NOVEL NEXT Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 57 - Testing the limits - Part One
Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 57 - Testing the limits - Part One
As Tanner began to collapse, I managed to catch him by the scruff of the padded armour beneath the leather straps of his breastplate. The Abilities he had used had taken more out of him than I had anticipated. However, all things considered, it was hard to deny the results.
Ignoring the mild fatigue in my back and arm, I half-carried and half-dragged Tanner back to the group while Tanner made an admirable but futile attempt to move under his power.
Still breathing hard, I set Tanner down by the others and waited for the arrival of the newcomers.
“Help!...” The ragged cry came as a surprise given the death of the Carnifex. I was tempted to attribute it to panic and accumulated stress, but for whatever reason, it didn’t quite feel right. “You! You have to!...” The lead runner staggered, collapsed, and disappeared.
Focusing on the man still struggling to cover the remaining distance from our group, I identified him as the Morgan I had heard the others mention earlier. Accessing his group information through my authority as Tyrant, I also confirmed that most of his group was in critical condition.
With my authority as Tyrant, I confirmed that the remaining five members of the group had been relocated to another section of the Demi-Plane. This included the man who just disappeared.
“They...They came out of the trees! Out of the trees man!” Morgan raved as he fell to his hands and knees and vomited what looked like bloody bile.
Jean hurried forward while fumbling with his pack, most likely intending to provide medical aid.
Looking at Morgan from a distance, I couldn’t see any signs of external injuries. However, he was favouring his left side.
Curious to see what Jean would do, I watched as he pawed through Morgan’s belongings for a short while before giving up and removing a pale ivory stick from his belt pouch. The stick was about four or five inches long and half an inch wide. I could see dark marks on its surface but wasn’t close enough to make out what they were.
Jean pressed the stick into Morgan’s hands, took a firm grip on his hands, and then broke the stick.
Morgan disappeared.
“Damned fool!” Jean cursed as he grabbed his pack and rejoined the group.
“Let me guess. The cheapskate didn’t bring any Salvation Tags?” Sarah snickered incredulously.
Jean scowled and nodded, “Morgan claims he dropped them in the ambush...” His tone made it clear that he didn’t believe a word of it.
“What kind of idiot would explore the latest floor without Salvation Tags?!” Fione demanded in disgust.
Tanner grunted in agreement. ”Anyone desperate enough to team up with Morgan, clearly,” he replied dryly.
From the context, I could only assume the Salvation Tags were another one of Sebet’s conditional Contracts. Instead of reaching a certain HP threshold, breaking the item catalysed activating the Contract.
The group settled down again and Sarah decided she would take a turn on watch. Given the exhausted state of just about everyone else, I volunteered as well.
Less than two minutes after Morgan’s disappearance, a second Carnifex came prowling over the hillside. However, with the Ward still in effect, it couldn’t approach the group.
After being hit by three arrows, the Carnifex reluctantly withdrew back the way it had come.
My sore muscles recovered quickly, but I had been forced to ‘cheat’ by secretly conjuring additional food supplies while rummaging through my pack.
I was prepared to classify the outing overall as a failure. The whole point was to test my limits in conditions comparable to what anyone else would face. I had cheated twice already due to my lack of preparedness and I had identified several areas I could improve upon.
There was nothing I could do about it just at the moment, but it weighed on me all the same.
After an hour of recuperating, the group decided they were fit enough to make the return trip to base camp.
We crossed paths with another all-human group on the way back and Jean made a point of warning them about the Carnifexes lurking in the hills. The leader of the other group seemed to take the warning seriously enough but wasn't deterred.
The return to base camp was met with audible sighs of relief, and given the danger presented by the Carnifexes on the hill, I couldn’t blame anyone for it.
While things were in control, the danger seemed no worse than anything I had experienced in the true Labyrinths. However, when that control began to unravel, things went bad far quicker than I expected.
“Are you planning on heading out again?” I asked Jean, earning a truly conflicted expression in return as the group leader scanned my face.
“It will take the rest of the day for everyone to recover their mana, brother,” Jean explained apologetically, “We could probably do some hunting close to the base camp, but that would leave us less ready for tomorrow.”
“I understand,” I replied in as non-judgemental a tone as possible but Jean’s odd expression only intensified, “When was your regular group member due to return?” I asked, trying to change the subject somewhat, “It slipped my mind in all the excitement.”
