Death: Genesis

Zeke returned to the tower, intending to take a few days to rest and relax while his underlings managed the necessities for the coming war. However, he got quite a surprise when he stepped on the teleporter and saw a brand-new level.

Please choose a floor: the Hunting Grounds, the Residential District, the Merchant’s Floor, the Crimson Spring, the Craftsman’s Terrace, the Jail, or the Lord’s Manor.

“The Jail?” he muttered inwardly. “What the hell?”

“The Crimson Tower provides,” Eveline said sagely. It came off as more annoying than knowledgeable, though. “So rude.”

“It’s just your voice. Nothing personal.”

“It feels personal,” she said. “Besides, I’m literally thinking at you. Any connotations to my ‘voice’ are purely in your head.”

Zeke ignored that. Instead, he selected the new option and was whisked away to the Jail. When he appeared on the tower’s new floor, he was surprised to find that it looked nothing like the dungeon he’d expected. Instead, it was a long hallway made of pristine white stone and lit by flickering mana lights. Lining the hall were a series of what looked like mundane wooden doors.

“Surprisingly clean for a prison,” Eveline remarked. “A proper prison should be dirty and dimly lit. With chains and whips hanging from the ceiling. Perhaps a few impaled corpses, just to let the prisoners know you mean business.”

“That’s disgusting,” Zeke said, walking to one of the doors.

“Being disgusting is the point,” she stated. “You want your captives to feel dread and a distinct lack of hope. That’s part of the fun.”

“There’s nothing fun about a jail.”

“Well, not this jail. But I once had a dungeon that was the envy of every demon in Hell,” she said. “Bodies hanging from the ceiling, blood pooling on the floor – an actual torture chamber. Ah, good times.”

“You had none of that.”

“Okay, not me. But someone I knew. An incubus. You wouldn’t know him.”

“None of what you just said is true,” Zeke said, reaching out to open one of the doors. When he touched the handle, he received a notification:

Cell No. 1 – Current Status: Empty. Charge: Full.

“What does that even mean?” he asked.

“Well, status is meant to refer to –”

“I know what status means. And you know good and well that I was talking about the charge,” he said, interrupting her.

“Are you implying that I would intentionally misinterpret your question? Well, I never,” she said. Then, she let out a little giggle. “Fine. You’re no fun. The charge refers to its level of mana. I would guess that it fuels some aspect of the jail’s capabilities. Time dilation, maybe? Or perhaps it is a torture chamber that causes immeasurable pain until it runs out of charge.”

“It’s not that last one.”

“Are you sure?”

Zeke was not, though his gut told him that his tower wouldn’t have an in-built torture chamber. Still, he was a little wary. He’d made mistakes with the tower before, and at least one had ended with someone’s death. The girl in question hadn’t been innocent – in fact, she was part of a team of assassins who’d been sent to kill him – but he still regretted his error. More, Zeke had resolved to take more care in the future, even with his enemies. He had no issues killing them, especially in battle, but he had no interest in accidently causing anyone’s death.

It was a fine line, but it was the one he’d drawn.

In any case, he quickly headed to the Residential District, where he gathered a kobold before returning to the jail. After that, he ordered the legionnaire inside, then shut the door. When he did, another notification flashed before his eyes:

Cell No. 1 – Current Status: Full. Charge: 99%. Time remaining: 9 years, 364 days, 23 hours, 58 minutes. While current occupant is imprisoned, they will not require sustenance.

“Wow,” Zeke said, opening the door and letting the kobold free. After interrogating the legionnaire, Zeke discovered that, for the kobold, it hadn’t felt any different than being outside the cell. “That could be helpful.”

“As if you take prisoners.”

Zeke couldn’t really argue with her comment. However, he wasn’t thinking of prisoners of war. Instead, his mind was on the inevitability of internal disputes. So far, they’d been lucky, but it was only a matter of time before crime became an issue – especially with the influx of beastkin, who were far more socially developed than the kobolds.

