The Fall of Yokuda

Introduction
This is a short story that acts as a prequel to Twelve Stars of Taneth, but read after Twelve Stars. This will lead into The King in the Mountain, which will close up the storyline. All together they'll form the "Adversary Anthologies."

The Fall of Yokuda
The sun kissed the horizon as both it and the world descended into apocalypse. The sky was black, choked by ash and smoke and smog. A volcano erupted in the distance. Tsunamis crashed on the shore, wiping away homes and anyone unfortunate enough to have remained.

The land split and cracked, fissures appearing across the grand landscape as whole pieces of earth sloughed away into the ocean.

On the eastward coast a fleet of ships sat ready to make sail, rocking and bobbing in the maelstrom. They collided with one another, the ocean threatening to sink them, but they remained afloat for now. Row boats braved the treacherous waters, floating out to meet them and unload their passengers onto the fleet. A great journey would be made. The last journey of the greatest empire that had ever stood. This was the second fleet of Yokuda, the fleet of the Na-Totambu. The first, the fleet of the Ra Gada, had left months before.

The Empress of Yokuda overlooked her fleet, watched as it was buffeted by wave after wave.

Above, a light split the smoky skies, a single shooting star. It arced, growing larger, bulleting towards the Empress. She turned to face it as it landed in front of her. The light receded and in its place stood a man. He was beautiful, with features so perfect nothing less than a god could have designed him. Tall, muscular. An Orichcalcum khopesh was strapped to his back. He wore chainmail, the same viridescent metal as his sword. Blue cloth wrapped his waist and feet, a blue turban wrapped his head. He looked past her, out at the fleet that gathered in the waters below the cliff. This cove was the last safe shore on the continent. And even then, it was only marginally protected from the typhoons that buffeted Yokuda’s shores.

“Diagna.” The Empress greeted him. “I was wondering when you would make your appearance.”

The avatar of HoonDing turned his immortal gaze from the cove to the Empress. As always, the Empress found it hard to maintain eye contact with him. She felt insignificant when held by it, as if he knew everything she had ever done and everything she would ever do. It was a barren, empty feeling it brought, made you feel stripped bare, flayed before the unfeeling ebb and flow of eternity. Made you…

She looked away, heading back into her tent on the hill top. Her army was arrayed below her. Their backs were to the beaches, their weapons arrayed towards the land. The land that had once been her’s. Now it held only horrors.

“The Adversary comes, Empress.” Diagna said, following her. His voice was a song filled with metal, of swords meeting each other on the rocky sands that made up Yokuda. Beautiful and terrible all at once. “For once, it does not wait.”

“Death waits for no one.” The Empress said. She shed the royal gown, dressed in only simple, long linens, approaching the stand that held her armor. There was no point hiding herself from Diagna. He was a god. There was nothing one could hide from him. Especially him.

She grabbed a chainmail shirt of the nearby behind where it had been discarded and slipped into it. “Not for me. Not for Yokuda. Not even for gods. What the Adversary does is only hasten Entropy’s inevitable approach.”

She reached out, removing her breastplate from the stand and lowering it over her head. She glowed with the Shehai and the armor fastened itself tight. She equipped her greaves, boots, bracers, and helm in a similar manner.

“Entropy is normally patient, Empress.” Diagna explained. “He knows all things must end. That all must return to him. It is rare he takes an active interest in the affairs of mortals.”

“It’s because of this, isn’t it?” The Empress looked down at her hand, closed it into a fist. It glow gold with light as she drew from the Shehai.

“Yes.” Diagna agreed. “You and your Ansei are a threat to him. You brought Complexity into the world. Upset the balance. And as Anu’s influence grows, so does Padomey’s.”

“The universal constant.” The Empress murmured. The glow subsided. “Had I known what it would cost us, I would never have done it.”

“You couldn’t have.” Diagna said. “None of the gods did. But you ushered in a golden age, Empress. An empire of the likes which the world will never see again.”

“I have doomed my people, Diagna.” The Empress said. “Led them to destruction.”

“You are wrong. The Yokudans will leave in those ships. The Ra Gada have already landed in a distant land, one called Hammerfell. The clear the way for your Na-Totambu now. This will not be the end of your story. A new people will arise from this. A strong people, whose tragic past has made them unconquerable, great beyond measure. They will be as hard and unforgiving as the land they inhabit and none in the world will be their equal. You have not doomed the race of Yokuda, Empress. You have secured it’s future.”

Diagna reached out, grasped her hand. Once again, it glowed with the light of the Shehai. “Through this.”

She met his immutable gaze. “Will you fight the Adversary?” She asked.

“I will. I and the others god will descend to the plains of Akos Kasaz and battle him as Yokuda sinks, as was spoken by Satakal before he was split.”

“But you’ll die.”

“That too was spoken by Satakal.” Diagna admitted. “But it will be a noble death. And our sacrifice will be made worth it, for our people will live on.”

Outside, the last of the light leached away. The sun had set.

“It is time.” Diagna said, letting her hand go. “Come. The final battle begins.”

They exited onto the hilltop. Below, the army stirred nervously. It was nearly pitch black, the twin moons of Nirn blocked out by the smoke in the sky. Only faint light trickled through. It was barely enough to see by.

Then, on the distant horizon, there was a flash. And another. Another. More. Six lights. Eight.

A dozen in total. The lights grew bright, streaking the sky. Twelve suns broke the artificial midnight.

The army looked up, now a chorus of ooohs and aaahhhs.

The drifted over the army, clearing aside the smog and haze. Beams of moonlight broke the cover. The stars twinkled above.

The gods of Yokuda landed on the hilltop, arrayed before Diagna and the Empress.

