Inexorable Chaos

Cleopatra

Level 547 [Eternal Sand Empress]

Level 321 [Grand Runic-Archsmith]

Level 688 [Archlich]

Born Cleopatra Syra, she became queen at 10 years old when she was married into the Ptolemaic Dynasty. Since then, she has worn other names and guises, but always Cleopatra, the Last and Eternal Queen of the Sands. Through the favor of the gods she became the [Eternal Empress] of the Crimson Desert. Through the power of dark magics, she no longer fears the tests of time.

“Well, shit,” I curse aloud, “You’re undead.”

Cleopatra frowns down at me. I feel a skill attempt to peruse my status, but it glances off me without a problem. Her frown deepens.

An aura more potent than anything I’ve ever felt, a commanding weight supported by enormous [Soul] and [Willpower], washes over me. I would even go so far to say that it exceeds my own by a decent bit.

I rally, tightening my own aura around myself as an armor, but even so, the pressure she exerts is extreme. I struggle to stay standing, even as she stares at me with a face mostly devoid of emotion except for a cold, calculating frown.

I crack a grin as I harden my aura and stare directly into her eyes. When you deal with royalty, especially one who has been in power for so long, the wise thing to do is to feed their ego.

Luckily, I’m a smart guy. I know what I should be doing.

Unfortunately, I don’t think anyone who truly knows me would call me wise.

“Is that it?” I taunt.

Cleopatra blinks. She taps her throne with a long nail. Her frown turns to a slight smile. I see a glint of amusement in her eyes.

Then she speaks.

“KNEEL.”

One moment I am standing, and the next, my right knee is on the marble floor. “Fuck,” I mumble and try to stand, but her aura smothers me like a steel blanket the size of a mountain. My hands ball into fists as I attempt to move. My body practically vibrates as I struggle, but it’s all in vain. Against a ruler with her levels, class, and age, I come short.

I just don’t have enough.

I’ve lived for thousands of years, trained my body and mind over and over again, and it’s not enough because a [Queen] who’s been sitting on her ass in this damn desert for hundreds of times longer is stronger.

What kind of bullshit is that? All that struggle, just to be upstaged by a corpse who’s forgotten how to stay dead? No.

I won’t kneel to someone like that.

I glare at her and try to stand. I push my will to the limits. I speed up my heart, strengthen my muscles, everything to move. I push and push the limits of my mind and body. Slightly, ever so slight, my knee rises. A centimeter at first… then an entire inch.

Congratulat-

And like a switch, the burden falls away. My leg straightens, and the stone cracks.

“Shhhhhiiiiiiiiii-” I yell as my body hurtles into the ceiling. Murals shatter as I bounce off and crater into the ground with a groan of pain.

Shaking myself, I quickly stand up and pause as I look at Cleopatra blinking at me.

“Whuugghhht?” I groan and look around. Halberds are pointed at me, ready to strike, but also wary because I just crashed face-first into the roof.

Cleopatra's eyes refocus, but her surprise is still evident on her face. I brush the dust off my robes. I grunt at the soreness of my body. Though my bones are fine, everything else hurts. I think I fell sixty feet or something.

“In my long life, I’ve met many people who have leveled or even changed classes in my presence,” she leans forward, somehow doing so in the most graceful way possible, “but you are the first to have become an [Emperor].”

Emperor? What–Wait a fucking second.

With a command, I call up the system message.

Congratulations!

Class Upgrade Requirements Met

Commencing Class Change

Attempting to upgrade class [Death Sovereign Archking]

…

Upgrade Successful

You are now a level 325 [Death Sovereign Emperor]

Skill [Herald Of Undeath] is changed to [Harbinger Of Undeath]

You have gained the skill [Death’s Autarch]

Huh, looks like my kingdom has been busy.

With a mental command, I open up the description of my new skills.

Harbinger of Undeath

All enemy units killed by your empire will rise as [Undead] under your empire's control.

Death’s Autarch

Undead units under your empire's control are considered citizens. Aura control and potency are improved by 1% per hundred undead.

Decent skills, especially the first one. I wonder what it means to have [Undead] under my empire's control. Does that mean my [General] can order them around? Are they just randomly wandering [Undead] that don't attack my people? I guess either choice is fine. If my leaders can control them, then perfect, free meatshields. If they can't, then the undead will decay and die within a week of being in the presence of sunlight unless they are protected by skill or modified to reflect light… or they become dead. Dead things decay slowly, but undead decay quickly.

I feel Cleopatra’s aura descend on me again, but this time I defend against it with ease. I return my attention from a nearby pillar back to Cleopatra who has been silently staring and waiting. She is no longer taken aback, but she is interested.

