Finally. The gate had been opened. He walked through the tear in reality and took in the air. It was… stale. Mundane. Magicless. Comparatively. He was used to the air of the Rift, the source of all magic. He looked around the dark, nearly featureless room, catching sight of three people. One of them was among the mortals he breached the fabric of reality to contact, while another two were behind her, wearing some strange suit of vacuum-resistant armor.
As he looked around, his soldiers filed in behind him, all armed with the greatest weapons and armor he was able to acquire or produce. Swords, spears, shields, bows, guns, anything that was the work of masters he took. For the few he made himself, they were supposed to be used to kill his… disgusting… kin. The first servant to arrive fell to her knees behind him, “You Excellence. What are your orders?” He turned to examine his soldiers. They were tall, pale skinned, with four arms and looking like those mortal humans, if they had more muscle. He internally sighed, regretful that he had lost so many useful fighters in his tactical retreat.
He looked around, using the eyes dotted around his head to take the entire room in, “You will examine the area. Once that is complete, create a teleportation circle,” he boomed, looking at every one of his soldiers, “Alpha, Omega, you stay here and delay the enemy.” The two nodded, turning and preparing their cutlasses and pistols. He stepped over the three mortals who created the gate, then hesitated. He would need resources in the coming guerilla war, and there were three willing souls before him. He was not one to waste such a loyal resource. With a swipe of his hand, he ripped their souls from their bodies, storing them in his own.
His soldiers kicked down the metal door leading out of the room and stormed through it. Beyond the door, there was a corridor, made of black metal like the room the gate was placed in. As he let his soldiers lead the way, he idly thought about how he could expand his senses to encompass whatever mudball he ended up on, but he decided to avoid that. It was the first dimension he had ever seen that was not boxed in by the star’s heliosphere, and he was the first to feast his eyes on it in all of its majesty. And the first to exploit it for his own benefit.
That was when the shooting started. Behind them, the distinctive sounds of smoothbore pistols sounded out, and he knew that they did not have as much time as he would have liked, “It looks like we are being interrupted,” he said to his soldiers, “Beta, Chevron, Delta, Epsilon, Zeta. All of you will hold here. Eta, Iota, and Kappa will continue with me,” he ordered, continuing on his walk even as his soldiers took up their positions.
They continued down the metal tunnel for a while longer before coming up on another door. He did not waste time with his soldiers, waving his upper right hand and blowing the door open with a flash of magic. Through the door, they came upon a catwalk overlooking a massive metal chasm choked with smog and steel structures. It was hardly the most impressive vista he had ever seen, so he did not pay it much mind, walking down the rickety, metal stairs. With his left eye, he could see the sky above them, which was oddly clear. It was an unfamiliar sky, as expected with another world, but he could feel it. A galaxy, ripe for conquest. No longer was he bound by the limits of dimensions, of small bubbles in space. Everything was in his grasp.
That was, however, if he could deal with his pursuers. He turned to meet the one rushing down the stairwell, fury in her eyes, “Taylor…” he said with a tinge of sadness, “You still side with them? Why?” he asked, giving the three mages the task of discreetly making the teleportation circle while he spoke with the woman. She was a human woman, judging by appearances, but he knew better. She was immortal, having lived for over a thousand years, and she had changed her appearance since the last time he had seen her. She had fiery red hair, freckles on her pale face, and piercing green eyes.
She snarled at him, “Shut up, Selviki. You know exactly why I’m siding with them. Your… allies… are dead. Your ‘kingdom’ is gone, wiped off the map. All you have to your name are three mages, and not very good ones at that, especially after you got your claws onto them.”
“Silence!” one of his soldiers, Iota, shouted, “You shirked your duties and betrayed His Excellency. You haven’t the right to speak to Him as an equal!”
The woman growled and raised a bow, and even he could feel a twinge of danger from it, “I’m not here to discuss semantics with your lapdogs, Selviki. I’m here to kill you,” she said, drawing back the bow and arrow, “Pray that Hiltas doesn’t get here before I’m through with you. She’s been collecting plenty of souls that want to knock you down a peg.
He simply shook his head “Even if your friend and her pets arrive, there is nothing you can do to harm me. I. Am. A. God. I thought I raised you to be smarter than to think you could kill me,” he lamented, letting out a collected sigh.
“I know you’re a god. That’s why I had these made specially for you. Do you remember the one who banished you? The one who freed me? Well, as it turns out, she’s got quite the master craftswoman as a wife. She still has it in for you, making her kill her pet slime,” Taylor said, taking aim with the bow.
He did not budge, “That creature, whatever that skeleton is, is barely more than mortal. If you suspect it’s mate is able to make anything capable of harming me, then I failed in teaching you anything.” In lieu of an answer, she let the arrow loose. As soon as the arrow left the bow string, it burst into a phoenix’s worth of flames. Burning brightly and melting the metal in its path to slag. He did not move, though, and merely raised a hand. The arrow stopped dead in its tracks, hanging there while it burned bright. He knew he had nothing to worry about. That was until he saw Taylor grinning like a madwoman. He only felt the subconscious alarm of panic the moment after it was too late. He whipped his hand like he was throwing something and the arrow shot towards Taylor, though it was sloppy and missed by a wide margin. Whatever she had done, though, was already taking effect. “What have you done!?” he shouted. For the first time in a long, long time, he felt danger. Real, tangible danger. No twinges that would only come to kill him if he were chronically stupid. Real danger.
