Death: Genesis

Zeke remained at the edge of the crater for hours, just staring at the devastation he’d wrought. But he was far more concerned with the absence in his mind. He could scarcely remember a time when Eveline hadn’t been with him. Certainly, he knew that he’d not had her company throughout his entire time in the Mortal Realm, but with every passing day, those memories had felt less solid, the details less important.

That was how memory worked.

Now that Eveline was gone, would he forget the details of her companionship? The tone of her voice? Her sarcastic quips at his expense? Or would he remember her like he remembered his mother? Like his little brother? Like Abby?

Suddenly, he realized that he couldn’t remember his mother’s face. Not really. He could recall bits and pieces. Like the way her hair smelled when he hugged her. Or her work uniform. Or any of a hundred little things that seemed inconsequential at the time. But piecing it all together into a whole picture was impossible.

Would that be the fate of his memory of Eveline?

Zeke knelt there on the edge of the crater, tears falling down his cheeks. At times, he’d found Eveline annoying, and more than once, he’d felt like expelling her from his mind. Yet, now that she was gone, he didn’t know what to do. He had no idea what to think. The grief was palpable, and in a way Zeke hadn’t felt since his brother had first been diagnosed.

It was also distracting.

So much so that he didn’t feel the whisper in his mind until Eveline’s weak voice intoned, “You like me. You really like me.”

At first, Zeke thought he was hearing things, but then, his mind caught up and overcame the distraction of his grief. When that happened, he realized that Eveline’s presence had returned, albeit far weaker than normal.

“W-what?” he muttered aloud. “I thought…”

“I know.”

“How?” Zeke asked.

“It nearly killed me,” she admitted. “Even through [Bulwark of the Triumvirate]. The only reason I survived was because I have a few defenses of my own. It wasn’t possible without cost, though. I had to sacrifice quite a lot of my…soul.”

“Are you going to be okay?”

“I don’t know,” she answered. “Maybe? It’s not like this is the first time I’ve taken soul damage. But many of my efforts at reestablishing my memory have backtracked. It’s not as bad as it was just after we pieced everything back together, but there are more gaps than before you used that skill.”

When Eveline had first latched onto him, he’d considered excising her presence. He chose not to because, at the time, she’d never actually harmed him. Over time, she’d become a constant, and at times, comforting presence. Sure, she often annoyed him. And she definitely let her demonic nature show through from time to time. But he’d grown to rely on her.

So, her continued existence was more than just a relief.

“I think this proves two things,” Eveline said.

“Just two?”

“First, you can’t use that again until we figure out how to upgrade [Bulwark of the Triumvirate],” she said.

“We?” he asked. “You mean me, right? Because you don’t know anything about skill creation.”

“Right. We’re in this together. Keep up.”

“What’s the second thing?” he asked, already sensing what she was going to say.

“The skill works better than we could have imagined,” she answered.

And that was true. Once, Zeke had seen footage of a nuclear explosion. It had been a test out in the deserts of the American Southwest, but he remembered the feeling of awe he’d experienced as he saw that fiery explosion and the mushroom cloud that had followed. He felt the same thing about [Wrath of Annihilation].

“Based on your memories, this is much more devastating than those bombs from your old world. Though it is impressive how violent your people were,” she said. “No wonder so many of them ended up on my side of the afterlife.”

Zeke shook his head. He had no interest in examining the morality – or lack thereof – concerning Earth. He was well aware of the many problems in the world he’d left behind. There was good there, of course, but as was usually the case, the evil was much louder and more attention-grabbing.

In any case, he moved on from the subject, asking, “Do you think the mana has started to stabilize yet?”

“It should be fine,” she said. “It might be uncomfortable for you, but I doubt you’d experience any truly negative effects.”

With that, Zeke picked himself up and stepped into the crater. He slid down the sloping side, immediately noticing the thin ambient mana. Still, it wasn’t nearly as bad as the first few times he’d used his nascent Worldbreaker technique. So, he continued down the slope before heading deeper into the crater. As he did, the density of the ambient mana continued to decrease. Some of that was mitigated by the ongoing flood of mana from outside the crater. Eventually, it would equalize, but he suspected it would take at least a few days. Perhaps even a couple of weeks.

Which only served to highlight how devastating his skill was. Not only had it created a massive, miles wide crater, but it had burned through the ambient mana as well.

Still, even knowing that, Zeke wasn’t prepared for the sheer destruction he encountered on his way toward the epicenter of the skill’s effects. Everything was just gone. The grass. The soil. Any animals that had been unlucky enough to be in the general vicinity. Even the humidity had dropped, suggesting that the moisture in the air had been obliterated as well.

“I think the air itself was destroyed,” Eveline said. “If you had remained within the blast radius, I suspect you would have found yourself in a temporary vacuum.”

“That is insane.”

“It’s a sign of what your Will is truly capable of. If it wasn’t mitigated by your weak body, you could probably do a lot more,” she said.

“Is that what I’m meant to be? A tool of destruction?”

“That’s what you are, Ezekiel. Or did you think your path was misnamed?” she asked. “And I know you well enough to know that you will have trouble with that. So, I’ll give you a piece of advice: don’t try to fight your nature. Be what you are. Instead, aim yourself in a direction where you can make the most difference.”

“So, I’m a bomb. I just need to make sure I’m dropped on the right target,” Zeke reasoned.

“A clumsy metaphor, but sure.”

After that, Zeke continued on, and eventually reached the epicenter. There, the ambient mana hadn’t stabilized as much, so it was a struggle to remain in that space. Moreover, there was an aura of destruction hanging over everything that made Zeke’s skin crawl. And if it was noticeable for him, then for someone who hadn’t been inoculated against his Path of Arcane Destruction, it would have been devastating.