“I’ve met [Heroes] before,” she states in monotone, “men and women that level multiple classes at a speed few can comprehend. They blindly follow the orders of gods, destroy and shift world economies, and inflict some of the most violent wars in history,” she taps her armrest as she stares at me, “and now one of them stands before my throne again, clearly with an agenda.” She taps the armrest again, the sound of her nail hitting stone echoes throughout the room. “Experience tells me that I should end your life here and now…” she looks toward the entrance of the room where Darude stoically stands, “but someone who has earned my trust asked me to listen to you.”

She taps once more and only once. The sound halts and a light shifts onto me.

“So I will hear your words, Quasi Eludo, and by them, you will be judged.”

I feel the air turn cold. The light focuses on me as enchantments weave around my person, enhancing every sound I make.

“Damn,” I start clapping, “that was a pretty impressive display. I’d easily give it an eight point seven out of ten. Not perfect, but with a couple thousand centuries more practice, I can see you getting a nine out of ten.”

______________________________________

Cleopatra snorts, a girlish, squeaky snort that surprises the aged [Empress]. She hasn’t made a noise like that since she was a mortal.

Once again, she focuses on her skills and attempts to divine more secrets from this rather unique man. Her direct skills come up empty, but the dozens of indirect ones divulge bits of information: third tier, [Necromancer] based, [Emperor] level royalty class; second tier, upper-level [Enchanting] class; second tier, mid-level [Bard] class; second tier, lower-level [Gentleman] class; and finally the [Hero] class. She’d thought the [Hero] class was a mistake on her part, then she saw the man stare at a pillar and move his eyes left to right as though he were reading something. She’d only ever seen [Heroes] do such a thing.

She also senses anomalies in the man's body. She detects two heartbeats, a perfect weight differentiation, and an incredibly dense bone structure. It could be due to skill, but she can't tell. He is an enigma, one that needs to learn his place.

This city has a runic network built beneath it. After the many millennia Cleopatra has spent guarding her kingdom, new networks are built every few centuries to replace the old ones. Even as the obsolete runes begin to wear down or decay, some systems do not. Some enchantments grow stronger with age and add to each other. And some systems connect these disparate parts.

With a tap of her nail, the countless runic networks below the city come to life. They reach out and connect her to an even greater network that spreads over the entirety of the desert, feeding her with power. She raises her aura, strong enough now to crush even a Named.

“Quasi Eludo.”

Her aura strikes him and he falls to his knees in surprise as the Empire weighs down on his shoulders. “I am the [Empress] of sands, the oldest and most powerful ruler currently extant and you are but a no-named [Emperor] who has only now attained his new status. The difference between us is the difference between a mote of sand and a dessert.” She stares down at him, watching him struggle and fail to stand. ”So I warn you, choose your words wisely, otherwise you and your companions may find themselves in an early grave.”

“Atavistic Bitch!” he curses.

Cleopatra frowns at his disrespect and waves her hand. The pressure increases, forcing the man to keep himself upright with his hands.

“PROSTRATE.” she orders.

He struggles valiantly. Sweat and blood drip from his brow as his face slowly, ever so slowly descends lower and lower.

Then she feels more than sees a release of mana. The shadow below him seems to squirms outward, expanding. Then she sees it, an almost invisible strand of mana descends into the shadow and connects to something. Then another descends. A fourth. A twelfth. A hundred and forty-third. A fifteen thousand, ninety-sixth. She watches as a tapestry of mana grows, its fabric descending into his shadow and connecting… to something. And as they do, the man slowly rises and his aura swells. By the time he is fully erect, over a million strands are connected. Behind Quasi, nine spectral, violet, manafilled tails sprout and wave menacingly in the air.

Before her stands not a nascent [Emperor], far from his home and power, but a [Caesar] with an army at his back.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he opens them again, two eyes glowing with potent and malignant violet energy stare into her own.

“Pride comes before the fall.”

The man grins challengingly at her… and a distant memory surfaces of someone similar standing before her. He spoke different words in a different language, but with the same meaning. She’d almost lost everything when she refused to back down.

A sliver of fear takes root in her heart and she quickly retracts her aura before it can waver. Not again. Never again. She swallows her pride and stands. A smile forces its way to her lips. “Quasi Eludo, it’s been a long time since I’ve met a man like you. Please, let us retire to my private study where we can drop this banter and have a meaningful conversation.”

_____________________________________

There are two main types of immortals in existence: The first are known as gods. They are souls strong enough to survive without a physical manifestation. Depending on the strength of their souls, they can manifest their power via mana, or, if old enough, via soul. The second type are mortals past their expiration date. Cleopatra falls into this second type, and like all second types, they have a major weakness: Actually being able to die.

