章節 142: An exciting program
It is obvious to anyone that in a normal situation blood magic is unlikely to work in an untrained person, due to lack of self-belief and lack of energy, as few people are able to use prana purposefully or have the seventh origin of the soul. But now the situation is such that people will jump at any chance to survive, wishing with all their heart that magic would work. In addition, thanks to the invasion, the energy background of the Earth is incredibly saturated, as if in a parade of planets, which seriously facilitates the charging of artifacts and the creation of simple charms even for those who are far from magic.
True, despite all of the above, the probability of the correct operation of the rune complex is extremely low, because you need to clearly understand why each blood-drawn symbol is required, but I have provided for this point and I'm not going to require people to do anything supernatural, remembering such a wonderful thing as a sigil.
Unlike runes, sigils are a ready-made design, a kind of "thing in itself" aimed at a certain action, and are not subject to change. They were developed by European alchemists in the twelfth century as a response to the magical practices of the Middle East. At that time, the Arabs began to look too actively in the direction of the northwest and did not hesitate to send small spirits to the enemy troops, sowing panic and chaos.
There was even organized the Second Crusade, when in one thousand one hundred and forty-fourth year Seljuk commander took Edessa - the last stronghold of Christianity beyond the Euphrates. Except that there are relatively few clergymen capable of resisting otherworldly creatures, and the spirits were really hordes, moreover, most of them can be attributed to neutral entities that do not care about Christian attributes from a high bell tower. And then wizards came up with special symbols that could create any, even the weakest, user of the Force.
It's a bit strange to hear that magicians, in fact, united with the church, but here it should be understood, the Arab wizards certainly would not tolerate competitors and after the capture of Europe would have no problem sacrificing most of the magical gifted for the sake of various perks from the Djinn. And the Inquisition burned real sorcerers cooperating with dark forces or random peasants who nobody cared about.
So, small spirits are relatively harmless, but when there are a lot of them, they become a serious problem, affecting people's minds and causing them to flee. So, it's not strange that one of the first sigils had the name: "Courage and Honor", although I would call it: "Dementia and Courage". Under its influence not only disappeared the feeling of fear, increased concentration and dulled pain, but also reduced critical thinking and increased suggestibility, so that the soldiers fought to the last and did not even think about retreat. Then the set of sigils expanded, and there were versions focused on maintaining the army's fighting ability. For example, purifying water, accelerating regeneration, preserving food and repelling parasites. It is quite possible that this direction had a good chance to turn into an analog of magic wands from the Harry Potter universe, but, firstly, the magical community of Europe is not even one percent of the population, and secondly, it is too much mystical symbols have limited functionality and do not allow to expand it in any serious way. A shadow of the shadow of the power of real spells. In addition, after the end of the Crusade, the churchmen decided to close the shop, starting a real persecution of magicians, and those were not up to the development of an interesting direction.
The local TV tower didn't greet me too welcomingly. What did I want, though? It was almost eleven p.m., and it was New Year's Eve, so it wasn't surprising that most of the employees had gone home to spend time with their families before the invasion began. The only people left were the maintenance staff, and a couple of news anchors, one of whom was reading out an emergency message right now, asking the population not to panic and to go to the nearest shelters with everything they needed to survive. It didn't really work, as there were still hordes of armored bugs flying around and grim towers sticking out, around which black, ugly roots with blood-red buds were slowly growing. And it's hard to convince anyone that everything will be fine when you're as white as chalk, because at that moment several monsters are bursting towards you, slowly dismantling the hastily created barricades.
As I passed quiet, empty openspaces and corridors with occasional traces of brief skirmishes, I stopped behind the flying freaks besieging the studio, which was very lucky to have only two entrances and no windows. I cast the Steppenwolf illusion on myself for fun, hoping to disperse all the cyberbugs quickly, except they seemed to be aware of the general's death. As soon as I caught their attention with a delicate cough, they immediately tried to dismantle me into a multitude of souvenirs. It was even worse with Darkseid's cosplay, I had purposely fired the flash before the transformation, but as soon as the monsters saw the new image, they went wild.
I was saved from becoming a well-fried clown by my excellent reactions and a shield in my aura, which was hit by a stream of incredibly hot flames. And up until that point, the Parademons hadn't been too keen on using their built-in flamethrowers. Hell, even against defense and police forces, they preferred to engage in close combat, or ignore any pockets of resistance, hunting for less toothy victims. I even had to cast an elemental shield at one point, and then help the fire suppression systems fight the blaze, noting that these monsters were clearly smarter than the previous ones. Either it's Darkseid and his aura, which I'm not able to fake yet. Still, the Cyborg turned into a monster had no trouble joining the friendly group and flew in the company of "comrades" to one of the towers.
"Is it over already? - The man asked hopefully at me as I penetrated the barricade, which had suffered a little from the fire.
