//------------------------------//
// (Past Chapter 25): Proof of Concept 
// Story: The Unique Properties of Dark Magic 
// by Shadestyle 
//------------------------------//

My first invasion was anticlimactic.  My first twenty or so assassination attempts... Still anticlimactic.





I groan with annoyance as the pegasus in front of me swipes their dagger at me a third time, my own enchanted gloves allowing me to deflect it with some ease.

"Seriously, what is it with you assassins and wearing balaclavas?  You're literally a member of a species whose default color is pastel, and whose eyes are the size of dinner-plates!"

The pony scowls, flying up above me and throwing their knife down, only for me to catch it and throw it back before it can explode.

"I think avoiding being identified requires a bit more effort than that, seriously!" I finish, walking up to the soot-covered pegasus, and grabbing them by the neck.

"Waste of my freaking afternoon, seriously," I groan, tossing them to the guards nearby for apprehension and processing.

My new Shadow Clone technique has been getting the workout of its life, with how every non-secure area in the Shadow Realm seems to contain at least one "Tourist" wanting to shank me or something.

I call Iron Diamond, and thankfully, he picks up, a holographic screen displaying him in the process of recovering from a workout session.

"Hello, Lord Weiss," he answers simply, noticing my displeased expression.

"Could you tell the trainers to start pushing to have our guards equipped with Repulsor Daemons?  I know they've been having trouble learning the spell combo, but I'm really fucking uncomfortable with this many assassins hiding in my realm.  They might start targeting people that aren't me, once they figure out I'm a hard target."

He wipes his face with a towel, nodding.  "I'll make sure they get the message.  Anything else?"

"Stay safe out there, Iron, and wear your auto-filter, I don't want you getting poisoned by mistake.  Over and out," I finish, ending the call.





Iron Diamond snorts.  Weiss really doesn't have enough faith in Iron sometimes.  As if he would ever take his autofilter off.  It would be a bit hypocritical to do so when he took the time and care to brutally ensure that every single pony in the Shadow Guard keeps theirs on at all times.

Though, the blood and air-filtering device does itch slightly, Iron notes, as he rubs the yoke-shaped machine idly.

As for assassins...

Iron makes a noise that might be called a chuckle if one were generous, and a bit deaf.

He rolls the body of one such assassin over, a unicorn whose job had seemingly been to rob his office of any files and ensure there were no witnesses.

Of course, being able to phase through walls with a spell does literally nothing when Weiss had already fit all sensitive areas with portalweave filling in the walls, in a particularly long-lasting fit of intense paranoia.

Iron Diamond shrugs to himself.  It seems to have paid off.

The unicorn groans slightly, prompting Iron to kick them in the head again to keep them unconscious.

"Cleaners, I've got a tourist here, take him to the tourist-trap, please." Iron demands into his radio, before allowing the enchanted patch on his jacket to flop back down, it's communication job complete.

As a group of tightly-suited ponies enters the room, using enchanted staves to levitate the unicorn into a nearby portal for processing, Iron puts away the exercise equipment in his office and walks out of the room, intent on flushing out any other suspicious characters hanging around.

Which is to say, any pony lacking a spicy hairstyle.  Sure, it's profiling, programming the security cameras to pay special attention to every non-Longma pony in the Shadow Realm, and Iron Diamond doesn't particularly care.  With just how little contact there is between the Equestrian side and the Shadow Realm, outside of the trades being made, any pony walking around seemingly minding their own business could be an assassin or saboteur.  

The number of ordinary ponies in the Shadow Realm, with things being as they are, should quite frankly be zero, just speaking logically.  None of the ponies so far have applied for visas nor citizenship, meaning they are at best simply exploring the city idly, and at worst, plants by the angered Equestrian Nobility.

'At least I'm getting to sharpen my skills, a bit.' Iron thinks, idly dodging another unicorn who leaps out from a crowd trying to blast him with some sort of attack spell.





Sombra calmly stalks between his squadron of mercenaries, eyeing them with some disdain.

"Today, you will all make your way into the Shadow Realm.  Kill as many warriors as you are able, capture as many slaves as you can carry, then return.  Each head will be met with its weight in gold and jewels, as will each living body.  If you fail, do not return," Sombra states, fully cognizant of the fact that if one of them were to fail him, he would not be able to resist the urge to punish them brutally, in spite of them being freelancers.

