//------------------------------//
// 170 - Hell? No. 
// Story: An Extended Holiday 
// by Commander_Pensword 
//------------------------------//

Extended Holiday
Chapter 170: Hell? No.





“Hell would like to remind everyone that you will be served in the appropriate order. Thank you!” an automated female voice spoke from unseen speakers.

Hammer Strike groaned to himself as he tapped his foot. While he normally would work against everything in his way, he had a gut feeling that Hell may or may not take kindly to that.

Over the next four hours, the same message replayed somewhere in the ballpark of six hundred times. Hammer Strike had lost count by that time. The line had moved up one person in this time. From posted signs and such, Hammer Strike could see he wasn’t even really in Hell yet, just being processed before being taken there. Most of the beings around him seemed unable to really notice him as they stood waiting in perpetuity for their turn to reach the front.

Just as Hammer Strike was considering his available inventory and whether his augments would allow a lobotomy via a soup spoon, he received a tap on his shoulder from outside the line.

He turned to find a humanoid obviously female figure standing before him. She was pretty much human, save for a few obvious things: milky white skin, curved horns, wings, large claws, and a thin spaded tail that whipped around behind her like an annoyed feline. She had an almost ridiculous hourglass figure hidden behind a black women’s blazer and a matching short skirt. Her vivid green hair was tied in a bun, and she wore half-moon glasses.

“Excuse me, you’re number two hundred and forty-three?” she asked in a surprisingly no-nonsense voice for a succubus.

Hammer Strike reached into his coat and pulled out the ticket once again. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

“It appears there has been a mistake on our records, I need to confirm something quickly. Did you or did you not die a mortal death after A: living a life heavily involved in sin or B: having sold your immortal soul?”

“Don’t really recall dying as the thing.” Hammer Strike hummed as he thought on it. “I was dealing with an Elder Vampire, dealt with a blast of magic, I fell through something. Next thing I know, I was standing in this line.”

“No infections? Fatal or mortal wounds? STDs?”

“Negative, though the mortal wounds is a problematic yes and no.” Hammer Strike gave a shrug.

She unclipped the flaming spiked chains that formed the barrier of the line and held it open. “If you could come with me, please?” It wasn’t really a request.

Hammer Strike shrugged again before exiting the line to follow. “Sure.”

She nodded before clipping the line shut again and leading him through the maze of other lines into a hallway that stretched toward unseen offices. “We run a very tight ship here in Hell. We deal in judging damned souls and assigning them the appropriate layer. Our policies are very strict about such things, and everyone down here needs to deserve to be down here or down here of their own free will. Naturally, you can see why your presence here represents a problem.”

“That I can.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Sadly, based off the nature of here, I couldn’t just … return. Is it safe to assume I should just follow the process to get it all figured out?”

“A bit of free advice, and believe me it will probably be the only free advice you’ll get down here. Be careful to find out everything the process does and does not entail. Don’t sign anything until you have read it in triplicate, and then thrice more with whatever magic you possess that might reveal secrets. Assume everybody here is going to try to cheat you. You’re an untethered soul in Hell, and many would want to take advantage of that,” the succubus offered as they approached the door at the end of the hallway. “We’re about to meet with the supervisor of this area. Are you prepared?”

“Trust me, I can be paranoid,” Hammer Strike replied before nodding. “And yeah, as ready as I can be.”

The door opened to reveal a large nicely furnished office. The central feature was a large desk formed entirely of purple heart. The floor was carpeted. Overall, the room was both professional and luxurious. Behind the desk, in almost a mockery of a business suit, sat a large spider-like being. His body was covered in chitinous plating over a bloated body. His suit was a black blazer with a red vest studded by gold buttons. A white shirt peeked out from beneath it. His equally bloated bald head had five eyes. One central, two more where you’d expect, and another two beyond that. His large toothy mouth was currently shouting through a cell phone.

“Look, Errementari, the deal was we get his soul as long as he survived to see his wife again. I don’t care if his wife thought he was dead and ended up marrying someone else. That’s not in the confines of the deal! Now you go back to that blacksmith and you get what we are owed!” He hung up with a growl. “Incompetence.”

He took a minute to straighten himself up before looking to them. “Ah, yes. Thank you, Florence!” He gestured toward a pair of chairs in front of his desk. “Mr. Strike, thank you for cooperating. Please, have a seat. Do you need anything? I’d offer you coffee, but…” Both he and Florence shuddered. “Best not have the coffee.”

Hammer Strike shook his head. “Only thing I could use would be a way back home. Thank you for the offer.”

“Yes … sending you home.” He cleared his throat as he looked through the paperwork, picked out a form, and handed it to florence. “Florence, if you could send that out,” he said, checking his paperwork again. Then he turned his full attention on the man. “Now, about sending you home. In normal circumstances we’d simply send you back through the door you came. Unfortunately, the door you were sent through has been destroyed.”

“Of course it was.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Alternative methods?”

“There are none. I'm embarrassed to say that your situation is quite unprecedented in our records. I don’t have the authority to send you back,” he admitted. “Almost no one does.”

“Almost indicates there’s someone.” Hammer Strike raised a brow.

“I manage sorting the souls that are judged to come our way. If they lived a life of sin, I send them to the hell that best atones for their sin. If they sold their soul, I send them to the person who bought it. If they sold their soul but dispute it, I send them to Minauros and they become Belial's problem. If they’re starry-eyed adventurers thinking they’ll make a name for themselves, I alert the media to keep an eye on them. But you, there is no precedent, no procedure, no laws defining how I deal with you. The only option I can give you is you should speak with Asmodeus himself.”

“... And where would he be located?”

The devil sighed and pulled out a piece of parchment with a map appearing like a mountain in reverse. He tapped a slot slightly above the first layer. “This is where we are.” His claws moved down all the way to the lowest point. “That's where Asmodeus rules from.”

“Delightful.” Hammer Strike sighed. “I guess … point me in the right direction, and I’ll get going.”

“Well, for starters, you’ll be happy to know Asmodeus has become aware of your situation and has issued you a writ to pass through the borders without issue. We can’t guarantee safe passage, but we can at least make the passage easier for you. We’ll pay for your ticket across styx, and you can catch the bus from there, which should get you to your destination.”

“That’ll prove useful.”

“Is there any more I can do for you?”

Hammer Strike shook his head. “No, that should about do it.”

“Well, then, Florence will see you out. You’ll find the path to Charon’s ferry is pretty straightforward.” The devil handed Hammer Strike a small ticket and a piece of parchment written in a language his augments couldn’t translate.”

The journey to the doors was simple with the succubus as his escort. Many on the line glared at him, but he paid them no mind. He had what he came for. The journey to the river Styx was simple. It seemed many a hopeless soul had sought oblivion in its waters over the years. He simply strode to where the sound of flowing water was strongest. As it turned out, the river flowed directly through the city itself, dividing it and the plane in which it resided into two. The line at the dock, unfortunately, proved as long as the line he had stumbled into at the start of this journey. Many clutched at coins, subway tokens, and other metal trinkets. Payment for the boatman. So, the legend was true, after all.

In due course, a massive barge meandered down the river’s course, until it settled silently against the pier and lowered a gangplank. Its structure was woven from elder wood and painted an ashen gray. A dark pall wrapped around the deck like a funeral shroud while skulls grinned and grimaced along the sides of the vessel. The line became rowdy as souls rushed the boat. Some passed. Others fell into the water. And others still were rejected by an invisible barrier that they howled against as they pounded with their fists. Eventually, the procession settled into order, and a collection bowl was raised beside the gangplank for the offerings.

When Hammer Strike finally passed through the boundary, the ship suddenly changed. Its surface was a pristine white. The skulls had become mounted shields. The miasma was now a mist that smelled of Rarity’s perfume. A tall skeletal figure with a dark robe peered at Hammer Strike with glowing eyes.

“So,” he said in an apocryphal voice, “you’re the VIP.”

“I guess?” Hammer Strike shrugged.

“Don’t get much of your kind down here often. Hope you don’t mind the wait. Your stop will have to come after I drop these others off.”

“That’s fine.”

The figure nodded. “Something about your soul is different than most I see. Make sure you keep it safe.” With that said, he strode slowly to the back of the ship, where the rudder awaited his hand. The clatter of bones rattled with every step. The mournful wails of those who were left behind carried in the air and followed along the slow-moving waters. Without a sun or stars, it was difficult to gauge the time properly, so Hammer Strike waited as instructed and watched. Some of the passengers were exultant as they departed the barge. Others wept openly as they strode toward their new devilish owners. At long last, they arrived at a deserted port on the outskirts of the city. A winding road stretched far into the distance, and a tall metal bus sign stood out next to the shelter where passengers were asked to wait.

“And here we are,” Charon announced. “By the way, thanks for the pay.” His bony face grinned as he laughed. “It’s not often I get to scalp a demon.”

“I suppose it would make things entertaining.” Hammer Strike chuckled as he departed.

He sighed to himself as he walked over to the bus stop, then frowned as he scanned it, only to notice a reference page for arrival and departure times. Based off the current schedule, it was due to arrive in….

Thirty-two hours.

“You know what? Screw it. I’m walking.” Hammer Strike groaned as he thought back to the map he was presented with and departed.

The area before him consisted of vast ashen planes with small foothills and mountains in the distance. Boulders and other rocks dotting the landscape showed the faces of tormented souls screaming in agony. The area was suffused with a harsh red light, and fireballs of immense size would fall randomly around him.

As he walked, occasionally imps skittered around him, performing various deeds and actions. He, for the most part, ignored the ones offering him deals and trampled the violent ones underfoot.

As he moved forward he noticed larger stronger devils becoming more prominent. Soon, he crested a hill to see an army of them charging an army of creatures that seemed to be their equals, only twisted and misshapen. The eternal melee played out constantly, with more devils appearing to replace the fallen and more demons charging out of a large gaping rift.

Hammer Strike sighed as he looked out. “Note to self. Make a recall-from-hell precaution.”

Above the battlefield, a figure flew with wings of fire. She had brownish-yellow skin with a tattered purple garment covering her. Three horns curved viciously over her head. Currently, she was raining down flaming spears on the combatants below. Some few of the opposing forces managed to take to the air, but were swiftly put down by the battle fury as she raged across the ravaged landscape.

Unfortunately, Hammer Strike didn’t have much more time to take in the sight as a massive hand tipped with razor claws raked at him from the side. He leaped out of the way and delivered a powerful uppercut that sent the creature flying into what equated to hell’s stratosphere. Dark shadows rippled at his feet as more of the sneakier creatures from the fray below emerged from the ground to seek the prize of a powerful free spirit. To consume that would surely grant them great power, power to ascend, power to contend with their enemies, power to rival even the great devils of hell!

Until reality crushed them under its boot. Or rather, Hammer Strike did.

They didn’t live to regret their mistakes.

As the waves increased in size, the army began to divide between those who sought to maintain their mission and those who were going after their own agenda. This provided an opening for the devils to take advantage. They pressed the half that hadn’t broken away and proceeded to slaughter them while the other demons cried in agony under the sudden towers of intense blue flame Hammer Strike had conjured to consume them.

A booming laughter carried over the field of battle as flaring red and orange joined the blues to devastate the remaining forces. Then a wall of flames rose around Hammer Strike as the devil from earlier descended and folded her arms to take in the sight of the man.

“Now that’s what I call soul power!” She grinned, baring sharpened teeth, then bellowed a laugh again. “So, what brings you to the heart of war, human? Come to challenge me to a fight?”

“Not really.” He sighed. “I was brought down here by force, and am trying to find Asmodeus.”

She casually threw a spear to skewer four demons in one go. “Likely story.” She twirled a spear in one hand and seized a flaming sword in the other, then grinned. “Let’s see you prove it.”

“Of course.” Hammer Strike sighed again as he unsheathed his greatsword.

She started off with her spear, using it to probe for any sign of weakness in his defense. The steel rang and hissed angrily against the unholy magics, easily cutting through the shaft. The flames died immediately, and the devil hissed. “A divine weapon?”

“Was fighting an Elder Vampire. They’re all I’ve got.” Hammer Strike shrugged.

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Those wouldn’t have come with you if you died. How did you come into my battlefield?”

“By boat,” Hammer Strike replied simply. “Besides that, I was kind of forced into Hell while alive.”

She rolled her eyes. “No wonder the demons broke ranks. Anyone who gets your soul could feast themselves for centuries. Let me guess, Asmodeus already gave you his go-ahead?”

“Apparently.” Hammer Strike shrugged.

The devil rolled her eyes. “You should’ve waited for the bus.”

“Not patient enough for that.” He shook his head.

She smirked. “Well, at least that’ll give Asmodeus a headache. He’s a real stickler for rules. You deviating from the path he set will either vex him or intrigue him. Maybe both, if you’re lucky.” She pointed toward a large hill. “Your way forward lies there. A cave system will link you to the next circle of hell. I’m sure a man of your unique gifts should be able to find the way easily.”

“Appreciated,” Hammer Strike replied with a wave as he set off.

The devil rose back into the air. “You watch yourself, human. There are those whose greed may exceed their fear of Asmodeus.” And then she was gone, crowing over the battlefield as whole swaths of demons fell before her wrath.

“Sounds about right.” Hammer Strike sighed.





Hammer Strike looked out upon Dis, a large sprawling city in every direction made of red-hot iron and burning cobblestone, bordered entirely by spiked mountains. From his vantage point near the gate, he had a good view of the hustle and bustle of various creatures moving about beneath him.

No matter which direction he walked, the city never seemed to get any closer. The mountain continued to drop lower into the valley, but he would never reach the walls or the gate. Finally, he came across a path of smooth cracked surfaces with veins of yellow running through them. The ridges on their fronts or sides carried a strangely uniform quality. On closer inspection, he was able to unearth one of the stones to reveal a heavily clotted and singed human skull. Ash sifted from its gaping jaw, and what sounded like a scream of agony faded into silence.

So, now that he understood the nature of what lay before him, he shoved the skull back into the ground and started along the path in question. If this was anything like Wizard of Oz logic, it was very likely this road would be the only means to approach and enter the city. He was soon proven right when the walls finally drew near.

And suddenly were gone.

Instead, black smoke furled around his feet and filtered through the air as a heavy smog. Buildings and stones twisted and hissed as burning flesh touched and victims screamed, whimpered, or struggled to retain some small sense of pride against the onslaught of torture that was slowly being burned and cooked in their own skins. The majority of the screams, however, emanated from vents that seemed to be thrown everywhere in the city, on walls and streets alike.

A great jutting iron tower pierced through the haze and into the artificial skies above. It looked almost as though it could pierce into the war above, and indeed, perhaps it did. It could well have been linked to the portal if any souls were corrupted enough to become demons in the first place and seek conquest. But that was not Hammer Strike’s affair to ponder. He needed to find whoever was in charge, so he could get directions to the next circle.

In his journey toward the tower, he encountered many iron statues. Some were rusting. Others were melting to slag. Others still burned red as he passed them. Many figures flickered in and out of the corners of his vision. It was obvious he was being observed. The question was by whom. At last, he came to the entrance. The door was perfectly divided into two parts, each painted a different color: one red and one blue.

Hammer Strike frowned before shrugging to himself and moving toward the blue side.

Inside, he was greeted by two immense blue-skinned pit fiends, large dragon like devils. Each held a great sword single-handed and crossed them in front of him.