“Mana poison,” Taylor replied, still grinning, “It took a lot of help to make it, but it’s able to spread quickly and grow the more it devours. Even if you figure out how to purge your system of it, you don’t have the time. Now, then. It’s been fun, playing cat and mouse for these last few hundred years, Selviki, but I think it’s about time we end this…” Before the next arrow loosed, a gunshot rang out, and Taylor stumbled forwards. Blood dripped from her head, and she reached up to her temple, pulling a smooth bullet from her skin with a wet pop. She turned up to the metal stairwell, as did he. Leaning against the railing was Omega, a grin on her face. Taylor growled, turning the fiery arrow on his soldier.
A moment later, Omega turned to ash, the metal wall melting with her. Taylor nocked another arrow, turning it against him again. He did not just let her get a shot on him and summoned utter void in his hands, shooting it forwards with agonizing slowness. Much to his annoyance-- and pain-- the arrow avoided the ball of condensed void magic and struck him in his lower left arm. Taylor, in turn, threw the bow up in the air for a moment and spread her arms, speaking something he never thought he would have the displeasure of hearing again, “Ia’Vi!” she shouted, speaking Akashic with every ounce of power behind it. The ball of void dispersed as if a cloud of smoke at her words as she caught the bow, “You can’t win. Just let this end. You’ve done enough already.”
“I will not give up, just because you suggested it, Taylor,” he replied, ripping the poisoned arrow out of his arm. He brought three of his four arms out wide, gathering the little magic in the environment that was there after the world’s awakening. He closed his four eyes and tried to shape the spell in his head, one powerful enough to destroy his opponent. Then an arrow pierced his eye and burned his head to ash.
Taylor raised her bow again, but he raised his hand, sending a powerful wall of wind at her. He put everything he had into the spell, managing to push the arrow back and throw her off of her feet. She sailed through the air, colliding with a far wall and flying straight through it. “Your Excellency,” Iota said, bowing her head low, “We are ready to begin. Where should we go?” she asked.
He gathered his mana, trying to remake his body as it normally was, but he was having trouble. The poison Taylor injected into his mana traveled through it directly to his soul. His body, being part of his soul, was damaged from it. He would have frowned for the first time in centuries, the first time since that pale imitation of his form banished him, if he still had a mouth. Instead, he manipulated the air around him with his mana to speak, “They will track us,” he ‘said,’ his ‘voice’ lacking any amount of the power it normally had, “I will need to recover. Therefore, each of you will be responsible for protecting a part of me,” he said, looking inward. After a moment, he managed to split his gargantuan soul into four equal pieces, and by doing so, he split his body into four. Three of those pieces transformed into black amulets that came to hang around the necks of his soldiers while the fourth reformed into his normal body with painful slowness, “Ensure that they cannot track you. Rebuild. I will use this portion of myself to distract them. I will return. Remember that,” he said, dismissing them with a flick of the wrist. They did not argue, all clapping their hands at the same time. Underneath the three of them, a trio of purple circles, filled with numerous other shapes and complex patterns appeared and began to rotate. A moment later, a flash of light appeared from the circle. When it died down, the three soldiers were gone.
They were not a moment too soon, as an irritatingly familiar person made herself known at that moment. From the door he had come from, a figure stalked out. Like a skeleton covered in blackish-reddish strands that glimmered a rainbow of colors in the right light, she leapt from the perch and landed a few dozen feet from him. Her visage was that of a skeleton, with the same coloration as the rest of her body, with magical fire, burning black and red and green and purple, in her eyes. In the center of her forehead was a gem, almost as large as her skeletal forehead. She looked at him, then scoffed, “You’re letting your ‘soldiers’ escape. How noble,” she said, crossing her arms, “I might as well ask, but do you remember me?”
“How could I not?” he asked in response, glaring at her with his one central eye, “You stole my perfect victory from me, lich. Perhaps you will pay for that transgression. Even if you have become… more, since we last met.”
The flames in her eyes rolled, as if she barely considered him a threat, “Yeah, because you can kill a Great Goddess with a fourth of your power. I wonder if your soul’s still smarting after our last meeting,” she taunted, opening her palm as a longsword made of Sentient Energy manifested in it, “The cuts weren’t exactly clean.”
She stalked forwards, but he was able to create a barrier in front of him to block her. She, in turn, raised a foot and kicked forwards. The barrier caved in, but rebounded like rubber. She growled and slashed at it with her sword, but the barrier held. Then she held up her hand. Purple mana gathered into it from the gem in her forehead and began to glow brightly. The barrier in front of her disintegrated into motes of light, and she strolled through it without a care, “Even if you kill me here, you have failed, lich,” he said, shaking his head, “There is nothing you can do anymore.”
He did not resist as she stabbed her longsword into his chest. He began to feel the sword draining his soul away, and pain shot through his very being. He was not unaccustomed to that, though, and did not cry out like a lesser god, “I normally hate to do this, but you are an exception.” He felt the drain ramp up a million fold for a long, agonizing moment, before that copy of him was destroyed. He used far too much energy to do what he did, though, and as his mind began to slip into darkness, he made a note to remember her. He would need to pay her back.
*=====*
Taylor pulled herself from the pile of rubble. She looked around and, seeing the small foundry-like room complete with a dozen unconscious men and women of different species, made her way out the same way she came in. She felt a tug on her leg as she walked, and looked down to look at the metal strut stuck in her leg. She growled, ripping it out with a single, swift motion while nursing it with some healing magic. When she returned back to the courtyard, Selviki was nowhere to be seen. The only person there was Mor’fa’ath, who was looking at something on the ground. “There you are,” she said, giving her a smile with her skeletal face, “I smelled a bit of Akashic around here. That must have been you.”
“It was,” Taylor replied, yawning, “It was exhausting. It’s a damn hard way of casting spells, for sure. So, what’re you looking at?” Taylor asked, kneeling beside the goddess. In lieu of a response, Mor’fa’ath simply scraped one of her metallic fingers against the ground. From the sparks, a cloud of mana coalesced, “Ah that. Can you track it?”