“Jake?” Jean replied quickly, “Ah, I might not have told you, brother!” He grinned good-naturedly, “I doubt he will be back for at least a couple of days. You are more than welcome to stay with us until he returns, brother,” Jean offered optimistically, “We might not have made a good showing today, but I’m sure we will do better now that we have a good handle on one another’s capabilities.”
I nodded in agreement since it was more or less my general thoughts as well.
“It’s not like our efforts will be for naught either!” Jean continued happily, “Such high-tier Beast remains and mana stones will fetch a good price on the open market, and that magic item Fione was drooling over will likely be worth more than the rest combined!”
I had no doubts about that. Depending on the Class and someone’s style of combat, the ability to retrieve a weapon at will could be a real game-changer.
“Will Fione try and buy it?” I asked curiously.
“No doubt, brother!” Jean chuckled, “Depending on the evaluation, of course!”
“How long will the evaluation take?” I hadn’t explored the first floor at all, so I had no idea how much of the Adventurers Guild practices had been adopted. Not that I was particularly familiar with those either.
“It’s probably completed already,” Jean replied offhandedly, “The highest tier stock is always the highest priority for evaluation. We have a signed agreement with the evaluators to sell the materials right away and hold the magic items for a couple of days. It’s pretty standard since organic materials are prone to losing value over time.”
Jean continued explaining the general relative values of certain materials and his perception of how and why the market shifted one way or another.
As best I could tell, it was always a given that higher-tier meat and materials would be more valuable than lower-tier meat and materials. However, the meat of the predatory Beasts was generally half as valuable as the meat of the grazers. This was due to the texture and taste of the meat. Offal was generally worth very little and barely increased in price by tier.
Bones, teeth, claws, and hides were the most valuable components by weight. Unfortunately, imperfections and damage could drastically alter the price. Furthermore, not all bones were in demand. Large dense bones sold quite well, while vertebrae rarely sold at all.
All the while, magic items varied wildly in value due to supply far outstripping demand.
Unlike the organic materials of the monsters, the magic items weren’t going anywhere. Too durable to efficiently scrap for materials, the more generic magic items were donated to Sanctuary’s treasury in exchange for Exp. The Asrusian Faction had also implemented a similar Quest to arm and armour their soldiers. Even so, the market remained over-saturated.
“Does this mean you are interested in sticking with us a while longer, brother?” Jean asked optimistically, abruptly returning us to our original conversation.
“Sure,” I agreed, seeing no particular reason not to. “But I will take another look at my Abilities to see how best to support the group,” I added, allowing me to do things a little differently the next time around.
Jean seemed curious but didn’t press the matter. Perhaps fearing that he would offend me or otherwise push his luck.
I agreed to rejoin the group the following morning and then used my authority to return to the first floor so I could take a proper look around.
Contrary to my initial expectations, the deceased Beasts were not delivered to the first floor.
After asking around, I learned that the evaluations and sales of all goods were conducted in the largest economic hub of the Demi-Plane. Port Gidian.
Moving myself to Port Gidian, I found the former town far more populated and busy than the last time I visited. In just under a couple of months, the town had swollen in size to become a sprawling city.
Nominally aligned with the Asrusian government, the city itself was governed by a comparatively neutral Faction that favoured Sanctuary itself. The Sanctuary Border Lords Faction. Acting as a literal buffer, their Faction held towns and cities on the opposing banks of the river that surrounded Sanctuary and were the only Human Faction permitted to patrol its waters.
The patrols weren’t intended to ward off piracy or smuggling, since neither currently existed. Instead, the patrols were a means of training sailors, marines and shipbuilders.
Following the general tide of traffic, I soon found myself standing in the bustling heart of the city. The trade district was the definition of organised chaos. Despite having marked and numbered plots, how each merchant chose to occupy their space varied considerably from one plot to the next.
Goblin pottery and baskets were sold alongside bolts of silk and crates of fruit.
To the best of my knowledge, there seemed to be little rhyme or reason to explain why any given merchant occupied their current plot. I could only assume that the plots themselves were rented or leased on a first come first served basis.