“Who are you?”

“Hammer Strike,” he replied simply. “Looking for the one who runs this place, so I can continue on my way.”

“No one sees Lord Dispater without an invitation.”

“No idea if Asmodeus sent word.” Hammer Strike sighed. “I’ve got a meeting with him, so in turn, I need to talk with your lord to get on my way to him.”

“Do you have proof?”

Hammer Strike reached into his coat to pull out the writ he was given earlier. “That good enough?”

One of the pit fiends took it and read it before showing his counterpart. They spoke rapidly in infernal, which Hammer Strike’s augments seemed unable to translate on any level. After several moments, the pit fiend handed the paper back. “Head up the stairs to the top. Don’t move too fast or too slow. Don’t look around. No sudden movements.”

Hammer Strike simply nodded and continued on his way.

The stairwell around the building was lined with doors on either side as he continued to ascend. He had no doubt they were bespelled in some way either for swift travel or to open into a magical dimension in space for storage that turned this tower into a proper fortress. The very stones seemed to thrum with energy as he tromped up the stone steps one leg at a time.

The occasional spurt of hellfire was complemented by darts, saw blades, pitfalls, vats of holy water, spike traps, and many other traps besides. Naturally, none of these fazed Hammer Strike. The hellfire had no power over him, because he felt no guilt in his actions. The holy water had no power over him, because he was still alive and had no infernal aspects within his thaumic makeup.

However, by the time he reached the two-hundredth floor, he was starting to smell a rat. Somebody was either putting him through a loop or expanding the tower. And Hammer Strike wasn’t going to stand for it anymore.

Hammer Strike sighed audibly as he started to scan his environment thaumically to figure out what was going on. The entanglement of enchantments was most intriguing. The tower was being forced to grow organically, being fed by the demonic power that corrupted victims and changed their aspects to reflect the desired material. It wasn’t quite thaumaturgy, more of an advanced form of alchemy blended with magic. The doors each did lead to a unique torture or trap for the uninitiated, while disarming mechanisms were included for those who had clearance. Lastly, he sensed a group of waystones designed to maintain a spacial loop that would warp a climber seamlessly back down without any fuss or notice of a change. Very subtle, and very annoying.

That wouldn’t do.

He frowned as he began forming the equivalent of a spatial lock on his position, making it unchangeable apart from his own will. When he arrived at the point of infinite return again, he pressed onward. For the briefest of moments, he felt a tingling over his body, like he’d brushed against some form of fabric. It didn’t take long for the sensation to fade, however, and six sharp detonations echoed up the stairs as the waystones broke. Now was the time to move forward. And this time, he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

At long last, Hammer Strike emerged into a great hall. A long red carpet led to a great throne, where a tall humanoid figure with a black beard and moustache and a bald head stared at the intruder. A large rod woven with precious metals and wood fibers in equal layers lay in his hand. He had two separate types of hooves, one whole and one cloven. A barbed tail rested casually behind him. Flowing red robes draped his frame as cool calculating eyes measured the intruder. Two black horns curved upward from his skull.

“Are you the lord of this floor?” Hammer Strike asked flatly.

“Would you believe me if I said I were?” he asked in a dead tone. “What is it this time, some wronged love, death of a significant other, winning the soul of another back from their contract?” He leaned back on the throne and curved one leg over the other. “How droll.”

“Dude, I’m just trying to get to the next floor of hell.” Hammer Strike sighed. “I’ve got a meeting with Asmodeus to get to, and I barely have a map to work with.”

He raised a curious brow. “So, you’re the anomaly. That explains a great deal about why you were able to pass my defenses.” He rose and flicked a hand. The iron shrieked as an old corroded set of double doors gradually emerged with painful squeals and whimpers. The white and red splotches and blooms of corrosion were clearly evident. “Do be careful as you step through. I prefer to keep my floors untarnished.”

A horrid stench filtered through as the door quite literally cracked open and a rain of shards fell onto the carpet. Dispater sighed regretfully at the sight, even as Hammer Strike stepped with purpose into the unknown.





As Hammer Strike passed through and the door closed behind him, he noted a change in posture. Looking down at himself, he realized he was back to his Pony form again. Shaking his head, he adapted and pushed on toward his next destination.

Before him lay a seemingly endless swampland, dark and damp as far as he could see, with the smell of decay, pollution, and numerous other unpleasant odors. Heavy winds billowed across the area in every direction, carrying hail and acid rain. Through the fog, he could make out cities of obsidian in the distance. The loud clank of chains drew his attention to the skies, where a large jagged mass hung from the bottom of the second layer. His path was clear. If he was going to get to the next layer, he needed to reach the ruler of this layer in hell. With that goal in mind, he drew near the swamp and took his first step.

One thing he was thankful for was his ability to thaumically keep anything from attaching to him or his coat. The visual signs of decay along the shore mingled with the residue made it only too clear that a corrosive material had been hard at work. The bog was tepid as he began his trek through the mud and reeds.

In due course, he came across a motley crew of humans guarded by a few barbed devils that towered above the group and leered at the men and women who struggled against the bog’s corrosive properties. Their chortles were a curious mixture of the phlegmy burble of a swamp and the raspy scratch of nails on a chalkboard.

Hammer Strike scanned over the group before shaking his head. He’d find someone else to question. The group was soon bypassed, leaving Hammer Strike to wander toward one of the many jutting settlements. His thaumic gifts saved him from nasty pitfalls and other tricks the plane tried to pull on him, and the rapid changes in temperature from hot to cold and anywhere between offered a certain amount of variety to break up the monotony of his journey.

Eventually, a cloud of what looked like birds began to form in the distance. What started as a few stray figures multiplied into many shadows that soared together with gleeful cackles. Their skins were a sickly purple accented by bloody red. Spines jutted out from multiple angles as they began to circle above him with their open maws grinning to bare sharpened teeth.

Then, they attacked. Razor spines whizzed in a hailstorm of fire and poison. Some crowed exultantly. Others jeered at their supposed victim.

“Dance, little Pony. Dance!”

Some wielded tridents or spears, which made sense, given their lack of musculature. These creatures were definitely designed for distance combat, and had likely adapted their society accordingly.

Hammer Strike sighed as he thought over his options. After a second, he reached into his coat and pulled out one of the more crude throwing knives that he had on him. He shrugged. “You’ll do.”

Building up power in his legs, Hammer Strike shot himself off the ground toward the first of them, sinking the knife into the creature’s throat. He grabbed the top of it’s spear and snapped it off, turned in midair, and hurled the spear head as hard as he could at another, impaling it before it had a chance to move. He landed with a thud and caught the creature’s trident coming down. Breaking the head off, he sent the haft at one and threw the trident spinning at another, impaling both. The remaining devils turned tail and flew away as fast as they could.

Hammer Strike sighed as he brushed off his coat and continued on his path. He didn’t have time to delay. The mire became thicker over time, and the mud seemed to want to swallow him whole as he pulled his legs out again and again. Loud pops were soon followed by groans and muffled moans.

“Sister, sister, what do you think this creature is doing?” a girl’s voice asked.

“Rem, Rem, it appears to be disturbing the spawning pit,” a second voice replied.

“Shall we deal with it?”

“It is what would be expected of us.”

The clink of a heavy chain followed by the heavy splat of something metal striking the semi-solid surface of the bog rang through the air, followed shortly by the whistle of wind.

The chains clattered, and Hammer Strike’s ears flicked as a massive mace ball complete with giant metal spikes flew toward him. He didn’t even flinch as he raised a hoof and caught the weapon, points and all, against his horseshoes. The familiar whistle of a silent blade passed his ear as the collar of his coat tore. He then proceeded to pull the ball with all his strength, even as the amalgamation of faces continued to break and coalesce in the agitation. The figure who emerged was not what he expected. Rather than the ugly figures that had been so prominent with previous entities on his journey, this devil bore a flawless pale complexion. Her blue mane had been fashioned in a bowl cut, and her equally blue eyes glowed as she drew toward the Pony. Rather than register alarm, she twisted her body so her legs would strike first. The chain circled around her maid’s uniform at her whim before a deft flick of the wrist snapped it toward Hammer Strike’s face.

Hammer Strike sighed as he side-stepped his opponent. “Do we really have to do this? I’m trying to get to a meeting.”

“All intruders in our lord’s spawning pits are to be dealt with,” the mare replied as she crouched and braced herself in a combative stance.

Hammer Strike sighed and casually side-stepped another invisible blade that sliced a forming face in half. In response, a far more concentrated gale began to funnel around him. He sighed and raised a hoof. The wind slowly died down as a crystal began to grow, hovering above his free forehoof. “Like I said before. Do we really have to do this? I’m just looking for directions.”

The blue one leaped back, still holding the handle connected to her chain, and was soon joined by a doppelganger. This one had a pink mane and red eyes, but in all other ways, the two were identical, including in uniform.

“Sister, sister, I believe we may have to get serious.”

“Rem, Rem, I believe you are correct. This intruder is more dangerous than we anticipated.”

The two reared and met each other’s forehooves with their own as their eyes glowed and a shining horn emerged from each of their heads, one red and the other blue. The blue one’s face twisted into a manic grin as her eyes shrunk to pinpricks and she lunged forward at an aggressive speed augmented by the winds her sister generated from behind. 

The resulting shockwave from the blow as it met the Pony was enough to drive the waters and the viscous slime away from the pair, leaving them temporarily on dry ground. Hammer Strike expertly blocked each strike as the blue devil’s blows became more erratic and easily telegraphed. Meanwhile, any attempts the pink one made to strike him were easily countered. The blades of wind literally broke before they touched him, and any other techniques she tried to utilize were easily countered.

“That’s enough!” Hammer Strike called out as he thaumically locked the two in place. “Who runs this level? I have no more time to waste on these altercations.”

The two siblings, or clones, or whatever they were struggled valiantly against the invisible bonds that held them in place. Rem sounded more like a wild animal as she snarled and growled, but otherwise remained where she stood.

“If you are looking for favors, he will provide, but only for so long,” the pink one said. She took a deep breath and sighed as her horn retracted. “Do you plan to kill us?”

“If I have to, I will,” Hammer Strike replied flatly. “I just want to get to this meeting and leave already. I’ve been here long enough as is.”

“You have an appointment with Mammon?” she asked in disbelief.

“If that’s the name of the lord running this level, then yeah.” Hammer Strike sighed. “I’ve got to get through each of these damned levels to get to Asmodeus, so I’d really appreciate it if you’d just direct me where I need to go.”

The surprise was enough to snap Rem out of her battle haze. “You’re going after Asmodeus, our king?”

“I’ve got a meeting with him, because I was forced down here into Hell.” Hammer Strike barely kept himself from growling it out. “So, in order to get back out, I’ve got to discuss these terms with him. Directly.”

The two stared at each other and blinked in unison. “Should we trust this stranger’s story, Ram?” the blue one asked.

“No ordinary mortal would have been able to best us, Rem.” The two nodded. “We will be happy to assist you in your quest. Assuming you let us go, we can deliver you to our master. He has high standing in the courts of Hell. He should be able to get you an audience with Mammon,” Ram said.

Hammer Strike sighed as he weighed the option in his head before releasing the two. He kept his guard up, however, just in case.

The two quickly dusted off their uniforms, then turned. “If you would kindly follow us, Sir,” Rem said.

“The spawning pits are not meant for mortals to tread through,” Ram finished.

“I’ve been making it here by walking. I’ll figure something out.” Hammer Strike sighed.

“We meant that we need to guide you out of them, Sir,” Rem clarified.

“It’s surprising that you were able to pass the barrier,” Ram agreed. “Most likely, your unique status with an invitation from our king was enough to overcome it.”

The three eventually cleared the quagmire where the residue of those souls that had been absorbed by the swamp were waiting to be reborn as lesser devils and passed onto relatively solid ground. It still squelched beneath their feet and hooves respectively, but at least they could travel without worrying about literal unearthly groans following them around.

Quite suddenly, a tall lanky figure stepped into their path, it looked like an Earth Pony, only he was taller than Hammer Strike himself. His fur was a simple gray with a long straight and deep black mane and tail. He wore a black trenchcoat over all of his visible body, and a lit cigarette hung limply in his mouth.

“There you are. I was getting worried.” He spoke in a very tepid tone as he stared at them with a tired gaze.

“Our sincerest apologies, Master,” Ram started.

“We found the intruder, but he overpowered us in combat. When we were finally defeated, he explained his purpose,” Rem continued.

“He seeks passage to the next level of Hell in a journey to obtain an audience with Asmodeus.”

The large Pony looked at Hammer Strike. His expression never changed, but he seemed to be examining him. “What’s someone like you doing down here?”

“Long story short, Elder Vampires don’t like to lose fights,” Hammer Strike explained bluntly.

“You fought an elder vampire?”

“Twice now, yes.”

“And he sent you to hell?”

“Yeah.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Nearly had him as well. Going to be another few months before we can track him down again.”

“Let me guess; you decided not to take the bus?”

“Way too long of a wait.”

“And you’ve been making your way through based solely on your personal sense of direction?”

“Partially, yeah.”

He sighed. “Rem, Ram, get ready. We’re going on a trip.”

“We already are ready, Master.” Rem said.

“Did you wish us to pack any supplies for the journey?” Ram asked.

“I suppose not, if you’re already ready.” He turned his attention back to Hammer Strike. “We’ll guide you to the ninth layer.”

“That’ll certainly prove useful,” Hammer Strike raised a brow. “To make it clear, you try to stab me in the back, and I’ll give you a fate worse than those down here.”

“If Asmodeus wants to see you, it would be far more beneficial to bring you to him, rather than try anything with you. I am not a duke. I don't involve myself with the petty politics.”

“Then we’ll get along just fine.”





The journey through Minauros was surprisingly smooth. None of the other devils dared to get in the way of the two servants and their lord. When they arrived at the mansion at the center of the city, an escort was already there to greet them. Mammon was just finishing running a servant through the belly when they entered the throne room. His long serpentine body and forked tongue were reminiscent of a naga or lamia. Spikes protruded from his arms and shoulders, while two long sharp horns protruded from his conical head. He contemplated the arrivals with cold yellow eyes and allowed the victim to be dragged away as he slithered onto his throne and rested a chin on his fist.

“Oh, it’s you, Lord. What did you want? I’m rather busy at the moment, in case you couldn’t tell.” He waved a hand dismissively, even as he eyed the Pony out of the corner of his eye.

“I have a living person from one of the material planes. Lord Asmodeus has asked to see him. I merely brought him here to get your approval to move onwards, as this is your realm.”

Mammon yawned. “What a bore. And here I thought you had come to give an offering.” He sighed. “But if it’s Asmodeus’ will, who am I to say no?” He rolled his eyes and waved a hand. An arch of flames rose from two burning braziers on the sides of his throne. The air wavered between, giving a warped view of the archdevil as he lay on his throne. “Go on. I’m certain Belial will only be too happy to meet you.”

“Your graciousness knows no bounds, Lord Mammon.” Lord gave a small bow and gestured toward the portal for Hammer Strike.

Hammer Strike simply gave a nod and continued on his way through the portal.

Rem and Ram followed suit, with lord giving one last bow before slipping through.

The land that greeted them was quite literally a world on fire in every sense of the term. The very air burst into random conflagrations that flew at anything that wasn’t a natural-born denizen of the plane. Rivers of lava flowed toward a sea that glowed as heat radiated. Geysers of flame shot from crags into the air, and other flames streamed like water.

