The Mook Maker

It was almost too easy. 

 

Unlike her colleagues, dead-set to antagonise us with fanatical fervour, the young girl draped in the typical ‘caster’ outfit didn’t put up any fight.

 

She didn’t try to cast their trademark spell at all.

 

Instead, she tried to turn and run, only to be inevitably trampled by my monsters which quickly caught up to her.

 

The ‘Ravagers’ were surprisingly fast, especially considering their hulking, bulky figures, and didn’t hesitate even a single second to maul the girl to death and end the threat she may have possessed with ferocity exceeding my expectations. 

 

Witnessing this gave me a sliver of doubt in my decision, thought that she may be in fact the innocent bystander without the power of her own flashed through my head, but the overlay notification quickly dismissed my mistrust, easing my consciousness with the unsettling ease.

 

Major Enemy was killed. Three more to advance the General level. Skill “Slayer of Champions lvl. 13” gained.

 

Red fog once again blessed me with more ursine ladies to add to our ever-growing host, but my attention was elsewhere.

 

I didn’t know who those uniquely dressed female spellcasters were, but the power behind my strange notification was certain this now-dead girl earned her robes of office and deserved her violent demise. 

 

As finicky as the system-like notification was, unreliable with its ability to handle the calculations, and almost purposefully obstructive in the way of not providing an explanation, it never failed in one accord - a person labelled as ‘Major Enemy’ had some supernatural power. 

 

I wasn’t able to tell what that ability was, and where it scaled compared to others we encountered, but it was always there, always dangerous. While I had to admit there was certainly something vengeful about that feeling, it was also a form of preventive action. 

 

All ‘casters’ represented a tangible threat, only diminished by the fact they didn’t seem to assemble any large, well-organized force against us yet. This world may have a population of relatively mundane, albeit extremely hostile, humans, but their super-powered ‘elites’ and magically inclined ‘caster’ were clearly in a different league.  

 

We wouldn’t have a chance if they assembled a larger team capable of supporting each other with their largely unique abilities. 

 

If the largest group of five ‘elites’ we had encountered so far had an equal number of their ‘caster’ equivalents, they would have won over our larger horde, easily dominating even over thousands of our kind. 

 

They could easily do it - at least, in theory, they had the numbers if I did the math. 

 

There were enough of them, I did encounter at least five different ‘casters already, with the distance as the main dividing factor since they were just scattered across their land. I assumed that the only thing that prevented them from striking against us by force was the lack of organisation, proper strategy, or communication, but not the lack of numbers.

 

This would, however, change. Should that woman escape, she would inevitably join forces with more similarly gifted individuals.

 

A passing sense of guilt was immediately replaced by worry. 

 

If all of those robed women indeed had magical powers, what made a village, or any other group of natives for what mattered, entitled to have one around while others had none? 

 

Why were there two sometimes? 

 

Could there be even more?

 

Could they be here? 

 

I scanned my surroundings. The forest, the small hill, and the village under us were still embroiled in chaos since my monsters descended on it, screams carried by the breeze among the treetops.

 

Any sense of compunction I would, or should, have over the death of the human was instantly overpowered by the concern for the safety of my girls should I ever allow any of those female spellcasters to run free, or worse, team up to cause even more suffering to my companions.

 

I watched how one of the anthropomorphic bears picked up the dismembered body and tossed it away, with ease that matched the absolute lack of care, almost like she didn’t want to have the remains of a disgusting human stain my path. 

 

She certainly did make the expression, even if she didn’t speak. 

 

And somehow, I agreed, but it wasn’t about the humans themselves, it was about the threat they represented to us as long as they refused to cease the hostilities. Sadly, appealing to reason wasn’t an option.

 

If they weren’t willing to talk, I had to terrify them into submission instead. 

 

“Could you please gather the bodies of those robed women, and have Sora open the portal above the castle, then toss the corpses through,” I said, hoping it would discourage the more mundane human population from aiding their more supernaturally gifted individuals.

 

“Yes, Master!” My werewolf answered, her gaze absently fixed somewhere on the horizon while focused on distributing my orders. 

 

I looked around, my thoughts once again returning to the idea of the more ‘casters’ hiding in the surrounding lands, and the necessity of eradicating their presence before they could threaten my girls with their magic. 