Ius. The animal god. His left arm was that of a snake, coiled around a his weapon, an iron rod. His right leg was a lion’s, his left a horse’s. His right arm, torso, and head were a man’s, but scaly, furry, or misshapen. His skull was not shaped like that of a man, but an ape’s. He wore no clothes, but his waist was wrapped in animals hides.

Leki. The goddess of swordmanship. Tall, dark, beautiful. She as thin, but wiry with toned muscle. She wore thick leathers across her body. If one looked too closely, it almost seemed like they were made from human skin. A long-bladed scimitar graced her hip. No one had ever seen its blade. When drawn, she swung it faster than the human eye could track.

Malooc. A longtime outcast of the gods, now rejoined as they faced an ultimate threat. He was short, stubby, and more green than dark. He was more goblin than man in appearance. Rusty iron armor clung to him. He carried a massive axe in his hand, much too big for someone his size to realistically hold.

Reymon Ebonarm. The Black Knight. The God of War. Massive, impossibly so, standing at nine feet and likely a thousand pounds of muscle. He lacked a right arm. In its place was a massive sword, which scraped the ground if he held his arm straight at his side. His true appearance was unknown—black armor covered every inch of his body.

HoonDing. The Make Way God. The second greatest of the Yokudan Gods. The father and creator of Diagna. HoonDing had no other purpose than to be an unstoppable force and clear the way for his chosen people. HoonDing would always preserve. He was the rarest and most infrequently seen of the gods, only appearing in their most desperate hours. And this was their most desperate hours. He looked much like Diagna, and dressed the same as well, but appeared older and weathered.

Onsi. The Boneshaver. One could confuse him to be a man. He was built like a blacksmith. Soot stained his cheeks, but he was average in height and appearance. He wore belts of knives across his body—his waist, chest, back.

Sep. The snake. As wiry and beautiful as Leki. He carried no weapon but a dagger, and wore no armor but the simplest of rags. A permanent grin affixed his face.

Tava. The Bird God. Nearly as tall as Ebonarm, and as broad, but thin as willow. Feathers affixed the back of her neck and she had them inside of hair on her head. In the place of her arms she had wings, upon the ends of which were her hands. Her feet were talons. She had a warm, motherly face. Kind, but stern and furious at a moment’s notice. Like the ocean itself. Today, she seemed frail, weak, as the Adversary leached her power to destroy Yokuda.

Tu’whacca. An old man, bent, withered. He wore robes, a hood pulled over his head, and lent on a staff for support. It was an act. No one was as quick and long-lived as the tricky god.

Among them also stood Zeht, the farmer, and his mother, Morwha, the fertility goddess. They would not fight. They would stand apart, granting light and strength to Yokudan’s armies.

At their head stood the greatest of them all. Tall Papa. Ruptga. The chief of the gods. The first god. The one to outwit Satakal and invent immortality. The one who placed the stars in the sky, created light. The father of Zeht, of Ius, of Leki, of Ebonarm, Malooc, Sep, and Onsi. He was tall, thick through the chest, arms and shoulders. A dark beard covered his face. His brow was heavy and furrowed, his hair long, braided down to his shoulders. Once black as night, his beard and hair were now streaked with gray. He wore an Orichalcum breastplate, and beneath robes of blue and gold, the robes of a king. He wore sandals on his feet. Unlike the others, he carried no weapon. The light was his weapon. It wasn’t the Shehai, creating constructs or blades. It was the sun and the stars weaponized. Beams of heat and energy that could scald and vaporize.

The Empress took them all in. These great champions of her people. Even before the Shehai, Yokuda had been a great Empire because its gods had lived among them. When the Left-Handed Elves had attacked, Leki had led them in battle. When the Ra Gada had sailed for the east, HoonDing had sailed among them.

The Yokudans and their gods were one. Because of that they had lived in an age of gods and miracles. An age that was ending.

“Empress.” Ruptga greeted her, stepping forth. When he spoke, the sky rumbled with thunder. She immediately dropped to a knee before him, head bowed low.

“No.” The king of the gods rest a hand on her shoulder. “Not today. Today you stand with us.”

The Empress rose to her feet and Ruptga took her hand. The pantheon split down the middle, clearing the way for the pair of them.

They walked to the edge of the hill, where the army gathered below them, looking up.

“Today all of you stand with us!” Tall Papa boomed, his voice carrying to the edges of the army, as crisp as if he was standing next to each and every one of them. Lightning arced, cracked the sky, splitting the smoke. “Today all of you are gods!”

Swords rattled in their scabbards as the army’s moral swelled. It was a force composed entirely of infantry. These warriors were Ansei, Sword-Singers, users of the Shehai. Archers, cavalry, skirmishers—they were not needed. These were warriors who could summon a volley of arrows with a thought, create a steed from nothing, dart between fights like the most nimble of warriors. The army was not uniform. Each man wore the armor of his household or his kingdom. They had all come from different armies, once sworn to different lords and kings. Among them were peasants, nobles, royalty. Swordsmen and swordswomen from all different walks of life. But masters all.

They were the last line of defense between the Adversary and the fleet. There was no retreat. No escape. They would fight to the last man and then some. They knew this. And they stood here, at the edge of the world, all the same.

The army quieted and the Empress raised her voice. It carried the same as Ruptga’s had, crisp and clear.

“Death himself comes for us! Yokudan and god alike! Here we stand! To show Satakal we will not bow! That he cannot crush us!”

The Empress raised her hand, entwined with Ruptga’s, into the air.

“Death comes for us!” She repeated. “Let’s make him wait a little longer!”

The army roared, swords rattling in their scabbards, and they drew their weapons, turning once again to face the encroaching darkness. There were no officers or generals to shout orders, but they were not needed. Each warrior here knew their work, knew their duty.