The welcoming delegation consisted of only ten frightened employees armed with batons made of improvised materials. Surprisingly, my identity didn't embarrass anyone, though, given recent events, they would have been happy to have KillerCroc... Well, until he started eating them.
"Ha-ha-ha, how can I put it? We're out of monsters on the floor, but there's plenty more outside.
The shoulders of those present slumped.
"Hey! Not all is lost, because that's what I'm here for," I said cheerfully, pulling out a small device from my pocket that looked a bit like a six-legged square mechanical bug. - Where's the main server?
***
The armed man on duty at the hastily boarded-up window flinched when the spinning message on the TV on repeat suddenly changed to a tuning grid.
"Cunt of the station," the man lying on the couch said indifferently.
"I'm surprised those monsters didn't attack her right away," his companion said, keeping his gaze on the street.
"They don't give a shit about tactics and shit, fucking aliens. There's thousands of them, and it's happening in every major city. It doesn't matter if they're connected or not. Ugh," he spit on the parquet with empty syringes lying on it.
"I don't know, troop coordination is very important. We may not have the smartest people in our government, but we have one of the most capable armies in the world. You'll see, in half an hour, the troops will be here to save us all."
"Heh," the pessimist grinned sadly and gently poked at the bloody stump of his right leg, checking for sensitivity. Soon the effects of the anesthetic would wear off and I'd have to get a new dose. - I'd bet on the heroes. They may look like faggots, but some of them are fucking strong. Eh, too bad Superman hasn't recovered from his injury yet, he'd be a quick fix.
"Yes, it's a pity," echoed the other, not emphasizing that few people can survive with a punctured heart.
The room fell into silence. Both men realized that the chances of getting out or waiting to be rescued were minimal, because there were flying monsters outside, sensing people trying to get out of the area. They only miraculously managed to finish off one such creature, getting badly hurt in the process. The strength was enough only to look in the pharmacy, and then hide in one of the empty apartments of the apartment building.
Suddenly, the TV screen flickered, and instead of a tuning grid, the incredibly satisfied face of the Joker appeared, standing behind the semblance of a podium behind which the first persons of state usually speak.
"Comrades, the clouds are gathering over Mordor," he said seriously, looking directly into the camera lens, "the SS veterans under the leadership of the evil Sauron are pulling up hordes of lessons equipped with the latest models of assault towers and wall-breaking machines to the city. The old sorcerer Pendalf is busy organizing the defense, in which he is diligently hindered by a Honduran werewolf in shoulder straps - the impudent General Dimedrol Grebenshchikov. The hard-drinking Tsar Boris..." his gaze wagged to the side. "What do you mean, what the fuck am I talking about?"*
Realization flashed in his eyes, followed by the ringing sound of a palm colliding with his face behind the frame.
"Ha ha ha. Oops, wrong universe," the green-haired host's face took on a remorseful expression, only to become serious again a moment later. - In any case, black clouds are gathering over Gotham. What's wrong with Gotham, there's a global threat looming over the world! - the psycho waved his arms emotionally. - Nasty aliens from another dimension have decided to terraform our little harmless planet and assimilate the entire population into parademons. The flying creatures you can see outside your window right now. Heh, if you're unlucky enough to live in a big city. But you got the wrong people!
The man clenched his fist, threatening his unseen opponent.
"Yes. Our main protector, who loves blue tights, is missing, but we're not the only ones. The army, mercenaries, self-defense units, just conscious citizens and thousands of heroes united to defend the planet, but villains and various criminal elements have crammed into their holes, or even began to harm. And I just want to say one thing. Are you bitches out of your mind?! Darkseid has no mercy, no mercy or compassion in his vocabulary. Soon the whole Earth will be a vast, scorched wasteland, so find your balls and go kill the assholes before it's too late!
The Joker sighed and exhaled a couple times, calming down, and then a joyful grin blossomed on his face.
"Huh, okay, let's get to why I started this broadcast in the first place. Flying creatures are called parademons, they're not very smart and easy to hide from, but the thing is, they sense fear and fly to the source of it like moths to a light. I understand it's hard to stop being afraid of a three-meter tall fire-breathing armored behemoth, but lucky for you, I have a solution available to everyone. And it's magic!
A rainbow with a couple of miniature fireworks above it appeared between the palms of the unusual presenter's hands. Then the camera moved away a little, showing a large sheet of absorbent cotton mounted on a special tripod, to which the Joker approached, taking a bowie knife with a red-and-green festive handle out of his pocket.
"Today we will turn to the most ancient magic, namely blood magic. For this we will need self-belief, a knife, relatively straight arms, and our own fresh blood. Again, for the alternatively gifted, my own blood and fresh blood. Alien blood is not suitable, as it will conflict with your aura.
He calmly took off his glove, cut his palm, dipped his index finger in the scarlet liquid, and in a couple of deft movements drew a stylized shield symbol with a pair of zigzag lines on the surface, from behind which the hilt of a sword was visible. Just a second later, the lines of the drawing began to glow with a mysterious pinkish light, causing the host to give a puzzled quack. But the former super criminal quickly pulled himself together.