After wandering around for quite some time, I found the assessment company’s office and warehouses on the edge of the market. As large as the market was, the grounds of the assessment company’s warehouses were larger.
The main office gave me the general impression of a prominent bank. Clerks standing behind large desks were answering questions and finalising sales with merchants and other business owners.
All the while, a second team of employees served as messengers, to the back rooms and warehouses.
A large board on the left side of the lobby had the prices for different resources while a second board on the right side of the lobby listed the prices for different tiers of magic items. The second board also listed several custom magic items as well, but the header made it clear that they would only be sold during the evening auction.
Looking over the list of magic items that would be going to auction, I was disappointed that none of the items seemed suited to my current needs. I still wanted to watch the auction, so I decided to return later.
Wandering through the market, I couldn’t help but stare as mana stones of various sizes and quantities were exchanged for different goods instead of coins.
I didn’t know enough about economics to fully understand the change in the preferred currency. However, I suspected the coins would return to use in some capacity if I obtained and made the Labyrinth’s vendors available to the public.
A faint tug on my consciousness drew me from my musings and put me on alert as I scanned my immediate surroundings.
It took only a few moments to locate and identify the source.
Two tall women with red hair and dark tan skin were walking hand in hand toward me from the far end of the market. Wearing predatory smiles and bright flowing short robes beneath dark leather armour, they moved with a confidence and purpose that made it abundantly clear that they not only expected to be seen but demanded it.
The twins' aura acted like a magnet, drawing and holding the attention of everyone and holding the attention of anyone who failed to resist.
Resisting them took no real effort. However, I suspected this was because the aura itself was being actively dampened to comply with my rules.
The moment I resisted the aura I felt a telepathic link establish itself and connect to my mind.
With the link established, both clones immediately picked me out of the crowd and began to make their approach.
The crowds parted to allow the clones easy passage.
“Hello, Daddy!” The clones, twins, Salena and Salene, each took a hold of one of my arms and grinned.
“Girls,” I replied dryly, determined not to let them get under my skin.
Salena and Salene exchanged confused glances with one another.
To say nothing of whether the Demi-Plane would be inherited and maintained by my children. My authority as Tyrant left me feeling fairly certain it would, or at least, could be. Willfully entering the domain of another Awakened in person was asking for trouble.
I could justify my activities in my Labyrinth because I was not in true danger thanks to being able to relocate myself within the Demi-Plane at will. However, the more I thought about travelling cross country, the more excessively dangerous it made me feel.
My thoughts returned to Denbe, my contact with the Midnight Caravan. He wasn’t a subordinate but had taken a prodigious number of oaths to guarantee his loyalty and discretion.
I nodded and allowed my thoughts to continue wandering as they may.
I had given Sebet a considerable degree of latitude thus far and nearly just as much power and authority. So, on the one hand, it seemed dangerous to entrust her with more of the same for the sake of my immediate safety and convenience. However, Sebet was bound by more oaths than every other Faction leader combined. It was impossible for her to knowingly betray my best interests and those of my family.
In addition to the oaths, our Contract bound Sebet to a code of conduct that was entirely dependent on explicit permission to entertain the darker aspects of her nature.
Of course, this meant I was very nearly entirely responsible for Sebet’s actions.
<...> Salena and Salene looked at one another in surprise.
The more I thought it through, the more I realised that granting Sebet access to my Spells wasn’t nearly as dangerous as I first considered it to be. A Succubus Queen, Sebet already had a truly unsettling array of Abilities both from her Class and Species. In comparison, my limited range of Spells added some utility and not much else.
Of course, I was assuming that Sebet being made a Hand would extend to her clones, and I wasn’t sure what to think of the consequences in either case.
I had two available slots in the Ability, but if I went through with making Sebet a Hand, then I would need to do the same for Gric if only to reward his tireless loyalty and service in running Sanctuary.
Offering it to Gric first would have a greater impact, feeling less like a consolation prize and more like the true acknowledgement of his abilities and actions.
I replied dryly.
After returning to Sanctuary, I Summoned projections of all the Daemons so I wouldn't disrupt their activities, and then held a short formal ceremony for Gric.
Despite his protests of unworthiness, I could tell that Gric felt vindicated by the gesture. More than that, the collective morale of the other Daemons rose considerably.
It was an oddity of their core nature that I had grown somewhat accustomed to but still found strange to witness.