“Well said, Empress.” Ruptga rumbled and they stepped apart. “Once again, you surprise me.”

“I am better than my husband was.” She told him. “As I have always maintained.”

“And we have always stood with you, Empress.” Leki said from behind the Empress. The Empress faced the rest of the gods. They were great beings, radiating power. She could feel it filling the air, setting her hairs on end, crackling like electricity. How could they possibly lose? How could the Adversary possibly defeat creatures as beautiful and exceptional as these?

“When I granted Yokuda the gift of the Shehai, I did so at your request. When Ruptga blessed you with his gift, to rule over Yokuda as an immortal, he did so at my request. But when I trusted you?” Leki said, getting eye to eye with the Empress. Her gaze was as immutable and otherworldy as Diagna’s. “When I selected you as our successor here on Nirn?” She cupped the Empress’s chin. “That was as a mother, never doubting her daughter.”

“We have stood with you, with Yokudans, since time immemorial.” Diagna said. The tall son of HoonDing, drew his khopesh off his back in a flourish. “And we will do so again and again, until the end of time. You will never shake our faith in you, so long as you do not lose your faith in us.”

“Thank you.” The Empress murmured, feeling profoundly touched by the whole experience, worried she might cry. That would be nothing short of mortifying. “All of you.”

“We are gods, Empress.” Leki said, stepping back. The others lined up alongside her. “Do not thank us for what we do willingly. Only know we do it in service to Yokuda. Now go, lead your army. We will fight the Adversary when it appears.”

The Empress looked away, shielding her eyes, as they lit up again, and took to the sky.

The hilltop grew quiet again. It, the valley below, and the cove behind both, were bright, lit by the twelve gods hovering far above.

In the distance, out beyond the edge of the light, in the black smoke that had settled over Yokuda, there was movement.

The Adversary had arrived.

Shambling, dark figures began to emerge. Walking corpses, their eyes glowing, as well as whatever wound had killed them. The dead from past battles—either battles with the Adversary, or wars the Yokudans had fought amongst themselves. Their numbers dwarfed that of the Empress’ army, and they were not the most frightening part.

Amongst these walking corpses were living shadows. Figures eight feet high, carrying swords the size of a man. Splinters of the Adversary, little pieces of its consciousness. They were strong, unnaturally so, when weapons that could cut through anything short of the Shehai itself.

The Empress watched as her army, the most elite force Yokuda had ever seen, began to look paltry and pathetic compared to what the Adversary had brought to bear.

“Ansei!” She shouted. She sprinted to the edge of the hill, the chainmail of her armor clinking, and leapt off the cliff.

She burst alight, a candle to the suns that were the gods, but bright nonetheless.

She drifted down into the center of the army, wisps of light drifting from her like the smoke that coated the sky.

“We are stronger this! We are the chosen people of Ruptga! We are the light in the darkness! The candle in the wind! We will not go out!”

The corpses began to emit other worldly shrieks, and their shambling walk turned into a lurching run as they swung their lifeless limbs about, and fell onto the army in a charge.

The Ansei exploded with light, beating back the darkness. They were a single beacon upon this valley, shining for all to see.

In the light that now filled the valley the Empress could see clear the faces of the corpses that came at them, jaws a gap, features sunken, flesh rotting or decayed entirely to bone.

She drew her scimitar and ran out forward to meet them, the rest of the force at her back, whooping and screaming for the glory of Yokuda, their voices drowning out the shrieks of the damned.

The gods gathered in the sky, forming enclaves based on their respective faiths. Despite their tenuous alliance, many of them were still enemies.

Diagna stood with Leki, his father, and Ruptga.

Diagna watched the battle unfold below him. The Ansei glowed like the fire in a stoked hearth, surrounded by perpetual darkness. Every once in a while, one of those lights winked out as a Sword-Singer made a mistake and fell to the Adversary’s forces.

“They are dying.” Diagna said. Gods did not feel for mortals. They were insignificant compared to them. One mortal life was nothing when weighted against that of a gods, when weighted against the entirety of the Yokudan race. The sum of dead here would be insignificant compared to the number of survivors headed eastward. Diagna knew this.

Then why did he feel so… guilty.

“They will all die.” Leki said. “We know this.” They also knew they were destined to die. Soon. Very soon.

“We should help her.” Diagna said, watching as the Empress faced off against one of the Adversary’s splinters. Its sword cut cleanly through her armor, biting her side, before she was able to use the Shehai to destroy it.

“Easy, Diagna.” Leki warned. “Do not be blinded by your love for the mortal woman.”

“She’s your daughter.”

“Adopted.” Leki shrugged. “She is not one of us. Nor could she ever be. To think other wise is hubris and folly.”

“Son.” HoonDing’s rough voice, like sandpaper on wood, reached him. Diagna looked up at the Make Way God. “Leki speaks true. Your Empress knows what is at stake. This is her choice to make. She could be leaving with the rest of the Na-Totambu, but she did not. For those left on Yokuda, there is only death.”

“There will come a better day, Diagna.” Ruptga said. Thunder shook the sky. “The Yokudans will grow stronger. They will have to, without us.”

“A people without gods.” The HoonDing murmured. “What will they become?”

“They will become great.” Ruptga said. “They will create their own gods. Champions will arise from among them, guide them forwards. Champions like your Empress, Diagna. There will be a better day. This I know.”

“Come, father, brothers.” Leki said, pointing. “Our Adversary comes. Let us descend and do battle with him one final time.”

Far away, too far for a mortal to see, there stood a man.

He wasn’t pale, exactly, but was a shade of skin that no Yokudan could ever acquire. He wore a loose fitting white tunic, baggy white trousers, and leather shoes. A sword belt was tied tight around his waist, but no weapon hung from it.