It wouldn't do for him to soil his reputation among the mercenary bands sniffing around the Frozen North in search of wealth just yet.

"The scouts sent so far have confirmed the defenses they have on the surface and some of the defenses within.  Carry shields, to block their arrow traps.  Use nets to catch stragglers.  Wear thick boots to avoid the poisoned floors.

"Do all of this, and you should be successful," Sombra lies, knowing full well that it is very likely that none of them will return, much less with any slaves.

That's why he's sending in these cheaper, dumber mercenaries.  Hopefully, their attack will give him more information.  Suss out more weaknesses.

Bring him closer to ultimate victory over the Sage of Darkness.

"Now go!  Bring me the ponies whose lives belong to me!  Return my slaves to me, and do so with haste."

"Your payment depends on your success.  So succeed, loyal sellswords," Sombra finishes, making the various thugs vacate his throne room.

With a stomp of his hoof, several pony slaves come in and begin scrubbing the floors and walls, Sombra's sneer slowly fading as the stench and grime of the soldiers leave his glorious halls.

While the maids' fear is barely a drop compared to what he receives from his arrays, there is a special satisfaction Sombra cannot deny at seeing the fear on their faces in person, rather than simply feeling it across his link to the wailing mindless fodder thrashing beneath his throne room.





I groan slightly at the warning I receive in the middle of my meeting with another bullying session-  I mean "Important Meeting", with another idiot Equestrian both metaphorically, and in one hilarious case literally wanting the moon from me in return for decreasing the food shipments down to a trickle of scraps.

"So you see, Your Lordship, it would serve our interests well to cut down any unnecessary expenditure according to our reports, you're requesting food for a third of your population which does not even exist yet, surely it would do to-"

I visibly roll my eyes at the fancily dressed unicorn.  "Hold on one moment Fillibuster, I've got a call."

The unicorn sputters in annoyance as I expand the holographic screen to reveal Admiral Avalanche looking concerned.  "Sir, scouting vessels are reporting an army of mixed species moving through the sectors between the Crystal Empire and Metropolis Zone, heavily armed and traveling at a quick pace.  Please advise."

I hum to myself.  What is Sombra doing?  I mean, this has to be his doing, I can't think of any other reasons why-

"So an army marches towards your land without fear, eh?  What a joke.  And here you had been cultivating the idea that your Realm was to be feared," Filibuster says with a smirk.

I meet his expression with a blank stare.  I was going to just have Avalanche fire the Slumber Striker at them, but maybe I should give this noble a nice story to take home to his little friends.

"Admiral Avalanche, you are authorized to use the Sister Ray.  Aim near them, but not at them, we don't want to apprehend a pile of cooked steak, then send in Arwings and poison gas to collect them for processing.  Let none escape."

Swallowing heavily, my loyal sea-captain nods, closing the holographic screen.

"Let us have a recess, shall we, Mr. Filibuster?  I believe, for you to truly understand the Shadow Realm, you must at least enjoy her grand sport."

He swallows, having heard my odd commands that I gave the admiral.  "And... What would that be?"

I smile widely, bringing up a holographic screen showing the approaching army from afar.  "Violence."





Admiral Avalanche closes the holographic call with a grimace.  "Carver, put the men on high alert, begin preparing the Sister Ray to fire at G-Seven."

The white-flamed mare nods seriously, trotting out of the room to scramble the men.

Meanwhile, he opens up a call to Captain Meteor Glass.  "Captain, I have orders from Lord Weiss.  Prepare your air squadron, and attack at G-Eight.  Be forewarned, the Sister Ray is going to be in use, avoid G-Seven, and keep your men in constant contact with the Irreverent," Avalanche states.

Meteor Glass nods.  "Orders confirmed.  Over and out."

Walking outside, Avalanche watches as the barrel of the Sister Ray telescopes out of the front of the Irreverent, even as the ship's heading changes to aim the spinal gun properly.

Already, he can hear the faint lack of humming in the air, background sensations he took for granted cutting out as ambient magic is violently cycled out of the air and into the gun.

Slowly but surely, though, the humming returns, louder and louder, as faint particles of light begin flowing towards the barrel, entering it and the ship from any angle they can approach.