“Much better,” Hammer Strike replied with a small nod.

Lord chuckled. “Not most mortals’ reaction to eternal fire.”

“To put it simply, fire and heat are one of the things I’m fine with.”

“Well, this is essentially the courthouse of hell,” Lord explained. The citadel at the center is where souls go to dispute unfair deals.”

“Delightful.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Lead the way.”

Lord led Hammer Strike toward the center as Rem and Ram guarded their flanks. As they approached the city over the fiery wasteland, they could see souls in chains followed by devils in a long line.

“As you can see,” Rem began.

“Petitioners are not given relief,” Ram continued.

“Until they prove their case,” Rem finished.

“At least Belial is fair,” Lord said. “His daughter, not so much.”

Hammer Strike hummed as he raised a brow.

“Belial is the actual duke of this hell, but some time ago, his daughter Fierna attempted a rebellion. She was partially successful, and Asmodeus decided they must share the rule.”

Hammer Strike hummed in thought. “That certainly must make things interesting.”

“His daughter wishes for the power, but not the duty.” Lord nodded.

“It is quite literally a love-hate relationship,” Rem said.

They pressed into the city, where a massive shiny black obsidian castle towered over everything else. A line of petitioners stretched from the domicile far into the distance and out of sight. The reek of brimstone mingled with the scent of roasting flesh and the occasional desperate scream of agony, either from a petitioner who didn’t receive a favorable ruling or perhaps from some poor soul being tortured. Those demons that sought to prevent their passing by the line were silenced by a glare from Lord.

Eventually, they entered a great chamber that was a mix between a throne room and a courtroom. A vast arching throne with jagged pinnacles sat atop a dais as a defendant made his case. However, what was most curious about this particular individual was the unique identifier of wings, horn, and a distinct lack of a mane.

Hammer Strike took a moment to compose himself. Hatred burned within his being as he noted the Alicorn, before it grew into an inferno when he realized exactly which Alicorn in particular this one had been, having “looked after” him during his time in the lab’s “care.”

A humanoid demoness with two small nubs of horns above her head sat on a throne before him. Her luscious hair flowed like oil on water as she looked at the Pony in utter boredom. It appeared that while the species may have been a novelty, she either refused to register that emotion or had been dealing with multiple Alicorns previously. A tall male with shining red eyes stood silently behind her. His dark hair was bound in braids that swayed behind him. His tight clothing revealed the lithe muscle beneath while still maintaining modesty.

“And so, it is quite clear that there must have been some form of mistake. I do not adhere to this system of theology. As such, my soul belongs on a separate plane and afterlife entirely. I wasn’t even allowed to face my gods’ judgement,” the scientist said.

Fierna, for that was the only person this could have been, looked down at the Pony with the dead face of one who is exceptionally bored. “Calamitous Wile, are you trying to tell me that you request a trial from your gods for the destiny of your soul?”

“I demand justice at their hooves. I am entitled to that, am I not?”

Fierna drew up her hand and flicked a long-nailed finger. A parchment materialized before her, and she peered over it casually. “By the records I have received, you have already been judged of your gods and found wanting in their sight.” She pursed her lips. Then her eyes widened, and she smiled for the first time. It was a thing that elicited terror, even as it highlighted her beauty. “My, my,” she purred. “Live dissection, deliberate crippling, amputation of limbs, infliction of brain damage, ritual sacrifice, and deliberately obstructing all potential for those you tortured to grow into a force that could rival your own. And those are only a few of the very long list of juicy sins you committed in your time on … Equis, is it?” She licked her lips. “Yes, you have been rather naughty, haven’t you?”

“I performed those actions for the betterment of society.”

“Of course, you did. But tell me, if your gods created your world and every race on it, what makes you think that they would love you any better than the others they made? Are you truly so very special? Are you really above every other creature that you have ever encountered in every single way?”

“Naturally. We pushed beyond the normal bounds of body, mind, and spirit. We surpassed our ancestors in every conceivable way.”

“Is that so?” Fierna raised a skeptical brow. “Then why is it that you deliberately sought to inflict pain on others who were clearly as sapient as you? They may not have spoken your language, but they could speak. They could use magic. They had their own societies and cultures. What gave you the right to break them away from their families and loved ones? What gave you the right to exploit them when you and yours had more than enough of what you needed to survive and even thrive on that island of yours?”

“It is our Faust-given right. We are the children of Faust. I am a child of Faust!”

“To think her children would wage war amongst themselves,” Hammer Strike muttered darkly as he watched the scene unfold.

“Wrong, my little Pony,” Fierna purred. “Oh, you were her child, for a time,” she conceded. “All of your species and races were, even the Gryphons you battled so zealously. But then again, you never did fight them yourself, did you? You simply tested your weapons on the subjects you had at hand. Any subject. Any number of Faust’s other creations, her other children.” She smirked. “The one saving grace you have is the fact that much of what you became in life is because of centuries of conditioning. That is the reason why you were allowed this audience in the first place. I am nothing, if not impartial with my cases. Indeed, you may well have been allowed to exist in a form of limbo between the heavens and Hell, were it not for one irrefutable scenario that was carried out in the last fourteen years of your life.

Fierna unleashed a savage grin. “Tell me, Calamitous, do the words Group Eight, Subject Twenty mean anything to you?”

Calamitous and Hammer Strike both stiffened.

With the blow struck, she sheathed her teeth again. It was time to play a little more with her prey. “Yes, I thought they might. This unique ‘specimen,’ as you called him, displayed a level of intelligence vastly higher than that of his fellow Earth Ponies. Not only was he capable of advanced intelligence, but he also demonstrated the ability to comprehend and speak your language fluently. His strength overwhelmed your guards and even allowed him to endure countless surgeries and torture that would have broken any other of his species. His capability to harness magic was also formidable, according to the record of your life, with powers that you weren’t capable of understanding and had even gone so far as to begin researching, despite countless warnings against it by the very individual who knew that power best. For all intents and purposes, he was the equivalent of your species, a bridge of sorts.”

She allowed her words the time to sink in, then continued as she watched his face petrify into that familiar stony blankness all races seem to take when they know they are being ousted for bad behavior. “But you weren’t interested in that. No, you were concerned because of how this subject had been acquired. You were concerned what it meant for your precious empire. And most importantly, you were concerned because it demonstrated that these lesser children of Faust had the potential to learn a form of power that you and yours could not counter. And that infuriated you and your people most of all. Forbidden knowledge. Yet nothing could be forbidden to you. Nothing should be. And if you could not gain knowledge from the subject via the implants you placed within him, then you and your fellow scientists would go about it another way.”

“I had nothing to do with those experiments.”

“On the contrary, Calamitous Wile, you had everything to do with those experiments. It was your monitoring equipment that registered the energies that Pony exudes. It was your findings that prompted the arcane research branch of your scientists to tap into forces that not even demons are insane enough to touch. And it was you who, at their prodding, pushed your precious subject as far as he could be pushed in an attempt to better analyze his power and to break him so that he couldn’t use it in retribution against those who had abused him.”

She straightened and tapped her nails casually on the arms of her throne as Belial leaned in behind her and whispered into her ear. A wicked grin crossed her face, and Fierna laughed. “Oh, that is too rich!” She turned back to Wile, still smiling. “Tell me, Calamitous Wile, if you believe my judgement to be unfair, would you accept the ruling of another?”

Calamitous narrowed his gaze suspiciously. “From whom?”

“Why, another child of Faust, of course. One who most definitely has been ruled by the highest authority in hell not to belong here. And this court is bound to agree with that assessment. Would this not prove satisfactory to you, to be judged by one of your own who has already been deemed unfit to dwell here?”

“No strings attached?”

“None. The ruling will be theirs alone, and we will abide by it. Now choose, Calamitous. Will you accept my judgement or that or this substitute?”

Calamitous continued to regard her with suspicion, even as he made his decision. “Very well. I accept these terms.”

“Your acceptance is noted in the official records, and you, Calamitous Wile, are now bound to abide by the terms of this verbal contract as it has been offered to you.”

“Yes, yes. Now where is this Alicorn?”

“Your judge is already here.” She smiled as her voice rose to fill the chamber with ringing authority. “Hammer Strike, you are hereby summoned. Step forward and address your petitioner.”

“Of course,” Hammer Strike muttered, then sighed. “Right when I finally have that damned island behind me.” He took a deep breath and stepped forward. “Doctor,” he spat venomously.

The Alicorn’s breath caught momentarily. Then he turned his head resolutely to the side. “I believe the line starts back there,” he said as he motioned with a wing. “I can’t say I’m surprised to see you here, given the number of people you killed.”

“Oh, you misunderstand.” Hammer Strike shook his head. “Though I may have slaughtered you Alicorns without so much as a conscious thought toward it, I hold no guilt toward your downfall. I guess you could say I’m currently on a tour of Hell, not a resident.”

“Are you actually telling me that you survived?” The doctor gaped at the Earth Pony.

“And thrived, according to our records. That’s why Asmodeus is so keen on meeting him. Someone broke the rules by sending him to us,” Fierna said.

Calamitous scoffed and turned to address the archdevil. “Regardless of his state, I am still waiting for this arbiter. Where is he, or she?”

“You’ve already met,” Fierna said and motioned to the scarred Earth Pony. “This is Hammer Strike. But you would have known that, had you taken the time to learn his name when you were alive.”

“But you said—”

“That you would be judged by a child of Faust. And so you will be. Look upon your brother, Calamitous Wile, for he bears the blessing of Sleipnir and the gratitude of Faust and Bonnie.”

Hammer Strike frowned. “Please refrain from naming me anything familial to him. He was long since abandoned by the gods.”

“I make no promises, since I am bound by certain laws, but I will attempt to refrain from such speech. I have yielded the judgement to you.” She rose from the throne and motioned with a hand. “The seat is yours, as is the court.”

“Then I will keep it simple.” He directed his gaze to the Alicorn. “Guilty.”

“You don’t wish to cite evidence, confront him with his wrongdoings?”

“That would imply I wish to further waste time on him,” Hammer Strike replied flatly. “I have a town to run, two daughters, and a son to get back to. He’s not worth the effort. That, and you pretty much covered anything I would bring up.”

The Alicorn’s face flushed with fury. “You tricked me!” he roared.

“This is Hell. Did you really expect anything less? Even without his judgement, your appeal would have been denied. This was merely a bonus for a soul you wronged. I would offer him the chance to name and possibly even implement your punishment, but he has already inherently declined. As such, you are to be remanded into the custody of the archdevil whose plane best suits your sins, there to be punished for all eternity.”

The Alicorn’s horn began to glow before his chains and a sigil engraved on his chest flared in response. He cried out in pain as smoke rose off his fur. Seconds later, the last echoes of his wailing faded into silence as he was slowly consumed by an infernal magical seal to transport him to his ultimate destination.

“There will be many devils who wish to claim his soul,” Fierna noted calmly. “It may take a while, but he will get his punishment, and you can rest assured it will be terrible.”

Belial stepped forward. “I assume you’ve come to my daughter’s court for passage?” He nodded his acknowledgement to Hammer Strike’s escort. “Lord, it’s been a while.”

“It has, Lord Belial.” Lord gave a short bow. “I’ve taken it upon myself to guide our guest to Asmodeus.”

“A curiously thoughtful gesture, given your previous stance on neutrality.”

“Is it not better for all if the prince is kept happy?”

“That is true. None would dare to risk his wroth.”

“Then may we carry on?”

“Far be it for us to prevent you. Isn’t that right, daughter?”

“Naturally,” Fierna agreed. “You have the summons to meet him. We wouldn’t dare impede such a call.”

The two waved their hands and a patch of the obsidian gave way as jagged chunks of ice shattered the floor and rose to join into an archway of pure ice that steamed against the intense heat of the room.

“Stygia awaits,” Belial said.

“I bid you good fortune in your travels, Hammer Strike. I pity the devil that seeks to halt your passage,” Fierna finished.

Hammer Strike gave them both a nod before moving through the archway, followed shortly by Lord, Rem, and Ram.





The group of four crested the red cliff before them as they looked down upon Nessus. It had been a long journey through the remaining five layers of hell. They’d encountered many devils, and had to fight some and kill others. Hammer strike had gained renown as being the first mortal to break Mephistopholes’ jaw before the devil had allowed them to carry on into Nessus. This final plane was the home and court of Asmodeus, the farthest point downwards one could reach before falling into Gehenna. The area was basically a red barren wasteland full of craggy cliffs.

“Lord Asmodeus should be just ahead,” Lord said as they examined the area.

“Well, this took slightly less time than I anticipated.” Hammer Strike nodded to himself.

“Faster than the bus.” Lord shrugged.

“Glad to hear that.”

“Still surprised lord Mephistopheles let you go, after what you did.”

“Got in our way.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “Not my fault they didn’t get the memo.”

“You are the most interesting mortal I've ever met.”

“Well, I’ve got to make things interesting to anyone.” Hammer Strike shrugged.

Soon a fortress appeared in the distance and quickly grew closer, by the time they reached the gate. Hammer Strike found himself gazing upon the largest structure he’d ever laid eyes on. The walls stretched for what seemed an eternity in either direction, and the walls pushed back well beyond, into the horizon. Turrets, cannons, ballistae, catapults, and all manner of siege weaponry bristled from atop its walls and towers. The very structure seemed to undulate, its walls ever shifting into a different shape and function. The only constant was the color red that shone like rubies in the infernal light. The closer they drew to the structure, the taller the walls seemed to become while row upon row of devils bristled within, waiting to pounce on any uninvited guest that should seek entry.

“On behalf of lord Asmodeus, we demand entrance,” Lord shouted to the wall.

“Present your summons!” one of the devils hissed from the wall.

Hammer Strike sighed, reached into his coat, and fished out the provided documentation he had.

The letter glowed, then flew at the wall. Seconds later, the ponderous shifting surface solidified into a towering gate that creaked open to admit the visitors. A sleek devil in a shiny waistcoat bowed. “Welcome, welcome. We’ve been expecting you. Master Asmodeus is at his chambers. I have been instructed to bring you to him at once.”

“Hopefully, I made it here at a decent rate?” Hammer Strike asked as he drew near.

“You arrived far quicker than expected. The master is very much impressed.” The red-skinned devil smiled. “He will receive you in his throne room.”

Hammer Strike nodded. “Lead the way.”

The throne room was tastefully decorated in a large cavernous hall deep within the fortress. Magma flow and torchlight filled the space as a pale and trembling soul knelt before the throne. The longer it knelt there, the less corporeal it became, until it finally dissipated into pale wisps of ectoplasm and ether. Asmodeus sighed, then smiled as he beheld the party and servant. He rose to his feet and towered above the four at thirteen feet tall. His great red horns curved down around his head in a manner not unlike Ainz’s own style. His eyes burned a bloody red that flickered with an inner fire.

“And here you stand, far earlier than I anticipated.” His voice was smooth and rich as he approached Hammer Strike. “Were you really so very keen to reach me?”

“I’ve got a town to run, two daughters, and a son to get back to.” Hammer Strike rubbed the back of his neck. “They … are probably overly stressing about what happened for me to end up here.”