Once Zeke had taken the opportunity to investigate the jail further – establishing that it could house nearly five-hundred prisoners – he left it behind and headed to the Residential District. Once there, he headed to the Pillar at the center of the district and quickly found his way to the office Kianma had claimed.

Predictably, Silik was there as well.

He told her about the Jail, then asked, “How are the beastkin settling in?”

“Poorly. They are not used to freedom,” she answered. “Most have chosen to contribute in the fields, but a few have placed themselves under Bracken, who has vowed to whip them into fighting shape. The results are varied, but not for lack of effort or commitment. They are underleveled and weak, but Bracken believes he can make use of them.”

“And the rest of the army?” he asked Silik.

“More powerful than ever. The centaurs have begun to enter the tower more regularly, and they are starting to integrate into the larger force. Bracken and I have been busy devising strategies to take advantage of their fighting style,” the big kobold general said. “It is a learning experience for everyone involved.”

“Have we made any progress with crafting? I noticed that some of the kobolds seem to be wearing new armor,” Zeke said.

“Indeed,” Kianma answered with a smile. “We have made great strides with our blacksmithing abilities, largely due to the dwarves’ efforts. They know metals like no other. There are also a few of the beastkin who worked as smithing assistants. I’m told that the dwarves consider our use of the high-quality ores we took from Min Ferilik to border on sacrilegious, but we have no low-quality ore with which to practice. So, we use what we have on hand. The results are fantastic.”

With that, she gestured toward Silik, who was wearing a new breastplate that looked almost like his thick torso had been coated in molten blood mithril. In addition to that, he wore a segmented skirt and greaves made of the same material. In place of his hide shield, he now carried a tower shield crafted from some sort of black metal. Zeke could feel the mana wafting off of it, and he could see the crude but potent runes of an uncomplicated enchantment. Likely, it was there to improve the shield’s durability.

“Every centurion is wearing similar armor,” the kobold woman said. “The legion will soon follow. It is more durable than anything we wore before, though most of that is because of the materials used rather than the skill of our craftspeople. They are improving, though.”

“Good,” Zeke said, knowing what was coming. “Very good.”

To him, the kobold army had begun to resemble a legion of Roman soldiers, albeit ones that were nearly ten feet tall on average and reptilian in nature.

After that, Kianma explained the rest of the goings on in the tower. The hatchlings were still progressing well, and every combatant participated in nightly hunts. Most of those excursions were around the physical location of the tower, but by necessity, quite a few hunted the area around the dungeon as well. Even then, they were running out of prey, and as a result, they’d been forced to range further and further with each passing day.

Soon, they would have to find a solution for that problem, or the kobolds’ progress would end up stalling. That was unacceptable, so Zeke vowed to figure out a way around it. In the meantime, though, he was satisfied with the progress he saw.

Once Zeke had been caught up on the status of his tower, he decided to take a tour. As he walked through the Residential District, he was struck by how normal everything seemed. Certainly, the fact that it was populated primarily by beastkin and kobolds made it absolutely obvious that it was anything but normal, but the actions of the residents were entirely mundane.

“They’re just people,” he said.

“Of course they are. It’s the same everywhere. Even in Hell, the demons are just people. They’ve been twisted into something evil, but ultimately, they’re driven by the same desires that push everyone else,” Eveline said. “We all have the same needs. We all eat. We all crave nice things. And we all need community. The shape people take doesn’t change any of that.”

It was a poignant reminder that, as alien as some of the people of the Eternal Realm could be, they weren’t so different from what he was used. However, the ways they did differ was important, too.

In any case, after Zeke’s tour of the Residential District was edifying, and by the time he found his way to the teleporter, he felt closer to his adopted people than ever before. His next stop was the Merchant’s Floor, which was far busier than he could have expected. Hundreds of stalls dominated the main area, and more permanent businesses lined the walls. They sold everything from armor to natural resources found during the kobolds’ hunting expeditions. There were other crafted goods as well, and Zeke saw no less than three furniture shops. Apparently, the kobolds had progressed from their old habits on the floors of their homes, instead opting to seek out beds, chairs, and other furniture.