I mean, it is possible to end a god, but most gods are an accretion of souls imbued with lingering sentiments. They tend to embody their primordial passions and, with the exception of death gods, are mostly childishly oblivious to an end that never comes for them naturally. I digress.

Fear of death is a constant fear, a deep rooted one that all those that have survived for so long have. They hide it well under a mask of pride, but the moment you touch upon that fear and remind them how fleeting life truly is, then you’ve won.

So when I walk inside Cleopatra's study and find her wearing a violet dress that extenuates her classical curves and timeless breasts, I know I've won.

Immortals fall into a few categories: The lucky, the clever, and the paranoid. Often enough, there’s a mix between the categories. The lucky ones are unpredictable folks who came into immortality through sheer happenstance and are usually not a problem if you have a big, maybe shiny, distraction set up for them. The clever ones are the smart ones that worked towards immortality and eventually got it. They’re dangerous, but predictably dangerous, as they usually act in the long term and do their best to survive.

The paranoid ones are the ones you can never, ever be safe around. They’re the sort to have figured out how to give themselves seventeen different methods of immortality and carry a tactical nuke in their back pocket. They can always pull something out of nowhere you can never prepare for.

I’ve met three paranoid immortals in my lives, I wouldn’t have been able to kill one of them.

It’s a good thing I’m lucky, and Cleopatra’s clever.

So, acting in line with how a clever immortal does, Cleopatra first attempted to ascertain how threatening I was. First, she thought I was weak enough to manipulate. Then, she thought I was too risky to keep around. Now, she thinks It’s too risky to try to kill me.

“Please, Quasi, sit,” she invites me. She extends her manicured hand to the chair opposite her.

Wordlessly, I walk to the chair and take a seat. I stare at her, and she stares back at me. Her legs move, one over the other, slowly, as though to bring into focus the bare skin she’s showing there. Her arms are around her stomach, slightly raising her chest as she leans forward with a smile.

The attempt at seduction are not lost on me.

“Thank you for accepting my invitation. I want to first formally apologize for my behavior at our initial meeting, as I did not fully comprehend your peerage. Please, speak freely. It is clear you wished to speak to me about something.”

I roll my eyes at her super pleasing and nice tone.

“Just stop with the acting. You’re shit at it.”

Her lips dip in the most subtle of pouts.

“Whatever do you mea-?”

“Stop,” I interrupt and point. “Only a two-bit [King] would believe you had a change of heart so quickly. Not to mention, your acting is unbelievable. Anyone with as much experience as I have will notice the flaw.”

“The flaw?”

I nod. “Yeah, the flaw. Your movements are perfect, your expressions are perfect, and your voice is perfect. Humans are not perfect, nor could they ever be. There are always discrepancies to be found, however minor they may be. I saw those discrepancies earlier today when we had our dick measuring contest. Now, those discrepancies are gone. So stop playing games.”

A moment passes and the perfect mask on her face drops. Cleopatra leans back into her armchair and sighs.

“Fine. Why did you come here, Quasi Eludo?”

I cross my arms. “Well, initially I came here to deliver something, but I’m a bit curious now that I’ve found out that the glorious Empress of the Sands is an extremely old undead that, to my surprise, looks barely thirty. I was under the impression that [Liches] would eventually decay into sentient skeletons.”

Cleopatra raises an eyebrow, seemingly surprised that I don't already know the reason. She looks me up and down.

“Do you not have the legendary [Smooth Skin] skill?” she asks.

“I do…” I answer, uncertain where this is going. “The skill makes it so my skin is always clear and without wrinkles, blemish, or body hair.”

She shakes her head. “Were it merely that, the skill would not be one of the most desired skills in the world.”

“Explain.”

She raises her left hand and traces it over her right. “[Smooth skin] creates perfectly smooth skin not by removing wrinkles and stopping hair from growing, but by changing the body to produce such skin. Healthy and working organs, muscles, fat, bones, your entire body will continue to function until cancer ends it.”

“Damn. So, you’re an [Archlich] without any of the physical downsides of being an [Archlich]?”

“There are always downsides.” She leans back into her seat. ”For one, my body is still dead and cold, though in perfectly functional condition. On top of that, I cannot move too far away from my phylactery, nor can I survive if it is destroyed, not that it is fragile.”

I nod slowly. If I ever need to live longer than my current lifespan, it’s nice to know Lich-dom remains a solution.

“Well, I’ve got more questions, but those can wait.” I lean into my shadow and grab the [Scepter of Was] out of it. I throw it to her and she catches it. Her eyes widen in shock. “I believe that is yours.”