 

It has become more and more difficult to think about my monsters as anything else than my people, my girls, while the empathy towards the humans gradually slipped from my grasp with alarming ease. 

 

Although merely five days passed, I became incredibly alienated from the memories of Earth, of my past life, while growing accustomed to the constant presence of my furry menagerie and the subtle feedback from their telepathic link slipping into my mind through the cracks of the system. 

 

I shook my head and forced myself to leave the contemplation about my own nature for later.  Right now, I had a battle to win, and ‘casters’ to burn. 

 

“We will continue uphill.” I declared, gesturing in the direction the last robed woman came from, quickly adding, “Try to bring about a hundred Purifiers to the village and have them sweep it for more of those casters.” 

 

“Yes, Master,” Tama answered, taking a turn in acting as the intermediary between me and the rest of the horde. Briefly, I considered insisting that I should have Sora, or one of her named aides, at my side at all times, but I left that be. Even if ‘Displacer Alpha’ had the authority to command the other ‘Displacers’ all of my creatures shared the same link allowing instantaneous communications. It felt somewhat bureaucratic but it didn’t delay us that much. 

 

Reorganisation needed to be done later; this was neither the time nor the place. 

 

I set out, surrounded by the crowd of my monsters, my girls, while still submerged in thought about how to approach the situation with the moderate tactical acumen I didn’t really have. 

 

It occurred to me that the powers of those women worked either in a cone area of effect or on a single target, while their invisible shield barrier was a completely out-of-context problem that covered a much larger space. While I didn’t know how to counter the shield itself, there were limited measures that could be taken against the ‘sealing’.

 

“Keep spacing between each other. If they hit one of you with the seal, burn everything to bring the caster down. And do it faster before they get to their barrier spell, whatever it is.” 

 

I wasn’t quite confident in this kind of tactic, however, I couldn’t think of a better counter to their most dangerous ability other than simply spreading the search parties as if I expected an explosive thrown in their midsts. 

 

At least, I assumed it was the way since I didn’t have any military training to speak of. 

 

I hesitated. Tama, however, approved with an approving smirk: “Yes, Master. They won’t seal all of us in a single strike.”

 

I nodded, but even if my logic worked flawlessly - which it rarely did - we needed to make much more effort.

 

Directing my sight towards Miwah, I said: “Your sisters are advanced scouts. You try to search the woods. I want to know why some places would have more casters. If you find anything, inform others.” 

 

“Yes, Master,” my beautiful werewolf acknowledged. 

 

“Be careful,” I added, “I don’t want more of our girls sealed away.” 

 

Miwah nodded, and the smaller ‘Eviscerators’ still hanging around us since their release from the spell chirped in cheerfully: 

 

“For Master!” 

 

I looked at one of the ‘Ravagers’ staring at me as I passed. Her bear-like snout did take a more pleasant expression when dealing with me, almost as if she enjoyed the attention. I was, however, going to task some of them with something they didn’t like doing.

 

“Would you please tell Kuma and your sisters to round all the non-combatants still in the village and shove them to a single house as a temporary prison?” 

 

“For Master!” She acknowledged the order immediately, without hesitation. 

 

“Thank you,” I said again and continued uphill, still under the protection of the large group of my companions, while submerged in thoughts.

 

While separating the non-combatants from the rest seemed like a reasonable step on the surface, it was unlikely going to do anything that reduced the number of people wandering the area. Considering the belligerent nature of the natives, along with their tendency to attack us on sight ensuring the constant cycle of violence once my girls responded to the attack, I doubted there would be any resemblance of respect from the prisoners.

 

I, however, felt entirely resigned to maintaining any semblance of peace through any reasonable method.

 

Eventually, those prisoners would be released to carry the word to the other villagers, hopefully dissuading locals from fighting or at least spreading panic we could exploit, or they could, in fact, raise even larger resistance.

 

There was no way to predict what would happen, though the chance that the more ordinary human soldiers would abandon their magically gifted betters was worth some risk - after all, it would have seemed that even the best ‘casters’ didn’t fare well without the armed escorts to keep the aggressive attackers off their hide.

 

Swaying the natives over to my side would be a better outcome, but I didn’t quite know how to do it. 

