Death: Genesis

The trip into the city was eye-opening. Not because of the obvious damage from the ongoing conflict. Nor because of the war-torn people he saw. Each one looked ragged – even more so than their race would usually indicate – and thin, with expressions that said they were exhausted. But that was expected, given everything Zeke had seen in the rest of El’kireth.

No - what he found most interesting was the runecrafting work on the buildings. He couldn’t sense the purpose of those collections of glyphs – not unless he spent hours, or perhaps even days studying them – but he could feel the flow of the mana well enough to recognize that it was a powerful design.

“Do you think it’s for defense?” he asked inwardly as he was escorted through the city.

“No. It feels more like accumulation,” Eveline said. “This is a pure guess, but I think it might be meant to augment the deathly aura. You feel it, don’t you? It’s thicker in the city.”

Zeke acknowledged that he did. Indeed, even with his constantly evolving colossal body, he could hardly stand the cold seeping into his bones. It was especially effective because he was in his human form, which offered far less protection from outside forces. Still, he walked with his back straight and his shoulders back as he tried to portray a sense of dignity and power.

“You’re a high enough level that most people will feel that even if you limped in on one leg,” Eveline said. “You’re on the verge of hitting the major threshold at level seventy-five. Anyone who’s gotten to your level is powerful enough to cause problems.”

That was probably true, but Zeke continued along all the same. His reasoning was that he represented more than just himself. He was the leader of an entire city. More than a hundred-thousand people depended on his reputation to keep them safe. As a result, he felt driven to live up to the image of a powerful leader. Otherwise, people might start to get ideas about challenging him. And while he felt sure that he could defeat any number of would-be rivals, the fact was that he couldn’t be everywhere at once. So, like every other powerful leader, he depended on his reputation to dissuade anyone from stepping up.

“Very mature of you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked silently. He’d grown accustomed to having discussions in his own head, so he had no issues with holding a conversation while simultaneously keeping an eye on his surroundings. They were more of the same, with the customary black stone trimmed with red runes. Yet, many of the buildings showed some sign of damage – evidence of the kingdom’s ongoing conflict.

“It means that your usual response to any potential challenge is to run at it screaming a battlecry,” she answered.

Zeke just sighed as he rolled his eyes, which brought a curious glance from one of his escorts. The zombie didn’t say anything, but he definitely noticed.

“See what you did there? Don’t do that. People are going to think you’re weird,” Eveline said unhelpfully.

“I think that ship’s sailed,” Zeke muttered inwardly as they continued on. Other than noticing the architecture and the downtrodden people, he also couldn’t help but examine the feelings brought along by the deathly aura. As had been the case for the last weeks, it elicited a feeling of pervasive cold that simply wouldn’t go away. But it wasn’t the sort of cold brought on by the frigid temperatures of the Ianthian Wastes. Instead, it was deeper. Almost conceptual. And Zeke felt it in his mind and soul almost as much as his body.

On top of that, the everpresent fog left his clothes and skin damp, augmenting the effect of that cold and ensuring that he remained miserable.

But there was something else in there as well. Something Zeke couldn’t quite put his finger on. It wasn’t until Eveline pointed out the presence of the local attunement, which was comprised of arcane, disease, poison, ice, and water, with bits and pieces of other attunements as well, that Zeke recognized it as the feeling of encroaching death.

Zeke had been in hundreds of battles. So, he’d long since acclimated to the knowledge of his own mortality. After all, he’d died once already, and despite all his power, he knew he would experience that again. However, that creeping sense of existential dread was a familiar companion. And as he walked through Darukar, that feeling was stronger than ever.

It almost felt like he was being stalked, though not by anything corporeal. Instead, it was like he was being hunted by the concept of death, and it did not put him in the best frame of mind.

After some time, during which he experienced more of the same as they traversed the city, Zeke found himself being led into an enormous black building. It followed the same architectural sensibilities as the rest of the city, yet it was set apart – and plainly so – by the row of columns that stretched across its façade. Their presence reminded Zeke of the government buildings he’d seen growing up, though with a few extra flourishes, like soaring towers and flying buttresses.

Regardless, it was an impressive structure, though from Zeke’s perspective, which had been tainted by living in his tower, it still seemed a little small. Almost petty in its attempts at domineering ambiance. It was as if someone had once seen true majesty, and they’d done their best to copy it, only to fall a little short.