His head was shaved bald. He had long jawline but narrow chin and large blue eyes.

This was Satakal. The god of everything. Or, at least, what was left of him. Supposedly half of him was missing.

Regardless, he was still ridiculously powerful. And destructive.

Satakal’s one goal was to destroy everything. He would only stop when there was nothing else to destroy. Supposedly, once he was done destroying, his other half—the missing halfway—would begin to rebuild again.

Diagna wouldn’t bet on that though.

Eleven of the gods dropped out of the sky. Zeht and Morwha remained behind, to lend their light and strength to the mortals fighting below.

The gods descended, floating down from the heavens. Ruptga landed at the front, first among them as always.

The sky shook and groaned. Ruptga spoke. “Satakal.”

“First immortal.” Satakal replied. He cocked his head. “You call me this name, although it is not yours.”

“The names the Yokudans give us are good enough.” Ruptga said. “Soon it is all they will remember of us. Names. The age of gods is over.”

“Arrogance.” Satakal stated. “You assume you are more than you were.” He looked around at them. “You are not gods. Nor were you ever. A god is infinite. A god is all-knowing. A god is eternal. A god cannot be killed, nor can he die.” Satakal shook his head. “You are none of these things. You are irregularities. Remnants of something that came before, thought destroyed. Not gods.”

“We are gods to them.” Leki said, stepping forward to stand at Ruptga’s side. “So long as that is how they see us that is what we will be.”

“Ignorance, then, in addition to arrogance. You would deny your true nature.”

“Our true nature is what we make it.” Ruptga said. “We determine who and what we are. That is an ability we have. Unlike you, one who is a slave to his purpose.”

“Falsehood. My purpose is what I am. Without it I am nothing. Entropy can be nothing more than that.” Satakal said. “In the scheme of this universe you are young. Children. You are ignorant to the true workings of things. You should not fight me. It solves nothing and will lead only to your demise.”

“We know.” Diagna said, emerging from the crowd of gods. “But that won’t stop us.”

Satakal slowly looked to Diagna and stared. “What is this?” He demanded. Anger crept into his normally inflectionless voice. "What have you done?”

Diagna was confused. “What?” Satakal stared at him with such rage, as if Diagna’s very existence was an insult.

“What have you done?” Satakal screamed and the whole of the world shook.

The sky darkened by shades. Fissures appeared in the earth, beginning as slight cracks at Satakal’s feet, ending in massive canyons miles away.

Satakal roared wordlessly and launched himself at Diagna. He lifted from the ground, weightless, at the speed of an arrow. His eyes were full of murder, his hands bent into claws.

Diagna recoiled, too stunned to react. HoonDing stepped in between them, fist clenched, and swung. His fist caught Satakal in the side of the head. The Adversary was gone in an instant, knocked into orbit.

“That will not delay him long.” HoonDing growled. He wheeled on Diagna and cuffed the young god in the side of the head. “Steel yourself, son. This is not Malooc we’re fighting!”

“Hey!” The goblin king protested from his position at the back of the pack.

“The Adversary will prove no easy foe. You must be at your best. Leki, Ruptga, and I cannot hold him alone. We need you.”

Diagna nodded once, resolute. “I am ready.”

“Good.” HoonDing turned back and faced the sky. A dark form streaked towards them, breaking through the clouds of smoke. “For here he comes."

The Empress locked blades with a corpse, pirouetted, tearing the weapon from its hand, and thrust her own through its chest. The corpse screamed and the Empress flinched. These things couldn’t feel pain, she knew, they were designed to terrify. But it was hard to remain stoic when skull, with strips of dried flesh dangling from its face, opening its sinewy jaws and wagged an emulsified tongue at you.

The corpse reached for her with a skeletal hand, not felled so easily, and she lopped of its arm which was quickly followed by the shrieking head.

“Empress!”

She turned. A nearby Ansei, a man wearing gold-lacquered armor and a crown on his head, pointed to the hilltop her tent had once stood on.

A tall shadowy figure had climbed onto it, leading a group of undead. Each of these walking corpses carried bows. They meant to fire on the fleet.

“Come with me!” She shouted, coming alight with the Shehai.

She shot into the sky in an arc, chainmail and cloth rippling around her.

The corpses were lining up on the cliff, preparing to release a volley on cove below. The splinter of the Adversary behind them, watching impassively, its oversized greatsword stuck blade first into the ground.

The Empress crashed into them, waves of golden light emanating from the point of impact. The corpse archers were tossed, some thrown over the side of the cliff into the water below, others knocked to the ground.

The splinter staggered backwards and the Empress wasted no time attacking it, emerging from her crouched landing with broad sweep of her sword. The crowned Ansei went for the remaining corpses, to finish them off before they could resume their attack.

The Adversary parried, its own weapon snapping the Empress’ scimitar. The greatsword swung through the air with a whoosh and came hurtling towards her head.

She slapped her hands together and raised them up, a feeble defense against a weapon that could shred metal, but then a sword forged from light was there and it stopped the Adversary’s weapon without so much as a twitch.

The splinter was noticeably surprised but its weapon own uselessness and hesitated for a split second too long. The Empress dropped her hands, twisted at the hips, and kicked the splinter in the stomach with one glowing, Shehai-coated boot.

The splinter of Entropy skidded backwards, its heels dredging up dirt behind them, and nearly fell. It recovered before the Empress could attack and stabbed the greatsword at her in a flurry, which she narrowly dodged, dodging side-to-side around the blade. She sucked in her stomach as the last stab skimmed, scrapping the edge of her armor, and then breathed out as the splinter drew the weapon back.