“Indeed. Unlike other souls that come here, your body is still intact. Most of the time, when this happens, we snare the intruders and claim them for our own, regardless. But you, you were not meant to be here. At least not yet.” Asmodeus stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Much though I hate to admit it, I owe you a favor for this inconvenience. Someone brought you here against your will and before your time.” He frowned. “I would like that person’s name, if you have it.”

“Apologies, but I haven’t been able to obtain that piece of information.” Hammer Strike frowned.

“A pity.” Asmodeus frowned. “I dislike those who break up the order in my kingdom.” He turned to the other three Ponies. “Lord, what are you doing on hooves?”

“I desired to return to my normal form for a while, my lord. If it displeases you, I will change it.”

“It makes no difference to me at this point. You assisted in escorting our guest safely to this plane. That is more deserving of reward than chastisement.” He glanced casually over Rem and Ram, then turned his gaze back to Hammer Strike. “Now, then, I believe you wished to return home. However, before I allow you to do so, I must ask that you make your request of me. I’ve just eaten, so I have greater strength at the moment. Tell me, Hammer Strike, what is it you desire?”

Hammer Strike blinked a few times. “Besides a way home?” He furrowed his brows. “Not much, really. I actually just recently made the thing I desired most.”

“Your anvil, I assume,” he said casually. “Then is there something else I can grant you?”

“Nothing that I can think of.”

Asmodeus frowned in thought. “Lord.”

“Yes, my prince?”

“As I recall, you were once a denizen of this Equis, correct?”

“Yes, my Lord Asmodeus.”

“Tell me, are the other archfiends still vying for your loyalty?”

“Of course.” Lord chuckled. “They mistakenly think I'd be a powerful pawn in their plots against you.”

“There is no doubt that you are powerful. And given this mysterious individual’s capacity to open gates into Hell, it seems there is only one gift I can grant Hammer Strike that would be most appropriate.” He drew himself up and smiled. “I’m taking you off the playing board, Lord. From this moment on, you are to serve Hammer Strike in the land of the living. That way, should this vampire succeed in pushing him back into Hell, you will be able to retrieve him. Entertaining though it was to have him throw the other lords off balance, it is an experience I would not have us repeat. There is order to be kept, after all.” His eyes flared as he gazed at Hammer Strike. “And we both know there are entities whose attention I would rather not have turned my way.”

“There is the question of my attendants, Lord Asmodeus,” Lord noted.

“Well, naturally, they’ll be going with you. Do you really think I’m going to risk Belial or any of the others getting ahold of such gifted fighters and spell casters? I placed them under your ownership for a reason, Lord.”

“Very well. If it is your will, and if Hammer Strike will accept it, then I will do this.”

Hammer Strike shrugged. “Well, I’ve got a lich and a vampire. Any additional assistance would be useful.”

“Then it’s settled.” Asmodeus clapped his hands and a series of loud screams carried up from deep under the stones. A fine red mist sifted up from the floor and gradually coalesced into a swirling portal that ignited into flame. “I believe your family is waiting for you. Let’s not keep them any longer.”

“Appreciated.” Hammer Strike gave a nod. “Hopefully, if there is another meeting, it’ll be on better terms,” he commented as he moved toward the portal.

Asmodeus chuckled. “I suppose with you, it may be possible, but if it’s after you die, I doubt we’ll meet directly. You already have the knowledge of the existence of gods. My domain is specifically for those who disbelieve. But, in the off chance you do happen down here, I may be willing to entertain for old time’s sake. Who knows? Perhaps you could become as influential as Lord.”

“I’d hope not,” he replied with a small smile. “I’d prefer just being a guest, rather than actively hunted … more so than I was here.”

“A pity. But that is your choice.” He shrugged. “Farewell, you four. And do send Ainz my regards.”

“Can do,” Hammer Strike replied as he passed through the portal. He shook his head and blinked his eyes a few times as he readjusted. A chill wind passed around him as he looked up, only to realize he was standing in the middle of Unity’s town square, surrounded by a number of citizens who all shared a look of concern.

Before he could make a comment, Lord, Rem, and Ram followed behind, appearing just behind him, giving the nearby civilians even more to ponder.

Hammer Strike opened his mouth to calm any potential worries, only for a gate of black fire to appear nearby, and Ainz to step out. His shoulders seemed to relax as he looked to Hammer Strike.

“You’re all right.” Ainz sounded genuinely relieved to see him, which said something, considering the lich’s normally emotionless tone.

“I mean, it was only a few days in Hell. Would have been faster if I didn’t have a few fights to deal with. That, and a court case.”

Ainz stared blankly at him for a few moments before he started laughing loudly. “Only you would say that,” he said.

“Also, Ainz, meet Lord, Rem, and Ram.” Hammer Strike gestured to each respectively. “Asmodeus insisted that he owed me, and I couldn’t think of anything at the time. Not to say they aren’t exceptionally skilled, mind you.”

“Actual devils?” Ainz looked at them. “Well, this will be interesting. Should I take them away before Anderson gets here?”

“Probably.” Hammer Strike frowned. After a moment, he looked toward the citizens around him, who appeared to be accepting the situation and going back to their business. “Also, how long until Clover, Celestia, Luna, and potentially Binding appear?”

And then Luna barreled into him. “Daddy!”

Hammer Strike offered a smile as he hugged Luna. “I see you’ve been keeping tabs as well.”

“You’ve been gone for days,” she said. “I was worried.”

“I’m sorry about that, but I did promise I would be back.”

“Don’t act like you expected this to happen!”

“I mean, I didn’t, but I did say I would be back,” he defended.

“You, sir, have some explaining to do,” Yharon said as he alighted on the ground, then promptly tackled him in a hug not unlike what Luna had just done.

Hammer Strike chuckled as he returned the hug. “It was just a tour of Hell.”

“You realize the nine hells are nigh-unheard of on Equis?” Clover asked as she approached him. “That's how rare it is for Ponies to go there.”

“Yeah, I figured that part out.”

“I have no idea how you made it back unscathed, but you’ve been gone for several days. Things have been … stressful.”

“I’m sorry for that.” Hammer Strike rubbed the back of his head.

“How are you doing?” Clover asked. “You seem uninjured, but such a realm can injure more than just the body.”

“I’m absolutely fine.” He gave a gentle smile. “Honestly, I actually got some closure.”

“Closure for what?” Celestia asked as she glided down to the street.

Hammer Strike looked to her before giving a soft sigh. “Surprising enough, that one doctor was there. The one who … ‘watched over’ me on the island.”

“You mean the one Mother hated?”

“I assume so.”

“Then good. That means we can have a celebratory dinner. And then Clover can figure out how to ground you.”

He gave a brief chuckle. “Not gonna happen this time.”

“Are you sure?” Celestia smirked. “We were all pretty worried. At the very least, you need to take a vacation to spend time with us at home.”

“That, I can manage.” He smiled. “After introductions are made.”

“Indeed. Your family aren’t the only ones who have been worried about you,” a familiar voice said. Harmony materialized next to him, and he smiled as he felt the familiar calming influence of his presence. “I sense a certain amount of closure. That is good. Will you tell me about it later?”

Hammer Strike chuckled. “Of course, Harmony,” he murmured lowly. “I think we all could use an update.”

She smiled softly. “I’m looking forward to it.”





“Remind me to build either a new room or building to have these meetings,” Hammer Strike commented as he looked out to everyone seated in his living room.

“Right, then, how about you introduce us to your new friends, Hammer Strike?” Hurricane asked.

Hammer Strike nodded. “Everyone, meet Lord, Rem, and Ram.” He gestured to the three next to him. “Devils from Hell who will now be working alongside us.”

“Curious. I assume they are bound in a contract already?” Binding asked.

“One made by Asmodeus, yeah.”

“If Hammer Strike trusts them, I don’t see any issue with it,” Hurricane said, then shrugged.

“If they were any danger to us, they’d be dealt with by now,” Ainz added.

“So then, now that you’re back, what’s the plan?” Clover asked.

Hammer Strike frowned. “I have to look into a tether system to secure all of us.”

“Secure us how?” Ainz asked.

“Secure us to this plane of existence. Though we’d be released, Asmodeus doesn’t appreciate the idea and potential of us being sent to Hell incorrectly.”

“So, you mean to tether all our troops involved in hunting monsters?” Hurricane asked.

“Correct. If our enemy has studied a method of reaching and moving individuals to Hell, I need a counter.”

“You may need a cure to vampirism while you’re at it, or at least an inoculation of sorts to protect those that fight with you,” Binding suggested.

“That as well.” He sighed.

“If I may hazaard a partial suggestion?” Lord offered.

Hammer Strike hummed as he looked over to Lord.

“I can’t say for the interim, but when you next fight this vampire, I could lock you two within a dimensional rift. They’d be unable to leave or force you to leave, though you two would be entirely alone.”

“That could work.” Hammer Strike nodded as he thought it over. “Unable to escape through any means….”

“For the both of you,” Lord pressed again.

“Could you draw him out again after the fight is over?” Hurricane asked.

“Yes, but I wouldn’t drop the spell until I know the fight is over.”

“Which is understandable.” Hammer Strike nodded. “Yeah, keep that at the ready for next time.”

“Are you sure you want to be locked out of help?” Clover asked.

“Let me be clear right now.” Hammer Strike’s gaze leveled on everyone. “The next time he’s found, I will be killing him, no matter what. I’m done limiting myself.”

“As to be expected,” Ainz said after a few moments of awkward silence.

“Why did you limit yourself the last few times you faced him, then?” Celestia asked in confusion. “Did you somehow underestimate him?”

“Partially,” Hammer Strike admitted. “But, that’s the thing, I don’t go all out. I can’t, honestly.”

“Sometimes, those in power must think about those around them. They can never really flex their muscles,” Ainz noted.

“And yet, now you will, because you’ll be in a place where you can without doing harm. Is that the gist of it?” Celestia asked.

“If the plan works, then yes,” Hammer Strike replied.

“Still, it seems you’ll need a more potent weapon,” Ainz noted.

“That greatsword I had worked pretty well, but I need to look into making it better.” Hammer Strike hummed. “The problem is, I have no idea where to begin on altering a weapon like that.”

“Is there someone you could ask?” Yharon suggested.

“Admittedly, no.”

“Would it help if you used some of my fire?”

“Sadly, no. These weapons are … very unique, to say the least.”

“Well, on to other problems for now,” Ainz spoke up. “The recent surge in vampire activity has begun stirring other creatures we’ll have to deal with.”

“Delightful.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Thankfully, the insignias I put on everything should work, for the most part, on them. Speaking of which, how is Tarefson managing?”

“He’s settled in, and I've been providing him with … necessary nourishment,” Ainz noted.

“Good. Once he’s completely stable, it might be an idea to send him out.”

“I'll let you know when he’s ready, then,” Ainz promised.

“Any additional concerns from anyone?” Hammer Strike questioned.

“Anderson,” Hurricane noted. “He’s very gentle with the people in the settlement, but the moment he even hears so much as a whiff of conversation about dark monsters of any kind, it’s like he’s a different person. How are we going to keep him in check when Tarefson integrates into the community?”

“I’m going to have to lay down some rules.” Hammer Strike sighed. “If he refuses to listen, he’ll have to be removed from Unity.”

“And the same goes for Tarefson?”

“Removed from existence,” Hammer Strike replied grimly.

“He’s bound by similar oaths to what I am,” Ainz explained. “Betrayal or disobedience is simply not a possibility.”

“Do you think that’ll be enough to soothe Anderson?”

“I don’t think it matters,” Ainz said. “Anderson would have to kill Hammer Strike to kill him. And even to kill him in a fight may not be possible by the time he’s fully recovered. He’s becoming something … different than even an elder vampire.” 

“Deci Ridicati Dracula,” Lord laughed.

“Dracula?” Hammer Strike glanced to Lord.

“In other realms, a vampire is sometimes birthed with power far exceeding that of previous vampires, usually through a pact with a being of considerable power themselves. In Hell we labeled these vampires Dracula or ‘sons of the devil,’ since the vampiric trait originated in Hell.”

“Fair enough.” Hammer Strike nodded. “With that, if there is nothing more to discuss, then this meeting is complete.”





The humid air weighed heavily over New Unity as the Pegasi manipulated the clouds to water crops and help maintain aerial fortifications. With the last attack from the Pegasus Tribe, these warriors weren’t about to take any chances. And so it was that whilst performing an inspection of these new fortifications, Hurricane noticed the dull glint of tarnished metal and the waft of a bedraggled pink mane.

He also noticed how curiously pink the clouds seemed to become as this Pegasus passed through it. The figure was soon borne up by a pair of soldiers with makeshift bandages over their heads and sides. Others had their hooves wrapped, instead. The party that made itself manifest had to be at least a hundred strong. At least three quarters of them bore some form of injury.

“By the ancestors,” Hurricane swore. The commander leaped from the new cloudy battlements and dove to the ground beyond the town’s fortifications. “Pansy!”

The smaller mare smiled weakly as she leaned against her companions. “It’s good to see you again, Commander.”

“Easy there, soldier. Just what is the meaning of all this?”

“The tribe is fracturing, Sir.” She coughed. “The council made prison camps to house anypony that wanted to desert or dissent.” She motioned to the rest of their sorry band. “These were all we could get out.” She winced. “If it’s not too much trouble, Sir, there are an awful lot of us who aren’t in the best shape, and we’ve flown an awfully long way. Could you maybe provide us a few medical supplies? Oh, and maybe fetch Hammer Strike? I’m pretty sure we were probably followed, and there’s the matter of the invasion—”

“Invasion?”

“Sir, with all due respect, she’s bleeding out. Could you at least get somepony to look at her? One of us can fill you in on the details later,” the stallion at Pansy’s side said.

They heard a sigh as Hammer Strike strode toward their position on the wall. His Moonlight Greatsword lay across his back. “What’s going on this time?”

“Apparently, invasion and forced captivity, if my former private is to be believed,” Hurricane said. “And she’s never lied to me.” He frowned. “Can we at least treat the critically injured, Sir? I hate to see her like this.”

Hammer Strike glanced over the group before nodding. “See to it. I’ll alert the others.”

A triage unit was hastily dispatched. It didn’t take long to piece the story together. In an effort to stem the tide of desertion, the council had created a prison to hold would-be-rebels. Thanks to the efforts of various Ponies and Pansy’s own brave coordination, they had been able to break through a small portion of the prison’s cloud wall to provide an escape route. Regrettably, as a result, some had to take the force of the attack when the guards realized what was happening. And for perhaps one of the few times she ever would in her life, Pansy showed just how much of a warrior she was.

Given the nature of their flight, it was likely the Pegasi would move up their timetable. That meant Unity would need to brace for a second aerial assault. After he’d tended to Pansy and the other soldiers, Hurricane left for the barracks. If the Pegasi wanted to declare war, then they would have a war.

It was time the council saw just how large a mistake they made in cutting him off.





Unity was ablaze with activity as guardsmen and volunteer militia were rounded up and sorted into groups. Weapons were handed out according to group and what each group was capable of. The sections of the walls and gate were being soaked heavily to prevent them from being lit on fire. Crossbows were set up, and quarrels were counted and placed as needed.

Hammer Strike had set up several ballistae strategically along the wall. Trained groups were already prepping them for use. Ainz had been allowed to unleash his own troops under orders they were not to be seen inside the forest. Unseen by the Ponies, zombies, skeletons, wights, and ghouls patrolled the grounds outside the town, along with one vampire.