Dark fire slowly begins flickering at the barrel's tip, a spark of pure nothing that indicates the cannon is very nearly ready.

The loud groan of metal indicates that the ship is opening its vents, portals leading directly to the Kingdom Heart drawing on its excess power, normally harnessed for electricity.

It's likely that at least a few ponies will have electrical power cut out in their homes if their wiring isn't up to spec.

Admiral Avalanche receives a small ping indicating that the Arwings are in position, and pulls up his radio, contacting the underbelly of the Irreverent.

"Fire when ready," the grizzled Longma commands.

And they do.





Sharp is having a really fracking bad day.

"Stupid cold, stupid ponies.  I swear I've got ice under my scales," he complains, shaking slightly as the minotaur next to him elbows him harshly.

"Quit complaining.  Now," they respond, making Sharp scowl.

The blue dragon hefts his axe over his shoulder with one hand, while scratching an itch on his side with the other.

"Whatever," Sharp claims, before his eyes narrow.

"Hey, you seeing those weird birds up there?" he asks, making a few of the mercenaries with him stop, staring up at the sky.

The minotaur grimaces.  "Those aren't birds.  Get your crossbows ready.  We're in for a fight."

Sharp balks slightly at this, pulling the small ballista from his belt and aiming it up at one of the weird flying things.

"Don't fire until they come to us, I don't see any spears on them, so they'll probably swoop at us," the minotaur claims, pulling out his own crossbow, a heavy, metal contraption.

Instead of doing as they predicted however, the metal birds just keep circling overhead, for one, then two minutes.

Sharp scowls, flaring his wings.  "Scale it and skin it, are they going to come down here, or not?"

Suddenly, the Minotaur turns, walking back the other way.  "We need to go, this is a trap."

Sharp and several of the others sneer at this.  "If you want to turn down a payday, that's fine.  I'm not going to go up there and get my money!"

He flaps his wings, slowly ascending, just in time for a weird black beam to hit the ground and make everything go completely quiet.

Sharp slowly realizes as the planes swoop down, spraying some kind of purple smoke at them, that it wasn't some kind of silencing magic thing that hit near them.

He's just gone deaf, is all.





Fillibuster swallows several times at the sight of rubble and dirty snow raining down around the crater that the Sister Ray had made on impact, briefly glancing at me to see my own expression, which I've carefully curated into a serene smile.

"Ahh, there's nothing quite like fireworks, friend.  You really should come to the Blast Day Celebration when it comes around again this year.  We fire off all sorts of weapons like these into the air, the sky fills up with all sorts of wonderful sights."

I wipe my eye with a finger.  "It's almost enough to bring me to tears, seeing what my little ponies can whip up when they're happy and fed."

"I-I need to go, please forgive my rudeness for leaving so early," he mutters out, rapidly walking out of my office, ignoring the secretary and beelining his way back to Equestria.

I allow my expression to turn into a genuine one, frowning cheekily as I rest my head on my hands.  "Asshole."

I contact Avalanche again.  "Everything going well on your end, Admiral?" I ask, prompting him to nod.

"No casualties on either side, and we've managed to capture the opposing forces, we're bringing them in now."

I frown more heavily at this.  "Bring them to the low-security prisons, one of the off-site ones.  I've got a sick feeling about taking them into secure areas," I claim, trying to piece out why Sombra would have been so stupid as to send a band of mercenaries he had to know were going to fail at whatever he sent them to do.

Admiral Avalanche frowns as well but nods affirmatively.  "Very well, Lord Weiss, I'll take them to the A-7 Forwarding Base, should I increase security there in preparation?"

I shake my head.  "Just prepare to evacuate the area, and tell the men to keep their distance from the prisoners, at least twenty meters.  Use golems for dealing with them.  Expand this procedure to include all our current compromised prisoners.  Over and out."

I tap my fingers on my desk nervously.  What is he doing?





Helmsplitter hates using golem proxies.  He's not that big a fan of using it in this circumstance, either.

Steel Driver smirks, swallowing the last of the saltbread they had been served.  "What's with the tin-can?"

Helmsplitter's voice rings out of the golem.  "New orders from Lord Weiss.  I'm not supposed to let any actual living things near the prisoners."

Steel Driver leans back on their cot, chuckling.  "In case I blow up or something?"

"Or something," Helmsplitter responds.