She swung at it twice in a quick combination of attacks, her Spirit-Sword flashing. The Adversary batted both attacks aside with the flat of its blade and swung down at her, trying to use the size of its weapon to it’s advantage.

The Empress dodged again and the greatsword cut through the ground as easily as it cut through metal. She attacked again, swinging and stabbing in expert, precise motions, forcing the splinter back. Its blocks came slower, more forced, as it struggled to keep up.

“Sloppy, Satakal, sloppy.” The Empress mocked.

The Adversary lunged between swings, trying to put the Empress of balance.

She formed a dagger from the Shehai in her offhand, used it to expertly deflect the splinter’s sword, and cut across the splinter’s stomach. The splinter’s skin opened like wet clay, and smoke began to spill out through the wound.

It ignored the hit, having successfully lured it’s opponent in. The Empress was too close to dodge and it raised the weapon high over her and drove the point down.

She leapt back, simultaneously sweeping the ground at the splinter’s feet with her scimitar.

The ground fell away and the splinter lost its’ footing, falling to its knees, barely even managing that. It looked behind to find it was kneeling on a dusty slope at the edge of the cliff. It looked back at the Empress, who stood over it, Spirit-Sword held at her side.

“You committed the greatest sin a swordsman can.” She told it.

It whipped it’s greatsword at her from it’s position on the ground. She slapped it towards the ground and kicked the splinter in the face. It fell backwards off the cliff. It didn’t twist through the air, instead dropping like a stone.

A javelin of light formed in her hand and she hurled it down after the splinter. It was speared through the center of its chest and began to rapidly deflate.

The smoke from its wounds rushed back up towards the Empress and fanned it away.

“Forgot your footwork.” She said.

She turned, looking for the crowned Ansei that had come up with her. He was dead, face down among the corpses. A sword was through his chest, but he’d drove his through the thing that had killed him.

The Empress knelt over him. “May you reach the Far Shores.” She murmured, passing a hand over his eyes.

The dead Ansei had no response. A corpse was a corpse.

The Empress left him and walked to the edge of the cliff overlooking the valley. She gasped at what she saw and felt her legs give out. She dropped to his knees, holding a hand to her mouth in horror.

Bodies filled the valley, mounds upon mounds of them. Atop this the reanimated dead climbed. Limbs, severed from their hosts, rolled about, trailing gore and blood. Heads too, eyes drooping and tongues hanging limply. The corpses of friend or foe were indistinguishable from one another, the chaos of battle having turned it all it one disgusting mess. The smell along was something she would remember. The stink of evacuated bowels and open, gushing wounds, of rotting flesh. But the sight of it was something else. The valley was a washed out painting, a mess of reds, blacks, greys, and golds. What wasn’t blood was smoke, what wasn’t smoke was dirt, what wasn’t dirt was armor and weapons lit by the faint light of the Shehai. It was a painting of the apocalypse. A nightmare come to life. A moment so terrible it seared itself into her mind.

The Ansei had been routed. The walking corpses surrounded them on all sides. Many fell, but for every twenty zombies destroyed a Sword-Singer also fell. And there were plenty of Satakal’s splinters left. They themselves could fight two or three Ansei at time and hold ground, the corpses pushed forwards and overwhelmed them through sheer numbers.

It was a disaster. The battle was lost.

The Empress watched as the lights of her army winked out one by one. Total annihilation was eminent.

And the Adversary’s minions would go on to destroy the fleet, killing all the Na-Totumba. The Ra Gada alone were not capable of carrying on the legacy of the empire. Yokuda would be wiped from history, destroyed completely.

The Empress could rejoin the battle below. She might be able to turn the tide. She was skilled. Powerful, the greatest Ansei out of them all. It was the right thing to do. The noble thing to do. To place survival above others? That would be weak of her. Cowardly. No, the Empress of Yokuda would wipe the wetness from her eyes and descend into that valley with the wrath of a thousand suns and kill until there was nothing left to kill.

But it was more likely she would die, killed alongside them, and then trampled by the walking dead, becoming part of the churning soup of meat that was the valley floor. The Empress was not an immortal, all-powerful god. She was merely a woman, no different than those dying below, separated only by her gifts and talent for leadership.

She looked up at the sky, black, foreboding. The lights of the gods at had left now, even the two that had remained. It was dark once again. In the distance she could see flashes of light as the gods battled with Satakal. The Adversary would kill them and then it would truly be over.

They had lost. But they needn’t lose everything.

A candle in the wind. The Empress’ mind clung to this idea. Something to carry it on. The fleet need only time to escape Yokuda, whatever the cost.

She burst alight, filling herself with the Shehai, and took to the sky. She drew heavily from it, perhaps too much so, greedily drunk from the power it granted, steeling herself.

Whatever the cost.

Malooc was the first to die. Satakal had dropped out of the sky and struck the goblin king in the torso. He fell down, holding his stomach, and did not get back up. Zeht and Morwha followed immediately. The sheer proximity of Entropy’s power proved too much for them. They had fallen to the ground, spitting blood, and then lain still.

Satakal was different now. He took on the appearance of one his splinters, a barely formed, shadowy figure, and grew in size. At nine feet tall he was capable of engaging multiple gods at once. The gods themselves could not shapeshift—it was not an ability which they had access to. Illusions were one thing. But to physically change one’s size? This they could not do. Unlike Satakal they existed solely in the mortal world and for this reason they restricted in ways he was not.

“Such weak, detestable creatures you are.” The Adversary was intoning with all emotion of a eulogy.

Ius swung at Adversary with his human arm, missed, but caught the Adversary around the throat with his left arm—the limb that was a snake.

The python hissed as it tightened, strong enough to crush bones. The Adversary didn’t react. It ripped Ius’ arm off, then proceeded to pummel the animal god with it.