“How long do you think this is going to last?” Zeke asked, looking down at his hand. He rolled his fingers as he watched the destructive remnants of his Will assail his skin. Blisters formed and were healed, second by second. “Eveline?”

She didn’t answer, though Zeke could feel that she was in pain. So, he quickly retreated until she told him he’d gone far enough.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. It’s going to take a while before I’m fully recovered,” she answered. “Now, what was it you were asking while your Will ate away at my very essence? I was a little distracted.”

Zeke repeated his question.

“I don’t know. This is unprecedented. Though there’s a place in Hell where it’s said that two peak entities fought an epic battle that lasted months,” Eveline answered. “It’s a barren wasteland of ice and fire. Someone named it Firefrost. Unimaginative, if you ask me, but nobody ever does.”

“So, you think this is going to last indefinitely?”

“I don’t know. Probably not, though. You’re strong, but you’re not at the peak. I’m eager to see what you’ll become when you reach that level, though,” she stated.

Zeke wasn’t so sure. Until he’d seen what [Wrath of Annihilation] could do, he’d been looking forward to climbing to the peak and growing stronger. But now, he could only remember what had happened in Jariq, when he’d inadvertently killed thousands of innocents. With his new skill, it would be even easier.

In fact, if he intended to fight people at that level, it seemed inevitable.

Was he ready to confront that?

“More importantly, do you have a choice?” Eveline asked. “It’s not just you anymore. You have an entire of population of kobolds, beastkin, and humans that depend on you to be the strongest person around. So do I, by the way. You no longer have the option of just walking away and living a quiet life. Not if you want them all to survive and thrive.”

“I know,” Zeke said.

“But you don’t like the responsibility.”

Looking around at the devastation he’d caused, he answered, “I don’t know. I thought I’d accepted it.”

“Not really. You’ve just been doing what you wanted to do. Now, you’re beginning to wonder if you’re on the right path,” she stated. “But the stakes of turning away are higher than ever, so you feel hemmed in by the obligations heaped upon your shoulders.”

Once, Zeke had heard the story of Atlas, who was condemned to hold up the sky for all eternity. At the time, Zeke hadn’t identified with the mythological titan, but with every responsibility he’d taken upon himself, he understood how such a curse must have felt. But unlike Atlas, who’d had no choice in the matter, Zeke had chosen his own burdens. He’d taken it upon himself to protect and usher the kobolds into sapience. He’d rescued the peasants and beastkin slaves.

And the rationale that led to those decisions was just as valid as ever.

Zeke took solace in that. More, he knew he was doing the right thing. For all he struggled with the reality of war, he couldn’t deny that the Knights of Adontis were the bad guys in his story. They were bigoted, exploitive, and evil – at least from Zeke’s perspective. With that as context, he didn’t think he’d feel particularly bad about subjecting them to his new skill.

Still, he needed to be cognizant of the danger inherent in using his power. Collateral damage was inevitable in any war. He’d come to terms with that, even if he didn’t like it. Yet, he had a responsibility to minimize it if possible. Never was that more relevant than when he contemplated the potential use of his new skill.

It had already nearly claimed its first inadvertent victim. Eveline had come close to destruction, all because Zeke hadn’t anticipated how the skill might affect her.

“I need to be careful,” he said. “That’s all there is to it. I can’t use that skill without thought.”

Zeke expected Eveline to make some sarcastic quip about his propensity to leap into battle without considering the consequences. Yet, she didn’t. Instead, she said, “That’s the nature of power. The more you acquire, the more difficult it is to contain.”

“Yeah.”

After that, Zeke watched as the effects slowly dissipated. Knowing how long it would take things to normalize after the usage of [Wrath of Annihilation] was extremely important, so he remained in place as mana continued to flow into the area. As it did, the expression of his Will faded as well. Overall, it took nearly twelve hours for the mana density to normalize, then another twenty-four before the effects of his Path of Arcane Destruction dissipated.

“Thirty-six hours,” he muttered. “Give or take.”

“Better than years,” Eveline said.

While he’d waited, Zeke had focused on another task he’d so far delayed. Until he’d seen how vulnerable Eveline was, it hadn’t seem all that important, but with how she’d nearly died, Zeke knew that he needed to upgrade [Bulwark of the Triumvirate]. It was a process that he expected would take months, especially considering that he didn’t have any other examples from which to draw inspiration. Yet, he’d built the skill in the first place, so he was a little more prepared to force it to evolve than if he’d been working with a Framework-granted skill.

Still, he’d barely even scratched the surface of the planning stage when he realized that the area’s mana had normalized. By that point, his continued responsibilities to his followers reasserted themselves, and he realized that it was time to return to the tower. So, he picked himself up and started home.

He didn’t hurry, though. If someone needed him, they knew which direction he’d gone.

“And it’s not like you could use that skill and nobody would notice,” Eveline said. “I’d be surprised if people hundreds of miles away saw some of the effects.”

“Yeah.”

In that way, it was similar to the worst weapons Earth had ever created. Or a natural disaster, if he was being generous. In any case, Zeke agreed with Eveline’s assessment. One thing was certain, though – if it came down to it, he had a potent weapon to use against Adontis.

Perhaps he could end the conflict alone.

“That might be too much to hope for,” Eveline said.

“Yeah,” he agreed. If nothing else, Zeke felt certain that Adontis had more up its sleeve than they’d so far revealed. They would have to. So, it was with that weighing against his mind that he returned to the tower.