Near the gate, the available Unicorns with high enough casting potential had been taken and sorted into two groups. Binding was schooling his group on healing and beneficial spells. Clover, meanwhile....

“Remember. Keep your matrices tight. Pegasai are nigh-immune to lighting, so rely on fire or ice. No big showy works here. We need to preserve mana. Attack, check your surroundings, and move on. This is our home, and no one is going to take it from us. Keep your aim careful. We don’t want to attack one of our own out there. But if you fire that spell, then make sure you aim to kill. Those of you with staves, cover those without. And remember those are weapons at the end. Don’t forget to use them, if you have to.”

The noncombatants had once again been placed inside the church. Though the church at least was no longer solely cared for by two. Several Ponies of various tribes had dedicated themselves to the order after Hammer Strike’s miraculous return to them, and currently the initiates stood praying at the altar with Heinkel leading them. Whatever they were doing seemed to be working as the church was wreathed in a film of white light.

Above the town, the Gryphons and Pegasi had worked on their cloud fortress, reinforcing and compacting the cloud to the point it was thick enough that most Earth Ponies could walk on it without a cloudwalking spell. Arrow slots had been strategically placed, and already arrow heads could be seen waiting. The Gryphons had added barbs to their arrows, clearly prepared for maximum damage.

As Hammer Strike inspected the preparations, he found Poultice and an unnamed young stallion handing out small kits of random potions to the groups of defenders.

Hurricane saluted as he approached. “Things are working smoothly. We should have preparations done within the hour, at this rate.”

“Glad to hear it.” Hammer Strike hummed. “I’ll need someone to run out and quickly plant a few objects in the fields outside Unity. Preferably around four pegasi, quick ones.”

Hurricane turned around and gave a low whistle. In an instant, a small squad of Pegasi arrived and offered crisp salutes. Clearly, Hurricane had been working on discipline. “Take your pick.”

Hammer Strike pointed to four individuals. “You four will do. I need you to plant some objects around Unity’s perimeter.”  He reached into his coat.

One of the four, a mare, stepped forward. “Lieutenant Blazing Fire, leader of the Thunderbolt Operations Unit. Whatever you need, Sir, we’ll get it done. What are we planting, and what do we need to know about them?”

Hammer Strike pulled out a small purple cylinder. “This is what you’ll be planting at Unity’s every corner, and halfway down each wall. I’ve spent years making prototypes, and I was able to complete it recently.” 

“Any specific requirements?” she asked as she accepted the cylinder.

“I have the controller, and I can distribute additional ones to high ranking individuals. These are what I call gravity tunnels, an instrument I made to counter Pegasus flight, but it only works against those who aren’t part of Unity.” He pulled out the rest of the cylinders and placed them before each of the Pegasi.

“Consider it done.” Blazing Fire nodded as each of the others took a cylinder, then departed in a synchronised, almost graceful takeoff.

“That one is going places.” Hurricane chuckled. “Who knows? She might even get my job.” He ran a hoof over his mane, and Hammer Strike couldn’t help but notice a few threads of silver in the mix.

“Perhaps.” Hammer Strike gave him a soft smile. “But it’s going to be a while till that day. You’re too stubborn to quit, unless you actually have to.”

“Of course. Still best to prepare for the future. It’s not like it’ll wait for us.”

“Well, Commander, I’ve got some additional work that I need to complete before things kick off. See to any final preparations and get ready.”

“Will do. Ancestors know they’ll probably be here by tomorrow.” Hurricane did an about face and marched off.

Hammer Strike sighed to himself as he moved off the wall and towards his house. He had a guest he had to leave behind temporarily, but he needed to resolve that quickly.

“Strange,” Harmony’s ethereal voice echoed as she materialized next to the Pony and matched his pace.

Hammer Strike hummed questioningly as he glanced over to Harmony.

“Usually, when war or battle comes, my influence is weakened. And yet, I don’t feel that drain now. Despite the apprehension and fear that abounds, the people here have all come together with a common purpose.” She looked toward the church. “And a common faith.”

“It’s certainly interesting how everyone comes together.” He looked out with a small smile. “But that alone gives me faith in those fighting.”

“You give them something to fight for. They love you and what you’ve built here with them.”

“I’m glad to be leading them all.” Hammer Strike chuckled as he continued on his way.

Harmony smiled. “About time you admitted it.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He shook his head. “Come on; I’ve got a meeting to get to.”

A thestral mare stood outside Hammer Strike’s house. She had a grey coat with a blue mane and tail. Large golden eyes looked determinedly at him. She wore a black wolf pelt over her body with beads tied here and there among the fur. Her tomahawk was holstered at her side, and a spear laid on her back.

“Greetings, Grand Chieftain,” she offered when he got close.

“Glad to see you made it here safely.”

“Yes. I have come with as many warriors as we could spare.” She nodded. “Unity will not fall.”

“That’s appreciated,” Hammer Strike noted with some surprise. “Honestly, I didn’t anticipate this.”

“We couldn’t very well leave you without help.”

“Fair, but I meant more along the lines of the quick response.” Hammer Strike hummed. “The help will be greatly appreciated. I’ll just adjust plans for each of you as well. What are your numbers like?”

“We have nearly a hundred warriors,” she said. “There are more coming, but they are taking it slower, getting resources ready, should they be needed.”

Hammer Strike hummed as he thought things over. “All right, I’ll need your squads to help cover night shifts, keep watch over the skies and, if needed, engage in combat, should the attack come.”

“Very well. Should we talk to someone about placements?”

“Hurricane, the commander over Unity’s guard. He’s currently situated near the northern front, checking over the last sections.”

“She nodded. “Is there anything else?”

“That should be it. We’re glad to have additional forces.”

“Of course.” She bowed her head and was off.

Hammer Strike hummed to himself as he thought everything over before entering his home. “Celestia, Luna, Yharon,” he called out.

The trio were there as quickly as each could manage respectively. That meant Luna and Celestia teleported and Yharon flew.

“What is it, Father?” Celestia asked.

“With everything going on as it is, there are a limited amount of things I can do. As such, I want you three to report to your teachers and….” He took a breath. “If you can assist with this bout, it would be appreciated by everyone.”

“As in ask our teachers what we should do?” Yharon asked.

“Correct.”

“Any idea when the combat will start?” Luna asked.

“Potentially within the next twenty-four hours.”

Luna seemed almost giddy. Yharon looked nervously at Celestia, and she at him.

“Sis, you’re not going to put yourself in too much danger, right?” Yharon asked.

“Please, brother. I won't be in any danger at all.” Luna laughed.

Yharon frowned. “If you say so.”

“Before we jump into any combat, I think we should do what Father asked and go see our teachers,” Celestia said.

“Very well,” Luna huffed.

Hammer Strike looked at each of them. “Be sure to check in with them before it gets too late. I’ve got some preparations to finish, so I’ll be in my forge.”

“Yes, Sir,” they all replied, then filed out of the house.





A small squad of Pegasi trotted slowly to the gate under the banner of a flowing white flag. Each kept a close eye on their surroundings, ever alert for the potential of a surprise attack or worse. In due course, they arrived at the gates to Unity and knocked heavily at the doors.

“State your name and business.” Hurricane himself spoke from the gate.

“We’ve come on behalf of the council to negotiate terms.” The mare that stepped forward bore a harsh gaze that was magnified by her reddish-brown eyes. Her fur was key-lime-green, and her mane a bristling creamy white. “But you already knew that.”

“Unity will gratefully accept the Military Council’s surrender,” Hurricane called back. The wall had a short wave of chuckles at that.

“The council was referring to your surrender and that of the Earth Pony you serve.”

There was a glint a breath before a single barbed shaft nearly three feet long flew from above to bury itself a hair's breadth from the mare’s front left hoof.

“I’d suggest you refer to Hammer Strike by his proper name. The Gryphons can be very touchy about disrespect,” Hurricane spoke. “As for surrender, I think you need to return to military school, Lieutenant. The privilege of surrender is to be offered only by the party with the greatest chance of winning.”

“On that, we are agreed. Now, will you hear our terms, or am I to take this as a refusal to parley?”

“Here are the terms. Any who attack this place will die. Any who disagree with this farce the council is pushing should leave now. Leave, and no one will follow. But be assured any who stay will nourish this land with their blood. You are one tribe. We are many. We are led by a lord who cares for our wellbeing and refuses to let us tear ourselves asunder over petty differences. This is Unity, and Unity stands!”

Along the wall, the call echoed in one thunderous voice. “UNITY STANDS!”

Behind the wall, the call grew, crashing and thundering with its voice. “UNITY STANDS!”

And the town beyond, all over, every Pony let the call ring forth, the power spreading for all to hear. The white light suffusing the church exploded into a bright blaze. All around Unity, flowers sprouted and bloomed as vines crawled along the wall almost protectively. The air, the ground, and the very soul of magic itself rang with the power of this call.

“Very well, traitor,” the mare said resolutely as she turned from the wall. The delegation followed closely behind.

“Funny how perspective works. Ten years ago, you’d have been the traitor, and I the patriot,” he shouted after them.

The warriors on the battlements grinned as they congratulated one another and their commander on the sound verbal thrashing he had given. All the same, the gauntlet had been thrown, and all of them knew only too well the need to remain alert for any signs of attack. There was no peace that would come. Instead, it was time to go about the grim business of preparing to sow death.





The thunderheads that surrounded Unity rumbled threateningly as the winds began to pick up. The rain came first, followed by a chain of lightning that jumped from cloud to cloud. In a matter of seconds, that rain transitioned into hailstones six inches wide that pelted against the walls. However, few, if any, found targets, since the majority of Unity had been protected by the massive cloud fortress Hurricane had constructed with the Gryphons.

The storm clouds pushed against the walls as winds pressed in from all sides, prodding them toward the fortress. Arcs of electricity jumped toward its clouds, and they began to darken before a moist wind blew back against the assault, generated by the combined efforts of Pegasi and Gryphon. For a time, this effort seemed to work, until a greater gale shoved the clouds forward again. Soldiers flapped for all they were worth as Hurricane shouted.

“Hold the line!” he bellowed. “Hold!”

“We’re giving her all she’s got, Commander!” one of the Pegasi crowed back. “We can’t hold it back for much longer!”

“Just a little more!” he urged.

The storm clouds began to wedge in beneath the fortress, even as Pegasi formed beneath to try and push them back while the deadly payload rained down on the town. Rather than break through the houses, however, it bounced harmlessly off the glowing white aura that surrounded the buildings and collected in the streets.

And that was when it happened. The clop echoed through the air, louder than thunder, louder than an explosion. Its echo encompassed the whole of Unity and spread in a shockwave. The very air seemed to tremble. And suddenly, the onslaught stopped. The storm clouds blew back away from Unity with a terrible force. Their deadly payload continued to fall, heedless of the sudden yelps and cries that now arose as dull brass flickered in the lightning. The invading forces had effectively been neutralized, and now had little choice but to dodge and weave to escape the wrath of their own storm system.

Hurricane was swift to act. “I want teams set to direct these storms on every one of those soldiers. Drive them as far as you can before the systems die. They gave us their ammunition, and I’m not about to waste it.”

“Yes, Sir!” came a chorus of replies.

“Drive them off the path, if you can help it. We don’t want to have all the fun.” He chuckled grimly as the clouds departed and the Pegasi of Unity began to shepherd the invading forces. Needless to say, it wasn’t so much a retreat as a rout.

The Pegasi naturally attempted to find safety in the forest outside Unity. The tree cover did a great job reducing the toll from the heavy weather. As they fled beneath the boughs, none of the Pegasi seemed to notice the ground, the small piles of leaves and dirt that seemed to dot the area. None of them took notice of the eerie quiet either. Aside from the weather, there were neither birds nor animals around them.

It took a full fifteen minutes before the first Pegasus screamed as a skeletal hoof shot from the ground. Skeletal ponies, wights, ghouls, zombies and other types of undead shot from the soil and began to pull screaming struggling soldiers into the ground beneath their hooves. Their screams were soon muffled as dirt filled their mouths and lungs. A few minutes after the first vanished, he reappeared, clawing his way from his grave, bitten and covered in blood and scrapes. Only the blood didn’t flow. The eyes no longer shone with with intelligence or soul. It was just a body moving at the call of some unseen force. And he was not alone.

A certain green mare turned in wide-eyed astonishment as, one after the other, troops disappeared and emerged again with new purpose.

“Undead. Nopony said anything about the bloody undead!” She raced for the nearest tree and quickly scampered into its branches. “Everypony! Get to the trees. Get off the ground and fall back! Fall back!”

“You know, I've always wondered why Ponies think undead can’t climb trees,” a deep voice spoke directly behind her as something licked the back of her neck slowly. “Is that racist? Would you call that racism? Lifeism? Aliveism?” 

A bloodcurdling shriek rose from the mare’s throat, only to be stifled by Tarefson’s hoof as he held it against her muzzle.

“Now, now. Wouldn’t want to let them know you’re up here.” The vampire laughed. “You’re that saucy piece of work who was here earlier demanding surrender.” With a single hoof, he lifted her off the bough where she had found purchase and slammed her against the tree trunk. “Well now, let me offer you my terms.” Tarefson’s red eyes gleamed as he saw that glimmer of hope in her eyes. “I’m going to bite into your jugular now. And then you will get the choice to surrender your existence to death immediately or in the roughly four to six seconds it will take for your brain to die from the lack of blood.” He smiled as his lips pulled back, revealing a muzzle filled with jagged, lethally-sharp teeth. These were not the surgical fangs the legends spoke of, but rather the teeth of a predator. “How’s that for surrender?”

Time slowed for a moment in which her mind realized it was going to die now, and all she could focus on was the unsettling red gleam of his eyes. Red as blood. And then it happened.

“OMNOMNOM!”

There was a sharp pain and a strange warm feeling across her chest, even as her body felt cold. And then the world went black.

Meanwhile, the remainder of the Pegasus army was flying in. The weather group had sent a messenger confirming the clouds were in place and had cited no other alerts. As such, the formations of Pegasi flew toward their target at a brisk pace.

Few witnessed it, but as the Pegasi crossed the border into Hammer Strike’s lands, the magic that supported them was instantly gone. And almost like hitting a wall, they began plummeting to the ground. Most were smart enough to break their fall by fanning their wings out enough to block some of the air. Many, however, had not been so wise, and the ground was covered in jumbles of armored, bruised, and bewildered Pegasi. Out of that number, half were too injured to continue their attack.

A score had even died, due to landing wrong on their own weapons or another’s. The officers, though, were on their hooves almost immediately, shouting out orders and getting the remaining troops that could still fight into formation. They gave speeches about honoring the fallen and not being stopped by the trickery of this Earth Pony. The wounded were told to make a forward operations base and await further orders. 

All in all, the Pegasi continued on three score weaker then they’d entered. Even as they marched out of sight, those not too injured to work began setting up camp. Never once did they notice they were being watched by two hundred pairs of glowing slitted eyes hidden within the shadows of the trees. Sentries were posted, and then promptly dropped as darts coated liberally in several potent neurotoxins buried themselves into the backs of the soldiers’ necks. The watchpony was only made aware as a tomahawk head buried its way into the side of his throat. The camp only realized the attack when the blood began to flow.

