For the Record

“EIGHT! EIGHT FUCKING TIMES!”

I stomp hard enough to crack the hallway’s stone floor.

Arty puts a hand on my shoulder, and I fiercely turn to her before catching myself.

And I sigh. “Sorry. It’s just so gods-damned annoying.”

What is? Dipshit.

He keeps coming back. I still have no idea how his soul was freed from that trap gizmo, or how he escaped the falling trap, or being sawed in half, crushed, roasted, frozen into a block of ice, reduced to dust… I’m at my wits’ end on how to deal with him.

(Maybe you’re trying too hard to be elegant in your solutions?) Nyx asks.

What the hells do you mean?

(Well,) she says, (how about a return to basics? What happens to people you Consume to death, and then keep going?)

I…

I eat their souls. They’re just gone.

(And?)

…

She’s right.

I should just eat his soul. Problem solved.

Arty has been rubbing my back while I talk with Nyx, so I take the opportunity to use the Ravages of Time in reverse on the cracked floor.

Well, at least I have a plan for the next time. Also, my home is really starting to resemble a storybook castle of a demon lord, what with all the traps all over the place. If it weren’t already a literal dungeon, I’d say it was starting to resemble one of those too.

I’ve got Rose actively making more traps of the standard variety all over the place, keyed to Dipshit’s mana signature. That should ensure none of the citizens wander into them.

N-not that I particularly care!

I’m so irritated I completely bypass the throne room and head for the baths. I desperately need to clear my head.

It’s only after a few moments that I realize that my fox wife is washing me like she always did before.

…

Something about it is calming, like it always has been.

…

…

When she finishes and motions for me to move to the bath, I instead grip her with a dozen feelers, setting her on the seat next to me, and attempt to mimic her motions to the best of my ability.

Which I’ll admit is probably pretty clumsy… I never do this.

…

But something about this is soothing too.

When I finish, I give her a pat on the back before walking past her and dropping into the water with a splash.

A moment later, she slips in next to me.

“This is how it should be. I shouldn’t have to ask you to join me. Well, not unless you don’t want to.”

My wife lets out a long sigh ending in a gravelly, “Want.”

And then she glances sideways at me.

***

Under Vivianne’s guidance, the monster citizens have been participating in hunt rotations to both provide sustenance for their towns and to raise their levels. Most of them are around level 30 now, which isn’t particularly impressive until you take into account that most of them don’t actually have combat classes – they’re bakers, smiths, crafters, farmers, merchants, administrators, and so on. Killing goblins and wolves isn’t what they’re specialized for.

Fortunately, Skills like swordsmanship and spearmanship are general Skills. Anyone can learn them with practice, and practicing they are. Once they manage to reach level 50, I’ll consider opening planar access to human outsiders.

There’s no point in having a homogenous plane, after all. It’s so boring.

Just like now.

There isn’t really much left I need to do to maintain the place, or to strengthen it.

…

Rose, have we rebuilt the forest dungeon?

One of the subcore maids promptly turns to me. “We have not. We have focused our mana expenditure on the conversion of the plane to a dungeon. Do you desire the restoration of the forest dungeon?”

Hmm.

Well, why not?

“Yes.”

“What parameters should be applied?”

“That’s… a very good question.”

And a wonderful excuse to involve my retainers in something.

***

“Why am I here again?”

I can’t say I blame Pearl for asking, I don’t really know why she’s here either.

(Because, once again, you called all your retainers. She technically counts, you know.)

Ah. Right.

“Well, haven’t you ever wanted to creatively kill humans? Or, I don’t know, at least slow them down or annoy them?”

“No, but I’d love to do all that to a certain ash monster.”

“Of course you would. Why did I even bother asking?”

“Umm,” Izzy cuts in, “I think we should focus on night and envy for the dungeon. We could spawn monsters that use mind magic to confuse challengers, maybe even turning them against each other, or fueling their avarice?”

Omorth nods. “That is a sound plan. While they are distracted, they would be easy prey for dungeon monsters.”

I nod.

The possessed sword has been filling in for the role Abaris once filled – that being taking notes on our discussion. He does it in an unexpectedly flowing hand…

In a language I can’t remotely read.

(Eldra,) Nyx says with a mental shrug.

I figured as much.

“Trap,” Arty adds. “Disorient. Ambush.”

“I like how you think. Yes, we need a lot of that. But don’t forget, we should leave some places that definitely look trapped, but actually aren’t. I want them to question their abilities. Also, some traps that don’t actually do anything… maybe have them drop dust or open a door that doesn’t have a room behind it?”