“Most likely not. Vel’lav’eck might have a better chance, but they did a lot of dummy teleportations. Probably sent some air somewhere no one would notice. Even if she did come here, I doubt she would find them. Besides, do you feel it?” she asked, her flaming sockets smoldering for a moment before flaring to life with double the strength.
Taylor closed her eyes, breathed in, then coughed. Mor’fa’ath laughed as Taylor coughed a bit more, “The terrible air quality?” she asked, only half joking, “But, other than the smog, nothing. Speaking of, This one looks a bit…”
[Screwed up?]
“Yeah, that. Oh, hey Nettle,” she said when she looked down at her chest. From her eyes, a glob of mana manifested, morphing into the shape of a small person no bigger than her hand, “Are you alright?”
[Am I?] she asked through telepathy, [I’m fine. Apart from quite a desire to tear that bastard a new one. What about you? You got slapped through a wall and stabbed through the leg.]
“Oh?” Mor’fa’ath hummed, “Is there something so strong as to be able to pierce your skin? Here? I think I’m going to have fun here! Oh yeah, you didn’t figure out what’s so interesting about this dimension. Basically, there are no boundaries.”
Taylor turned to Mor’fa’ath, “Huh?” she eloquently asked, “Does that mean what I think it means?”
“That the stars are more than window dressing? Yeah. That's exactly what I meant. I can’t even get my senses to the next solar system. This is going to be great!” she laughed, standing up straight, “Alright, we’ve got a job to do here, and I doubt any of the others want to deal with a galaxy full of angry locals. Are you staying with me?” she asked.
“Yeah. It’s about time we kill him,” Taylor replied.
“Cool. How are you going to get around?” Mor’fa’ath asked. Taylor replied by shifting forms, dissolving her body and transforming into a physical manifestation of digital code, “Oh yeah, you can do that. I still don’t get it, you know.”
“Hey, I need my tricks,” Taylor replied, using the mana to talk, “I’ll look around here, see if cameras or the like saw us, stuff like that. See you another time,” she said, vaguely hearing Mor’fa’ath wish her good luck.
Like lightning, she stalked around the large complex they found themselves in, trying to find some computer or terminal to get into the local network. After a minute or so of searching, she found what she was looking for. It was nothing more than a digital version of a shift calendar, but it connected to the complex’s network nonetheless. She pressed her code-based body into the screen and her perspective shifted. Instead of photons, she used electrons for sight. Instead of sound waves, it was radio waves. Or, more accurately, the strange quantum waves.
She was a flurry of action, storming every firewall as if she were storming a castle gate, taking control of every system she could get her digital hands on, and erasing every sign of her or her allies’ existence. From security footage to her own footprints in the system, all of it was deleted. Once she was done with that, she took a moment to tally up general figures, like population, military resources, Digital Intelligence population, things like that. What she found was a planet that was optimized for production of a select few resources. They were titasteel, a titanium-steel alloy, cerasteel, an extremely hard ceramic with a strength stronger than mundane steel, and a few other miscellaneous materials. There were also a few electronics manufacturing hubs, specializing in the production of anything from motherboards to quantum transmitters, and a single military manufacturer, who produced firearms, beam guns, and high quality armor via a group of smiths and armorers. Taylor almost lost herself in that, quite interested how a massive economy could bring about spaces for artisans to ply their trade. After taking stock of everything, she found a small corner of cyberspace that no one would look too closely at and waited for everyone to wake up.
*=====*
“Alright, do you all understand your secondary tasks?” Mori, or Mor’fa’ath, asked her undead. They were the product of her playing around with dullahans, and how the head being apart from the body could help their survivability. As it turned out, it let the bodies of the dullahans become relatively disposable, as the soul resided in the heads. As such, her minions’ heads were all somewhere else, safe from being killed. In response to her question, they all either nodded their dummy-like head stand ins, or verbally agreed, “Good. Now, I don’t care how you do it, but you need to look for our targets. They’re ‘N, like the rest of his soldiers, so they won’t be hiding among the locals unless they use some illusion magic, but you know how to bypass that. That’s all I have, so get to it!” At her words, the entire crowd of heavily armed, heavily armored dullahans disappeared. There was only one person left in the crowd, and she looked like a normal human girl. She had blonde hair, with gray eyes and not much flesh between her bones and skin. She was also average height, just over the halfway point between five and six feet and with pale skin. She was very obviously shy, as she stepped forwards as Mori beckoned her forwards, “Alright, Jan’hel’vin. I know you’re still not used to your abilities, but-”
“Teacher… Do I have to help them with the search?” she asked, frowning a bit.
“No, no, you don’t honey,” Mori said, rubbing the young woman’s head, “Do you know why this is such an exciting discovery?” she asked, bending down to meet the girl’s eyes.
“N-Not really…” she stuttered, looking away while her face burned red.
“That’s alright,” Mori comforted, patting her head again, “The reason why this dimension is so interesting is because it doesn’t have a bubble around it. Do you understand?”
Jan nodded fiercely, “I-I do! So what do you want me to do, teacher?”
Mori smiled, standing up, “I’ve taught you everything you need at an academic level, but I want you to learn from experiences. And what better place than a galaxy without borders?” she laughed, holding her palm open. A moment later, a necklace appeared with a poof, dropping into her hands, “Here,” she said, putting it around Jan’s neck, “This will keep you safe. For the most part. If you’re going to scrape your knees, then it won’t do anything, but if something worse were bearing down on you… well, you know what Fara did to the last thing that tried to hurt you.”
Jan giggled a bit, smiling at the memory, “I remember. Did you tell my moms and dads?”
