Death: Genesis

Zeke ripped his leg free of the creeping glob of ooze that had wrapped around it, then bounded backward as another slapped down in the location he’d just vacated. It hit with a wet splat, then started to creep forward, leaving a trail of gooey moisture behind. Zeke barely noticed it. Instead, he waved his hammer, trying his best to dislodge the other bit of sticky, gelatinous muck from its head.

It resisted.

“Just use [Wrath of Annihilation] on the whole kingdom,” Eveline remarked with a mental yawn. “It’ll save time, and I bet the rest of the Eternal Realm would thank you.” Zeke dove to the side, narrowly avoiding another serpentine glob of goo that had just slammed down. Eveline added, “Profusely.”

“You’re not helping,” Zeke grunted, finally gaining enough distance to assess the situation. The monster across from him was, fittingly, called a death ooze, and it looked like a blob of black mucus with a hundred long slugs sticking out of it. But that description did little to convey just how grotesque it look, with its moist and undulating mass.

But as nauseating as it was to behold, the real issue was that a simple touch was enough to drain a not-insignificant portion of his vitality. Zeke knew that, if he wasn’t equipped with such overbearing stats, he would have been drained even further.

At level 62, the death ooze was also the highest-level creature he’d seen since entering the Kingdom of El’Kireth, which meant that it could pose a realistic threat to him. Why the authorities in charge of the kingdom would allow such a powerful monster to exist was a mystery, but Zeke suspected that it had something to do with the fact that it was heavily death attuned. Perhaps it didn’t pose any real threat to the land’s natives.

Or no more than any other strong monster.

Regardless, Zeke had no intention of prolonging his battle. So, he stepped forward, activated Voromir’s projection ability, and swung. Instantly, a blood-red copy of the hammer extended a dozen feet in front of him, sweeping across the monster. It hit with inevitable force, the impact tearing a chunk of the mucus-based monster free. However, that wasn’t enough to kill it.

So, Zeke added [Unleash Momentum], laced with the tiniest bit of his Will, to the mix. The results were predictable.

Even as the skill ripped the monster to pieces, the Path of Arcane Destruction destroyed whatever was left. Bits of the monster simply ceased to exist, and whatever remained was torn to shreds. That exposed the core of its being, which presented as a glittering black gem.

Zeke leaped forward, aiming a follow-up attack at the faceted crystal. Black goo raced back to fill the gap his skill had created, but it was too slow. Voromir connected with a titanic impact that shattered the gem into dust.

The black mucus lost animation, and it turned to liquid that soon evaporated. What was left was just a few puddles of black tar.

He let the head of his hammer fall to the ground as he stared at the aftermath of the battle. Usually, when he fought, whole landscapes would be rearranged. Yet, the battle against the ooze had felt almost quaint by comparison. Sure, [Unleash Momentum] had done some damage to the terrain, but it was nothing compared to the devastation he’d authored in the past.

That was because he was learning to control the skill. Like [Bulwark of the Triumvirate], he intended to upgrade the skill before he reached level seventy-five. However, he wasn’t certain if he’d have the time. Level seventy was close, and he expected that the next five levels after that would fly by.

“Your leveling speed is disgusting, by the way. Even with all the drains on your kill energy, you are pushing ahead more quickly than anyone I’ve ever seen. I’ve never even heard of anyone going so fat,” Eveline said.

Indeed, Zeke suspected that he would have long since passed level seventy-five if he didn’t have the tower draining his experience. The same was true of Eveline, whose presence in his mind was at least as much of a burden. And finally, maintaining the bond with Pudge was a drain as well.

And on top of all that, the weight of his achievements in the Mortal Realm meant that it took more kill energy to push him ahead. The result was a significantly lower speed of leveling.

But even then, his entire life had become one fight after another. He rarely took breaks, except when he needed to heal. He’d tried to develop hobbies – the most recent attempt centering on baking pies – and while he enjoyed them to varying degrees, the fact was that he felt like committing to anything that wasn’t progression or actively working toward his goals was a waste of time.

