Bog Standard Isekai-Chapter 1Book 5 -

Brin stood on the front line of a tremendous army. All across the river separating Prinnash from Arcaena, the best and the boldest fighters of three nations stood in ranks, ready for the assault. Tens of thousands of armored men, plucked from the commoners, stood ready with a wide diversity of weapons. They stood in good discipline. Eyes forward, expressions stern, they didn't shift weight from foot to foot or chat among their peers. Behind them were the siege engines. Great towers, catapults and trebuchets, as well as ballistas and complex magical cannons. An entire city of towering machines of war, and that wasn't all. There were ranks of archers, pockets of mysterious [Mages], a gang of war beasts, and of course, the [Knights]. Hundreds of them.

Even though this was just one of three major armies, the forces arrayed against the enemy were so numerous and varied that it was dizzying to look at them. Literally. A hundred different Skills to disrupt or confuse enemy spies lay across different sections of the army, so it was a difficult experience to send Invisible Eyes to go around looking at everything. Brin would get hit with mental attacks that left him in a stupor for several minutes, even with his resistances. For many, he couldn't pierce their [Hide Status] to even get their name. Some defenses were more passive; they didn't block him from watching, but they'd try to figure out who he was in return. It was a risk for Brin to send Invisible Eyes out at all, with so many odd Skills flying around.

He still did, of course, and the System rewarded him for it.

Inspect leveled up! 42 -> 45

Without seeing them all together in an army, it would take a lifetime to find this many dangerous, high-level Classes.

They stood in front of the river, the walls on their side having already been heavily dismantled to make room for the assault. Brin didn't know what the plan for the water was, but the rumor going around was that when they finally did charge, they'd be doing so on dry ground.

On the other side, Arcaena had no walls though her defenses were still in place.

An army stood on Arcaena’s side of the river. It was led by a woman who displayed her name and Class openly. [Great Witch] Rawen, dressed in black with straight black hair down to her ankles. She seemed unworried by the vast legion arrayed against her and every time Brin looked in her direction he got the uncanny feeling that she was meeting his eyes and staring straight back. It was a tribute to Arcaena that a woman of this much sheer menace wouldn’t even be mentioned on Aberfa’s list of notable dangers.

Rawen led two hundred human soldiers and a thousand undead. Pathetically small compared to the allied force, but Rawen stood with confidence. Those weren't the true protections.

A wall of Wyrd covered the queendom. It was invisible to most eyes, but with [Know What's Wyrd], Brin could feel it as an impregnable wall of darkness, as immovable as a mountain and as inevitable as the setting of the sun. To cross that line would be to violate the domain of Arcaena herself.

Maybe that's the reason they were still standing here. He was beginning to understand it when military people in his old life had said, "Hurry up and wait," because for all the hurry they'd been in to get here, there wasn't a lot happening.

The Lance had ridden hard around a small mountain range to get to Aberquay, rushed straight to the front line and now three days later, it was the same. They stood watching Arcaena, waiting for the order to attack. There were breaks for meals, and they were rotated out for rest but otherwise the army stood here. Ready, but waiting.

The worst part was that Brin didn't dare go into Class Selection. Without knowing how long it would take, he couldn't risk going comatose for any amount of time, not when they might get called into action at a moment's notice. He'd eventually gotten word to his hundred-man commander to ask for a short stay of leave, but he'd so far been ignored.

They'd given him his mail, at least. First was a letter from Lumina.

My dearest Brin,

I received word that you were involved with a surprise goblin incursion against the small town of Dustrim, and that you decided to stay and defend the town despite being wildly outnumbered. While I can perhaps grant that your actions speak of a certain nobility of character, I must say that I was not at all pleased to hear of this. You are more important than a small village, or indeed any single city in Prinnash. Next time, run away! I trust that this was a single lapse of judgment, and that I will no longer hear tales of you throwing yourself headfirst against impossible odds.

I also find myself quite cross with the Order of the Long Sleep, not in the least because you were specifically sent there because we thought you would be safe. Remember, you are to stay in the back lines and avoid the worst of the fighting.