So, Zeke wasn’t nearly as impressed as he probably should have been.

“Do you have any weapons on your person?” asked the leader, Fara’mur.

Zeke shook his head. “Just me,” he stated. And it was true. Voromir was only a thought away, but at present, he was entirely unarmed. “No weapons.”

“Good. You will be detained. Please understand that it is only a temporary measure. We rarely host visitors from outside our borders,” the armored zombie said. “There are certain protocols that we must observe for our safety. We have enemies, many of which will go to any length to destroy our home.”

“Adontis?”

The zombie nodded. “They are a persevering thorn in our side,” he answered. “But they are one of many.”

“Well, if you haven’t heard yet, Adontis has fallen,” Zeke said as he was led into the building. The interior was opulent, with a prevailing theme of silver details that complimented the black stone. “Lord Adontis is dead, and Ivern has been destroyed.”

Fara’mur stopped, and the other undead that composed his troop did as well. He turned on Zeke, asking, “Is this true? How?”

“Killed him myself,” Zeke stated. “Freed their slaves. Destroyed most of their knights, too. I had help, obviously.”

“You lie.”

“I don’t,” Zeke said, not taking offense at the zombie’s disbelief. He’d obviously inspected Zeke, and as a result, he clearly knew his level. And if Zeke was a normal fighter, there would have been no way he could have defeated someone of Lord Adontis’ statue. But Zeke was not normal.

The man’s brows furrowed, then he said, “We will inspect the veracity of your claims. But know that if you are lying – as I suspect you are – it will not help your case.”

Zeke did his best not to react, but he wanted nothing more than to roll his eyes. Or level the entire building.

“Maybe you haven’t come quite as far as I thought,” Eveline remarked.

That comment was ignored as Zeke was led through the building. Along the way, he garnered quite a lot of attention. He was clearly one of the living, which certainly made him stand out amongst the collection of zombies, wights, and other undead. For the most part, Zeke had grown accustomed to the smell and the sight of such people, but every now and then, he’d see a particularly damaged zombie, and the disconcerting feeling would return. By contrast, the smell came in waves.

“I know what you are thinking,” said Fara’mur.

“Oh, yeah? What’s that?” asked Zeke.

“We can repair our bodies,” he stated. “It is a difficult process, and it’s only possible because of specific skills. As a result, it is expensive. So, the wealthiest among us are whole. The poor are not.”

“Interesting.”

Zeke assumed the same was true of the smell, though even Fara’mur, who seemed far more intact than any of the others he’d seen, had a distinct odor of death about him. It wasn’t the aroma of decomposing flesh, but its nature was clear all the same.

Eventually, after traversing a maze of hallways, Zeke found himself being led into what was plainly a holding cell. He could see the runes decorating the walls, and to some degree, he could intuit their purpose. However, he could also tell that none of it was strong enough to truly contain him, so he didn’t hesitate to step inside.

The interior wasn’t a jail cell. Rather, it reminded Zeke of the interview rooms he’d seen in police shows back on Earth. There was an unadorned stone table in the center of the room, and on either side of that edifice were carved chairs. They did not look comfortable, but Zeke wasted no time before crossing the room and taking a seat.

“Wait here,” Fara’mur said.

Then, he turned and left, closing the thick, metal door behind him. The moment it clanged shut, Zeke felt the mana in the room still. “Interesting,” he said, probing the feeling that came with it. His skills felt further away than ever, and between his mind and the activation of those abilities was a wall. Zeke knew he could batter it down with his Will, but it would take more than a wisp of power to do so. “That’s pretty impressive.”

Eveline agreed, adding, “I bet this would be quite restrictive if it weren’t for your unique path.”

“Should I break it?”

“Not yet,” she advised.

And Zeke agreed. So far, no one had done anything overly aggressive. The room didn’t count. It was just a precaution against what they probably considered a potential danger. That perception was accurate, too. Let loose for only a few minutes, Zeke could destroy a quarter of the city. Perhaps even more.

So, instead of tearing everything asunder, Zeke turned his mind inward. And as he waited for the next couple of hours, he continued to build the foundations of his newest skill. It wasn’t quite ready yet, but when he’d gained level seventy, he’d gotten a new slot that he was eager to use.

