnant. Even he had no idea just how insane that reward was, despite knowing that it was likely not something that would happen even at the 99th floor.

Brilliant pillars of light shot up around him as everyone except for him and four others was teleported backward, near Sera, Anna, Izirdul, and others. He had already marked his guards quite some time ago, and the choice was easier than he thought: Emma and Senna came naturally, while Yuki was the sole support was a must. The last place was essentially between Jamal and Daniel, with the latter acquiescing the place to the former.

As such, Cain's group was composed of two ranged DPS, one melee, a Tank, and a single Support. Overall, it was almost picturesque in its division of roles, prompting Cain to stroke his ego further with the choices he'd made. Their stats were increased exponentially, not to mention that they were immune to the most common crowd control while fighting near him.

"Where are your Guards?" Cain asked Eldur who looked at him oddly before sighing.

"Your men," the King replied, standing up from the throne. "Killed them."

"Ah."

"Well," Eldur said as he took a blood-red blade from the scabbard hoisted at his waist and unbuttoned his cloak, letting it fall to the ground, emerging in a silver-dotted armor beneath. "Shall we?"

Sparks of lightning and the numbed booming of thunder echoed out from Eldur as bolts emerged beneath his feet, cracking the granite floor as he shot forward. Emma quickly reacted, swinging her warhammer horizontally at his head, while Jamal flung himself sideways, gathering milky-white starlight as he began to flank.

At the same time, Cain and Yuki retreated further back while Senna ascended into the air by riding one of the swords, summoning a hail of weapons around her. The battle began rather unceremoniously, but most important ones did so.

Eldur reached Emma within a breath and ducked, easily dodging the warhammer while stabbing his blade to the side, easily slashing at her waist, cutting open a massive wound as he continued to slide forward, lightning increasing his speed as he made a straight beeline toward Cain. The latter smiled faintly as summoned 'Core of Desolation' -- it was actually his first time using it to battle, as he didn't even take it out while facing Mael.

It was a majestic weapon with insane stats, but it was fundamentally difficult to use due to its nature. Rather than a weapon that made Mana easier to use, it was one that made it even more difficult as it worked in conjunction with Mana rather than a conduit. Cain only had it equipped for the basic upgrade of stats and access to 'Ruin', though he never used any of its active components before.

The reason why he decided to take it out now was because this would be his last battle for a while, likely years. Even if he activated all but the last option of the weapon, he would be fine -- and if now wasn't the time to experiment... when would it be?

He blinked to the side and dodged a heave of the King's blade, one that charged an electrical array that burned a gash into the carpet and the floor beneath. At the same time, Cain used 'Soothsayer' portion of the weapon, simulating roughly 60 different possibilities over what Eldur would do next. The consumption of Mana was rather intense, which prevented him from simulating any more. The weapon itself predicted the likeliest, and Cain decided to trust it for the time being, using the very first Skill Cain had ever created since becoming a 'Spellweaver' -- 'Dimensional Prison'.

Four ethereal chains snapped from beneath the floor to the Eldur's side, one that he abruptly shifted toward to gather his footing and momentum before striking again. Just as he was about to launch forward, he realized he was completely glued to the floor, unable to move. Looking down, he saw four chains wrapped around his legs, causing his brows to arch up and for his lips to gasp in surprise. As not only the secret Guardian of the Crucible, but also a King, he was virtually immune to all crowd control effects. And yet, there existed one that tied him down.

He quickly felt that it would only be for, at most, ten seconds if he struck at it, but it was still shocking nonetheless. He glanced at the Mage who, once again, gained some distance between the two, and at the man's sly smile. He's the most dangerous sort... somehow... losing to him doesn't feel that bad.

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