Chapter 105: Battle On

The hotel’s alarm still echoed across the valley.

Its mournful cry rolled over the battlefield like the howl of some ancient beast announcing that hunters had become prey.

Smoke drifted between shattered trees.

Broken siege engines smoldered where they had fallen.

Green magical fire burned in strange circles across the hills, refusing to die.

Athena’s calm voice continued speaking through hidden speakers embedded throughout the Nightmare Hotel.

“Defense integrity: Ninety-three percent.”

“Eastern perimeter secure.”

“Western perimeter under heavy assault.”

“Deploying secondary defensive formations.”

Every hallway inside the hotel buzzed with activity.

The harmless residents remained safely beneath the hotel in reinforced shelters.

Above them…

The monsters had gone to war.

⸻

The Caretaker walked straight into another wave of cultists.

He never hurried.

He never shouted.

He simply walked.

His enormous blade rested over one shoulder while black rain dripped from his weathered coat.

A dozen elite cultists surrounded him.

One pointed a glowing spear.

“Monster!”

The Caretaker stopped.

Slowly…

He tilted his head.

The silence unnerved them more than any roar ever could.

One cultist finally lost his nerve.

“I’ll Kill him!”

Magic exploded toward the giant.

The Caretaker had already vanished.

The spell struck nothing except empty air.

He appeared behind the formation.

One swing of his massive weapon shattered the ground itself.

Stone erupted upward.

The entire formation scattered.

Before any of them could recover, the giant was already moving again.

Every movement was simple.

Powerful yet efficient.

Like a carpenter shaping wood.

Within moments…

The hillside belonged to him.

The surviving cultists backed away instead of advancing.

One whispered,

“…we can’t fight this thing…”

Another simply dropped his weapon.

⸻

Jesse Belle smiled.

“I’ve missed this feeling.”

She disappeared.

Not through magic.

But from pure speed.

One leading cultist barked orders.

A moment later…

His command banner quietly fell over.

Another mage lifted his staff.

His spell fizzled.

He looked down in confusion.

Jesse Belle stood behind him.

“Too slow hun.”

She vanished again as the mage fell to the ground in five pieces.

The battlefield became filled with frightened voices.

“Where is she?”

“There!”

“No!!!”

“Behind the- Ack!!”

Every time someone pointed…

She was already somewhere else.

Her movements were graceful.

Almost like she was dancing.

To her the battlefield itself had became her ballroom.

⸻

Far above…

Dark clouds gathered.

The sky darkened.

The air became strangely heavy.

Cultists stopped fighting.

Many slowly looked upward.

Sister Abigail floated overhead.

Her veil drifted without wind.

Behind her hovered

Sister Lucille.

Sister Miriam.

Sister Beatrice.

They raised their copy of Dark Manuscript.

Ancient symbols surrounded them.

The pages flipped by themselves.

The lantern fusing into Sister Abigail’s arm ignited.

Silver flames stretched towards the heavens.

“The Choir gathers.”

Dark mist rolled outward.

The four nuns slowly drifted together.

Cloth unraveled.

Shadow folded inward.

Prayers echoed from impossible directions.

The transformation began.

Dark Choir MB descended once more.

The porcelain figure floated silently above the battlefield.

Dozens of folded hands remained locked in eternal prayer.

Its elongated hidden face remained concealed beneath flowing veils.

The lantern burned brighter.

The choir began singing.

Nobody understood the language.

Nobody wanted to.

Every note made reality ripple.

The earth itself seemed to bow beneath the hymn.

Nightmare creatures stopped attacking.

Even they seemed to recognize something sacred.

The cultists hesitated.

One priest screamed,

“Destroy it!”

Hundreds of spells shot skyward.

The Choir merely raised its lantern.

Every spell disappeared into the surrounding darkness as though swallowed.

Then…

Thousands of black feathers drifted down  from seemingly nowhere.

Every feather that touched the ground became another praying silhouette.

Not solid.

Not ghosts.

Simply…

Existing.

The cult’s courage began to crack.

⸻

Fluffy crashed through the battlefield.

All three enormous heads barked in different directions.

The fire head unleashed a blazing torrent that forced enemy spellcasters to scatter.

The frost head froze the ground beneath charging cavalry, turning their advance into confusion.

The center head simply barked.

The sound alone pushed many enemies backward.

Sitting proudly upon Fluffy’s back…

Lilith giggled.

“There!”

She pointed toward another advancing formation.

Fluffy leapt.

The enormous Cerberus sailed over wagons before landing directly in front of the attackers.

Lilith opened her new umbrella.

Click.

Ice spread across its surface.

The elegant umbrella unfolded into a beautiful crystalline sword.

“Oh!”

“I really like this one!”

She darted forward.

Unlike the others…

Lilith didn’t fight with anger.

She fought with joy.

Every movement resembled a child happily playing.

Only…

Every attack was impossibly precise.

Whenever someone tried slipping past Fluffy toward the hotel…

Lilith appeared.

“No.”

Her smile never disappeared.

“Nobody gets to hurt my family.”

The enemy slowly began avoiding the little girl altogether.

That frightened Lilith.

“…Why are they running?”

Fluffy’s middle head gently nudged her shoulder.

She smiled again.

“Oh.”

“I forgot.”

⸻

Prince Cassian stood atop a small rise overlooking the battlefield.

His sword pointed skyward.

“Royal Command!”