However, it was not a process that could be completed instantly, and given that he couldn’t afford to spend weeks finishing things up, he’d been using whatever spare moment he could to lay the groundwork for success. Eventually, he’d have to settle in and focus completely on it, but for now, he was content to make incremental progress.

Like that, hours passed until, at last, the door opened. Zeke felt the room’s ambient mana stir, but the wall between him and his skills remained in place. More importantly, he sensed a presence that was significantly more powerful than Fara’mur. He opened his eyes to see a woman standing in the doorway.

She wore a black dress that did little to conceal her curves, reminding him of Eveline’s preferred attire. However, instead of the red skin of a succubus, the newcomer’s complexion was like alabaster, making her look as much like a statue as a living thing. That sense was only supported by the fact that she clearly didn’t need to breathe. Only her eyes, which were blood red, indicated that she was, indeed, a living – or unliving – creature.

Zeke used [Inspect]:

Dalamya Samona’a – Level 71

“One level higher than you,” Eveline remarked.

“I noticed,” Zeke acknowledged inwardly. Did they believe that she could handle him? Or was it nothing more than a custom? That remained to be seen.

“Ezekiel Blackwood,” she said, stepping inside. Fara’mur followed, closing the door behind him. The ambient mana swirled once again, though Zeke noticed that it was much quieter around the pair of undead. That suggested that they were somehow protected, which made sense if they were meant to be his jailers. Dalamya slid into the other stone chair. “Level seventy. Impressive.”

“Dalamya Samona’a,” Zeke responded. “Level seventy-one.”

Pointedly, he was certain to omit any admission that he was impressed. Because he wasn’t. She was surely powerful, but Zeke had already taken her measure, and he was sure he could defeat her, even with the restrictions in place.

“Why are you here?” she asked, moving past the omission, though Zeke saw the flicker of annoyance in her eyes.

“Sightseeing.”

“Indeed. Captain Fara’mur says that you gave him the same flippant answer. He also informed me that you claim to have defeated Lord Adontis in battle,” she said.

“It was a group effort,” Zeke stated.

“I see. And where is this group?” she asked.

“Back home.”

“Which is?”

“That way,” Zeke said, hiking his thumb in the general direction of the Mukti Plains. “Do you greet all visitors by imprisoning and restricting them?”

“Most,” she admitted. “The living rarely come here except to pose a threat to us. Especially humans.”

“Seems like you all have a lot bigger problems than little, ol’ me,” Zeke said. “Civil war?”

“A few malcontents. Nothing more,” she stated.

“Seems like more than a few. I’ve seen a lot of bodies over the past few weeks,” Zeke pointed out. “But I’m not here to interfere in any of that.”

“Indeed, you are here to sightsee.”

Zeke sighed. “Alright. Here’s the deal,” he said. As much as he didn’t want to reveal his true purpose, the reality was that he had almost no chance of finding Talia unless he got some help. He could find a general direction, but as close as he was, [Mark of Companionship] only told him that he was close. So, he decided to ask for help. “I have a friend here. She arrived a couple of years back. She would have been alone.”

He went on to describe Talia as he remembered her, which elicited a single question from Dalamya, “And this friend’s name – what is it?”

“Talia Nightingale.”

“Ah. That presents a problem,” the woman said, her demeanor changing.

Zeke noticed the shift, and he poised his Will to batter through the block. “What’s that?”

“Guilt by association,” she answered. “I am sorry, but you will not be allowed to leave this cell. In the meantime –”

“That’s not going to work for me,” Zeke said, tearing through the block. It offered a little more resistance than expected, but against his Will, it couldn’t stand for long. “Let it be known that I tried to do this the diplomatic way. I have nothing against you or your people. I came in peace. But I told Captain Fara’mur – if you try to shackle me, it won’t end well. This is the exact situation I was talking about.”

“Think long and hard about what you’re about to do,” the undead woman cautioned.

Zeke shook his head. “As most of my friends can attest, thinking isn’t my strongsuit,” he responded. “You have one chance. Get out of my way and let me find my friend. Or you will very much regret it.”

“I cannot do that.”

“So be it,” Zeke said, embracing [Triune Colossus].