“Don’t worry, they know.” And had a sizable army to intervene if needed. Each, “They want you to connect with your powers, and to become a true goddess.”
“Like you?” Jan asked, wide-eyed and with a worshiping glint in her eyes, one that Mori had been trying to stamp out for the better part of a century at that point. Annoyingly enough, it was also why she stuttered so much around her, but the girl was fine around others. Thankfully. It would have been unbecoming of a goddess to be a nervous mess around everyone.
“Like everyone else, honey,” she replied, “But I can’t give you any help. If I did, then you wouldn’t learn how to do things yourself. At the very least, you can blend in with the locals with your looks. Something I doubt I’d be able to achieve myself. So, do you need any advice, or are you ready?”
“I… what should I do? Do I have any mission, o-or job? Am I allowed to use all of my powers? And… Do I have to get involved with the p-politics?” she asked, looking down. Mori sighed for the shy girl. She had a point; few of the gods liked politics, and one of her parents was a god of the wilds while another was a goddess of drunkenness. It was little wonder that politics were so unappealing to her.
“You don’t have to do anything. If you want to live out the life of a spinster or a miner, I won’t stop you. I just want you to learn from this time. Maybe you can make a few new friends,” she suggested, making the girl perk up, “I mean get to know some other people. You can make golems or whatever you want. Just remember, if you want to create a nation, be kind to your subjects. Okay?”
“I know! I won’t be mean to people. They can be nice,” Jan answered. Mori just smiled, and snapped her fingers, opening a portal back to the Rift. She needed to tell Jan’s parents where their daughter was. Then tell the rest of the gods what happened to Selviki. And discuss why she okayed a certain deal in that very dimension. Before she stepped through the threshold, though, Jan, stepped forwards, “T-Teacher! I won’t let you down!” Mori just chuckled, and stepped through the portal. Even the gods were subject to paperwork, especially since there were more than twenty of them running around.
*====*
John Johnson was not having a good day. First, his pitch to his boss on how to increase sales was shot down, then, when he went back to work, he was not able to convince the client to buy his group’s products. They were, apparently, ‘well enough armed, thank you very much.’ He gave them a one in a million chance of surviving the civil war they had jumped headlong into, but it was out of his hands at that point.
And, so, he was out on the road again. Or, rather, he was in the Rift again. On his way to… wherever his next contract would be, he ran into yet another one of those soul-eating monsters that the Rift was so inordinately full of. Just as he was about to be cornered and be forced to use his life-saving gadget, though, a new dimension Awakened, one of the obelisks that linked a new world to the Rift appearing almost directly above him. He was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, and used a serrated dagger to slash his palm open and flick the blood onto the obelisk, which spread into an oval-shaped portal. To his pursuer, a mindless fell beast, he gave the middle finger as he jumped through the portal.
“Never would have I thought that a life of arms dealing would include so much bloody violence!” he shouted to no one in particular as he closed the portal behind him, blocking the fell beast’s only way to get to him. When he confirmed he was safe, he took a deep breath, only to find something lacking. After a moment of thought, he realized what it was. It was the ether in the air. Or the lack of such. Then, he slapped himself on the forehead. Of course worlds newly connected to the Rift had little ether! It was the natural order of things!
Instead of beating himself up, he decided to observe his surroundings for the first time. What he found was… interesting. He was in a massive space station, from what he knew of the futuristic technology he encountered before then. What was even more interesting was that, from what little he could see through the massive glass walls, there was no habitable planet in the entirety of the solar system he ended up in. Tough luck for a machine world, too, since there was not a spec of massive automation anywhere to be seen.
He let a little hope in his chest grow for a moment before crushing it ruthlessly. He knew not to be needlessly hopeful ever since his days trying to overthrow governments. Instead, he began looking for hints, or something to help him. Luckily, he had not lost his suitcase while running from the fell beast, and could use some of his product. Opening it up, he stared into the utterly black void within and reached into it. After a moment of rooting around, he found what he was looking for and pulled it out. In his hand was a pistol. It was one of the plastic ones, a modified version of an old classic. It had a drum magazine, but he was no chump when it came to weapon modification. Especially gunpowder and anything similar. He added a split shot feature to it, using a small magical mirror, a highly condensed ether dynamo, and a bit of unintuitive engineering. It was a peashooter, but it was one that could spit out enough peas to feed a nation for a year. So, with it in hand, he walked into the strange space station.
As expected of a world that just awakened, everything was in a restless, pained slumber. He was happy to have gone through that agony long ago, but it looked oddly painful for them, even compared to what first exposure to ether would normally do. He ignored it, though; he could figure out what happened once he blended into the local population and figured out what the hell was going on with the world.
Speaking of blending in, he was thankful he brought along his mask and his extravagant outfit, because there were a lot of cameras around. Were it not for the fact that there were obvious signs of wealth all around him, he would have assumed he ended up in some sort of nightmare authoritarian dictatorship. For all he knew, he actually did end up in one of those, but he was hoping it was the case. What better clients than revolutionaries, after all?
Such a hope was dashed as he walked further, though. The area he ended up in was
quite wealthy. And happy, given the number of murals and well-made graffiti around. Having seen so many cultures, John knew that graffiti was not the sign of a poor neighborhood, but one of artistic expression. Wealth was determined by whether the walls were covered in garbage, or masterworks. Or, if the society around a community was against graffiti in the first place, then wealthy streets were whitewashed.
But with all of the amazing art around, minus a few splashes of vomited blood, it was obvious that he was in an area of content citizens. Which made the numerous people in armor and carrying weapons, however small, quite interesting. He came upon three such individuals, all having taken their helmets off. The one he was crouched beside was a beautiful woman, with a face adorned with scars and a head of red hair. He felt the ether around him stir as he crouched down, and backed up. He knew how these things went, and he was not going to be implicated.