As the pegasi crested a hill, they found themselves looking upon the fortified wood and stone walls of Unity. The wall was lined with Ponies of all tribes, many were armed with the strange contraptions they’d seen before. There were also several larger versions of the same seeming to be operated by crews using systems of cranks and pulleys. Waves of power seemed to coat the walls.

The surprise came when they saw the mass of cloud still drifting powerfully above the city. The glint of arrow shafts was clearly visible.

Above the gate stood the dark lord of the self-proclaimed Unity, clad in his coat of ursa fur and wielding a massive greatsword made of bone. He looked at them imposingly.

“Attention, Unity! This is your final warning! Surrender to our mercy or be destroyed!” their commander shouted. He opened his muzzle to continue, only for a massive barbed shaft to seemingly sprout from the back of his mouth. The force of the impact actually flipped him over backward and pinned him to the ground.

“To think, I had placed the Unicorns on a higher level of arrogance,” Hammer Strike called out casually.

A former lieutenant, now acting commander, only growled as she leveled a hoof at the town. “Charge!” she ordered. And with a thunderous gallop, the Pegasi surged. As they drew closer to the wall, arrows and bolts filled the air, raining death in timed waves. Grounded Pegasi died in droves. When the survivors reached the gate under the range of the crossbows, they’d lost a significant amount of their initial attack force. Yet before they truly reached the gate, several loud thuds were heard as Earth Ponies dropped from the wall, clad in platemail. They looked greedily at the charging soldiers.

Landing in front of the rest, Wall lifted his greatshield and broadsword and charged, bringing the shield down on the first soldiers to get in range. He brought the flat of his blade across the back of the second. Pegasi were made to resist high impacts, not crushing force; and both were rendered paste beneath the giant Earth Pony as the heavy knights engaged. 

Hammer Strike landed moments later and charged ahead. The sword, which he had dubbed Astral Abyss, cleaved outward, rending all who dared stand before it. Metal, flesh, muscle, bone, and sinew all parted before its bite with minimal effort.

As the Earth Pony knights held the line, spells flew from the walls. Javelins of ice, spears of fire, and spikes of white-hot iron all bit into the enemy with force. When the sound to fall back was given, the Pegasi turned to find giant walls of ice and stone having formed at their backs. The Earth Ponies and Unicorns pressed onward. The Pegasi of Unity took to the air and fired down at their rear.

Within the hour, only a single Pegasus was still breathing, surrounded by the Earth Pony knights and Pegasi of Unity, as well as the corpses of his comrades. The knights parted as Hurricane and Hammer Strike approached him.

“Let’s turn things around a little, shall we?” Hammer Strike hummed as he drew near.

“Getting soft in your old age?” Hurricane asked.

“Well, I’d rather not let them go extinct now,” he replied simply.

“Hammer strike has decided to let you live.” Hurricane used the flat of his spear to raise the Pony’s head. “I suggest you listen to what he has to say to you.”

“Let’s keep this simple.” Hammer Strike directed his attention to the Pegasus. “You’re going to go back. I want you to return to your camp, your home, wherever you lot decided to station yourselves, and I want you to spread the word of what happened here. How I stripped you all of your flight without so much as touching you. How our army kicked your flanks from every direction. And most of all, how you all should keep to yourselves and stop bothering us.”

Hammer Strike moved closer to the stallion. “I want you to make sure none of you forget.” He gave a dark grin as his hoof was wreathed in fire before planting it on the stallion’s chest. His scream was short-lived as the pain finally stopped. Where Hammer Strike had placed his hoof, a scorched mark of Unity’s symbol had been seared into the flesh. “I want you all to never forget what happens when you pick fights with the sleeping ursa.”

Hurricane gestured to a pair of Pegasi. “You two dump him out near the trail. He can walk from there. The rest of you start digging a pit, so we can burn all these.” He gestured to the bodies. “No point in inviting disease.”

The work began without so much as an afterthought to the warrior-turned messenger. If there was one thing Hammer Strike had taught the people of Unity, it was the need to do the jobs that needed doing as soon as possible, and to do them efficiently. Earth Ponies brought out shovels to dig while Unicorns shifted the dirt piles and distributed them to avoid blocking traffic. The number of corpses was small enough that the requisite pit was dug within an hour. The bodies were then unceremoniously lifted and tossed into the mass grave with neither ceremony nor regret, save on the part of Hurricane. He alone shed two silent tears, one from each eye, then turned aside to address the troops who weren’t already engaged in labor.

“All right, everyone, let’s get to sending out the all clear. We have civilians to return to their homes.”





The casks in the storehouse flowed liberally as the residents of Unity cheered their victory. Not one soul had been lost. Loved ones would be able to return to each other. Foals could mingle with their role models and heroes. Gryphons could wrestle to show off while various Ponies struck up instruments to offer a chance for dancing, and perhaps something extra for the more amorously inclined.

Hammer Strike smiled as he watched the revelry unfold. “Better odds than most would assume.” He chuckled.

“It was a rout. The most disciplined army within the Pony lands just got routed by a slapdash militia. At least, that’s how they’ll see it,” Clover said, standing next to him with a glass of wine.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“It will give the other nations pause,” Clover agreed. “Though I imagine the Unicorns will be harder.”

“I figured as much.” Hammer Strike nodded. “I’ll have to prototype some more devices for further nullification fields. Those gravity tunnels worked well beyond expectations.”

“You took away their major advantage. They didn’t even have siege equipment,” Clover noted. “They’d have never gotten past the gate as they were.”

“I might need your assistance in the next experiments.” He hummed. “In order to further its progress, I’d need help perfecting the location and lock on Unicorn magic, and then adapt it to our contracts.”

Clover took a sip from her wine. “It’s funny. Most of the time, magical contracts are used to inconvenience the one bound by them. You’ve pretty much figured out how to turn them into a weapon.”

“It grants me a useful marker for all those who are a part of Unity.” Hammer Strike smiled. “Lets me make targeted devices.”

“And that, in turn, allows yourself and others to finely target exclusive groups much larger than most Unicorns can. It’s ironic, in a way, how you prove Unity’s strength by its very core concept.”

“To think, I never imagined making a town. It never fully crossed my mind until recent years.”

“And yet this town just took on the Pegasus army and won. You may be onto something.”

“No mays about it,” Harmony said and smiled as she looked over the revelers.

“And I’m quite proud of that.” Hammer Strike grinned as he looked over everyone.

“So, are you going to tell Hurricane what really happened to those bodies?” Clover asked.

“He knows.” Hammer Strike turned towards Clover. “He’s part of the circle, so he gets privileged knowledge.”

“Huh. I guess he’s just determined not to let it bother him.”

Hammer Strike looked toward those celebrating as his smile softened. After a moment, he grabbed his cup and tilted it toward the mare. “To Unity’s future.”

She tapped her wine glass against it. “To Unity’s lord.”





Hammer Strike looked to his stack of parchment. Over the course of the last two weeks, he had been establishing and planning out an expansion to Unity that would grant them further territory to work with and the opportunity to take things to the next step in terms of their guard force.

Hurricane walked in with a spring in his step. After the battle, all of the Pegasi who’d followed Pansy had ended up joining Unity properly. With the help of his aid, the guard had begun to run all the more smoothly.

“You asked to see me?”

“Yes.” Hammer Strike gestured to the seat across from him. “I have plans to discuss with you in particular, and I’d like your input.”

Hurricane took the seat. “Of course.”

Hammer Strike took his assortment of documents and turned them each toward Hurricane. “I believe it’s time for expansion. Nothing quite in terms of taking land from the other tribes, but taking the remainder of my land under Unity’s borders. With this, I also believe it’s time for us to finally instate a true military.”

Hurricane looked over the plans carefully. “You want a defensive army?”

“The risks are starting to grow against us.” Hammer Strike sighed. “I’d like to err on the side of caution, to ensure that we are prepared for whatever is to come.”

“It’s possible,” hurricane mused. “We’d probably have to start recruiting, though.”

“You might have to start looking into the roaming mercenaries as well. See if you can spot any worthwhile.”

“I can do that,” Hurricane acknowledged. “It may take a while to get these kinds of numbers, though.”

“All in due time.” Hammer Strike nodded. “I leave it in your hooves.”

“You’re giving me full control?”

Hammer Strike nodded. “I have full faith in your abilities. I’ve admittedly got plenty on my plate right now, and I’d rather have it done to the utmost standard by someone who fully understands the system and idea.”

“No needless protocols, no budget justification? I can name my own officers?”

“Whatever you need to get things rolling.”

Hurricane stood and saluted. “I won’t let you down.”

“I know.” Hammer Strike stood up and returned the salute. “Now show me the reason you were known as one of the greatest Commanders.”





Hammer Strike frowned as he raised the Moonlight Greatsword into the light of his secret forge. Currently, he was studying the weapons given to him by the dice. While the blade resembled a more crystalline appearance, it was actually a form of metal. He wasn’t able to fully decipher what type, but it was indeed a metal. Meanwhile, the Sunlight Greathammer followed suit, being made of an additionally puzzling metal. 

He frowned as he looked over the two weapons. Both held a great effect against any creature of the night, vampires in particular, yet they held a differing fact that they performed two separate effects on said creatures and vampires.

He sighed to himself and  looked over the wraps on both of the weapons. Once again, they were made from an alien material that was difficult to decipher. It wasn’t until he noticed the end of the wraps that he decided to give something a try.

Reaching towards it, he started working at it in an attempt to remove the wrap, only for it to succeed. His eyebrows raised as he continued to unwrap each of the grips. Eventually, he began to dismantle the weapons piece by piece.

It took half an hour, but he had everything separated before him, from blade to pommel. “So, I can alter both of them,” he muttered to himself as he looked over the components of each section before crossing materials between the two. He checked if the greatsword could take the wrap from the greathammer. There was no backlash of any kind. That implied that the two were indeed capable of incorporation with one another.

After several rounds of back and forth, he finally looked to the blade and hammer head with a newfound curiosity.

If other parts could be switched and matched, could the main pieces of the weapons be alloyed together?

It would be an extreme risk, and could result in the loss of both weapons, but if he could forge a successful alloy out of the two, would they hold the same amount of power together?

He weighed the risks and reward against each other before nodding resolutely. Taking hold of several crucibles, he started working with the metals and gradually melted them together in smaller batches. Afterward, he prepared a greatsword cast.

Over time, he worked the metal in and out of his furnace, heating and treating it to the best of his ability until it finally melted together into a new form. The crucibles glowed a gentle teal as he gathered all the material together. To his surprise and pleasure, not a single piece of slag appeared during refinement.

Finally, he moved the batches to the mold and poured the liquid metal until the entier container was topped off. At first, the liquid metal filled the mold smoothly, taking the intended shape. However, as it began to cool and harden, things changed. Golden and blue bolts of electricity arched along the mold as the metal bubbled and flowed. It seemed to pop from the mold as it altered. The base became wider than Hammer Strike had intended, the mass seeming to pour from the center to the back as the blade lengthened and curved inwards. It was as if the new alloy had a mind of its own.

Before Hammer Strike’s eyes, the material ignored gravity as the outside of the curve developed a thick spine. The inside seemed to form a slant toward a point. The metal shone gold and blue as the process continued, as though two forces were fighting over it. Finally, the whole thing popped into the air with the sound of ringing metal, followed by a loud clang as the wickedly sharp curved blade fell to the floor. The form was familiar to Hammer Strike, and yet different enough it took him a few moments to fully realize what it was.

It was familiar because he’d seen a similar blade on the weapon held by a familiar pair of skeletal hooves.

It was a scythe head.

“What the hell did I just make?” he questioned aloud as he moved toward the blade. After a few seconds, he took hold of it and realized it was pretty much complete. He frowned, placing it on the nearby work table. 

He debated it to himself before reaching up and plucking a strand of his mane and dropping it over the blade. Gravity took hold as it slowly drifted down, only to separate on contact with the scythe blade. Before the Pony’s eyes, both halves of the hair were wreathed in gold and silver fire before they crumbled to ash.

He blinked a few times as he looked to the ash before swiping it away. “All right, then…. All you need now is a snath.”

Over the course of an hour, he worked at a shard of the root of Yggdrasil, working at it into a proper grip for the scythe blade, even going so far as to add a shard of uru. Eventually, he worked at combining the two, and before him sat a new weapon altogether.

He had used a scythe before, but he would need a refresher to get back into it. Taking hold of it, he mused over what to name it as he placed it on his back and secured it in place. After bouncing between a few ideas, he opened a gateway back to Unity with a smile. “My Baleful Eclipse.”

“I don’t know if I should be angry or flattered,” a familiar voice spoke up as he returned to Equis properly.

“Just because you’re jealous doesn’t mean you can be upset,” Hammer Strike countered as he looked over to Death.

“Jealousy doesn’t begin to describe it,” Death stated. “You know what I would give to have a weapon like that?”

“I’d say your soul, but someone’s already got dibs on that.”

“That blade is powerful,” Death noted. “Even more so, now that you just imparted a name that fits it.”

“A perfect eclipse of sun and moon.” Hammer Strike took hold of the grip and moved it to his front to look at it once again. “Disturbingly balanced, too.”

“You made it from two soulbound weapons,” Death noted. “This weapon probably understands you better than your own mother. I don’t think anyone has attempted this before.”

“Given my current situation, that’s not too hard to believe,” Hammer Strike muttered toward the first part. Then he shrugged. “Well, someone had to try sometime.”

“And how likely do you think they were to succeed?” Death asked. “You created this weapon for a purpose, and it burns with that purpose.”

Hammer Strike grinned as he looked into the blade. “Perfect.”

“Normally, I’d warn people off of god weapons. They tend to be spiteful, back-biting, or treacherous. What you have there may be the most devoted weapon I've heard of. It has no code, no honor requirement. It wants to drain nothing. It only wants you to use it.”

“And use it, I shall.” Hammer Strike smiled as he glanced up to Death. “Now, I’ve got to practice. Can’t put a weapon like this to shame. You’re free to join me, if you’d like.”

“I need to return to work. I'd advise you to be careful. You’ve probably got all the gods’ attention with this one.”

“Yeah. Sleipnir especially, I would assume,” he remarked looking up.

“Good luck,” Death offered before vanishing.





A scythe was an interesting weapon. Well, weapon was a generous term. For the most part, it was a farming tool made into a weapon. It had similar principles to a halberd or a spear, and yet required different things entirely for technique. Momentum was the key to control, and it admittedly took Hammer Strike a while to get back into the movements required to exercise the weapon properly.

The movements came to him slowly, with long sweeping strikes and quick careful slashes. Keeping the snath moving fluently in his hooves not just higher and lower, but with rotation and counter rotation. It was difficult without someone to practice with, but Hammer Strike was sure such a thing would be a disaster. When he’d attempted to pick up a practice scythe, Baleful Eclipse pulsed with jealousy. His training dummies had proven the blade's ability as the steel reinforced plating and filling both were rendered to little more than scrap.

Still, the blade became more comfortable in his hooves over time. Control followed slowly, but came more and more fluidly over time. He found he could know where the blade would be at all times and could use that to plan movements with perfect prediction.

Hammer Strike could hear hooves clapping behind him as he sent a two-foot-thick tree to the ground with a single swipe of the blade.

“That was amazing,” Clover commented.

Hammer Strike turned to face the mare. “Thanks.” He looked to the blade again before placing it on his back. “Had to practice again. Haven’t used a scythe in … years.”