The promotion or rewarding of a Daemon’s superior was expected, an instinct embedded in their core being.
Which made Ril even more of an oddity.
As much as I tried to avoid thinking about it, our limited interactions had begun leaving me with the distinct impression that Ril knew far more than she should. At the very least, she knew far more than Gric and the other Daemons.
Ril’s behaviour around Toofy seemed genuine enough, but sometimes it felt like her mask would slip and she would say or do something that didn’t fit. Of course, it was hard to prove since Ril’s behaviour would also shift depending on whether or not Toofy was present and paying attention to her.
I was almost completely certain that Ril wasn’t an Awakened, but short of confronting her about it under oath, I doubted I would ever be truly certain.
A dark imposing fortress now stood where the foothold had once been and several men and women in short robes and leathers stood watch outside of the gateway and main entrance.
“Initiates,” Sebet stated dismissively with palpable relief in her voice. Having taken on a hybrid form between her Human and Devil appearance, Sebet made a point of looking out over the yard before inviting me into the fortress proper.
I was surprised to find that the interior of the fortress was decorated, albeit comparatively sparsely for its size. What didn’t surprise me was Sebet’s choice of decorations.
Detailed and profoundly suggestive statues and tapestries of young men and women in varying extremes of undress were prominently displayed against the large walls. Most strongly resembled Sebet in some way or another, but not all of them. This was particularly interesting because only half of the art pieces depicted human subjects.
By the time we reached our destination, I realised that it was Sebet’s eyes that gave her away. No matter which forms she took, there was an unmistakable predatory hunger in her eyes.
“Did Cin make the statues?” I asked curiously, momentarily distracted from the cause of our visit, “And who wove those tapestries?”
Otherwise distracting herself, I seemed to have caught Sebet by surprise. “Erm, what? Oh! Yes, Cin was most helpful,” she agreed somewhat distractedly, “A little reluctant at first but dedicated all the same,” Sebet surrendered the chair at the head of the meeting table and took a seat one chair further down while motioning to the large elaborate tapestry on the wall opposite her, “The one the Daemons call The Tailor made the tapestries. They lack a certain passion...but will suffice until a true talent can be sourced...”
“The Tailor did this?” I challenged sceptically, “The vendor that takes coins in exchange for clothes?”
Sebet nodded, “They weren’t even that expensive, all things considered...I still have a considerable amount of coins left over...” She paused and smiled apologetically, “Not nearly enough for our operation in the Dominion, of course, the prisoners of Tartarus were not nearly so wealthy.”
“Ah,” I wondered how she had paid for it. Coins had severely depreciated in the local economy, but that might change if I acquired more vendors and made them available to the public.
Salena and Salene entered the meeting room in hybrid forms of their own. The three Succubi had each taken incredibly similar yet distinct shapes from one another, making certain details more or less prominent to differentiate themselves. They took seats opposite Sebet at the table and nervously glanced at one another.
I could tell from experience that a telepathic conversation was taking place but had no way of inviting myself into it as the Daemons and Angels could. I wasn’t sure if it was a matter of mana affinity I didn’t possess or whether there was a certain trick to it all. In either case, I could only wait or express my displeasure.
Given that Sebet was already quite nervous over the subject of our imminent conversation, I elected for patience.
“Great One...” Sebet fidgeted uncomfortably in her chair and Salena and Salene did the same, “Tell me...What do you know of the Perpetuals?” The trio winced and anxiously eyed the dark corners of the room.
“Perpetuals?” I was fairly certain this was the first I was hearing of it, but I took some time to review my memories so I could be sure. I slowly shook my head, “This is the first I am hearing of it, or them, I suppose.”
“That is...” Sebet’s voice trailed away as she looked to her other selves for support.
“Somewhat unexpected...” Salena added.
“Considering your other servants...” Salene elaborated nervously.
“You mean the Daemons?” They were only a few months old, so I wasn’t sure what they were supposed to know. Furthermore, except for Ril herself, I was reasonably confident they would have eagerly volunteered any information they thought I would want to know.
The three Succubi shared a tentative look with one another.
“We were speaking of the Fallen, Great One...” Sebet clarified, “The Daemons are too young and isolated to know better. But the Fallen, Orphiel, we know that he knows.”