There were so many shops, stalls, and products on sale that Zeke briefly got lost in the hubbub. He even partook of some street food – some unidentifiable meat on a stick – and was reluctant to leave when he realized he and his kobold guards had garnered some attention. Everywhere he went, he drew the eyes of the kobolds. When he passed them by, they reached to touch him. Some shouted encouragement or praise. Others just stared in awe.

He was a celebrity.

“More like a god,” Eveline said.

“That is supremely uncomfortable.”

“You have the spark of the divine,” she pointed out. “Their adoration is yours by right. Even if you hadn’t rescued them from certain death and raised them from beasthood, they would respond to that subtle feeling that you are special.”

“I disagree with everything you just said.”

“Deny it all you want. They know the truth, and one day, you will accept that as well.”

Zeke just shook his head as the surrounding crowd of kobolds reached out to touch him. He allowed it, but that marked the end of his foray into the tower’s more populated areas. So, he and his guards pushed through, finding the teleporter soon after. From there, Zeke went to inspect the Hunting Grounds, and to his surprise, he found that it had changed as well.

In the past, the teleporter took him straight into one of the simulated environments. Now, though, he stepped off the pad and into a circular room that he quickly surmised was the meeting point of nine tunnels. The room itself was packed full of kobolds and beastkin. Soon enough, Zeke found someone in charge.

She was one of the kobold spiritweavers, just like Kianma, though Zeke didn’t recognize her. Still, she was identifiable by her elaborate plume of colorful feathers. When he asked what was going on, she explained that the Hunting Grounds had recently split, allowing for multiple instances of the training rooms. Now, instead of only accommodating a single combatant, nine could train at any given time. The crowd of kobolds and beastkin were simply waiting for their turn.

“The tower provides,” Eveline said.

“I really wish you would stop saying that. It’s creepy.”

“It’s true, though,” she insisted.

“I don’t disagree with that,” he acknowledged. The Crimson Tower was an incredibly powerful artifact. Or ability. Or whatever it was. He still wasn’t entirely certain. The fact that it could evolve independently of his actions was more than impressive.

“That’s not exactly what’s happening, you know. It’s evolving along its own path, true. But it’s not without your input. It is responding to your needs and using your achievements as fuel,” she said. “In lesser hands, it would be no more than a useful storage ability and a place to camp in the wilderness. For you, it is city.”

Zeke shook his head. Her statement was probably true, though. Whatever the case, he didn’t dwell on it. The tower was a powerful tool, and he would use it as needed. Beyond that, he didn’t need to give it much more thought. So, with that, he left the Hunting Grounds behind and returned to the Lord’s Manor.

Once there, he settled in for some meditation. He had a lot to do, and with the looming war, he didn’t think he’d get much chance to focus on anything but battle over the next couple of months. For a while, he worked on his next skill. It was still a long way off – he’d just built [Shifting Sands], after all – but he wanted to be prepared for it when he finally reached the point where he could create a new skill.

Other than that, he spent quite some time trying to inoculate himself to his Will. Doing so had already borne some results, and he was eager to get to the point where he could use his Will without tearing himself to pieces. There was a long way to go yet, but he intended to eventually get there. And when he did, the world would tremble.

For a couple of days, Zeke occupied himself like that. He met with various members of the community, sparred with Pudge, and spent plenty of time in the Hunting Grounds. Meanwhile, the preparations for war continued, and soon enough, Silik came to him and said that those preparations were complete.

“The Knights of Adontis are preparing to cross the river,” the kobold general said.

“Well, we can’t allow that,” Zeke stated, pushing himself to his feet. Silik had found him sitting in the garden of the Lord’s Manor, where he’d been steadily pulsing his Will. Now, though, he put that aside. The time for practice was finished, and he needed to be at his best for the coming conflict.