Apocalypse Reset: My Crab Can Heal the World!

Eldrie stands in the throne room, looking out the large windows in the back of the palatial estate. He sees someone he recognizes - Jordan, the young police officer he ran into in the woods. She's wearing a bikini, basting in the sun on a lawn chair beside the castle's extravagant and lavish swimming pool.

He licks his lips. She's so far away, but even from this distance he can see how the sun glistens on her thick, meaty thighs. Her beautiful skin is coated in oil and soaks up the rays, giving her delectable color.

Eldrie's hand starts to slip down the front of his pants when suddenly the door to the throne room burst open. He hurriedly collects himself and moves away from the window.

'God, I'd do anything to go down there with her right now,' he thinks to himself. But he's got work to do.

Maria and Osmond arrive first. Though she insisted she was fine to walk, Osmond wouldn't hear it, and he carried Maria on his back all the way from the town. It was no big deal for the muscular demon - he was far stronger than a regular human, and he had plenty of experience hoisting Maria around. Once they make it into the throne room, she slaps him until he agrees to release her, and she limps up to the war table in the back of the room.

"Information on the enemy, huh?" Maria asks, looking at the binder on the table. For someone who loves research like her, it's hard not to grab it and immediately pour over every excruciating detail. Read latest chapters at My Virtual Library Empire

She's somewhat aware of the Sentinels. On occasion, strange messages appear in her System Log, referencing system users - humans - who she has never seen. She knew there was a group out there, and she knew they had some connection to the apocalypse. Today, she'll figure out exactly what that connection is.

Underhill arrives next, twirling his cane around and looking giddy. He's the type to always have something up his sleeve, but he rarely shares his proclivities until it's of benefit to himself. Everyone has a natural mistrust of Underhill, but Eldrie hasn't caught on to that yet.

"Who doesn't love a good strategy meeting?" Underhill quips. "My artisans have been chompin' at the bit for something fun to do. It's all infrastructure this, repair that."

"I bet there are some qualified artisans among the twenty thousand new recruits," Maria ponders aloud. "As well as Adventurers, police candidates, maybe even those with leadership experience."

"Sounds like more people to tell what to do," Underhill smirks. "Can't wait."

Clancy scuttles into the room next, loudly announcing his presence and skittering up to the war table.

"Are you the pope now?" Maria asks, looking at the hat strapped to his head. "You know what - never mind."

Eldrie salutes the king crab in reverence. "I hear the people of Ordella have ordained him as their religious leader," he murmurs to Maria, shifting closer to her so she could hear. "Show some respect."

The last two to arrive are Barns and Haima, who are laughing and gabbing it up as they walk into the throne room. As they arrive, Maria and Underhill exchange an awkward look - the revelation about Haima's possible status as a homicidal killer weighs heavy on them both.

Maria is especially surprised to see the two of them holding hands, but Haima is quick to pry herself away from Barns and move to the other side of the table when they arrive.

"Alright, that should be everyone," Eldrie says. "Godrick is still in Ordella, recovering from injuries sustained in battle. I asked Quinn to sit this one out so he can focus on today's new recruits." He glances back toward the window one more time, thinking about the police officer basking in the sunlight. She's probably flipped over by now, her big, juicy-

"Right!" Maria starts, interrupting Eldrie's train of thought. She snatches up the binder and opens up to the first page. "Let's get started, shall we? Time to learn about these 'Sentinels'."

…

Elsewhere…

In a place far from Dimartino is a floating castle in the shape of an inverted pyramid - the prismatic bricks that make up the domain ever-shifting, creating new shapes with each passing moment. It hovers above a crater in the ground that stretches so deep into the earth that the bubbling lava below is like the maw of hell itself.

The Sentinel Donatella steps toward the castle, and a network of stone blocks fly toward her, creating a path over the fiery ravine. As she walks along the shifting, jittering walkway, the stones behind her hover back to their place in the pyramid.

She crosses the great chasm - it takes a full five minutes to reach the triangular opening in the pyramid which coaxes her further inside. As she does, the stones seal around her and begin to transport her through the pyramid like a magicked elevator. In moments, they open again, and she's standing on the edge of a large meeting room.

Much as Barns and his allies are gathered around their war table, the Sentinels are gathering at theirs. A large table formed from a spiral of white, vein-like tendrils dominates the room, with eight chairs organized around it in sets of two. Six chairs are filled with the other Sentinels who have already gathered - they were waiting only for Donatella. The eight chair, reserved for the Emperor Yharan, lies empty.

From her right comes the husky, fiery voice of a hulking demon woman. "The stupid one has finally arrived. Time to talk."

Donatella eyes her colleague, a draconian amazon with bushy hair and a vile, pointed chin like a witch. Her face is painted with red blood and her breath burns so hot that a perpetual haze lingers around her sweaty body.

"Glad to see you too, Llama-shit - I mean, Lamashti," Donatella spits. Names are always troublesome for her brain, but she did that mispronunciation on purpose.

Donatella sits in the chair adjacent to Lamashti, looking to the leader of the Seven Sentinels - the man known as Nazakiel.

His bright eyes fixate on Donatella as she sits, reading her every motion. Nazakiel's eyes are the source of his incredible power - his irises and sclera are both the same shade of verdant green, and Nazakiel lacks pupils - though glowing yellow runes flit through his eyes as he observes.

"How disrespectful - To call yourself Sentinel - You can't kill a crab."

The soft words come from another voice at the table - the young woman sitting directly across from Donatella. The voice is wicked, but beautiful - belonging to a fair maiden who doesn't appear a day over twenty. Her beauty is timeless and divine - a goddess walking among mere mortals with her sweet-sing song voice and captivating aura.

One might think she were otherwise perfect, if not for the insidiousness with which she addresses Donatella, and for her elongated, stilted fingers that she uses as a bow to play her stained black cello - music was the source of her wicked power, and her cello is the voice of her melodies.

"Enough, Solana."

She stiffens instantly. Nazakiel's words alone are enough to make everyone at the table freeze in fear. The wrathful Sentinel's powers are beyond comprehension, and each of them know it all too well.

Nazakiel curls his fingers, and the Sentinels are entranced by his terrifying aura. "Donatella. Is this 'crab' truly so powerful?"

The green-haired Sentinel shakes her head. "I was surprised, is all. I didn't fight it alone. It was guarded by a host of pothitively - positively…er…I forgot where I was going with that…"

Nazakiel stares at her with such disdain she fears he'll barrel over the table and annihilate her - but to her relief he simply leans back further in his chair.

His gaze flickers briefly to the other three Sentinels, who thus far have remained quiet. First, he eyes the petite girl who sits directly next to the Emperor's empty chair. As he looks at her, she yawns and giggles, curling up in the chair and twirling her long silver locks.

He glances briefly to the two others - a quivering, mischievous and ratty man with a purple bowl cut who hides behind large round glasses, and a towering, seven-foot tall bloodhound who sits with his arms crossed, just waiting for the meeting to end.

Nazakiel exhales slowly. Even his subtle movements cause the powerful and defined muscles in his arms to tense.

"It was a mistake to send you, Donatella. I'll deal with it myself. No amount of guards can stop me."@@novelbin@@

The heavenly musician Solana rises from her chair, her movements fluid and airy. "I will take my leave - Donatella is shameful - And I need a reprieve."

She glides away as the others begin to rise and leave the table, leaving only Donatella and Nazakiel sitting, staring at each other.

"It won't be a walk in the park even for you," Donatella advises. "Barnacles isn't just a crab. Don't say I didn't warn you."