With a burst of ether, the redhead snapped awake, looked around, and slowly stood, blood dripping from her mouth, and milk white eyes darting around like a nervous deer. She eventually caught sight of him and drew her pistol, “What are you?” she growled, “And what did you do?”
John stood tall, knowing that showing guilt would bring implication, “I am a man, John. John Johnson at your service!” he greeted, holding out a hand. She did not make a move to reciprocate, though, but that was fine. He had dealt with worse first meetings, “I take it that you do not know what is going on, no?”
She stared at him, her white eyes giving nothing away, “No, I don’t,” she ground out, “Are you going to explain it to me, or do I need to make you?” Her posture was that of a wounded animal, but John was under no illusion that she would not go through hell to make good on her promise.
Instead of making the fine Dame, judging by her discarded helmet, wait any longer, he slowly opened his briefcase, showing her all the while, and dropped his gun into it. She relaxed at that, and he reached into the depths of his suitcase-- again, being slow and deliberate-- and pulled out a paper packet of information. “You see, my company creates informative packets for those who just experienced an awakening. If you wish, you can look through it-- free of charge!” he smiled, though the effect was lost behind the mask. She hesitated, then slowly walked forwards, taking the packet like a starving rat taking a scrap of cheese. He took another packet out from his briefcase and looked at the cover. He had not used it in a long while, so he needed a refresher.
At the top of the page, the company logo, an ornate, golden chest with the company’s name, ‘Ark of the Weaponsmiths,’ below it. “What is this? Also, how can I understand these scribbles?” the woman asked, holding the packet as if it were the most confusing thing in the world.
“Ah, that is because of magic, miss,” John replied. She looked at him as if he were insulting her, “I know that you may be hesitant to believe such things, but please look around.” She did so, hesitantly at first, then more frantically as she realized that she was the only one awake, “You see, if you flip to the first page…” he trailed off, waiting for her to take the hint. She was not stupid, and she did as suggested, “You will see the most common side effects of an awakend dimension. They can include unconsciousness, expulsion of blood from the digestive system, rapid bodily mutations, rapid spiritual mutations, the ability to manipulate ether in a multitude of ways, etcetera. Existence is vast, and we cannot know every possibility.
The woman read through the first page with skepticism on her face, “So you’re saying that everything just became magical,” she stated more than asked. John nodded enthusiastically. He had only used the packet a few times, and the people he dealt with were much less willing to accept the reality they found themselves in. As he smiled behind his mask, she flipped the page, likely landing onto the dangers and new restrictions. After a moment of reading, her face grew stormy, “Wait. If what I’m seeing is correct, then we’re stuck in this solar system?” she asked.
“Unfortunately so. Thankfully, there was likely little out there to find, if you are being connected to the Rift, as explained on page thirty two. Your people will need to make the most of-”
“So you’re saying that no one outside of this system can help us. Not the League, not the Marines, no one?” she cut him off.
John, blinking, paused, “Pardon, but are you insinuating that there are people outside of this solar system?” he asked. If that was the case… then it would be huge.
Before he could get carried away, she said the words that drove his mind into overdrive, “That’s how the galaxy works. Are you from this… Rift place?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at him. It was typically policy to not deal with a newly awakened world, as they could be quite damaged by the types of magical weapons they plied, but… the possibilities were endless.
“I… am, miss. If you could turn to page forty three, you will see some general examples of our company’s products. If there is anything that catches your eye, then I could look to see if I have anything similar!” he offered. If he could make a sale here, then it would be more than enough to get him promoted, he knew it.
Luckily enough for him, as soon as she flipped to the page, something seemed to catch her eye, “Umm… What is this one? Number… fifteen?” she asked. He flipped to the page himself and scanned the page, finding number fifteen easily enough.
“Ah, that is our Crusader line of melee weapons. They specialize in complementing armor with various magical effects. They are also made to conduct ether quite well, which can let anyone able to manipulate it add their own elemental twist to their strikes! Is there anything else you would like to know about it?” he asked.
She furrowed her brow, “The price.” That was a good reminder, John thought. She did not know how payments to the company worked! He prepared to explain when she glared hard at him, “Before you say a word, I’m not giving you my soul.”
“Ah, that is no problem. Paying such a thing would be monstrous! No, all we ask for is experiences. Knowledge. With this little device here,” he said, pulling out a tiara-like device from his suitcase, “You can select memories to be copied as payment. I can set the amount of knowledge to be copied, which we may negotiate later, and this will copy those memories from your soul without harming you. I can personally guarantee its safety!”
She eyed him for a moment, then nodded, “So copied memories for weapons. Not a bad trade. Alright, what’ve you got from your… Crusader line?” she asked. John just smiled, opening his suitcase and pulling out three weapons. One of them was a shining white greatsword, about five feet in length but made of a miracle metal that was lighter than tin while being stronger than titanium and sharper than obsidian. It had the ability to passively reinforce the armor of the wielder as long as it was supplied with a small, miniscule amount of ether.
The next weapon was a two handed mace, glistening black in the bright light. It was made of some impossibly strong material that could only be forged with light itself. It was also heavy, about fifteen pounds, which made it very difficult to wield. As for magical abilities, there was only one, really. Striking the ground with the head of the mace created a blast of darkness that shielded the user from all attacks, including light based ones.
The last one was a smaller weapon, an arming sword made of steel imbued with incredibly dense ether. It was stronger, sharper, and lighter than normal steel, but it would also blow up like a bomb if someone had a way of filling it with too much more ether. It was able to act as a shield with an invisible barrier around the hilt of the blade, but the size of the weapon, along with how much ether had been pumped into it lowering the number of runes available to be put into it meant that the shield was relatively weak.