 

I wasn’t entirely certain what particular brand of insanity made the only friendly human, Ari, into what she was, but perhaps there was still a chance to find more like her willing to change their ways. 

 

This, however, led me to the other problem - appearing beneficial. I sighed. 

 

“Narita? Could your sisters try to heal any wounded humans, please?” I asked, “And have the ‘Corruptors’ produce the fuel so the surroundings stay alive for now.” 

 

This was hardly any mercy, considering the painful side effect of our healing powers on humans, but for those already mortally wounded in great pain, it would hardly make any difference. I had my doubts they would appreciate it, but it was better than nothing. 

 

More importantly, rather than seeking gratitude, it gave us a chance to find others immune to the side effects. I didn’t know what odd genetic mutation caused it, and how to spot the people, but attempting to heal the wounded and failing seemed better than subjecting the healthy population to ‘Displacer’ portals or toxic plants. 

 

Humans without allergic reactions to our unique powers ought to be more approachable. 

 

I looked at my rat-like healer, and she returned the gaze, suddenly comprehending.

 

“Yes-yes. Master!” Narita answered with a nod. 

 

She didn’t show any sign of protest against the task either, but I knew she wasn’t particularly excited about interacting with the humans all of my girls despised. Still, despite the fact ‘Alphas’ were more than capable of voicing their displeasure, she didn’t show anything. 

 

“Keep an eye out for humans that don’t show side effects,” I said, 

 

They would, potentially, become our willing allies even, especially if there weren’t any other sources of healing. 

 

“Yes-yes, Master! Already on it. Find human-things. Ones that don’t experience pain when healed!” She spat out, seemingly aware of my own thoughts. 

 

“Just keep the healed apart from the other prisoners, so they don’t attack each other,” I amended, recalling my previous mistakes. I shouldn’t let the humans turn their aggression on those we healed. 

 

“Yes-yes, Master!” Narita agreed. 

 

“Thank you all. I’ll make it up to you somehow to put up dealing with humans.” I added immediately, knowing my girls’ general disposition. 

 

“Yes-yes, Master!” Narita answered it as the only one, excitement in the rat girl’s ruby eyes, almost like she was going to enjoy the experiment. I let her be. 

 

I looked away from her and uphill, wondering where the path lead. It, I assume, wasn’t a road to Maiville, though isolated from the recognisable landmarks there was no way to tell.

 

“There is a shrine uphill, Master.” Miwah suddenly reported, “We dealt with the guards.” 

 

“A shrine?” I wondered but continued further without a word, assured that the path was safe. Still, many of my monsters swarmed around. 

 

Indeed, after the next curve of the road, obscured by the trees, was indeed a small grouping of buildings surrounded by the low fence decorated by fluttering ribbons. There was a disproportionately large, wooden roofed archway to welcome the visitors too, covered with carvings in the local script I wasn’t able to read. 

 

Even though the local buildings did universally have some passing resemblance to Eastern Asian architecture, the gateways associated with their shrines were relatively dissimilar to the ones found in either China or Japan, to the point they could be easily mistaken for the entrance to some villa.

 

 In fact, I was certain that not all local shrines were supposed to have gates like this. 

 

The one in Maiville did not, for example, have an area like this, and the pagoda in the hills didn’t have a fence. 

 

What dispelled the notion of the private home, and identified the building as the place of worship, was what lay behind the gate. 

 

Overlooking the small, flagged courtyard was a giant statue of the Asian-styled dragon, painted in rich red colours, not dissimilar to those I’d seen elsewhere, though larger in size, complete with the intricately carved altar overloaded with various offerings and burning incense. 

 

Perched on its stone pedestal under the wide, hip-and-gable roof, it looked almost like the red dragon, protected from the elements in his luxurious seating, overlooked the gathering of the potential petitioners beneath, his expression felt almost arrogant and uncaring, even as a couple of temple guardians lay in the puddle of blood in front of him torn by my ‘Eviscerators’. 

 

I was overcome by a strange impression.

 

My small werewolves waved to me. There didn’t seem to be a barrier here either. 

 

I made a few steps into the shrine area, gesturing for my companions to check the houses to the right and left, while I faced the sculpture. 