So the Perpetuals, whoever or whatever they were, weren't part of the Species' inherited knowledge?
That was interesting but not particularly surprising. There was a great deal the Daemons didn’t know.
However, Orphiel withholding information was something I should have anticipated. He had joined my service due to a lack of options, not because he believed in what I was doing.
In fact...
“Ril was the one responsible,” the memory wasn’t quite as clear as I would have thought it would be, but I still remembered Ril taking an attack from Orphiel intended for Toofy. In doing so, Orphiel had been forced to undergo an immediate Evolution, Becoming the Fallen Sebet and the other Angel had spoken of.
“Such are the machinations of the Perpetuals...” Sebet commented quietly, “They have eternity to shape what will be...”
“You keep saying Perpetuals. What does that mean?” I pressed curiously, “I kind of figured Daemons, Devils and Angels were functionally ageless and would live forever. So why is Ril a Perpetual and Gric isn’t?”
The three Succubi shared another long look with one another.
“You are correct, Great One, in assuming that we are exceptionally long-lived if allowed to indulge our basic needs and are not visited by violence...But death can and will claim us eventually. There is no escaping it...”
Salena and Salene nodded supportively with grim expressions on their monstrous yet beautiful faces.
“A Perpetual sheds life like a cloak, touched by death only briefly before retaking their seat in the great game...” Sebet had begun to visibly tremble, “Grudges earned in one life have felled empires and exterminated bloodlines in the next. To earn the enmity of a perpetual is to mark one’s self and all they know for desolation...”
“That...That doesn’t seem like something Ril would do...” I commented uncertainly.
Sebet’s right eye twitched, “Great One...It is not unheard of for a Perpetual to groom their champions and empires from positions of relative obscurity...”
“Grooming Toofy as a champion?...” I challenged dryly, “Really?”
“I never said it was the Goblin she was interested in...” Sebet replied ominously.
That didn’t feel right, but I couldn’t help but feel a little paranoid. Ril had never asked or demanded I do anything. I had been the one to approach her for assistance with things like the Gateways.
“Why are you so certain Ril is one of these Perpetuals?” I challenged sceptically.
“Because she admitted it...” Sebet replied quietly, “And...and she strongly suggested I keep it to myself...”
“Ah...” That changed things but I still wasn’t entirely convinced.
*Tingling*
Ril’s projection appeared on the table, her legs slung over the side and her tail languidly undulating behind her.
“Tim?” Ril curiously looked around her surroundings and smirked slightly as her eyes passed over Sebet and her clones. “Ah, this makes more sense,” she muttered in an amused tone, “She told you.”
The trio of Succubi cringed and recoiled in their respective seats.
“So it’s true?” I asked neutrally, “You are a Perpetual?”
Ril gave me an amused smirk, “Not the title I would have chosen...but it fits, I suppose,” she muttered with a small sigh.
“What do you want?” I asked bluntly. Despite Sebet’s claims, I still wasn’t convinced Ril had any ulterior motives. She had done precious little besides eat and sleep since she hatched.
Rill raised her scaly brow in a show of exaggerated surprise, “What do I want? You are the one who Summoned me,” she replied with a cheeky grin.
“True,” I agreed diplomatically, “But I was referring to your long-term goals, and I believe you already knew that.”
“True,” Ril mimicked, showing off her mouthful of needle-like teeth in the process, “But would you be so kind as to fetch some water? My skin is beginning to itch,” she scratched pointedly at her forearm, dislodging several tiny dried scales.
With a wave of my hand, a large wooden bath appeared on the table and was filled with lake water from The Grove.
Nodding in thanks, Ril rolled into the bath and momentarily disappeared from sight before pulling herself up and leaning on the rim. “Much better,” she sighed contentedly while flicking the armoured flaps of her gills and preening her fins. “What do you want to know?” Ril asked after taking some time to get herself settled.
“Do you have any ulterior motives?” I asked bluntly. It was the main issue and skirting around it wouldn’t satisfy my slowly mounting paranoia.
“For Sanctuary? For you?” Ril paused briefly and then shook her head, “No, I have no ill intentions or motivations beyond making the most of things this opportunity provides.”
“Which are?” I pressed determinedly.