“That’s actually not half bad,” Pearl comments. “But you should add rooms or entire floors where healing magic doesn’t work too. Do you have any idea how obnoxious those are? They suck!”

“Entire floors it is!” I gleefully bark. “This is exactly what I needed, way better than just walls of monsters. I wonder if I could broadcast the events down here, maybe that would keep the damned pantheons off my back? Yeah, I doubt it, nevermind.”

“So you really are planning to invite humans here,” Izzy comments.

I nod. “Yep. Our citizens need to feed on more than goblins and wolves, the gorgons can’t reproduce without human males, we’re limited in what goods or produce we can make or grow here… it just makes sense to get those resources from other planes, and the easiest way to do that is to allow humans in. We could try to limit it to merchants, but adventurers and worse are going to sneak in one way or another. We may as well just welcome them in the front gate the normal way.”

“That’s unexpectedly well thought out for you. Are you sure that isn’t just Nyx’s plan?” Pearl jabs.

“Oh shut up. I’m not a complete idiot, though I know I can be human-stupid sometimes.”

“Most of the time,” Izzy mutters. “But that’s alright.”

I resist the urge to glance at her.

…

And instead give her a brush with Consume. She’s gotten stronger, so I don’t need to hold back nearly as much as I used to. She gasps and sags, and then blushes a deep gray.

Most of my retainers have learned to just ignore this, but I don’t miss Arty’s envy or Pearl’s anger.

…

Screw it. I give both of them a touch with it too.

“Ack! Gods, you asshole! Don’t fucking do that!” the former healer shrieks, while my fox wife… also shrieks, in a very different way.

I won’t pretend Arty’s mana isn’t delicious.

…I want more.

But not now. Right now we’re planning a dungeon.

With her quiet panting as ambience.

***

Well, we’re back into our old routine.

Izzy and I, I mean. Our nightly routine.

She’s gotten better at changing clothes with her dimensional storage. On the rare occasion that she miscalculates something, she doesn’t shriek and flail for the falling garments anymore, she just smoothly catches them and repeats the action.

There’s something satisfying about seeing her advance like this. It’s like she’s growing stronger alongside me, or slowly catching up.

I don’t mind that at all. She should be strong, and talented, and capable. And she’s already all three and getting more so every day.

I gently straighten her pajamas from behind, with my own hands instead of feelers. I’ve noticed she appreciates this more, so there’s really no reason not to.

…

I’m still not really sure why I do a lot of these little things. I know they make her happy. Maybe that’s enough?

When did I start caring about others around me being happy, or satisfied, or fulfilled?

I don’t know. I just don’t know. I’m still pretty sure I don’t, but this somehow feels right.

Although… now that I think of it, I never brought up the other night.

“Did you know that you talk in your sleep?” I ask.

“Hm? No, do I?”

I nod.

She smiles and puts her arms around me. “What kinds of things do I say?”

“Well,” I reply, “most recently you said you wanted a baby.”

My wife gasps and starts to pull away, but I wrap my own arms around her and pull her closer. “No, we need to talk about this. Not just because Nyx refuses to explain what that means. So uhh. What does that mean?”

“It… i-it means…” she stammers.

…

I tilt my head. She’s making less sense than usual…

“Reproduce,” says a voice from the corner shadows.

“Yes, thank you Arty, that’s a good start.”

Meanwhile, Izzy’s eyes shoot straight to the source of the voice before quietly saying, “Is she here every night?”

“Yep,” is all I say, and she pinches her eyes shut.

…

…

“So uh.”

“Right. Sorry,” my second first wife says. “It uh. H-humans do a thing, right? And then they reproduce. The women, they carry a… small human, inside themselves for a while, and then it comes out. Then it’s a child, and they raise it. They teach it all sorts of things, and help it get strong enough to survive the world as it gets bigger over time.”

“Huh. That doesn’t seem that complicated… I wonder why Nyx wouldn’t explain it?”

Ah, and there’s the unmistakable sound of a Nyx facepalm. Right, I should make another statue of that somewhere.

(Ass.)

“Anyway, Izzy. I was thinking about it, and… well, nightwalkers are sort of related to vampires, right?”

“Well… sort of, I think?” she says curiously. She seems relieved that we’re seemingly on a different topic now…

But we’re absolutely not.

“So, you’re undead. And I’m pretty sure you can’t do that? Reproduce I mean. You’re not human. Nightwalkers are made, not born.”

…

Izahne is silent for a moment just looking deeply into my vertically slitted eyes.

And then she quietly says with disbelief in her voice, “Oh.”