Temujin

These Fomorians were morons.

Granted, integrating people into one's empire would likely be tricky when they were literally of different species, but enslaving people who might otherwise have been productive to the best of their abilities, rather than the bare minimum they could get away with without punishment, was simply wasteful, on top of the truly massive issue of creating future enemies for their empire.

Why, if someone like him were to come along and rally their slaves, the Fomorians could find themselves facing down some rather steep odds, depending on the ratio of slaves to non-slaves … or maybe not, considering the System's meddling.

Without magic being involved, even the lowest of men could become a perfectly serviceable soldier, a combination of basic education, discipline, and respect doing wonders.

However, when you started involving the System, that changed.

Some would inevitably have too low a Level to be useful, others might have had a sufficient Level but the wrong kinds of Classes for those Levels to actually be brought to bear in a constructive manner … ultimately, there was a very good reason for why he'd only done a cursory scan of the several slave villages that had been liberated, before continuing onwards to met the Fomorian reinforcements that had been spotted heading towards the gate between worlds.

Most of the scouts had claimed it was something like fifty thousand troops; others had put it at a mere ten thousand, though the true number was likely somewhere between the two extremes.

In fact, Temujin felt it was likely on the lower end, simply because Fomorians were larger than humans, much larger, in some cases, so an estimation based on experience with humans would almost certainly be an overestimation.

A far larger concern was that his own chances of winning had been similarly misjudged, because something he was highly inexperienced at was combat against individuals who also wielded the System, and all the Skills and vagaries that came with that … but even so, he'd managed to heavily stack the deck in his favor.

An early-morning attack, conducted with what should be near total surprise, backed by a handful of supremely nasty Skills of his.

Temujin leaped off his horse to take a few steps to the top of a nearby hill and looked down, towards the tent city that housed the enemy force.

They were, well, tents. Nice tents, more expensive ones than any army he knew, a good indicator that they had either spent an unusually high amount of money outfitting their forces or that this was an army of noblemen like the European knights … but in the end, it the end, it wouldn't matter.

He turned around, walked back to his horse, climbed on, gave the signal to attack, and triggered [Inevitable Conclusion].

And reality stuttered, leaping ahead by two minutes, his horde having been carried onward in the charge he had just initiated, something the enemy had inevitably noticed, and responded to, beginning the process forming up into proper lines of battle, presenting any pikes they had to stop the charging horsemen … but he'd timed it correctly, leaving them about twenty seconds from contact, the enemy army on the very cusp of completing their planned maneuvers.

Normally, the Fomorians would have been able to close their formation in time.

Normally, they would have spent the time between waking up and now properly awakening, chasing away the tiredness of sleep, and they'd have known what they were in the process of doing.

Normally, without [Inevitable Conclusion], formation would have met formation, and mutual annihilation would have been the most likely outcome.

But that wasn't how this would play out.

The Skill might have resulted in the same physical battlefield, but not the same mental one.

Both sides had appeared barely thirty seconds from engagement, but Temujin's forces had been ready when he triggered the ability, and they were ready now. The Fomorians had been asleep, and they were only now waking up, entirely confused and disoriented, and it would take them some time before they realized they needed to continue their "planned" maneuver, and even more time to figure out what formation they were in the process of getting into.

A fatal delay.

The Horde of Genghis Khan tore clean through the empty center of the Fomorian army, lashing out at anyone in engagement range, then continuing to tear through the archers, headquarters battalion, and finally the camp itself, setting aflame anything that looked even remotely important.

Wheeling around, the Fomorian formation, condensed and ready to skewer the horsemen if they made a concerted charge … but that would have required him to take his men straight back at them. He didn't. Because that would have been stupid.

Ramming his lightly-armored horsemen into a row of pikes was downright moronic, while "fleeing" was simple to the extreme.

The first active, offensive Skills began flying after them, a trickle that threatened to turn into an overwhelming tidal wave … [Tactical Retreat] teleported his formation clear of the "danger zone" while simultaneously triggering [Massed Parting Shot], activiating ranged attacking abilities of the transported individuals at random, without actually invoking the normal cost, hammering the enemy formation yet again.

Temujin's grin turned savage as he saw the effect that had upon their foes, both the immediate consequences and the subsequent cratering of the morale that had already been abysmal.

Having already lost more than half their forces in exchange for inflicting negligible casualties meant the battle was already functionally won; all that remained to be seen was how low he could keep the casualties.

Which would be tricky, considering how the Fomorians had pulled together, their formation wrapped in multiple protective Skills that visibly activated to layer on additional defenses … they seemed to be properly layering them in a way that spoke of proper preparation.

But ultimately, they were tough in the same way diamond was. Hard, but vulnerable to being shattered by a powerful blow.

Quickly barking a few orders, he directed his people to make a pass at a reasonably long distance, using their speed to minimize the number of spells and projectiles that hit them, while peppering the stationary Fomorians with arrows for as long as they were in range.