If you will not heed me because of my concern for you, which I must emphasize is very real and something which I feel most keenly, then perhaps I might persuade you with a call to higher purpose. You carry more than the hopes of a single life. For all our might and bluster, we face the [Witch Queen] herself, and victory is by no means guaranteed. The difference between success and failure may well be a very thin line. It might come down to a single feint. One deception. Let me be blunt. Victory may well depend on you knowing what you know while having the Class you have. Perhaps I've already said too much; burn this letter after reading. And above all: stay safe!

I've straightened out the snag that delayed your funds. By the time you receive this letter, the Order will have received an amount of money adequate to outfit you in suitable armor.

Write back when you can. Direct your correspondence to the Tower. I may not be here much longer, but they will be able to find me.

With all my love,

Lumina.

He'd confirmed that the Order did indeed have his money, but he hadn't been able to arrange a meeting with Meaty. In fact, none of his Lance had their armor repaired yet. They looked a mess next to the other [Knights] in their gleaming, pristine plate. Brin's Lance had been told not to bother fixing their armor since they were all due to have it replaced with enchanted stuff, and while that was good news, it didn't do them any good if this war actually broke out.

He'd also gotten a letter from Hogg.

Brin,

I'm not good at this stuff so don't expect a lot.

The Tower is a burning disaster. Nothing but overpowered milksops and silk-wearing vipers. They know their stuff, though. I love it here.

Great job with Dustrim. I laughed with my full belly when I heard you challenged your Lance to the Crucible. Idiot.

So listen, I don't know what Lumina put in her letter, but she was frowning a lot. Don't take anything she says too hard. She's doing the best she can, but she's worried, and not just for you. We're preparing a pretty cool <-- I can't believe you got me saying that! interesting experiment, and it's going to be a tad dangerous. I think we have it well in hand, but in case something happens, well now you know.

Alright, that's it.

Hogg.

Brin had burned Lumina's letter as instructed, but kept Hogg's. Should he be worried about the experiment he was talking about? If it was dangerous enough for Hogg to even bother mentioning it, then it had to be something bad.

There was nothing he could do about it now. There was nothing he could do about anything. It was an astounding demonstration of the human brain's ability to acclimate, because after four days of standing around in a gigantic otherworldly army, he was starting to look around hoping for something interesting to happen.

Other than [Inspecting] every single person he could, his best source of entertainment was Marksi. Dragons absolutely did not stand in formation; Marksi had made that clear. He wandered freely, using his lightning-quick reflexes and his camouflage to evade anyone who might take issue with a strange creature wandering through their duty area, which to be fair was nearly everyone. His current obsession was a great winged lion over in the beast-rider group. Marksi viciously darted out of hiding to peck at the poor beast's toes or scratch his hind-quarters. The lion was always too slow to catch Marksi before he darted away again, and whenever he started hunting the dragonling in earnest, his master would always pull him back in formation. Brin was starting to worry about what would happen if the winged lion broke free.

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He was also worried about the commoner troops. Were they going to get brain damage from being held in place for so long? They were eerily well-behaved. He hadn't even seen them so much as sneeze. It had to be mental manipulation Skills; no amount of training would do this.

His Lance was staying in place in their formation as well, but that was because they were true professionals. Right? He didn't feel the effects of any kind of mental manipulation. But he wouldn't, would he? No, he would. He could always tell if he thought about it, it was only a danger when he wasn't thinking about it. Standing around in the sun for days was making him crazy.

It was a relief when he noticed Hedrek pull up his helmet to scratch his beard. And Brych and Anwir were murmuring back and forth to each other, so quietly that only those with advanced senses would be able to hear. His Lance wasn't being eerily still; they were just disciplined. Or was that what he was supposed to think?

Brin was startled out of his circular thoughts by a shout from his hundred-man commander. "Attention! Our orders have not changed! Stay in formation and hold your shots!"

They didn't normally call out when orders weren't changing; that meant something was about to happen.

He sent out a dozen Invisible Eyes and three of them were dispelled right away. Something invisible was swatting them out of the air. Brin sent the rest higher and higher until he was looking down from so far above that the army looked less like a collection of individuals and more like a shining sea of glittering metal.

Four more Invisible Eyes were dispelled on the way, but then the attacks stopped. Brin looked down, trying to see what was happening.