After explaining the features of the weapons, the Dame pointed to the mace, “I want that one,” she said, grabbing it and the tiara, “So how does this work?” she asked him, lifting the mace with ease.
John decided not to underestimate anyone from that dimension at the sight of a lithe woman swinging around a heavy mace without a bit of trouble, a feat he was only able to accomplish due to the amount of ether deeply ingrained into his body, “Simply wear the crown and think of what you want it to copy. The starting price is normally three revelation memories, where you pondered something that could change someone’s life, but I will lower it considerably. Think of the basics of your nation or society, and that will be enough.” She nodded, putting the crown on and closing her eyes. After a moment, she stumbled, then took the crown off and handed it to him. He put it into his suitcase as she groaned.
“Urgh… that sucked,” she remarked, “I’m having a hard time thinking of anything apart from what I gave you. Is that normal?” she asked.
“Very. Bringing those memories to the forefront is part of copying it, so your soul needs a bit of time to settle. Give it a half-hour or so and you’ll be back to normal! For now, though, I must get going,” he said, turning back the way he came. She stumbled forwards, holding up a hand and mumbling something, “Ah, don’t worry, the dizziness will fade in a short while,” he said, walking away. He had noticed some stirring around him, and he did not want to be in his gaudy salesman costume while a space station’s worth of people woke up.
After walking to an alley without cameras, he pulled out his pocket watch and, twisting it a bit, disappeared. He had to speak to his superiors about the information he managed to collect.
*=====*
“Begone, demon!” the cleric bellowed, casting a strengthening spell with his free hand as he slammed his mace into the demon’s head. The demon, a being of pure destruction, roared out at being harmed. Stumbling back into a building and tearing down a power line at the same time. The leaves of the trees around the building shook, and Vulchic the Cleric winced. That was likely being taken out of their paycheck.
“Keep the damage to a minimum, ‘Chic!” the paladin shouted, leaping to meet the demon’s lunge with her shield. Her sword glowed a deep, foreboding black as she slashed at the demon’s flesh. Immediately, the demon’s flesh withered and faded, and it screeched in pain. Xzulan the Paladin growled as she backed up to where he was standing, “This one must have had a deep connection to one of the fire gods,” she said, “Its destruction attunement is intense!”
“We have to exorcize it, or it’ll destroy more of the city than it already has,” he replied. Xzulan gave him a glare behind her helmet and he looked away, pulling his hood up over his flowing blonde head of hair with a gauntleted hand, “Wait, what’s it doing?” Vulchic muttered. Xzulan whipped her head at the demon as it raised its claws, then brought them together, the tops of the claws touching. Then, it pulled them apart, ripping space with its stolen power. After pulling its claws fully apart, a full ten feet of space, it threw itself into the tear, and it began to rapidly close. Vulchic was no fool, but he had a job to do, and on his honor as a cleric and an elf, he would do his job.
He charged the tear, hearing Xzulan behind him, “Dammit, ‘Chic, don’t- fuck it, fine! Don’t you dare leave me behind you rotten bastard!” she screamed, charging after him. As a paladin, though, she was much more physically fit than he was, and they reached the portal at the same time. Leaping through, they found themselves in a strange, alien place. There were only three things there. Grass, the demon, and a wall of black steel a fair distance away. Far enough so that their battle with the demon would not cause undue collateral damage, anyway.
The other thing that Vulchic noticed was the distinct lack of mana. There had been something about such things in the holy texts about places lacking mana, but he would need to retrieve his holy book from his belt, which he did not have the time to do. As he thought that, the tear behind Xzulan and he closed, and they were stuck there, facing the demon.
“You ready?” Xzulan asked, readying her blade in the old style, the one that tried to, and succeeded in, fighting a demon on equal footing. Vulchic nodded, and stepped behind her, giving out a wordless prayer and putting his free hand on her shoulder. In an instant, her armor seemed to bulge, unable to contain the growing muscles, before they slowly grew. Xzulan’s breaths came out as hot steam as the already dark skin behind her helmet slowly took on a darker tint and she grew into a massive version of herself, being just as tall as the demon. “Thanks,” she growled, holding her newly-enlarged sword above her head and her similarly changed shield in front of her.
The demon roared, rushing forwards while trying to gore her with its horns. She, still holding the shield out in front of her, shoved at the demon just as it came into range. The horns on the demon’s head cracked, and it stumbled back with a roar. Twirling her blade, Xzulan followed up her bash with a stab, piercing the demon’s arm as it tried to defend itself, and another bash, but with the sharp bottom of her heater shield rather than the broad face. The sharp edge caught one of the demon’s eyes, crushing it with a squelch. It roared again, but it was weakening. After losing so much blood, it was on the ropes. Xzulan knew that all too well, and kneed the recoiling demon in the jaw, snapping its head back. With the demon distracted, she tore the blade of her sword from its arm and lunged for the killing blow.
As if a reflexive defense mechanism, the demon’s eyes burst into flame, all of which condensed into an inferno of destruction, burning the grasslands around it to ash and not even leaving any fires remaining. Xzulan leapt back, her armor was glowing red as she came up in front of Vulchic. He did not need to be told what to do. Held his hand up and a triangle appeared in front of his hand, shooting out onto Zxulan’s heated armor a moment later. Heat visibly wafted off of her body, and he lowered his head in prayer once more, putting his free hand on the small of her back, which was about shoulder length for him. She twitched, then hissed, “Gods, give me strength,” Xzulan muttered, even as sickening tearing sounds came from within her armor, “My pain is my loyalty manifest,” she chanted, “My task is in your names. My blade is at your call. Hear me now, and give me strength.”