"Do you know anything about Sombra's plans?  He sent a bunch of mercenaries directly from the Crystal Empire to the Shadow Realm, almost like he was baiting us."

Steel Driver thinks about this.  "I don't know.  I don't really know a thing about that dull pony.  I know he's as crazy as a box of rats stuffed in a half-box of fumes, and he offered all of us a frankly unreasonable amount of money.  Makes me think now that he probably isn't planning on paying anyone he sends after you."

Helmsplitter's golem nods slightly at that.  "I see.  Thank you for your cooperation."

The minotaur stops Helmsplitter from leaving.  "Wait, hold on," Steel Driver states, standing up.

"I changed my mind, I wanted to say.

"I wasn't a hundred-percent straight with you, before.  I've got a kid, but I'd sooner graze than settle down for some brat.  His name's Steel Polish, a bull.  Last I heard, he was living up in Buckingham, but that was years ago.  If he wants to talk, well..."

Steel Driver shrugs.  "It's not like I'm going anywhere."

Helmsplitter pauses for several long moments.  "I'll look into it."

Steel Driver nods.  "Thanks.  I guess that's about as much as I can ask for, really."

Helmsplitter leaves the room, intent on pushing that request along to the right ponies as soon as he finishes interrogating the other prisoners.

Sure, it might be projecting, but he'll be damned to Tartarus before he allows himself to be the reason why a parent and child can't at least say goodbye.

It's more than he got.





Sombra scowls as the magical memories he drains from those mercenaries reveal that they didn't even make it to the front door.

All he managed to learn from this excursion is that Weiss Noir's weapons are devastating.  

He stalks through the far emptier halls of the Crystal Palace, blowing off steam by glaring at the ponies he hasn't already reduced to thralls.  So few of his ponies are under full mind control nowadays.  He simply can't get them to perform the tasks he requires of them otherwise.

Farming?  It requires the touch of a living, breathing, thinking Earth Pony.  Accounting?  Too complex for the thralls.  Medicine?  Well, Mercy has proven talented at guiding his thralls through the steps of what is required to keep his slaves alive and working.

As it stands, Sombra finds himself with a dilemma.  Every slave he loses reduces his speed quadratically.  If he loses a single farmer, he can feed twenty fewer slaves, which means he can afford that many fewer miners.  Ponies must be shuffled around, freed of their mental bondage to do the job of farming, or, as much as the thought disgusts Sombra, made to work less, so they retain some of their energy.

Breathing heavily, Sombra swallows.  It's all so disgusting.  So annoying.  Like a cancer, growing in his glorious empire.  An infection that had grown out of control before he had seen the symptoms.

Now his mining operations have slowed to a crawl.  It could be years before he manages to widen the tunnel enough to move the Umbrum Crystal out from below the Crystal Empire.

As soon as he can free them from their prison, his reign will last forever with the full might of all of the Umbrum at his side, but that means nothing when his mines are barren, more akin to an ordinary mine, rather than the glorious swarm of ants that Sombra once had tunneling through the rock day after day.

He sighs heavily.  Perhaps Mercy was right about the necessities of relieving stress.  King Sombra is not one to relax, but then...

He sighs again, King Sombra has also never been as stressed as he is now.

He'll demand that the snake elaborates on what they meant, perhaps some unguent or potion from the doctor will ease his nerves.





Weiss looks particularly unhappy, Luna thinks.

"Luna, I swear, your ponies are crazy," he groans, swiping through blueprints, seemingly trying to decide which one he's going to work on tonight.

She chuckles lightly.  "We've been trying to curb their more eccentric tendencies.  Short of marching every pony in a position of power to the guillotine, there are few things we can do to hasten the process of bringing Equestria to peace.

"I suspect there are at least some innocent ponies among the nobility, so it would leave a sour taste in my mouth to do away with them."

Weiss grumbles.  "Well, I'm going to be honest with you Luna, I'm like, inches away from saying 'screw it' and going full big-brother with the cameras and background checks."

Luna clears her throat slightly, prompting him to explain.

"I put cameras everywhere, watch everyone who isn't a Longma, have guards ready to apprehend any ordinary ponies in case they might be assassins.  It's super unethical, though."

Luna looks confused.  "Why would it be unethical?"