Golden light erupted around him.

Rows of armored warriors materialized.

Royal Paladins.

Spell Knights.

Banner Champions.

Hospitaliers.

Griffin Riders circled overhead.

Cassian lowered his sword.

“Advance!”

The army moved as one.

Perfect discipline.

Perfect coordination.

Whenever gaps appeared…

Engineers rebuilt them.

Whenever someone fell…

Hospitaliers pulled them to safety.

Spell Knights wove barriers around advancing formations.

Griffins struck enemy artillery before disappearing back into the clouds.

Cassian smiled.

Gene had shown him true monsters.

Now…

He would show these lesser monsters what properly trained knights could accomplish.

⸻

Inside the hotel…

The Haunted Chef refused to evacuate his kitchen.

He stirred an enormous pot.

Another cultist burst through a window.

The Chef sighed.

“You broke the window.”

He grabbed his frying pan.

The cultist disappeared back out through the same opening.

The Chef returned to stirring his soup.

“Hmmm… needs salt.”

⸻

The Mimic wandered the battlefield.

It had disguised itself as an abandoned treasure chest.

One cultist cautiously approached.

“…Loot?”

The chest opened.

Rows of impossible teeth smiled.

The cultist wisely decided he no longer wanted treasure.

Unfortunately…

The Mimic had already decided otherwise.

Moments later the chest quietly closed again.

It waddled away looking very pleased with itself.

⸻

Far beneath the battlefield…

Athena monitored hundreds of screens simultaneously.

“Enemy reinforcements approaching.”

“Redirecting defensive drones.”

“Opening corridor seventeen.”

Mechanical walls shifted.

Hidden turrets emerged.

Emergency barriers sealed damaged sections.

Every defense Gene had ever designed came alive.

Athena quietly smiled.

“Come.”

“Let’s see how prepared you really are.”

⸻

Selene stood atop the hotel walls.

Her staff glowed brilliantly.

The Yellow Gem shimmered upon her bracelet.

Around her…

Fantasy and horror intertwined.

Dragons soared overhead.

Ghostly ravens circled beneath them.

She raised her staff.

Golden symbols formed beside crimson ones.

Fire spiraled together with shadow.

Ice mixed with black mist.

The combined spell shot skyward before splitting into dozens of smaller stars.

Each landed precisely where defenders needed help.

Walls of shimmering crystal appeared.

Enemy magic simply dissolved against them.

Selene breathed deeply.

She wasn’t simply a fantasy summoner anymore.

Nor a horror summoner.

She had become something entirely different.

Something new.

⸻

Gene walked.

That was all.

The living slime armor flowed over his body.

The Red…

Blue…

and Purple Gems pulsed rhythmically beneath the armor’s surface.

Black slime drifted behind him like a living cloak.

Every step altered the battlefield.

Weapons dissolved after touching him.

Spells bent strangely before dispersing.

Enemy soldiers instinctively stepped aside.

Athena spoke quietly through the helmet.

“Biological synchronization complete.”

“Combat efficiency: One hundred percent.”

Gene flexed one clawed hand.

The slime expanded into a massive arm before flowing back again.

“So…”

“This is what we’ve become.”

He looked across the battlefield.

His family.

His friends.

His monsters.

No…

His people.

They weren’t defending a hotel anymore.

They were defending a home.

⸻

The cultists slowly realized something horrifying.

Every creature protecting the hotel fought for someone else.

Not because they were commanded.

Not because they were enslaved.

Because they loved this place.

That realization broke something inside the invading army.

Many began retreating.

Others simply stopped fighting.

⸻

A strange laugh echoed through the smoke.

Cultists quietly stepped aside.

Not because they were ordered.

Because they were afraid.

Something moved pass them.

Unnervingly tall and moving almost gracefully.

Porcelain reflected the morning sunlight.

The Pale Watcher calmly approached.

His movements remained unnaturally smooth.

Almost puppet-like.

The battlefield itself seemed quieter around him.

He looked toward Gene.

Then toward the Caretaker.

“…He’s still guarding you.”

His voice remained almost conversational.

“I suppose I should have expected that.”

The Caretaker stepped forward.

Gene gently lifted one hand.

“…No.”

The giant stopped.

Without looking away from Elias…

Gene spoke softly.

“I need to do this.”

The Caretaker remained still.

After several long seconds…

He slowly stepped backward.

The Pale Watcher smiled.

“There he is.”

“The Gene I remember was never this brave.”

The porcelain mask tilted.

“You’ve changed.”

Gene’s eyes never left him.

“So have you.”

Elias slowly reached upward.

His fingers rested upon the edge of his porcelain face.

“This?”

He chuckled.

“It was only ever a mask.”

He slowly removed it.

Beneath his eyes were swirling with impossible purple smoke.

Elias Crowe.

The man who had murdered him.

The battle around them gradually slowed.

Friend and foe alike sensed something significant unfolding.

Neither man noticed.

Neither cared.

Gene’s living armor quietly expanded over his shoulders.

Black slime rolled across the ground.

The Pale Watcher’s tattoos slithered over his skin like living serpents.

They bared rows of tiny teeth.

Purple mist drifted upward.

Elias smiled.

“I’ve waited a very long time for this.”

Gene answered by lowering into a fighting stance.

“So have I.”

The wind fell silent.

The battlefield held its breath.

And at last…

The man who had lost his first life…

Prepared to confront the man who had taken it.