There was a lot of movement near the command tent. A single figure moved away from the others. A man nearby was reading from a scroll, a [Herald]. The other one was too far to see clearly, but Brin thought he carried a bow.

He needed to see what was going on. He sent two of his three remaining Invisible Eyes back down, zooming as quick as he could push them to try to get a close up. One of them was dispelled. Seriously, who was doing that? And how?

The next got farther until details became clearer. The figure carried a bow, and wore tight, form-fitting armor. Brin was close enough to use [Inspect].

Name: Gualdim of Vascor

Class: The Eye of the Eagle

Level: 70

No way. Even Brin had heard about this guy. He was a duke, and one of the twelve strongest people in Frenaria, not counting [Archmages]. Level seventy. What would a level seventy archer be capable of? Brin thought he might be about to find out.

The [Herald] nearby was faintly audible now. "...of many crimes throughout Frenaria, Prinnash, Olland, and the wider world. Indeed, the misdeeds of Arcaena are too numerous to count. Therefore; as ordered by the great and noble..."

A functionary in elaborate robes approached Gualdim and handed him an arrow the way that a surrendering king might hand his sword to a conqueror. Gualdim took it and held it high.

The arrow was a strange-looking thing. It looked like there was a square box attached to the head, like a jewelry box. ƒrēewebnoѵёl.cσm

Brin [Inspected] the box.

A box containing an undirected word of primordial power, imbued by the Master of Magic in Frenaria, the [Archmage of Chaos].

Fool of fools! Reckless and ignorant! You know not the forces with which you meddle! Do not seek to control this magic. Throw this box into the deepest chasm and forget you have ever seen it, lest terrors beyond imagining be unleashed upon you!

Sancta Solia, what was that thing? The Master of Magic–that was Lumina's master. He'd enchanted a box and now the best archer in the country was going to shoot it at Arcaena. With all of them standing right across the river. This couldn't be good.

All at once, Brin was cursing himself and hoping for things to stay nice and boring. Standing around in the sun all day? What could be better than that?

Something sniped the closer Invisible Eye, so he had to watch from the one that had stayed far above.

Whatever the [Herald] was saying, he was taking a long time in saying it. Maybe that would give Brin time to act? He wasn't a coward, but he didn't see why he should stay here while the equivalent of a nuclear bomb was going to be set off not even a mile from him.

Could he replace the Lance with Mirror Images and have them back away? They could always come back if they were really ordered to charge.

As if hearing his thoughts, the hundred-man commander shouted, "Do not move! Do not retreat, no matter what you see! The [Mages] of the Tower know their business, and you know yours."

The [Herald] ended his speech. Gualdim put the arrow to his bow. Brin created a spyglass out of illusion magic, bending the light in front of his eyes to show him the enemy army up close. The Invisible Eye up in the air was watching too, but he wanted to see as much as he could with his natural eyes.

He still wanted to be as far away from here as possible when that went off, but he had to admit that a big part of him also wanted to see what would happen. He was going to get the chance to see chaos magic, raw and undiluted from the greatest living [Archmage] in Frenaria. He didn’t want to be here. He also didn’t want to miss a thing.

He felt the activation of a Skill, the raw impact of the release of an enormous amount of power into the world, and that was just the archer’s power.

He didn’t move his eyes to try to track the arrow, but from the corner of his eye he saw a luminescent shining blue painting the world with light as it crossed the distance between the army.

Rawen opened her mouth in a horrified scream, and then burst apart in a spray of bat wings that then disappeared. A [Witch’s] retreat Skill, but much quicker than he’d ever seen before. It was like she’d teleported away.

Then the arrow struck. Brin squinted, trying to see if he could make out the square shape of the box on the end, trying to pick out the release of magic…

There was an eruption. No, more like a tear. He felt something horrible and awesome, a feeling of nothingness that he’d experienced only once in the temple of the gods in Hammon’s Bog. The glimpse of greater reality behind this fragile mundanity.

It was like his entire world was replaced to the blurry resolution of an old CRT Television only to have someone throw bright golden paint onto the screen.