Ril smiled slightly and rested her cheek in one hand, “Relaxation and entertainment,” she replied glibly, “And Sanctuary provides both in a suitable abundance,” she motioned to the room at large with her free hand, “As this improvised interrogation makes clear,” Ril’s smile shifted into an amused grin.
“And what about Toofy?” I demanded, “What is her part in all of this?”
Ril’s smile faltered and her eyes narrowed dangerously, “She is my mother,” Ril replied coldly, “And I will ruin any who dares to lay a hand on her...”
The temperature in the room dropped and crystals of ice formed on the side of the bath.
With what looked like deliberate effort, Ril calmed herself and took on a relaxed if somewhat predatory expression. There was weight to her inky black eyes that now gave the small Daemon a truly ancient and dangerous presence. “Of course, I know you wouldn’t do such a thing, Tim,” She made a point of emphasising my name, “Mother has told me much about you and what you did for her sake...” Her expression softened and her eyes shifted their focus for a moment, “You are different than those that came before...I am...relieved... Relieved that you gave me no cause to remove you,” Ril’s impossibly dark eyes stared into mine and I could tell she meant every word.
I wasn’t sure what to say to that. I had only done what I had thought was right. “The others, those like you-”
“You can’t stop us,” Ril interrupted, “Surely your pet told you as much already?”
I stopped myself from looking over at Sebet, “She implied you were functionally immortal, yes.”
“Good,” Ril smiled, “Then that’s all you really need to know.” Her projection vanished along with the wooden bath as she teleported away.
I could force her Projection to return or even move her original self, but I didn’t see the point.
“A reincarnating Daemon...fuck me...” I grunted and rubbed tiredly at my brow. All things considered, it could have been much worse. If Ril was opting to treat her current incarnation as a mana fuelled booze cruise rather than a bloody rise to power, then I was fine with it. However, the knowledge that other Perpetuals were out there and could become my enemy and that of my descendants was profoundly unsettling.
I had always felt responsible for Toofy and despite making multiple promises to take her with me on my ‘adventures’ I often left her behind until things were stable. It was an odd sensation to feel both vindicated in my decision-making and retroactively fearful of what the consequences may have been for behaving otherwise.
In Ril’s absence, Sebet, Salena, and Salene visibly relaxed, revealing the claw marks they had left on the furniture.
“How many Perpetuals are there?” I asked somewhat numbly, struggling to reorient my mind to face the existential threat.
Salena and Salene looked to their progenitor.
“Not many...” Sebet sighed and rubbed at her jaw muscles, “Five are known to us...”
“The Pale King, an undead of immense age and believed to be the eldest Perpetual...” Salena counted off one of her fingers, prompting the others to do the same.
“The Grand Archon, an incorruptible Angel that arose from the first war...” Salene snarled with an expression of profound distaste as she marked off another finger.
“The Fallen One, the first Angel to fall from grace...” Salena snickered as she marked off another finger.
“The Silent Queen...” Salene whispered fearfully as she marked off another finger, “Ruler of the deepest expanse of Hell...Binder of the Prime Evils...Tempter and consort of The Fallen One...Mother of Dispater and Ezanitel...Supreme Master of the Hellknight order...Head of the Blackfire Council...Mistress of all Succubi...”
It made sense that Sebet and by extension her clones would know more about one of their own kind, but I still found it odd that a Devil was credited with tempting the first Angel to fall.
“Lastly, The Scourge...The Daemon, currently known as Ril...” Sebet marked off her last finger and lowered her trembling hand to the table, causing her bone-plated knuckles to rattle against the wood, “Five times The Scourge led its hordes of Daemons and half breeds into the depths of Hell, and five times The Scourge’s hordes were defeated...Defeated at immense cost...Twice The Scourge assaulted the spires of Heaven...The first gave rise to The Grand Archon...The second The Scourge left of her own accord...”
“So she was a profoundly successful homicidal warlord in her former lives...Got it...” The descriptions of the other Perpetuals had hardly been reassuring but learning of Ril’s notable past achievements hammered home the threat she presented.
It also provided some degree of insight into the behaviour of Daemons. In particular, Sebet’s mentioning of a half-breed army made me wonder whether the Daemons Natural Selection Ability maintained its full strength when inherited by cross Species offspring. If true, then it explained how Ril or, The Scourge, would have been able to form such an unstoppable army.