“And we all felt that weapon when you christened it.” Clover nodded. “You think it will be enough this time?”

“Definitely. I had that bastard on the ropes last time, and I wasn’t fully into it. Now? Now, it’s only a matter of time.”

“I want to go with you next time,” Clover said.

“I would advise against it,” Hammer Strike replied.

“I need to see. I need to learn. Star Swirl spent years ‘protecting’ me from such things, and all it did was make me weaker. I need to understand just what we’re up against.”

Hammer Strike sighed. “On one condition.”

“And that is?”

“When I’m fighting, be nowhere near me.”

“I can do that.”

“Good, because I … I don’t think I can hold back with this thing.” Hammer Strike looked behind him.

“I don’t think holding back is what you should be doing in this fight, anyway.”

“Well, it’s a good thing that wherever we fight will be reduced to rubble afterward.”

“You really hate them, don’t you?”

“I hate any who harm those I watch over.”

she grinned. “Well, then, let's send the vampires a message.”

“Exactly.” Hammer Strike smiled. “I’m sure Ainz should have information on it sometime soon.”

“In that case, I have spells to practice,” Clover said. She lingered for a few seconds longer to stare after him before she charged up her horn for a teleport. “Farewell.”





The air within the Thestral lodge was smoky, its limbs darkened by years of exposure. The majority of the other Thestrals were either asleep in their tents or on patrol. The three tribal leaders from the alliance of Wolf,  Manticore, and Lion sat before Hammer Strike.

“While we do understand the need for the darkstalkers who feast on the living in your defense, High Chief, their presence has left our hunting grounds barren. Much of our prey fled, having sensed the presence of evil. If we do not find some means to return them, our people will have no choice but to migrate in search of better prospects,” Amarok, the Wolf chieftess said. “We believed that they would return gladly afterward. Life normally does, especially when there has been no lasting damage to the surrounding environment. Are you certain that there are no other remnants of these … creatures you commanded left in the woods?”

“They’re fully cleared out. That much, I can confirm.” Hammer Strike nodded. “It won’t take the creatures too long to return, due to the abundance of food available to them in that region.”

“If they do not, may we have your permission to seek new hunting grounds or other methods to bring them back?” the Lion chief asked.

“You’re clear for that.” He nodded.

“We will be certain to alert you, should it come to that,” Amarok said. “However, if it does, it may be of use to have a means of communication in the event you should need to call on us. Smoke signals may not necessarily work, given some of our adversaries’ capabilities with wind.”

“I can make a communication relay.” He cleared his throat. “That is to say, a crystal that can project your voice to another one.”

“A useful tool. Will you grant one to each of the tribes?”

Hammer Strike nodded. “It’ll take me some time, but I should be able to get them all complete.”

Black flames erupted nearby as a familiar figure left them. “Hammer Strike, I need to talk with you.”

“Is it the Elder Vampire?”

“I’ve found his stronghold.” Ainz nodded. “His last bastion of sorts.”

Hammer Strike gave a nod toward the Thestrals council. “I’m sorry, but we’ll have to discuss this more another time.”

“Of course.” The chiefs bowed their heads in acknowledgement. “Should you have need of us, we are at your call.”

“Until then.” He turned toward Ainz. “Let’s get to my forge, then. This needs to be dealt with swiftly.”

“Whenever you’re ready.” Ainz nodded.

Several minutes later, the meeting room was beyond full as Jostling Joyance, Anderson, Clover, Ainz, Tarefson, Lord, and the twins waited for Hammer Strike’s briefing.

Hammer Strike looked over all present before nodding to himself. “This trip will only be taken by Lord, Clover, and myself. No one else.”

“I take it you’re doing this on the off chance the filthy heathen tries to send a force while you’re away,” Anderson said.

“That, and you’ll only get in my way,” Hammer Strike replied simply.

“That’s a matter of perspective, but given the contract you’ve bound me to, I suppose I’m overruled.” He grumbled to himself. “Killjoy.”

“Trust me, with the weapon I’m using, you probably won’t regenerate from it.”

“You’ve created a divine weapon,” Lord stated. It wasn’t a question.

“Correct.”

“Well, that settles that, then.” He nodded.

“You don’t want any of us there to keep the rank and file busy?” Tarefson asked.

“Clover and Lord will see to it while I deal with the Elder.”

“Well, that's no fun.”

Anderson grinned. “I’m sure I can give you a good time, deadwalker.” His glasses flashed menacingly.

“Just try it, you Faustian psychopath.”

“Boys, not in the middle of a meeting!” Clover said.

“Yes, Mother,” Tarefson responded and then proceeded to wither as Clover unleashed the evil eye on him.

“The rest of you are to defend this town until my return.” Hammer Strike looked sternly over the group.

“As you wish.” Ainz nodded.

“Rest assured, our combat strategies will be sound,” Binding promised.

“Then let’s get going,” Clover said.

Hammer Strike nodded as everyone disbanded. “I need to collect my scythe,” he said as he departed the chamber.

Clover followed him back to the forge and armory he’d built beneath their house.

Hammer Strike hummed to himself as he removed additional weapons he had on himself. He looked to his hooves and nodded to himself as he removed his coat. The coat itself seemed to hang low on his hoof as he removed it, and once placed on one of the wooden worktables, showed its weight as the table creaked and bent in protest.

Clover let out a muted gasp as the coat landed, her gaze traveling between the coat and the scars that criss-crossed Hammer Strike’s visible skin. “Wait, that's weighted? No. Wait. What happened to you? No…” She seemed unable to focus on a question.

Hammer Strike glanced over to Clover with a raised brow. “Yes, it’s weighted. How else would I be able to continue pushing my exercises?”

“It sounded like it weighed a ton,” Clover pointed out.

“I haven’t personally weighed it recently. I just keep adding weight and mass to it until I can feel it.” He shrugged.

“How often have you been adding weight?”

“Whenever I stop feeling the weight.”

“And how long does that take?”

“Depends on how active I am.” He shrugged. “I think the longest bit was roughly two to three weeks.”

“How long have you been doing this?”

Hammer Strike blinked a few times as he thought it over. “Roughly … fifty to sixty years now? I’ve done it with every coat I’ve ever owned.”

“That coat’s got to weigh more than several full grown Ponies,” Clover noted.

“Probably.” He shrugged. “I’ll have to weigh it later, see how far I’ve come.”

“And the scars?”

“I…” He frowned to himself. “I’ve fought a lot in my life, and have been tortured just as much,” he replied simply as he took hold of Baleful Eclipse and placed it on his back.

“I had no idea”

“Not many do,” Hammer Strike replied with a gentle smile. “I always wear a coat, after all, and … I don’t really talk about my past.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Hammer Strike raised a brow.

“That you had to go through that.”

“That’s life.” He shrugged. “You just have to take what it gives you and work your way past it.”

“I suppose. Still, I’m sorry.”

“It’s mostly over now, so it’s only getting better, yeah?”

“I guess so. Is there anything else you need?”

“That should be it.” Hammer Strike gave a small smile. “Let’s give them hell.”





The darkness that casts a shadow over darkness itself. That is at least one way the vampire domain was described. The few villagers that remained near its entrance were traumatized and driven to the brink of madness with paranoia, but it was an apt description. Deep within a cavern at the heart of a large hill lay a portal, from whence a dark mist flowed to fill the room and blacken the crystals that grew there. Beyond this portal, in a pocket dimension deep within the realm of shadows, a towering edifice hovered over the brink of an endless void. The occasional stirring of glowing lights and angry snarls hinted at the horrible creatures that lurked beyond sight in the depths.

The castle was a grandiose structure that seemed almost to spiral into the infinite darkness above. Blood runes glowed with perverse light, binding the structure to the world and drawing on the power source that lay in the darkness below. Whole legions of vampires and thralls stretched over a blank expense before the structure. A glowing red barrier flickered before the walls while the troops milled about.

Lesser creatures of the underworld snapped and snarled. Hellhounds growled and competed for their suppers. Whole kegs of blood flowed freely to strengthen the undead forces. The air rumbled with the roll of thunder as the inky blackness swirled overhead. The very walls of the structure itself seemed to churn and shift, taking on a different appearance every few minutes. To enter the structure would likely mean facing a maze that could turn one around every few rooms, if one wasn’t careful.

Death knights and other entities were interspersed through the groups as a form of tank to act against any invading force. Here, where the darkness reigned, these creatures were in their element, and they would challenge or destroy any that entered without the master’s permission.

Hammer Strike, Lord, and Clover arrived in a flash of light, appearing outside the castle's walls. Clover had her staff nearby as she examined the area. “This is the place?”

“Sure seems like it,” Hammer Strike commented as he rolled his shoulders.

“They really rolled out the red carpet.” Lord chuckled. “It’s almost sad how necessary it is.”

“Let’s just wrap this up.” Hammer Strike frowned. “I’d prefer this to be the last time I have to even think about this.”

Lord nodded, turning to the glowing red wall. “Should I open the back door, then?”

“Yes.”

Lord reared onto his hind legs. The hooves on his forelegs shifted to become hideous clawed hands that he placed on the wall. The red energy flared for an instant, but seemed unable to block him as he sunk his claws between the stones and tore a large section of them away, leaving an opening in the wall. Then he used his claws to peel the barrier away when it tried to fill in.

Hammer Strike moved to enter, giving a nod at Lord’s work before preparing himself for the fight to come.

The inside of the castle was far larger than the outside, but Hammer Strike had come to expect that by this point. It wouldn’t be a final fortress if it didn’t have these kinds of defenses to strip an opponent of stamina and vitality. More horrors inhabited the keep, including flaming skulls, poltergeists, lesser demons, and even a bone dragon. However, when it became evident that a series of puzzles would be requisite to open the way forward, Hammer Strike had finally had enough of indulging his host. Doors blew into splinters. Gates melted before his withering glare. Walls were obliterated or reduced to fragments. Barriers were stripped of power, their anchors easily found and destroyed. Guardians were swiftly dispatched with a clop of his hoof, either burned or otherwise obliterated by thaumic means. Whole swaths of minions were reduced to nothingness in a matter of seconds.

From the safety of his throne room at the top of the castle, the vampire watched through a crystal ball. At first, he sneered derisively at the impudence of his former foe. The fact he had managed to enter the castle in the first place and escape the planes of hell implied he must have made a contract with some form of devil. However, that did not make the Pony invincible or immortal. In this place, the vampire’s powers would be at their strongest. There would be no feasible means for this insect to—

And then he watched Hammer Strike destroy an entire floor of monsters in a matter of seconds. He hissed in frustration. “An archdevil?” It seemed the only viable explanation for the sheer power this Pony seemed to radiate. He hissed again when Hammer Strike looked directly at him through the orb. The eyes that stared back lacked all sense of pity and mercy. This was the gaze of a creature that had lost all patience. Hammer Strike extended a hoof and the image shattered. Not only had he found the hidden relay point, but he’d destroyed it without even moving.

The vampire snarled in frustration as his hordes were swiftly conquered. And then came that horrid, disgusting feeling. His chest tightened. His breathing became labored. Fear for his immortal life blossomed. And he was not pleased. He roared and flung the crystal at a wall with his magic, then watched the orb shatter. He turned resolutely toward the passage that led to his quarters. If he was going to meet this new contractor, he would do so fully armed.

The doors to the throne room burst open with little effort on Hammer Strike’s part. The room was swathed in pennons and silken drapes that hung from the ceiling’s intricate arches and support structure. Black and scarlet carried throughout as he strode through the black wafts of miasma that rolled over the carpet. Heavy plate armor coated his adversary, and the helm he wore covered all but the end of his muzzle as he sneered in either contempt or derision, perhaps both. His red eyes glowed steadily from within the hollows of the helmet, and his voice filled the room with a curious sort of pressure.

“So, you’re back.” His expression remained unreadable. “Why have you come? To throw your life away, after you have already given your soul?”

The pressure increased. Hammer Strike responded by stepping forward. His hoofsteps echoed through the room, disrupting the quiet and bursting the bubble the vampire’s voice had created. The miasma recoiled from his legs as he continued his grim march.

“Your voice, too? Or are you merely too angry to speak? Either way, how very sad. The great Hammer Strike.” He rose from his throne and levitated a pair of longswords on either side of him. “Come to die.”

In a moment, he was there. The next, he was gone. The miasma reared and roared as it filled the room with a natural, or perhaps better to call it unnatural, smokescreen. The vampire’s cruel laughter echoed and rebounded through the smog. A blade would emerge from the shadows without warning. Each time a blow would seem destined to land. However, Hammer Strike would narrowly evade the hit. As the assault continued, it became almost a kind of dance across the floor. Bending, bowing, pivoting, weaving. The two combatants ranged across the floor with neither gaining the upper hand. The vampire would continue to evade him for so long as the miasma remained.

Or so the vampire thought.

Once more, the elder lunged. Only this time, Hammer Strike didn’t hold still. He dodged the first sword and dove headlong for the creature. The vampire winced as metal clattered on the stone beneath their hooves. The dark aura around his horn sputtered, but would not act as he commanded. In a matter of moments, Hammer Strike had seized him by the throat.

“Lord,” Hammer Strike called out. “Seal us, now.”

There was a sudden blast of power, and the room they were in was covered in a brilliant orange glow as it was sealed into its own dimension.

The vampire snarled and struck a blow at Hammer Strike’s chest. Hammer Strike’s hoof rose to meet it, and the shockwave blew back the miasma to clear the floor. That same implacable gaze stared into the Vampire’s eyes. The vampire went with a headbut this time. Hammer Strike didn’t even flinch. The elder snarled as he rained blow after blow and was countered effortlessly, all while Hammer Strike continued to grip his throat.

“Get off me, you miserable little ingrate!” He used momentum to twist around and try to land a blow on Hammer Strike’s side. Instead, searing pain lashed through his legs and his hooves smoked as they made contact with Hammer Strike’s scythe.

“I’ve grown quite tired of this song and dance,” Hammer Strike commented.

“On that, we are agreed,” the elder growled, even as he looked expectantly at his hindlegs. They trembled. The wound still smoked. The hairs burnt. Nothing was growing back. “What…?”

“Good,” he commented simply as his hooves burst with thaumic energy. “In that case, you won’t be needing this.” He stood on his hind legs as he raised his other hoof toward the vampire. Purple energy seeped off the Pony’s body into Hammer Strike’s hoof to coalesce in the shape of a deep purple crystal. As soon as the energy stopped springing forth from the vampire, he casually threw his opponent toward the barrier wall before inspecting the crystal in his hoof.

What had only been muted pain before was now magnified by a factor of ten. The elder took a great gasp of air as, for the first time in centuries, his body actually felt the need to breathe. His pupils dilated in shock as his long-dead heart gained new life. What started as a weak stutter soon surged to a roar that drowned out all other sound as the blood he had consumed became his own once again. A terrible stinging pricked at his eyes. The room became a blur as water welled in his vision. His body trembled violently as life slowly ebbed its way back into every follicle of hair, every cell. “What did you do to me?” he huffed. It faded into silence almost before he could complete the sentence. He took a deep, shuddering breath and tried again. “What did you do to me?” This time, the scream came properly.

“I cured your vampirism,” Hammer Strike replied simply and threw the gem behind him before it vanished into the air.

“That’s not possible. No mortal can cure a vampire. It can’t be done! You … what are you?”