“You are ants. Gods of dirt. Gods of nothing.”

Sep stabbed the Adversary from behind and it whirled around, moving a hundred miles an hour. The Snake proved quick and the Adversary slow, and Sep carved pieces out of the Adversary before it was able to wrap its arms around him like a vise. There was a crack and Sep fell.

Ebonarm and Tu’whacca came next, side by side. The god of war and the god of death. Two of the most powerful.

The Adversary and Ebonarm squared off trading blows, both physically massive. Ebonarm plunged his blade through the Adverary’s chest and Satakal replied by doing the same. The God of War slid backwards and fell. The Adversary did not.

Death stood before the Adversary next and the following battle was an impossible dance of movements and countermovements as the two pieces, both of unimaginable depth, attempted to gain the upper hand on each other. It was a chess match playing out in real time. There were no attacks, only posturing, careful allocation of movement.

Tu’whacca’s foot scuffed the sand and the Adversary was a sudden whirlwind around him, cleaving the god into a thousand pieces.

The HoonDing flanked Satakal and hit the Adversary with a punch powerful enough to crack mountains. Entropy was knocked backwards, onto Leki’s sword. She buried it deep into the shadow’s back, twisting the blade.

The Adversary’s limbs rotated around, twisting in place, turning ways that were unnatural for a person, until it’s back was its front and its front its back and Leki’s sword was instead stuck in its stomach.

It slapped the goddess of swords to the ground hard enough to separate her weapon from her grip. Satakal pulled the sword out of its middle and bent the blade into an L.

Satakal saw Leki trying to raise and stomped down on her hand, eliciting a pained shriek from the goddess.

HoonDing jumped onto the Adversary’s back and locked an arm around its throat. Satakal ignored him, grinding Leki’s sword hand beneath its heel. Onsi buried twin knives in the Adversary’s side. Tava swooped down, raked Entropy’s blank face with its claws. Diagna put himself between Leki in the Adversary, stabbed it in the chest.

The Adversary caught his wrist before the sword got too close, and lifted him up in the air by it. HoonDing struggled to pin the Adversary and Onsi attempted to pull Satakal to the ground with his knives, but it was futile.

Four gods tore at the Adversary. Four immortal, seemingly all powerful beings. They broke around it like a river around stone. It stood there, unstoppable. A monument to their impotence.

“Child of nothing.” It spoke to him. “Your existence is a crime against the Void.”

“What are you talking about?” Diagna demanded.

“Your destruction will be swift and complete. The balance demands no less.”

Diagna was thrown back to the ground. The Adversary punted Leki aside, pulled the HoonDing off its back and tossed him, and swatted Onsi away.

It strode over to Diagna and was stopped as a bolt of lightning shot of the sky, and struck it in the chest.

The Adversary flew backwards, crackling with visible arcs of electricity. The sky boomed and another burst through the smoke, striking the Adversary.

Rays of sunlight shot through the smog, clearing it away as Ruptga launched his attack.

The king of the gods came down from the heavens, surrounded by an aura of light, radiating pure power. Diagna could feel it from his position on the ground. It was like the heat of the sun. Being any closer to Ruptga might’ve been fatal.

A third bolt of lightning formed in his hand and he threw it at the Adversary. Satakal shielded itself with an arm and the lightning broke around it, fizzling out.

Ruptga raised an arm, fist clenching, and slowly mimed a chopping motion at the Adversary.

A beam of fire, sharp in intensity and concentration, sheered through the clouds, and immolated Satakal on the spot. When it cleared, the Adversary remained, smoking, the ground around him charred black in a perfect circle, but remained still. It lowered its, arms resuming a relaxed position.

“I nearly underestimated you.” The Adversary noted. It waved a hand at Ruptga, and the king of the gods was knocked from the sky. “Nearly.”

The Adversary looked at Tava who circled high above, aimed a hand at her much as Ruptga had done to it, and closed it into a fist. There was the crunch of snapping bones as the winds defied Tava and bowed to the Adversary’s strength instead, and she fell from the sky.

The surviving gods stood, each alone on the battlefield, the corpses of their brethren around them. The HoonDing, Ruptga, Diagna. Leki joined them, clutching her ruined sword hand. Ruptga traced his eyes over the corpses of his wife and children.

The HoonDing moved to stand next to Diagna.

They stared at the Adversary, each of them battered, while it was completely whole. The black sheen of its shadowy figure was untarnished.

“You see the futility of defying me.” Its disembodied voice droned. “You cannot halt the crawl of time. Entropy comes to all things, whether it is wanted or not.”

The Adversary began to stalk towards them. A massive greatsword formed in its hand.

“It cannot be stopped. You can rage against it, but it comes all the same. It will find you. I will find you. The most you can do is accept that.”

“That is what separates us.” Ruptga boomed. “The hunger of Satakal is legendary. Were we not here to slow you, you would swallow everything. You know no limits. Your patience is a trait born of necessity, a result of the resistance you face. Were no one here to stand against you, there would be nothing at all.”

“Such is my nature, first immortal.” The Adversary said, indifferent. “I have not been shy about this. I am here to destroy. It is the purpose of Anu to push against that. But you are not Anu. You are leftovers from a past world. One thought devoured. You could have lived here, in safety, away from my hunger, unknown to me. But instead you fought.”

“Couldn’t be any other way, Satakal.” Diagna called out. “Your nature is one thing, and ours is another. Neither is compatible with the other. Neither stands the other. But I see you for what you are. You are not destruction, or consumption, or chaos. You are decay.” Diagna spat. “You are lower than maggots. If we are dirt than you are unworthy insect that nestles in our flesh. All that power, all that wisdom and look at the result.” Diagna gestured around at the barren, war torn wasteland that had once been the greatest empire on Nirn, a shining pinnacle of civilization. The gods looked between the two of them, watching the verbal sparring in silence.