Daemon Evolution was profoundly simple and comparatively boring compared to every other Species I currently knew of. Each Evolution, major and minor, simply increased their currently available mana supply. Which was rather misleading because the maximum value on their Status would routinely drop with each major Evolution
However, their Racial Ability seemed to have an internal tracking element that determined whether it was able to be activated. So, a Daemon that was powered through multiple stages of Evolution could simply activate their Ability afterwards and undergo as much change as a Daemon that used their Ability at every step along the way.
Natural Selection, in and of itself, was a profoundly powerful Racial Ability. Physically altering their own anatomy to take on the advantages of other Species generated stats they otherwise wouldn’t have.
In fact. The more I thought about it, the more I realised that the Daemon half-breeds might be stronger than their parents. They probably wouldn’t be as adept at sensing and manipulating mana, but they would have other Racial Abilities that would amplify their heavily altered stats.
Thoughts from my subconscious directed my attention toward the registry. Reviewing the Bond status of the Daemons revealed that several were already paired off with members of other Species. I vaguely recalled Gric informing me of the unions at the time and I hadn’t thought much about it since. However, in light of what I now knew, I realised that I would likely need to take a more involved approach to the Daemons' lives.
I was uncomfortably aware that their more destructive impulses were tempered by the rules I imposed on all citizens of Sanctuary, and that they followed those rules because of a powerful instinct to obey those who outranked them. Only, it wasn’t rank but the internal power hierarchy of their Species.
Whether it was because I am an Awakened or technically their parents, the Daemons' instincts seemed to consider me to be one of their own. This in turn meant that my word was law.
This was all well and good for now, but it raised a rather uncomfortable question.
What would the Daemons do if I died?
***** Amalda (Liche) - Werrian Empire ~ Werrian Empire Capital *****
The screams of those who had dared to test the curfew had long since subsided. Yet Amalda could still sense the intense fear hanging over the city.
Seizing the capital had been incredibly easy. Either personally or through her subordinates, Liz had converted the majority of the imperial court and culled the remainder. From there, the senior officers, many of whom were nobility themselves, had willingly undergone the change and cemented their control over the city.
Of course, the countryside was an absolute mess. Even before the fall of the capital, rebel lords and nobles had been forming their own armies. Granted, most of those armies were intended to fight the hordes of Amalda’s own undead forces that she had left to scour the countryside.
Rising from her lounge, Amalda looked out the window and over the deathly quiet city. Her Life Sense Ability was such a high rank that she was confident that she could see every living soul trapped within the capital’s walls.
The moonlight reflecting off the snowy rooftops lent an appropriately eerie atmosphere that accentuated the predatory shadows of the higher forms of undead stalking the streets.
As tempted as Amalda had been initially, she now recognised that wholesale slaughter without a productive end goal would be meaningless and wasteful. Mindlessly culling the living and rampaging across the world couldn't save her from the reach of the Pale Council. It would only make it easier for their agents to eliminate her.
One of the significant flaws of the undead, especially the lesser undead, was recognising an enemy from amongst their own kind.
In a world of the dead, the council’s agents would have fewer obstacles in reaching her.
What Amalda needed was a buffer and a steady supply of resources so she could create powerful minions of their own.
“Still can’t believe you wanted to take over this dump!” Liz exclaimed as she sauntered along the rooftop above the window, I mean, the blood is good, great even! But all the crying and snivelling really brings down the mood...”
They had this argument several times already, so Amalda paid it little mind. “You have sent your minions out to seize the nearby towns?” She asked, earning an annoyed hiss from Liz.
“Yeah yeah,” Liz stepped over the rooftop and stood on the underside of the support beams, “I sent all the muckety mucks out to make’em all bend the knee or whatever,” she stared back at Amalda and grinned, exposing her vampiric canines for a moment before turning around and staring out over the city. “Hey, Malds?”
Amalda hated when Liz used that particular nickname but knew enough to know when Liz wasn’t simply baiting her into a fight. “What is it?” She asked, leaning out and over the windowsill so they were standing cheek to cheek, albeit with Liz being upside down.
“A bunch of my guys are dead,” Liz stated with uncharacteristic concern, “Not these new ones,” she waved dismissively at the city, “The older ones that were meant to be acting as a speed bump.”