They barely got hit, while the enemy would have been turned into pincushions if it hadn't been for their protections.

Alright, time to do that again.

And this time, he decided to hurl a javelin made from the bones of Cipactli, his throw powered by [Moment of Glory], straight into the center of the Fomorian turtle formation.

Magic shields shattered, physical shield broke, half a dozen bodies behind the point of impact were run throuhg … and then the enchantment young Vogt had laid upon the weapon triggered, dozens of stone spikes errupting from the point where it had come to rest, tearing those closest to it to bloody chunks, and tossing away those who'd "merely" been nearby, albeit with not-inconsiderable injuries.

All told, he couldn't have possibly killed more than fifty with that strike, fifty out of nearly twenty thousand survivors, and he only had two more of those; he'd left the rest with the main body of the human army to spare his horse … but he didn't need them.

Nor did he need the two remaining on his person.

Even though the enemy formation was the safest thing the people in it could do, remaining there until his horsemen ran out of arrows would be the optimal choice … it was hard to make the optimal choice when scared out of one's mind, everyone dying around you, and no leaders to hold things together.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Incidentally, that was a large part as to why he'd gone through the center of the initial formation, and taken out anyone and everyone who looked important.

Because right now, the Fomorian force was disintegrating, individuals fleeing as panic took hold, Skills that could cover the entire group when in a united defensive posture poofing away into nothingness … and then he brought the Horde straight back into them, broken up into groups small enough to easily maneuver, but large enough to not be overwhelmed in case pockets of enemies found their balls at an inconvenient moment.

From there, well, things went exactly as expected.

The battle wasn't just a rout. It was, for all practical intents and purposes, an endless series of executions.

And then, finally, [Tales of the Dead Men] triggered.

A supremely annoying and picky Skill, but much like with subordinates, Temujin felt that someone/something sufficiently competent/useful could afford to have some quirks, just so long as they actually did what they were supposed to do.

This time around, the Skill activated, definitively proving that the "complete victory" it demanded needed to be achieved either by forces under his direct command … or occur in a single engagement, rather than the "death by a thousand cuts" approach that had obliterated the first Fomorian force.

Either way, it worked so much better than he'd expected.

Yes, it had said it would provide the information that could have been gathered from enemy survivors if an enemy force had been wiped out, and that should inevitably have come in useful … but he'd actually gotten was a near-complete breakdown of this entire world, the location of the gates to the next one, and a pretty decent overview as to where the enemy forces were in general.

Now, that last one appeared to have been cobbled together from the knowledge of thousands of common soldiers and a handful of officers who had been exiled from the "homeland" for unspecified malfeasance, meaning it was more of a series of vague ideas than proper intelligence, but it was more than enough, especially when combined with everything else.

This time, Temujin's grin was devoid of bloodthirst, but no less terrifying for it.

Overall, this world they were currently in, the "other world," was the land of the fair folk, with whom Fionn Mac Cumail had apparently clashed with quite a lot in his first lifetime. That part had already been "known," but now it was confirmed, and he had a map. Well, he would, once he used the collected knowledge to draw it.

The place had been conquered something like thirteen hundred years ago, and its people had been ground into the dirt in exactly as wasteful a manner as everything he'd previously seen had already indicated.

Also, there was only a comparatively small portion of the enemy army here, though large-scale reinforcements should have been dispatched already.

Which brought him back to another important piece of information: this place was not the homeland of the Fomorians, just the latest in a series of conquests, and it was not connected to the enemy homeland either, but rather the conquest right before this one, and there was a chain of portals connecting the whole lot of them, in much the same way this place had been connected to the British Isles, though apparently, this new portal was going to grow over the coming year.

And the portal that connected to the next world wasn't that far away, not in the overall scheme of things, which brought him back to the initial problem of the damn map that he'd have to draw … or maybe not.

Calling over a messenger, he sent the man back to the main body to request Tristan Vogt's presence. After all, the young man had apparently gained the ability to directly transfer knowledge to devices, which meant that he could gain the collected intelligence via the person-to-person transfer ability he'd had the entire time.

That should make things much easier, speed up the process of map creation, and solve any other issues that may arise with a hand-drawn map.

Though considering his distance from humanity's army, that wasn't going to happen anytime soon.

Which left him time to plan.

Because there were two opposing approaches he was having trouble deciding between: they could either sweep up the various dispersed groups left in the realm of the fae using mobile groups while the main force proceeded towards the next world, risking the enemy learning from those fights … or they could hold back, let the enemy concentrate their troops, reinforce this army, and generally gather as many Fomorians as possible, and then crush them, with a minimal number of prior engagements.

Of course, the latter choice would involve a lot of hoping that the enemy wouldn't take that time to prepare properly.

So, win as many minor victories as possible, at the cost of giving the enemy more information to plan with, or let the enemy form up first so that a decisive victory could be won against a "clueless" force, but that would be gambling that the enemy wouldn't be able to get their asses in gear entirely on their own.