“I understand why you embrace your nature, Satakal, you’re incapable of doing otherwise. But when I look this… I don’t see an all-powerful entity, sure in its purpose. I see a sadist who enjoys what he does. A callous, reckless worm. If we are children, you are infant, making messes of the real world, and expecting those more enlightened to fix things for you.

“You are sad and low and there will come a day, a better day, when you will overstep and be destroyed.”

“Entropy cannot be killed.” The Adversary said, its tone implying Diagna didn’t understand what he was talking about.

“No, it cannot.” Diagna agreed. “But you… you’re not it. You’re a parasite. A moth circling a flame, clinging to something that doesn’t belong to you, something you will never possess.”

The Adversary showed zero reaction to Diagna’s words. “You are wrong.” It simply said.

Diagna smiled smugly, feeling like he’d won some small victory here. The Adversary had come up at a loss for words. “Well we’ll just have to see, won’t we?”

The Adversary ran at the last gods of Yokuda and they charged in reply.

The Empress flagged, exhausted. By the time she reached her destination her access to the Shehai was cutting in and out; she was too weak to hold onto it.

When she was making her landing she lost control of it completely and fell the last few feet to the ground, landing in an undignified tumble of limbs.

She brushed herself off and stood up.

In front of her, extending towards the sky, was the Orichalc Tower. It was made entirely out of the viridescent metal Orichalcum. A metropolitan city had once surrounded this Tower, a city centuries old, tracing its roots all the way back to the arrival of the first Yokudans on Yokuda. It had been one of the first things the Adversary had destroyed, burning the entire thing down its foundations, and then tearing those up.

It had left the tower untouched, however. That had puzzled the Empress then. Now she knew why.

A massive doorway was situated at its base and the Empress entered it, running her hand along the cool metal. A steel gate used to bar the way, but the Adversary had torn it down when it’d stormed the place.

She was in a foyer, once beautifully decorated, now stripped bare. Blood splattered the walls and floors, but there were no corpses, the Adversary had seen to that. More fodder for its armies.

She entered a stairwell at the rear of the foyer and climbed and climbed and climbed. The stairs wound around the interior of the tower and were lined with empty windows, giving a view of the outside. A view once of gold sands, of glistening towers and domes, of an orange sky, now only looking out on to a blackened wasteland. She stood there for a moment, taking it in, resting her hand on the wall, before continuing upwards.

She stopped near the top at the royal apartments. Her former home. So much had happened here.

Where the treaty making her Empress was signed into law. Her first, and last, night with the Emperor. Her negotiations with Leki. Her crowning by Ruptga. Meeting Diagna. That night with him, and all those nights since… Where did all go wrong?

She went to her weapon stand in one of the apartments and retrieved a scimitar from it. The weapon’s green blade was coated in dust. No one had been in here since they’d fled the city.

She left the apartments behind and climbed further and eventually reached the top.

The wind was loud up here, whistling in her ears. It pulled at her armor and she braced herself against it. If she was pushed off the tower she wasn’t entirely sure she had enough strength to catch herself.

“Ruptga. Diagna… if there’s still a god that can hear my prayers… please forgive me.”

She cut the air with the scimitar, whipping the dust from the blade.

She hoped to all the heavens that there were gods to forgive her.

She held the sword in front of her and began the first few movements of a sword kata.

The first few movements of Pankratosword.

The Adversary’s fist cracked into the side of Leki’s head again. She moved slightly, feebly, and this time its hand split her head open.

It dropped her corpse and swung it’s sword at the HoonDing, who was flying at the Adversary in a rage. The Make Way God made way, diving aside to avoid the blade.

Diagna stepped forwards to help his father, but found his way barred.

“Diagna, one of us must make it out of here.” Ruptga said.

“But my father!” He shouted, watching the HoonDing and Satakal wrestle, trading blows in the soot-stained sand. Each punch that landed shook the earth, resonating louder than a thunderclap. They were literally tearing the world apart.

“There is nothing for you here!” Ruptga said. “You must go! Secure your Empress! Secure the Ansei!”

Ruptga shoved him in the chest, throwing Diagna a considerable distance backwards, where he only just managed to land on his feet.

Ruptga rose from the ground, summoning a bolt of lightning in his hand. The Adversary saw him and shoved the HoonDing aside to lunge at Ruptga. The lightning speared Satakal just as the Adversary tackled Ruptga from the sky.

“Go!” The king of the gods thundered.

Diagna went.

The Empress’ movements were precise and fluid. Each stroke trailed into the next, like a brush upon canvas. Her feet traced the circumference of the tower as she stabbed, sliced, chopped, pirouetted and spun, her sword twirling around her in a whirlwind of steel as she changed grips, hands, and stances.

It was the most complex sword kata there was. The most complex sword move in existence.

Each cut she made in the air rippled, like the heat rising from the fire. A visible tear in Mundus—in reality. As the move progressed, the ripples got more perceptible. Those at the start were barely visible to the human eye. Those at the end be as clear and disparate as windows, windows into somewhere else.

And then, once the move was complete, once the Empress returned to where she had begun, and once again cut through the very first ripple, the move would be complete.

The Orichalc Tower would be destroyed. And, along with it, Yokuda.

But not only would Yokuda be destroyed. It would banish the Adversary from here. Satakal would lose his hold over the land. Yokuda was already doomed.

The Empress thought it was fitting that the Adversary should suffer the same fate.

She was halfway through the move when someone spoke behind her.

“Empress.” She faltered.

The Empress turned around, coming face to face with someone she had not expected to see. The last person she had expected to see.