The demon did not give them time to recuperate, and charged Xzulan again, even with the cracked horn on its head. Vulchic, seeing the demon charging, stepped out to meet it, and held up a hand. His hand lit up with three concentric circles, and a barrier lit up in front of him. He braced at the exact right time, as the demon crashed into his mana-based defense a moment later. The barrier cracked, but the demon was kept at bay. He tried to repair it, but the demon reared its head and crashed into it once more. He held firm, but the barrier cracked just a bit more. The demon repeated its attack again, and small shards of barrier flaked off and turned to motes of light. It attacked again, and the barrier cracked even more. And again, and the barrier caved inwards. And again, and the whole thing collapsed.
Vulchic stepped back, then held his mace out in front of him, ready to meet the demon. Then a blade of utter black pierced the demon’s skull, went all the way through the demon’s head, and pinned it to the ground. It weakly roared one final time before finally collapsing. Vulchic turned to see Xzulan slowly shrinking, “Thanks, Xzu,” he said, giving her a smile.
“You’re welcome,” she said, “But now we need to figure out where we are,” she said, turning to the walled city just as she shrunk to her normal size, “And they might know exactly that.” Vulchic looked at the odd, walled city, then to the plains all around them again. There were no trees anywhere. Nowhere. Not a single one. That was strange. The only explanation was the interference of some demon, but he had never heard of a woodcutter demon. Demons of the Wilds, perhaps, but that was the exact opposite of what they were seeing in the field. He, having no better option, went along with Xzulan. They walked across the field for a long while, which went uninterrupted by anything. There was nothing going on, from the walls to the fields, there was nothing at all. It was unnerving, as if life had ceased to exist there for a moment, and all that remained was the grass.
They made it into the city in due time, and the streets were filled with bodies. Not dead bodies, but they were all unconscious. What made the cleric and paladin both stare was not their strange manner of dress, nor their weapons, but their ears. They were rounded, unlike either of their ears, which were pointed at the top. Apart from that, and their generally stocky builds, they were identical to the pair of elves, “Hmm… We seem to have entered a strange place,” Vulchic said. Xzulan looked at him, then slapped him over the head, “What? I’m not wrong.”
“You’re unbearable, sometimes,” she said, lowering her head and bringing her hands together, “Mistress of the Abyss, Master of the Death Tides, please answer my prayers. Where has that demon taken us?” she asked. Her head tilted as if the gods were speaking into her ears, then she lowered her hands, “As you command,” she said, turning to him, “Pray to the Mistress of Beasts and the Master of the Death Tides.”
Vulchic nodded, lowering his head and praying without speaking, an ability that clerics were uniquely able to use. After praying for guidance, he received a vague message from his gods. They told him to be wary, to follow their teachings, and to not flaunt his power. He and Xzulan shared a look, then nodded. They left the city a few minutes later. They had to lay low and wait for instructions from their gods. Luckily, Vulchic had some connection with the Master of the Verdant Wilds, which meant that he could likely borrow the god’s power to feed the pair of them for the time being.
*=====*
Stone. Blood. Gold. Steel. The errant soul, in a desperate bid to save itself, brought those four components together to create its new body. Stone deep beneath the surface for resilient flesh. Blood buried under the mountain like a tomb for living essence. Gold refined in a foundry for a noble mind. Steel refined in fires burning bright for strong bones.
From the moment his eyes opened, he knew he was unique. The first in the universe. That thought excited him. Sitting up, he took in the room he was born in. It was like a cave, with roughly hewn stone walls, and a metal door at the far end of it. There were only three other things there, those being the few large burn marks on the stone walls, his old body-- the details of his life were gone, traded for new life in the body of the earth-- and a pair of armored beings almost twice as tall as he.
His hands trembled as he looked at them. Their armor was the work of masters. He was so awestruck by it that he could not bring himself to even touch them. He did not care that they both had different skin from him-- maybe their flesh was made from some other stone than his own-- but the metal armor they wore was more interesting than they themselves were. It was hard to put into words what he saw, but it was the work of a master, he knew it. He reached out to the blue-skinned one, then pulled his hand back. Such a set of armor did not deserve to be sullied by his clueless hands! He stood, then stormed out through the door in the metal wall, determined to become good enough to be worthy of touching that armor.
He walked out into the cave beyond the small room he was born in and saw the life around him. Vines, roots, bugs, rodents, all of them were lying, almost as if asleep, wherever they stood or ran or lied. He passed them all. They were unimportant. Then his nose flared.
He whipped his head to the roof above him. He could smell it. Gold. The metal of noble intellect. He pondered for a second, looking at himself. He was unarmored and unclothed, nothing left hidden. He stroked his stone beard as he thought. He could probably get at the gold, given enough time and effort, but even if he managed to get up there, he could not break the precious metal. It was hidden by rock, anyway, and even if he used the thing hanging in his chest like a dangling stalactite, he had a feeling that it was ineffective on the gold.
So, with a heavy heart, he left the gold alone, and wandered further down the cave. Eventually, he came upon a large outpost with the big people. Some had strange skin colors, but some stuck out to him as particularly odd. There was even one who had the skin of stone, like him, and it took him a few moments to figure out that the bulb-headed creature was not like him.
He sighed as he followed a pipe of metal down another tunnel. That was when he found something fascinating. Bugs. Or animals. Or something else. They looked like big bugs, and that was all he needed to know to tell that they were evil. Bugs did not craft anything. They built, sure, but they did not know the intricacies of making armor. And with the chitin on their legs and bodies… he had been feeling a bit vulnerable, and he could live with chitin armor as long as he could get some real metal armor later.