“I am merely a pissed off stallion.” Hammer Strike looked over to the no-longer-vampire. “I am simply very tired of these games. Tired of having to play by rules and limitations. But it’s simply necessary most of the time. You, however, gave me a reason to stop playing by those rules.”

The Unicorn’s breathing came out in low strangled sobs that morphed into a desperate animalistic cry of futile rage as his horn refused to ignite and the swords he had once wielded so casually could hardly be lifted off the ground with both hooves. A low nicker escaped his lips as his sides heaved. “I’ll kill you,” he said in a husky rasp. “I’ll kill you!” He charged Hammer Strike with his horn leveled to impale the Pony.

“By my authority as thaumaturge, I issue forth a command you can not ignore.” Hammer Strike’s voice rang with authority as blue fire surged to wreath his body. He effortlessly caught the Unicorn by the throat and held him at foreleg’s length. “Recite your name verbally, so that all shall know where the target may land.”

The Unicorn growled and snarled as he wrestled against the compulsion, but ultimately, he had no choice as his mouth parted against his will. His tongue danced. And finally, the name dragged out of his throat, even as he struggled to swallow it back down. “Bleeding … Heart.”

Hammer Strike reached back with his hoof and took hold of Baleful Eclipse. He brought it forth, turning the scythe’s blade toward the Unicorn’s neck for the first and final time. “Now cry out to the heavens whilst you’re dragged down to hell.” He pulled the scythe forward, cutting through the stallion’s neck with no resistance. After a second, he dropped the body off to the side and gave Baleful Eclipse a quick swipe to clear the blood before placing it on his back once again.

Hammer Strike could feel it as the energy around the room crumbled.

“We’re done here, Lord. Clear up the remnants of the creatures here.” Hammer Strike sighed, “I’m going to investigate the building.”

“I think Clover’s already working on that.” A brilliant blast of light shone through the door behind him.

“Aid her, if you would, then. While I’m sure she can clear the remainder, I’d prefer it if she wasn’t draining her energy at a rapid rate. This place doesn’t agree fully with outside magic, and it’ll probably take some time for it to clear.”

“Very well.” Lord nodded as he turned and left. The orange aura of the dimensional seal lifted, returning the chamber to its original place in space and time.

Eventually every creature besides Hammer Strike, Clover, and Lord were dealt with, leaving the trio to begin investigating parts of the castle. 

“Keep an eye out for some sort of treasury, some collective of valuables. There’s bound to be something worthwhile to bring back to Unity there,” Hammer Strike commented to the others.

“I imagine Ainz would love to get ahold of his library,” Clover noted.

“You know what? Perhaps I should call him here,” Hammer Strike hummed to himself. Thaumic energy surrounded him for a moment before he called out. “Ainz? We’re clear. Can you move in for relocating valuables?”

In response, a familiar dark gate opened up, and Ainz walked out. Several more gates opened, and ghouls and zombies exited in droves to begin searching.

It was several hours later when Lord’s voice called out. “I found it,” he said.

Hammer Strike turned his attention away from his current mark and moved toward Lord’s location. “What are we looking at?”

“A blood seal. I’ve already opened it and put the lock in stasis.”

“Any note of what’s inside?” Hammer Strike questioned. “Or did you leave it until we’re collectively there?”

“I thought it would be better to merly make sure no traps would activate and wait for you.”

Hammer Strike nodded. “Appreciated.”

“Bottom floor, there is a passage hidden behind a statue holding a spear straight outward.”

Hammer Strike moved through the levels of the castle until he arrived at the previously mentioned statue. Moving around the statue revealed the hidden passage Lord had uncovered. The path was a simple stone hallway that led about a hundred feet or so to a large black metal door that Lord stood before. It was carved with several angry-looking red runes that pulsed as they attempted to work some spell they clearly couldn’t. The simple pull handle was covered in blood with a large barb sticking from it.

“Good. You managed to find it,” Lord noted.

“Let’s see what we’ve got, then, yeah?” Hammer Strike gestured for Lord to lead the way.

It was a simple matter for Lord to break the remnants of the blood magic that had been cast by Bleeding Heart, now that said caster was dead. While the magic would normally have passed on to a successor to maintain the strength of the spell, it was obvious he must not have had an heir for the magic to latch on to. The runes shattered into ethereal flecks of light that dissipated in the air to leave the door itself. The barb melted, leaving the handle on its own to open without paying the offering.

The interior of the chamber was grandiose. Polished black marble and obsidian blended together to surround the chamber as a form of sphere. Piles of gold, precious jewels, rare reagents, totems, and various foci lay in piles around the structure. Chests, puzzle boxes, and tiny containers etched with complex binding runes all bedazzled the eye as they sat awaiting their master. The walls roiled like the churning of a storm, and the occasional flash of dark purple would brighten the room briefly before the luminescence returned to its base glow. While the hoard was small, relatively speaking, the quality of the items in question left little doubt that this was likely the former vampire’s personal collection.

“Well, this will certainly assist Unity,” Hammer Strike commented.

“Surprisingly small for an elder vampire,” Lord noted.

“Agreed, but it will at least prove useful to us in the end.”

“You have a place in mind to store it?”

Hammer Strike frowned. “It’ll probably have to go in the basement of my house for the time being. I’ll need to look into building a treasury at some point, and find someone to run it…” He lost his voice as he looked over to a nearby container.

A small plinth nearby held a wooden box containing five very similar and familiar objects.

Hammer Strike started flatly at the objects in front of him. It was way more than he ever wanted to see in one place, and it’s current location set him off as well. “Five. He had five…”

“Powerful artifacts,” Lord nodded. “But utterly useless to him.”

“Ainz,” Hammer Strike called out as he took hold of the dice container. “Report in. We’ve got treasures to move.”

Ainz materialized a few moments later. “The usual place?”

“Basement, yeah. I’ll have to fully sort it later…”

Ainz moved aside as a gate opened and the undead began entering the room to ferry out the goods.





Yharon yawned and stretched his legs, then rose from his nap under one of the larger trees in the area. The smell of fresh grass and the comforting aura of the natural magics that lingered in the area proved to be just what the doctor ordered after a brutal lesson in combat magics from Clover. His wings ached, but at least he was getting better at harnessing his abilities.

“About time you woke up.” Celestia smiled as she approached. A thick loaf of bread steamed as she carried it in her magic. “Thought you might be hungry.”

Yharon smiled sheepishly as his stomach growled. “Yeah….”

A chunk of the loaf broke off and floated to Yharon’s waiting claws. “I tried a little something different this time. It turned out sweeter than I expected, but it’s very tasty.”

Yharon tossed it into his maw and chewed thoughtfully. “It doesn’t … feel like bread,” he said. “It’s … heavier, more dense. But I see what you mean about being sweet. How did you get the crust to crack like that on top?”

Celestia shrugged. “I have absolutely no idea. It’s surprisingly soft.”

“Well, whatever it is, it’s tasty. Have you tried sharing it with Luna?”

Celestia shook her head. “You know how she is about the guard. With Father still tending to other things....”

“She’ll jump at the chance to fight.” Yharon sighed. “She’s not going to turn into a berserker, is she?”

Celestia shook her head firmly. “Father wouldn’t allow that to happen, even if she did start showing signs like that.”

Yharon frowned. “I just … don’t want anything to happen to us, you know?”

Celestia smiled and offered him another piece. “Here. It’ll help you feel better.”

The dragon smirked. “What is this magic?”

“I call it kitchen sorcery.”

“Nah. It’s gotta be witchcraft.”

Both laughed as they finished off the loaf of bread that wasn’t bread and began running rounds through the town.





Hammer Strike hummed to himself as he stood before an empty plot of land. Before him was a wooden table with a few pieces of parchment laid on it. Each bore some design for a building. Further inspection revealed them each to be a layout for a town treasury. He occasionally would move from his position and start measuring sections of the empty plot before returning to the table and drawing out something additional to the plans.

“Seems like an ambitious project,” Clover noted over his shoulder. She’d walked in a while ago and had silently been scanning the pages.

Hammer Strike blinked as he noticed her presence, then shrugged. “Yeah, but it’s one that needs to be done.”

“Most treasuries aren't public,” she noted.

“It’s a mixture, a treasury and a bank.”

“That’s the first time I’ve seen it done like this.”

“It’ll help with our current situation of land to keep things closer and combine what we can, so residents have less land issues.” He shrugged. “What brings you over here, anyway?”

“I finished most of the new spellbooks and decided to take a look at what you were working on.”

Hammer Strike nodded. “I take it your students are learning quite quickly?”

“They are. Admittedly, most of them do it for you.”

Hammer Strike hummed questioningly. “I figured learning under a well known name would have been the main interest.”

“You’d think, but it seems like you inspire many here to do whatever they can for Unity.”

Hammer Strike chuckled. “Sorry to have stolen the spotlight from you in your own class.” He gave a smile.

“Honestly, it’s good. When I was little, King Bullion used to inspire others similarly. In his younger days, he was actually a very wise king.”

“Time changes Ponies.”

“True. Hopefully, some of us for the better.”

Hammer Strike nodded. “That’s the plan.”

“You know the Pegasi aren't going to take what happened lying down,” she noted. “You ready for what that could mean?”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “I’ve worked toward more Gravity Tunnels to help out, expand how far our reach can go.”

“I think….” Clover took a moment to gather her thoughts and breathe. “That is, I’d like to request once again for you to teach me your arts.”

Hammer Strike blinked a few times as he thought over the question. “Wait, you … you’re actually asking me?”

Clover blushed. “Yes. I think I’m ready for the risk.”

Hammer Strike put down his equipment and turned his attention fully toward Clover. “I would ask if you’re sure you remember the risks, but ... I’m positive it was an experience you couldn’t forget.” He sighed, hummed, then nodded. “I’ll have to make some preparations. It’s been … quite some years since I last taught anyone.”

“You couldn’t be worse then Star Swirl.”

“It’s not that.” Hammer Strike shook his head. “I—“ He frowned. “You lack one thing that’s needed for me to teach you, which means I have to give you one.”

“Yes?” Clover raised an eyebrow.

Hammer Strike sighed. “Allow me to explain one thing that I never clarified to anyone. I’m not using magic.”

“But it seems to follow all the rules,” Clover said, surprised.

“That’s because I make it follow the rules. I even make it feed off mana to keep it under wraps,” he commented softly. He brought his hoof up and a familiar golden orb appeared before him. “Scan it. Tell me what you’re reading now.”

Clover did scan it, and her eyes widened. “That, … that shouldn’t be possible.”

“In a large term, it is. By magic standards, it’s not,” he replied. “It’s a level of control over the world around us that isn’t easily replicable by magic.”

“This is why you’ve been able to do things that shouldn’t be possible?”

“Exactly. It treads on the powers of gods, and bears equal risk.”

“I—” Clover stopped herself and composed her words carefully. “I think i can handle the risk, if you’re willing to teach.”

“I’ll have to prepare some aspects. And then I’ll prepare to give you a field.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s…” He frowned before his hoof ignited in blue fire and he reached toward Clover. “It’d be simpler to show you. You will see the world like I can for just a moment,” he said before the energy spread from his hoof to Clover’s eyes.

“This is how you see the world?” she asked as she looked around, attempting to take in the sight. The energy spectrum now revealed to her gaze shifted and mixed around them in colors and combinations she never expected.

“This is how I can, see the world. Like a thaumaturge. Each object and individual in reality is made up of forms of energy that are collected together into a physical mass. A thaumaturge can alter the energy freely by willpower alone,” he explained. “Look at me.”

Clover obeyed. Besides the shifting colors of energy that made up his body, he was surrounded by a separate field that coated the entirety of his body. It was white in nature, and it burned brightly around the edges. It pulsed the brightest at his hoof, where a tether pulsed out toward Clover.

“What is that?” she asked, taking an involuntary step back.

“The reason I can control this power. That is a thaumic field, one that only bends to its owner’s will.”

“What do I need to do?”

“To get this field? Nothing. I have to apply one to you, and to do so, I need to gather some aspects, the separate threads of energy, ... of mass.”

“So, what do you want me to do until then?”

“Don’t overstress yourself.” Hammer Strike shrugged as he released the energy. “I’ll be around your home later tonight to apply the field, all right?”

“All right.” She nodded. “Thank you, by the way. I know last time I was … hard to deal with.”

Hammer Strike chuckled. “Everyone was young once. Even me.”





Hammer Strike sighed to himself as he stood outside Clover’s house. Within his coat resided a few crystals that he would use to empower the field. After a minute of final mental debate, he knocked on the door. Clover opened it not long after.

“Ah, right on time!” She smiled and let him in. She’d removed her normal cloak, and Hammer Strike had his first real chance to get a look at the mare without the cloak or age affecting his view.

“I took the liberty of deciding on what aspects will empower your field, those being Auram, and Praecantatio, aura and magic.”

“That sounds oddly on the nose,” Clover said.

“I figured you’d appreciate it.” He returned her smile. “Now, I’d suggest placing yourself on the couch, because the process may or may render you unconscious, due to the sudden influx of power.”

Clover nodded and followed his instructions, getting comfortable on the couch.

Hammer Strike pulled out a trio of crystals, one red, one purple, and one pink. First he took the red one in his hoof as the member ignited with thamic energy. “Now, this may feel a bit … strange,” he warned. Then he threw his hoof out toward Clover, and the energy burst fort. It surrounded Clover as it attempted to bind itself to every fiber of her being.

The sensation was the equivalent of being poked and prodded with needles. Thousands upon thousands pressed and prodded as they attached themselves to each individual aspect that made up her body and magic.

Soon after, the needles turned to spikes as the purple crystal was added to the mix. Her vision distorted as tears swam in her vision. The pain progressed farther and farther into herself until she couldn’t handle the influx and fell unconscious.

Hammer Strike frowned to himself as he took hold of the third crystal and continued the process. Despite his concern for Clover, he knew he couldn’t stop, or it would result in a backlash. So, he pressed on, warping the aspects to coat an external layer surrounding her, attaching it to her magic, and creating a stable loop to feed both sides.

As soon as he finished, the energy dissipated from his hoof, and he found himself breathing heavily from the strain. He took a few calming breaths before looking Clover over with his tahumic gaze. A smile pulled across his lips as he noted the field of energy pulsing calmly as it adapted to its new controller.

He wiped at his forehead as he moved towards one of the other couches and sat down, himself. Reaching into his coat, he pulled out a small book. He would wait until she woke before leaving.

It took three hours before Clover showed signs of stirring.

“Is it over?” Her speech was slurred slightly as she returned to consciousness.

“It’s over.” Hammer Strike nodded. “It’s not fully charged, but it’ll fill over the course of a day or two.”

Clover slowly got to her hooves. “I feel weird, but strangely good,” she said as she moved around the room. The more she moved, the greater her energy seemed to become.

“Well, considering it’s also empowering your magic, and vice versa, I’d hope so,” Hammer Strike replied. He closed the book in his hooves and placed it back into his coat.

Smiling, Clover lifted Hammer Strike off the couch with her magic and pulled him toward her. Then she wrapped her forehooves around him tightly.

“I, uh….” He returned the hug. “No problem?”

“Come on,” she said, leading him toward her bedroom. “Let's go celebrate.”

“Huh?” Hammer Strike sputtered as he was dragged along.

Clover said nothing as she pulled him into the bedroom and shut the door behind them.