"Ahem. The Sigil of Courage and Honor. An ancient symbol used by the Crusaders. Naturally, it's unlikely to glow like that for you because of the lack of magic, but it will still fulfill its function of removing fear. The main thing is to believe that it works. However, you still don't have many options to avoid the attention of parademons, so go ahead, and I'll go to kill the multiverse villain."
"Comrades, the clouds are gathering over Mordor..."
The recording began to play from the beginning, but now both comrades noticed that all this time in the lower left corner of the screen hung an image of a magic symbol, which they had not paid attention to before, interested in the strange performance.
"John, what do you think? - The man at the window inquired.
"Ugh. This is bullshit. If magic is real, I'd bet this nutcase is trying to perform a mass sacrifice this way."
Very nearby came the joyous roar of several monsters, followed immediately by the sounds of a window shattering and someone's panicked screams.
"You know, I don't give a shit anymore," the invalid squeezed his stump, making a little blood come out and started drawing a magic symbol right on the floor, occasionally checking the image on the screen.
***
The secure bunker a hundred meters deep now resembled an unfurled beehive. A multitude of people watched over a vast array of monitors, gathering data, coordinating operatives, and relaying information to the main headquarters while a full dark-skinned woman in a strict office suit watched from her minimalist, hi-tech office.
"Ma'am, should we interrupt the broadcast? Experiments have shown that the symbol begins to accumulate a strange energy around it and actually dulls the sense of fear. This could be a serious problem in the future."
The hostess of the room glimpsed at the holographic tablet with the research results.
"You don't have to. If our intel on Darkseid is correct, there's too much at stake. But our operatives are forbidden to use the symbol until it's thoroughly investigated. Dismissed."
***
"Pa-a-a-a-a, where's my helmet? - yelled a tall, muscular man, hopping on one leg to put on his white pants as he went, while managing to keep his gun holster on.
"I don't know, asshole! - shouted back a flabby old man sitting on the couch in front of the TV with a bottle of beer in his hands. He flicked the remote control, but everywhere was that infuriating clown.
"Hell, the Earth is in danger and I have a duty to save it, but I can't be a hero without my helmet."
"Look in the trash can."
"What the hell is he doing here," came the indignant exclamation a few seconds later.
"You shouldn't be throwing your stuff around."
Soon a superhero appeared on the doorstep of the room, whose outfit consisted of the aforementioned white pants, a tight red turtleneck with a yellow padded bird symbol on the chest, blue gloves, the same color boots, and a strange silver helmet that did little to hide his manly face.
"What else?"
The superhero's eyes wagged sideways.
"Pa, I need a car to get into town."
"Why the hell would you even get involved in this."
"For peace! I value it with all my heart," his face took on a spiritual expression. - I will kill old men, women and children for it.
~Zwiak~
A bunch of keys flew into the surprised man's face.
"Take it and get the fuck out. I don't want to listen to this bullshit again. Oh," he sighed sadly, "God gave me an idiot son."
"Pa, you're the best!"
A strange superhero with a dubious reputation, known to some intelligence agencies under the nickname Peacemaker, hurried outside to a car parked at the gate.
***
The once beautiful square in the center of Rio de Janeiro's city was now strewn with a multitude of bodies in golden armor, huge black blocks of stone that had formerly belonged to a majestic gloomy tower, and dried black roots. A hurricane seemed to have passed through here, breaking the sturdy carcasses of the alien invaders, but a careful eye could see that not all of them had been killed by the air elemental. Some of the Parademons were frozen in ice, some were clearly fried by lightning, some of the monsters had no visible wounds at all, and some seemed to have fought fiercely against their own comrades until they were killed and torn apart.
"ECI REAPS!"
The last jackal-headed monster fell, struck down by a huge icicle that pierced through it.
"Whew, that was a tough one."
Wiping the sweat from her forehead, a woman whose outfit was more suitable for a stripper than a famous illusionist who was also one of the most powerful sorceresses slowly floated down from the sky. This was the second portal tower to be destroyed, but there were many more to come. Except that Zatanna has also let a huge amount of mana flow through her during the battle, and now she just needs some rest to regain her strength.
"An ancient symbol used by the Crusaders. Naturally, you are unlikely to have it glowing like this due to the lack of magic..."
Her hearing picked up a familiar voice coming from the side of the miraculously surviving television set in the store window. She flew closer in interest, only to be surprised to recognize the face of her student, whose speech was thoughtfully dubbed with subtitles in Portuguese.
After listening to Joker's speech for a while, the enchantress naturally grabbed her head. If there were an outside observer in this place, he would have been surprised to hear a four-story mat pouring out of the sexy beauty's mouth, ending with a strange phrase: "This will now be registered in the Earth's mental plan.
*This is a reference to the funny translation of the Lord of the Rings.
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