Weiss's mouth opens and closes a few times, a bit like a fish.  "You know, right to privacy?  Racial profiling being a bad thing?"

"Weiss, if you tell your ponies the truth, and they accept your ruling truly, then is it a problem?  For goodness sake, you don't even enact your rule unless your populous first votes on it.  You don't have the guards arrest Longma who commit anything short of violent crime.  If you must observe the Shadow Realm underneath a jeweler's lens to keep your ponies safe, then do so.  Who would complain, aside from litterbugs and jaywalkers?"

Weiss hums slightly.  "Well, you can't really litter in the Shadow Realm, the fire burns all the garbage up, usually, and all of the construction or transportation areas have mechanical locks preventing people from walking in front of them mindlessly while they're operating."

Luna smacks her dumb little friend on the head.  "Then who would complain?  Rule with clarity and empathy, and your ponies will revel."

Weiss rubs his head, pondering her words for a long time as he idly begins drawing up plans for some potential queries to push to the Arcana Liber, on the subject of enhancing public surveillance and security.





Eclipse Flash is laying bored on her bed when a ping from her bedside indicates the Arcana Liber having a vote to work on.

"Should security and surveillance be raised in response to the recent assassination attempts?  While ineffective thus far, they present a risk to bystanders, but the cost of preventing them fully would be a potential loss of privacy in some public areas," Eclipse mumbles to herself,  reading it off.

She scoffs.  "There's already a camera on every street corner, and golems running around everywhere."

While she's certain she might be missing some nuances here, so far, her two main focuses are the safety of her friends and her studies into Foeship.

With a shrug, she marks her vote down as "Unsure/Uninformed Agreement."

"Hmm.  Maybe I should visit Oil Slick.  I haven't hung out with him in a while," she considers, hopping off her bed and wandering off to find something fun to do.





Sombra scowls, pacing back and forth.  "Fun hobbies", "Stretches and exercise",  "Comfortable sleeping conditions", pah!

Sleep is for worms!  And Sombra is a God!

He stomps the floor.  How dare Mercy shrug off his concerns.  Even their expression annoyed Sombra.  The snake looked like they were going to fall asleep, with how casual their expression was!

He decides to kill time by reviewing the memories drained from his failed mercenaries, his little spies on the inside.

Unfortunately, being in a prison, there isn't exactly a great deal to be learned.  Even faces and names are obscured when Weiss Noir has switched to using those golems to handle the prisoners exclusively.  Metal and Crystal constructs replacing flesh-and-blood soldiers and guards in all of the prisons.

...Wait.

It almost audibly clicks in Sombra's mind.

Those little Windigo Meat Puppets that one mercenary had spotted.

The endless streams of mechanized soldiers used to repel his cursory attacks.

Sombra chuckles breathlessly at the revelation.

Of course... Of course he would fail, pitting his slaves against Weiss's.

Unlike Sombra, when Weiss had found his slaves unsuitable for a task, he began to create his own from scratch.

Why bother putting those feeble ponies into the mines, why waste the withered and weary worms on mining for his glory, when he can do so much better himself.

He'll save his pony slaves for tasks more suited to their frailty and intelligence, and use his own golems to combat Weiss's!

Oh, the things he could do, with just a bit of intuition and creativity.  If he is to combat his rival, he must think like his rival, this is the secret to what will become his true and ultimate victory.

The arts of the flesh are lost on Sombra, unfortunately...  He will need to convince Mercy to help him with this new task, to create slaves from nothing, from thin air!

Sombra laughs joyously, stress melting away as the Weiss's idea sinks comfortably into his worldview.





"What do you mean you cannot help me create new slaves?!" Sombra roars at Mercy, who casually slithers around him, leaning up and looking him in the eyes.

"It can't be done.   If you want me to start growing flesh and organs from scratch? Fine. But you have to figure out how that other pony does it first, deary.  I can't work with nothing, when it comes to cultivating biomass like that.  What he's doing with the stuff is frankly impossible, as far as I know."

Sombra growls, head tilting to the side.  He was so sure, too!

Mercy pats him on the back as he sighs heavily.  "Perk up, deary.  Get me what I need to know, and I'll get you your meatbags.  Why not try golems, first?"

Sombra turns, stomping out of the room.  He's so rusty at golemancy, though!  If Mercy knew that, she wouldn't have said that so casually...