Now, back in his heyday, Temujin would have chosen the first option at the drop of a hat, as long as he managed to completely wipe out his opponents every time … or, hell, most of the time, then no information could be gathered.

Though considering the presence of Skills, he wouldn't, nay, couldn't, trust that he'd have the same information security here.

Although there was one factor that seriously supported the option of waiting.

Because if the information he had on the local enemy general, then he had a plan. One that was downright diabolical.

And after an hour of waiting, thirty seconds of conversation, and a brief moment of concentration later, all the new information had been digitized and disseminated to literally everyone who could possibly need it.

Though when he was about to order his people's return to the main force, the voice of the System interrupted him.

[Genghis Khan Lv. 99 -> Lv. 100]

[Transcendent Capstone Skill gained: Master of the Horde]

The nearest horseman flinched at Temujin's grin, which only made his smile even wider, his face starting to hurt more and more with every line of the description he read.

<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="chapter-table"> <tbody> <tr> <td valign="top"> <p>Transcendent Capstone: Master of the Horde</p> <p>You are the one who created and now commands the greatest horde Mongolia has ever seen, and likely will ever see … until you came back from the dead to do it again.<span> </span></p> <p>As such, you will be able to (re)shape your force at will, capable of instantly teleporting back any small force (less than ten percent of the total) back to the main body (minimun sixty percent of the total), as well as switching the places of any two equivalent groups (for this purpose, a man counts for the exact same as a rider and his horse), easily repositioning your troops.<span> </span></p> <p>At the barest minimum, this Skill grants you the ability to instantly replace exhausted/low on supplies forces the instant you learn of their plight, or transport yourself to the frontlines to bring your strength to bear at the drop of a hat … but if you limit yourself to these applications, you are not half the person you appear to be.</p> <p>Note: When two groups are swapped, they can either both maintain their original vectors and states, or assume those of the group they replace.<span> </span></p> <p>Note: As a Transcendent Capstone, this Skill has no set or definable usage limit, though it is possible to tire yourself out through extreme overuse.<span> </span></p> </td> </tr> </tbody> </table>

While the Skill's description might have gotten slightly insulting towards the end, that part was especially true. If he just used the Skill in the most obvious way possible, he would have failed.

Because there were so many tricks he could pull. For starters, the Americans had brought a whole lot of recoilless rifles. Those hit hard but were rather involved to reload, and trying it horseback … forget about it.

But if he sent in a group with the anti-tank weaponry, had them fire, replace them with a new group holding loaded ones, then keep doing that until the initial group had reloaded, at which point they'd be cycled in again … and he could keep that up until the enemy was either exterminated or he ran out of munitions.

Also, there was a very obvious exploit revealed by the first of the two notes.

When swapping groups, he could either keep things consistent by also swapping their positions and momentum, by the sound of things … or he could have two forces doing entirely different things, moving in entirely different directions, and then swap them to instantly redirect any of the force that was actually in combat at the drop of a hat.

Normally, large cavalry formations, even his, could take a bit to change directions, but using this Skill, he could turn on a dime.

Assuming everything worked as advertised, in fact.

A swipe of Temujin's hand dismissed the window, but just as he made to begin to find some "volunteers" to help him test the Skill, a second window popped up to obscure his vision.

<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="chapter-table"> <tbody> <tr> <td valign="top"> <p>System Note: Growth Beyond Level 100</p> <p>Level 100 may be the maximum as far as Skill acquisition is concerned; however, it is not the end of your journey to grow stronger, as such, you will gain specialized Skill Boosts that can only be applied to Skills from the Class indicated in the list below.<span> </span></p> <p>The leveling difficulty will not increase from this point onwards, though finding adequate challenges will nevertheless grow ever more difficult.<span> </span></p> <p>First Class Skill Boost every 5 Levels</p> <p>Second Class Skill Boost every 10 Levels</p> <p>Third Class Skill Boost every 25 Levels</p> <p>Fourth Class Skill Boost every 50 Levels</p> <p>Fifth Class Skill Boost every 100 Levels</p> <p>Note: As you qualified to gain the equivalent of your Fourth Class at the point of Initialization, you will be able to use the boosts from Classes one through four on any Skill you received in your initial leveling spree.<span> </span></p> </td> </tr> </tbody> </table>

Oh.

Now, wasn't that nice?

***

Charlemagne

He loved modern technology. It brought with it a whole lot of benefits, but the speed at which information could be transferred was doubtlessly his favorite.

Information age indeed.

Furthermore, it let him get all the gathered intelligence without having to talk to that man.

What he'd just gotten was a surprisingly complete overview of the current state of the enemy force, the location of the various fae villages that should probably be liberated, and the portal that would take them deeper into the empire. A portal that would likely have a large force transit through it soon.

It seemed as though they had a target …

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