“My staff… Where did you find it?” she asks as she examines the metallic item.

“It was found in a dungeon, then stored in a city vault. Hermes gave me a quest to return it to you.”

“Hermes…” her brow flutters. “I dislike the gods.”

“The feeling is mutual.”

She stares at the scepter in her hand for a moment longer, then she sighs. “It seems I owe Hermes a costly debt. I’m sure he’ll come to collect it sooner, rather than later.”

I yawn. “I dont think a simple [Legendary] item would be considered a costly debt, at least not for your empire.”

She shakes her head. One of her hands holds the crystal on top of the scepter. She releases a stream of mana and activates several hidden runes. The [Legendary] enchantment on the scepter disappears. Then, she unscrews the crystal from the pole and throws it to the side. She turns the resulting tube over and catches a glowing crystal in her hand.

Muspelheim Powercrystal [Divine]

Control mechanism required for activating movement function of Muspelheim.

“That’s…”

“A very, very long story,” she raises the crystal in the air, admiring it. Then, she looks at me, stares at my facial expression for a moment as I gaze curiously at the crystal.

“You don't know what this is, do you?”

I shrug. “Not really, but it’s a divine item, so it probably does something pretty awesome.”

____________________

A small smile and a shake of her head belie the humor, confusion, curiosity, and dread in Cleopatra’s heart. [Emperor], [Hero], and [Necromancer]; three classes she’s never seen together are now sitting in front of her, manifested in one man. Now that person, a [Hero] that her [Spymaster] didn't even know existed, just handed her the one item she desires above all others. It all seems like a trap, or more likely, a manipulation.

“What do you get out of it?” she asks.

Quasi shrugs again, which gets a strong stare from the [Empress].

“What? Don't glare at me. I’m just given quests and I follow them because they fit my agenda.”

“What Agenda?” she asks more forcefully.

“World Destruction,” he pauses, “and a vacation from my wives.”

Cleopatra closes her eyes for a moment. She releases a breath and forces herself to calm down. She feels blind without the extra perceptions of her aura, but casting it out now might be misunderstood as a threat.

“Fine, keep your secrets. But I still need to reward you for this. What do you want? So long as it is within my power, I will give it to you.”

He taps his chin.

‘What will he ask for? Just because heroes are servants for the gods doesn’t mean they don’t appreciate more… material rewards. Surely, he’s not in it just for the paltry boost to his [Hero’s] class experience and a bit of sight-seeing.’

“Well, you’ve got me curious about that crystal, so I’d like it if you showed me what it's for. I could also use some allies, so an alliance between our [Empires] would be great. Access to a statue of Hermes if you have it available too. Oh, also, I need you to remove the [Slave] class from my [Slave], Naunet.”

“The first two are doable, but the third can only be done if your slave is at least level-eighty.”

“What? You’re a goddamn super high level [Empress], how are you not able to do something so simple?” he asks in surprise.

“Because it is not a simple thing. I have numerous skills enforcing my laws, skills that put restrictions not only on the citizens of my empire, but on me as well. I will not change the Law just for one girl. If you wish to free your [Slave], then either level her up to Eighty or impregnate her and transfer ownership to the child.”

“Your laws are stupid,” he folds his arms with a pout, “but fine, I’ll see what I can do. What about the other requests?”

She carefully places the crystal on a table next to her. “Tomorrow, I will reveal to you the secrets of the crystal, but tonight, let us form an alliance.”

She stands up from her seat, reaches behind her back, and removes her dress.

___________________________________

“Should we not be worried about the Master?” Naunet asks around the dining table. “He’s been gone for a while.”

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Abernick replies and then places a slice of meat into his mouth. He chews happily and swallows. “Damn, I didn't know cooked vermis would taste so good.” he takes another bite.

On the table, Barglesmash rips into his own plate of the tender meat and chirps happily.

“But it has been several hours. Should we not check up on them?”

Fiona shakes her head as she sips some wine. “No. Conversations between monarchs always take a while. Also, Darude came back and said everything was fine.”

“Nothing is ever fine with Quasi,” Jessica pokes her meat without even eating it.

“Don't worry Jess, I’m sure he’s fine.” Fiona exclaims softly, but the worried woman only returns an annoyed glare.

“I’m not worried about him. I’m worried about what he’s doing. For all I know, he could be having sex with the [Empress].”

Naunet and Fiona laugh at her words. Abernick nervously chuckles. Meeting an [Empress] of an empire and then immediately sleeping with her? Impossible.

They sit and joke, making fun of her worries, but the [Abbess] knows something is happening. Something stupid. Something crazy.

Something that’s going to leave her very, very irritated.