“You’re going to burn out,” Eveline stated.

“You’ve said that before.”

“And it’s been true every single time I’ve said it. You’re riding momentum right now, and that’s fine. You can do that. But eventually, you’re going to crash,” Eveline pointed out. That wasn’t new information. Zeke knew she was right, too. However, knowing that and actually following her advice were two very different things. If he stopped and took a break, it would be that much more difficult to start back up. And in addition to that, what if he failed because he lacked a single level? What if it came down to one more skill upgrade? Or any number of other things he’d devoted himself to accomplishing. What if his laziness got people killed?

What if it meant he never reached his potential?

Zeke couldn’t stomach that. As much as he knew Eveline was right, he had difficulty squaring that reality with his own expectations. So, each time he tried to force himself to take a break, those efforts ended up languishing, unused and forgotten as he threw himself against whatever obstacle he’d found in his way.

“Suit yourself,” Eveline said.

“Yeah,” Zeke responded with a shake of his head. Eveline knew him better than anyone, so he suspected she’d known all along that her admonishment would fall on deaf ears. Still, the fact that she kept it up meant something to him.

“Aww.”

Zeke rolled his eyes. Then, he took a few minutes to wash the mucus from his rocky body. It took almost three barrels of water – that he grabbed out of his spatial storage – to accomplish the feat, and even then, he felt like that area was under the cover of cling wrap. Hopefully, when he reached the city of the undead, he would find something to do a better job.

For the time being, though, Zeke continued on. As he did, he encountered more signs of battle. Whole towns had been wrecked, and the undead denizens had been killed. Left to rot, they were slowly being overtaken by the various scavengers who thrived off the aura of death.

It was clear that the battle he’d encountered in that first town was no isolated event. So, Zeke couldn’t help but feel a sense of trepidation concerning Talia’s fate. Certainly, she could take care of herself, and the fact that she’d survived so far was just further evidence of that. However, in war, casualties were inevitable, and often, they included the last people you would expect. For instance, Zeke had seen hundreds of his strongest kobolds perish in the final battle against Adontis. Meanwhile, the weaker members of his army had escaped almost completely unscathed.

It was a grim reminder that war was fickle.

Eventually, Zeke crested a hill, and he saw a battlefield absolutely covered in corpses. The loss of life – even if they were undead – was horrific, especially considering that he knew precisely how sapient they were. Yet, what was even worse was that some of the undead were still moving, albeit only weakly.

They were dying.

Zeke knew that.

Likely, they did as well. And yet, their enemies had stripped them of anything valuable, leaving them without dignity, then left them to live out the remainders of their short lives in absolute agony.

For some reason, that went too far for Zeke. And before he knew what he was doing, he’d started to use [Wrath of Annihilation]. Eveline screamed at him to stop, but he had no intention of listening. Instead, the moment the skill had charged, he swept his hand forward, summoning the black sun of doom.

He desperately wished he could stay and watch the aftermath. Yet, he knew that doing so – even from close to a mile away from the roiling black sun – would be too dangerous for both him and Eveline. So, he used [Aura of Desolation], surrounding himself with demonic mana, then switched to the demonic from of the [Triune Colossus]. With that, he sprinted away, and by the time [Wrath of Annihilation] erupted, he was more than three miles away.

Still, he was buffeted by harsh winds that very nearly threw him to the ground. He maintained his feet, though, enduring the aftermath of his most powerful skill. More than that, Zeke received just enough experience to push him to level seventy.

He ignored the notification, instead basking in the aura of a job well done.

It was satisfying, knowing that he could help those people. Sure, he’d have loved to heal them. Perhaps the spiritweavers or the healers among the beastkin and humans in the tower could have managed it. However, they couldn’t endure the deathly atmosphere, and Zeke had never had any ability to heal other people.

So, offering mercy was the best he could do.