Her joy at seeing him alive was soured by her anger at him for being here. He was wasting precious time. Each second this tower stood was a second that the Adversary could destroy the fleet.

“What are you doing here?” She demanded. “Where are the other gods? Where is the Adversary?”

“Ruptga sent me away.” Diagna said. “He told me to escape. He sent me to get you.”

“Diagna, I…”

“Come with me.” He urged, stepping forwards. He shoved her sword aside and took her hand. “Please. We can escape together. Finally be together. Beyond all of this. Not god and mortal, or ruler and subject. But as people.”

She rested her eyes. “Diagna...”

“We have a chance. A chance you’ve given us.” He cupped her face in her hands, not altogether gently, and forced her to look up at him. “This is what you’ve always wanted. An escape. Freedom. True freedom.”

“It is but… I can’t.” She gently freed herself from his grip and met his gaze. “I can’t abandon this place. It is my home. And… there’s one last thing I have to do. One more thing to do for Yokuda.”

“You’ve given them enough. Come with me. Let us go find our son.”

It was what she wanted. More than anything. But as the old saying went, a captain always went down with the ship. She was to be the last one off.

“No.” The Empress shook her head. “What I do will never be enough. It never has been. Look around us. If anything, I needed to do more. But this… this last sacrifice… that will be my repayment.”

He frowned, finally seeming to wonder what she’d been doing up here.

“I’m going to destroy the tower, Diagna.” She told him, answering the unspoken question. "Sink Yokuda. And along with it, banish Satakal.”

“How…?”

“I'm going to use Pankratosword.”

Diagna’s look of horror was the beginnings of a protest, but she overruled him.

“I have to do it, Diagna. I’m sorry. I can’t go with you.”

The stricken look slowly faded from his face, giving way to a resigned acceptance. “You were always better at this than me. Ruling.”

She smiled at him. “It was what made us such a good pairing.”

“It is an intelligent plan.”

Both Empress and god spun around to face Satakal. He was back in his human form, the pale, average man in his white farm clothes.

“One that would be successful.” The Adversary said. He pulled something out from behind his back—a bent, melted Orichalcum breastplate. He threw it to the rooftop, where it skidded to a stop at the Empress’ feet. She looked down at the armor that had belonged to the king of the gods.

“Had you used the time they bought for you.” He finished.

“You… you…” Diagna’s lips curled back in a snarl, and he left his threat unfinished, instead throwing himself at the Adversary with a bloodcurdling howl. The two gods clashed and the Empress continued her kata. There was no rushing it, but she found there was a new urgency to her movements, now that the threat of the Adversary’s victory drew so close.

Stab, slice, pirouette, repeat. A hundred different katas, a hundred different moves. Pankratosword was everything. The sword move to end all sword moves. Each was a variation of it and Pankratosword was a sum of everything. The whole of the Way of the Sword, expressed in one single, continuous stroke. It was no move that had been taught. A move known to no one but her. It was the Empress' move. An expression of what she was, everything she'd done. What gave Pankratosword it's power was her.

The Empress’ feet found their original position. She cut the air. It shimmered and a rush of power surged into her.

“Satakal!” She shouted, the tower shaking from the strength of her voice. “Today, the approach of Entropy has proved too slow.”

The Adversary broke off from Diagna and leaped towards her. It collided hard with a wall formed from the Shehai, and slid to the ground. It jumped up, tried to get around the wall but another had formed at its right, its left, above it. It found itself caged in a box of golden light.

Diagna lowered his sword and came to stand alongside the Empress, watching as the Adversary was imprisoned.

“Today Yokuda says farewell to your brand of evil once and for all.”

The Adversary stared out at her impassively from its trap. He pounded a fist against the translucent walls, testing their strength.

“And today Yokuda greets a new dawn. One free of gods.” She pursed her lips. “And Emperors.” She looked now to Diagna. “I’m sorry.”

He opened his mouth to ask why, only to find himself unable to move, frozen by an expert construction of the Shehai.

“But I won’t have you dying with me"

Gradually, he was lifted into the air, propelled by the Shehai. Struggling for all he was worth, he managed to summon his deific strength and raise an open hand towards her.

"Empress..." He whispered, silently willing her to take his hand, to come with him.

She turned away. "Good-bye, Diagna.”

He was launched into the sky with immediate force and rapid speed, his flight powered by the Shehai, and vanished into the distance. He would land somewhere near the fleet.

“This won’t hold me.” The Adversary said and the Empress turned her attention towards him again. “Nothing will. I will return. I will return again and again. This will not change.”

The tower began to shake. From up here, they could see the whole of the continent was shaking. Sinking. It was being swallowed by the sea, as rapidly and immediately as the Empress had launched Diagna to safety.

“I don’t care.” The Empress told him bluntly. “I’m sick of seeing you win.”

“I will dog the members of your family to the ends of Nirn.” The Adversary said, venomously. “I will inflict torments undreamt of upon them.”

“No you won’t.” The Empress replied.

The continent continued to sink. Around them, walls of water rose in a massive tidal wave, preparing to come crashing down. It cast a shadow over the Empress and the Adversary, even here at the top of the tower.

“There is no escape from me." The Adversary pounded on the wall. "There is no where you can hide I cannot follow. I am a half of everything. I am destruction incarnate. I am Entropy.”

The Empress ignored it’s ranting, finding it nothing short of pathetic. She craned her neck back to look up at the gargantuan water feature rising above them. She was in awe of the size of it. A wave the size of a mountain. The size of a hundred mountains.

“I will be a curse upon your household unto eternity. I am constant and all knowing. I will never forget this. I will never forgive this. Do you understand me? Do you hear me…

“al Din?”

The water came crashing down, smothering everything beneath it.