“Oh...” Amalda lacked most human sensations, but she felt an unpleasantly familiar moment of fear.
“It’s not those stuffy dust bunnies though,” Liz insisted, “At least, I don’t think it is?” She stared blankly out over the city for a moment and then shook her head, “Nah definitely not one of them.”
“Could it be rebels perhaps? Or maybe adventurers?” Amalda suggested quietly.
“Nah,” Liz shook her head vigorously, causing her short hair to rustle slightly in the wind, “I felt the way some of them died...It...it burned...” She reached toward her chest but stopped herself.
“They have holy weapons?!” Amalda was surprised. Holy weapons were meant to be exceedingly rare. Even after plundering the Werrian treasury, they hadn’t managed to find a single holy weapon. Which was equal parts good news and bad, since it could have been used against the council.
“Dunno...” Liz admitted nervously, “But it hurt like a mother-fucker. I didn’t know those mooks could be used to hurt me like that!”
“Another reason why we need to get stronger!” Amalda replied firmly.
Liz was quiet for a few moments and then hissed in aggravation, “Yeah, I know! It just fucking sucks! Grinding levels is so fucking boring! And those clones taste like shit!”
“Then it’s a good thing we have a city-sized pantry,” Amalda smiled and gave Liz a pack on the cheek before returning to her lounge.
Just like Liz, she had a hunger, of sorts, that needed to be quenched, and the monsters of the Labyrinths didn’t do much to sate it. Well, most of them. Some of the monsters, the ones the locals called Variants, were a different matter altogether.
If one of the cloned monsters was watery gruel, then a Variant was extra chunky beef stew with extra potatoes, onions, gravy and a herb medley. Of course, then there was the matter of the locals themselves.
Contrary to Amalda’s expectations, the humans were nothing special at all. More filling than a cloned monster, but less than a tenth of a Variant.
As someone dependent on souls for sustenance, Amalda felt the differences far more keenly than Liz did but could also be contended by quantity rather than quality. Besides a momentary high, one hundred poor-quality souls meant the same to her as a single high-quality soul.
A high-pitched scream broke the silence but was cut short half a moment later.
“Another idiot made a run for the temple,” Liz sneered derisively, “You would think they would have learned by now. Besides, it’s not like those priests have enough food for all those idiots hiding in there already. Bet they all make a break for it in less than a week!”
Amalda wasn’t so sure. An average human could go weeks without food before succumbing to death, and the undead lurking outside the temple grounds' sacred aura was a powerful motivator to stay put.
She had considered sending some of their living servants to siege the temple, or burn it down, but Amalda ultimately didn’t see much point in it. Especially since she might be able to play the temple to her advantage.
Already, the temple served as a beacon for the malcontents, gathering them all into one convenient location. All Amalda had to do was maintain the blockade and as Liz was so keen to mention, they would all starve to death.
Concentrating for a moment, Amalda ordered her mindless minions and their semi-sentient minders into the Labyrinth. She needed levels for peace of mind and there was no time like the present.
Amalda scowled as she remembered the cause of their current predicament.
Years of plotting and scheming beneath the heel of the Pale Council had been wasted by the interference of a damned Ogre.
Amalda had enjoyed torturing the souls of their former allies. It was the least they deserved. If it weren’t for their sheer incompetence and blundering, the Ogre would not have been involved in the first place. Or, at least, by the time the Ogre would have been involved, it would have been far too late.
With a deep scowl on her face, Amalda self-consciously glanced toward the silver cage on the small table beside the lounge. The chorus of a million trapped and fragmented souls washed through her being as the ethereal vortex of twisted faces pressed themselves desperately against the bars of the cage.
Like a cold wind, a new soul howled as it flew through the open window and into the silver cage. It was joined a few moments later by another, younger soul. The new fought against the pull of the old but ultimately were submerged beneath the tide. Within moments, two souls became hundreds of barely sentient fragments. Aware enough to feel fear and despair, but not enough to understand why.
Amalda settled into the lounge, closed her eyes and allowed the tortured screams of the damned wash over her. “I would kill for some decent music,” she muttered unironically, prompting Liz to cackle in agreement before disappearing into the night.
Read weekly releases on Royal Road and ScribbleHub