“That was stupid and reckless,” Eveline said.

“I know,” Zeke admitted. But just like when, so long ago, he’d chosen to take the time to bury the people who’d been killed by a hive of drachnids, he had felt compelled to do something about the dead warriors. If it was the wrong choice, then he would pay the consequences.

Or someone else would.

After the atmosphere normalized, with the deathly mana rushing in far more quickly than the ambient mana had returned the first time he’d used the skill, he found nothing but the expected crater. The bodies were gone, eradicated by the skill. That was the result of the bits of his path woven through it.

Sighing, he asked, “Should we say something?”

“What’s there to say? They’re dead and gone.”

That much was true, but Zeke had often wondered if there was anything after death. It had happened once, so who was to say that he couldn’t find himself reborn into another world again?

“We won’t know that until the end,” Eveline said. “But unless you want to find out sooner rather than later, I suggest we move on.”

Indeed, Zeke knew that the usage of his skill would almost assuredly bring some attention, and he didn’t want to be there when it arrived. So, he moved on, shifting back to his earthen colossus form along the way.

“No lasting damage, though,” he said. “That’s progress.”

Even with his upgraded path, which had reached C-Grade in the fight against Lord Adontis, he felt only a twinge of pain when using his skill. On top of that, he’d managed to keep it from rampaging through his body when he’d sundered the shield around the village as well. As he’d said, that was good progress, and he hoped that was a sign of things to come. One day, he might even be able to use the full weight of his Will without ripping himself to pieces.

In any case, reaching level seventy had finally opened a skill slot. So, as he raced across the landscape, dodging the local fauna as well as he could, Zeke continued to develop his plans for his next skill. According to Eveline, he wouldn’t get the chance to build many more skills. Most people only got one after level seventy-five. And after a hundred? She had no idea, but Zeke suspected that it skills would be even more infrequent.

Still, he could progress by upgrading his skills manually. And unlike most people, he had limited leeway to alter those skills. So, if he wasn’t happy with something, he could always fix it later.

He hoped.

Either way, that was how days passed. Every now and again, he would summon his gate and rest for a few hours. When he’d return to the undead territory, he was reminded of how oppressive the atmosphere was. It was almost as if the longer he stayed immersed in that deathly ambiance, the more acclimated he became.

“Colossal body,” Eveline said.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“No – what do you mean?” he asked. He knew that his colossal body meant that he could internalize multiple attunements. However, that didn’t really apply to the current situation. The deathly aura of the area was strong, and it was potentially deadly to anyone below a certain threshold of endurance, but it was not nearly on the level of some of the natural treasures he’d acquired.

“The first step to gaining a new attunement is adapting to different kinds of mana,” she said. “That’s the core strength of your body. Anything that doesn’t kill you will served to enhance your resistances. As those resistances rise, you will be able to endure stronger mana. And eventually, that resistance will morph into an attunement.”

“That seems too easy.”

“It’s not,” she said. “It will be incredibly painful, and it will test your resolve in ways you can’t imagine. There is also more to gaining an attunement than simple exposure. You must understand it. Internalize it. You must live it. You skipped a few steps with your demonic attunement, but your earth attunement didn’t spring up from nowhere. You spent years underground. You know earth better than any other element.”

Zeke had to admit that much was true. Describing his time in the caves was difficult for him. However, what was inescapable was the fact that, by the time he surfaced, he did so as a changed man, and in more ways than he could count. Not only had he learned to survive in ways he never would have considered possible, but he’d also acclimated to the caves as completely as possible. In the end, he was a subterranean creature.

And that hadn’t faded in the few years he’d spent on the surface of the Mortal Realm. That, as much as anything, was probably the origin of his class’ attunement to earth mana.

“Regardless, this is all speculation. Call it an educated guess, though. I believe I’m right.”

“Maybe,” was all Zeke could respond. Then, he continued on, hoping that he would soon reach Darukar and reunite with his friend.