With great effort, he grabbed one of the massive ones, the ones that looked like they had been killed with a punch from some massive brawler. It was heavy, but it trained his stoney flesh to work hard. When he next found a cavern, he finally figured out what was killing the ones like the one he was carrying. It was a big, metal person. It took him by surprise, definitely, but he knew that it was not a greater version of his kin. If anything, it was an imitation. A superior imitation, sure, but he could make that suit too!
He set down his bounty and examined the suit of armor for a while. It was rough. Cool, too. But it had an elegance born of size that he admired. He wondered, once he made more of his kin, if he would be able to get enough of them together to make something like that.
He shook his head, taking his bounty and leaving. He wandered around the caves, finding multitudes upon multitudes of bugs lying unconscious. It disgusted him. He hurried to find somewhere he could begin his work. He eventually found it after a while of walking-- about an hour, according to his instinctual memories.. It was a nice little cavern, from which light bulbs hung, a good amount of coal existed, and he could smell some gold and other minerals that he could turn into a decent steel. His new kin would be a bit weaker than he himself, but that could help them fix that later.
So, he got to work. He started with the most essential part of any home. A forge. He closed his eyes and used that metaphorical stalactite in his chest, pushing energy in the air through it and creating brown energy. Through that brown energy, he was able to shape and mold and condense the stone in the center of the cavern. Almost as an instinct, he was able to make a basic forge, along with a smeltery to supply it. The information was ingrained in his soul, and he vaguely felt that his past self made some sort of deal that provided that knowledge. Apart from the instinctual knowledge of forging, reproduction, language and writing, and a few other things, he knew nothing. That did not matter, though. What did matter was his prize for sticking with carrying the heavy body so far. He looked around for a tool to use, but opted to grab one of the big creature’s claws, and got to work.
He pried the chitin from the body, carved the meat from the organs, and put all of the blood into a large divot in the ground, covering it with a stone plate when no more would fit. By the time he was done with it, the bug was nothing more than a pile of organs and unusable parts. That was fine. Waste not want not, and all that. He put it off to the side, in another hole, and began to craft a set of tools with the chitin. He made a pickaxe, a knife, and a set of heavy armor with the chitin, and he still had plenty left over after that.
With a store of materials made, and after creating a small campfire out of loose ceiling-roots to eat some of the meat, he made his way over to the place where the coal was in the wall. It was not hard to get at the coal, especially since he had already gotten his feet wet with his instinctual stone powers, and he put enough into his forge and smeltery to do what needed to be done. He piled the rest up in the corner, beside the meat and the chitin, and got to getting the metal.
That proved a bit challenging, as the metal was in the ceiling, but he managed to get it by creating a staircase up to it. Sure, he could have just made a ladder, or just climbed up, but he knew that if they were going to make more of themselves, then they would need to have enough space to house them all. With that in mind, he built the staircase, to a potential second floor. And to the metal, which he took every scrap of. The gold proved to be much easier, as all he had to do was open up the wall a bit and mine into the noble metal with his chitin pickaxe.
In fact, the stuff was especially tough, especially against raw metal. He did not ponder that too much, though, as he had kin to create. Smelting the metals was easily done, especially since his stony skin was resistant to the heat of the smeltery and the forge. Unfortunately, he did not need the forge for his current project, but he could use it later. So, he smelted the metals together, he drained them onto a pair of circular molds on the ground. He raised those molds up in the air a bit, then brought over a large part of the loose stone he had been keeping from his digs. Piling the stone around the molds, there was but one thing left.
He scooped a bit of the blood from the ground-based container and dumped it into the pile of other materials he had there. It all hissed as he piled it together and, since he did not want the blood to evaporate too much, he ran his energy through the pile. It all fit like a puzzle, but just because it was supposed to fit together did not mean that it was obvious, or even intuitive.
After what felt like an hour of struggle, he finally brought everything together correctly, then clapped his hands. He suddenly felt a massive drain on his inner self, one that felt impossible to stem. He grit his teeth and stopped himself from growling. Just as it all seemed lost, something gripped the sucking force on his inner self and pulled it away. Using his energy senses, he could feel the greedy force being fed by the gripping hand, before slinking back into the pile of materials, as if a content beast. All at once, the materials brightly flashed, and he had to avert his eyes before they were burned.
When the light died down, the altar-like platform was missing one pile of stones, one divot of metal, one divot of gold, and one bucket of blood, but had a brand new kin lying atop it all. She was beautiful, almost five feet tall, making her just a bit bigger than he was, with stone gray skin and eyes that shone like gold. She had a full head of stone hair that acted like his own beard, and a few glimmering specks on her face. She gave him a smile, opened her mouth, then looked confused. He was in a similar situation, as a voice spoke into his head at that moment, [Glad to see you’re keeping your side of the bargain,] the voice said, [If you forgot, here was the Deal: your soul lives on in your current form in exchange for your memories. Oh, and we made a side deal after that. This one goes like this: you make a dwarven civilization and I help you make the first two hundred of your kin. Including yourself, so you have one hundred and ninety eight to go! I also gave your new friend there some knowledge, just because this seems quite interesting. Now, then, get to it! You’ve got a contract to fulfill!]
The voice cut off at that point, and the pair of them laughed a bit, “Our goddess then?” the she-dwarf asked. He laughed, “I suppose so, then. Well, we might as well make more kin; no point in wasting time, no?” she asked, leaning over to him and tracing his cheek with her finger.
He nodded, and let her drag him over to the pile of materials. For some odd reason, it felt like she would be the one calling the shots from then on. There was little wrong with that, though. He could feel the unbridled intellect leaking from her, and that meant that, if they were to come to blows, she could destroy him using their stone energy, no questions asked. Might made right when building a civilization, after all.