He shouldn’t have been watching so closely. He should’ve closed his eyes. [Know What’s Real] left his mind, no, his soul raw and exposed and he saw it all.

Chaos magic was an understatement. This was the raw, primordial essence of creation itself. The warning label had been correct. This was not a power that humans should hold.

Rather than fall away, the golden paint sunk into the fabric of the world. It was reduced by it, and at the same time, it changed everything.

The Wyrd of Arcaena’s protective hexes was struck first. It was pulled out of the conceptual and forced to take form, physical form. In some places it simply exploded. In other places, the Wyrd formed into great monsters who grew and writhed. They were strange, hateful shapes and they fought each other heedless of the undead and human soldiers on the ground beneath them.

In some places, Brin could tell that the Wyrd kept its original shape, in spiteful curses, only they’d been flipped on their head and sent retribution back to Arcaena. Strange plants grew from the ground. Fire and ice, earth and air, lightning and acid. Everything seemed to be created from the conflagration, as if he were witnessing the birth of every bad thing, the opening of Pandora’s box.

Strangest of all was the fact that somehow, it all stayed on Arcaena’s side of the river.

The army watched in awe as the land on Arcaena’s side was devastated. Despite being a [Witch] Queendom, the land was beautiful, with wonderful weather, fields of wildflowers and idyllic beaches. Not anymore. As the chaos magic started to wear down and the violent creations lost their steam, all that was left was a smoking, barren wasteland. Rawen had escaped, but there was no sign that even so much as a fingernail of her army had survived.

The bulk of the chaos magic was spent, but there were still motes in the air. Now when the little sparks landed they made less of an impact with no Wyrd to transform. One made a strange red tree with rectangular leaves and the tree survived as no more motes fell near it. Some hit the ground and simply fizzle out, while others hung in the air.

Brin got the feeling that there wouldn’t be any further orders until the last of those motes touched down.

Once the ringing in his ears died down, and he began to recover from the scorching of his soul, Brin began to get curious again.

It was probably a stupid idea, but he wanted to know what would happen, so he had his Invisible Eye fly close to one of the motes of golden light and had it shine a beam of light into it.

He felt the connection, the interaction of magic against magic in the Wyrd. It was nearly as painful as the initial eruption, but he powered through it and focused on what he was feeling.

Primordial chaos didn’t have something that could be called an opinion, but if it did Brin would have to say that it didn’t like it here. It was perfect, where it had been before, and its interaction with this world diminished it.

What if it could be encased in glass? What if it could be preserved the way it was?

He barely had the thought, not even going so far as to try to communicate it, when he felt that the mote agreed. He tried to reject it, to tell it no, but the mote had already decided. It wanted to be stored in glass. It disappeared and instantly appeared in front of him.

On reflex, he summoned a sphere of glass around it, then summoned more glass to fill it in like a water balloon to try to contain the spark. Could it even be contained in this way? He felt at once that it could, because it wanted to be contained.

He quickly snatched the ball out of the air and pocketed it, hoping that no one had seen what he’d done. Was this really safe? It could totally explode again, or transform Brin into a giant walrus for all he knew. He should get rid of it, but he had the feeling that things would be even worse for him if he tried that. The magic of his glass still touched the spark and it was certain: It was happy where it was.

For now, he’d take it with him and if he ever got the chance, he’d do what the Master of Magic advised and toss it into the deepest cavern.

They waited until the last of the motes touched down, and from what he could tell none of the rest came anywhere near the army on his side. Probably because no one else would be foolish enough to tempt it over.

The entire time, Brin’s pulse was pounding and he couldn’t stop sweating, but nothing changed. The spark was satisfied.

Eventually, the horns sounded. The army didn’t have only one plan for the river. In some places wooden bridges were stretched out, and in others stone or earthen bridges were summoned with magic.

The army moved forward, with the [Knights] in the lead. Brin stepped across, setting foot on Arcaenean soil for the first time. It was black and scorched, exactly like a [Witch] Queendom should be.

He kept walking, further into the country. The first day of war with Arcaena could only be called a victory. They marched into her borders unimpeded, without a single casualty.

That night, Brin’s leave request was granted. He was given a private tent, and permission to stay inside as long as he needed. It was time to choose a Class.

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