 

There was something strange and foreboding about the statue, as the painted eyes of the dragon carvings stared at me with imagined contempt. There was something wrong - I wasn’t entirely certain what that something was - but it was here. 

 

Nothing moved. 

 

No one spoke. 

 

I kept staring at the dragon idol. 

 

It, of course, did not move.

 

Yet, there was something deeply broken with this place, something unpleasant, even hostile. A sensation. A strange, indescribable sentiment of wrongness hangs in the air, seeping into my very bone, creeping into the sympathetic link between my monsters and myself.

 

We rejected it. I could sense it, the whispers in my mind - this place hated us, and we hated it in return. 

 

Miwah snarled. 

 

So did Tama and Narita, they too were set off by the strange, invisible aura of this place. 

 

It reminded me of something. 

 

Whispers murmured, almost like these very grounds inspired some undefined, primal sense in us. 

 

At first, I couldn’t place it, or formulate what it was, but then it occurred to me - I remembered the woman we had once met in the looted pagoda, trapped by bandits, and a strange, indescribable, yet very real sensation that flooded me even by standing in her very proximity. 

 

I hadn’t realised it back then, but it did feel as if it was the very antithesis of me. 

 

This time, it wasn’t coming from the person and was much stronger.

 

It wasn’t coming from the statue either. 

 

The area, perhaps, the paved courtyard we stood in, emitted by the very stones.

 

Something moved, in the building attached to the statue’s cover, though entirely captivated by the strange sensation I paid it no mind, as I contemplated my past experiences.

 

Staring at the carving, and it was almost as if I was missing something quite very obvious.

 

“Those casters…” I said, addressing the statue against all common sense: “The women in the white and red robes, they aren’t sorceresses, are they? They are your clergy, aren’t they?” 

 

There was no reply -  regardless of whether the creature depicted in this carving existed or not, I was still looking at the mere interpretation created by the local craftsman, and not an actual living, breathing dragon. 

 

Still, it didn’t actually prevent me from continuing the monologue, and my girls didn’t show any concern regarding my behaviour.

 

Though perfectly aware this wasn’t quite the behaviour I would consider appropriate, or sane for what mattered, I still felt this very place somehow beckoned me to speak, entirely fascinated by this presence it dwelled within. 

 

Although I couldn’t deny the supernatural forces in work, I was neither impressed nor humbled. I, somehow, couldn’t. It was annoying, offending even. 

 

“Let my little people go, Dragon,” I emphasised, “They are not yours to seal.” 

 

There was, once again, no response, the sculpture couldn’t talk. 

 

But then, there was a small trace of movement, which finally made me jerk in surprise.

 

And then, there was a gleam in our surroundings, and with it, came the pain.

 

As sudden as the flash of lightning from the clear sky, an indescribable agony tearing at the very fabric of my own soul brought me down to my knees.

 

My entire retinue disappeared, disintegrated in the wind, and their equipment fell down to the stone floor with thuds and clangs, leaving me alone on the shrine grounds.

 

It hurt. 

 

68 unit sealed until the caster is dead.

 

My power taunted me, and I mentally grieved all my girls disconnected from the warm embrace of our telepathically connected minds. 

 

Miwah was gone. Tama was gone. Narita, and the others…

 

My monsters. My girls!

 

It hurt.

 

However, with all that pain came hatred. Pure, undiluted hatred towards the force behind the act. 

 

From behind the statue, a figure appeared. 

 

There was nothing inherently special about her.

 

A white and red robe, decorated with intricate, colourful embroidery, cautiously approached me, my body still shaking from the feedback. 

 

She was a young human woman, with long black hair and dark eyes, a trait so typical among the locals. There was no foreboding aura, no extravagant appearance discounting the uniform outfit, her expression somewhat mousy almost as if she didn’t quite believe she caught us in this trap. 

 

The sight of her filled me with disgust. 

 

Another ‘caster’ - another Priestess - how could we miss this one? 

 

It could be merely a couple of meters, my ‘Eviscerators’ should have found her before we even arrived.

 

She came closer, unsure of what to do, and looked around and behind almost as if she were looking for guidance from the powers of the heavens. Yet the statue of the dragon, presumably portraying the local deity, didn’t speak to her either.

 

It left her puzzled. 

 

I growled, seized the painful twinge, and forced myself to look around, looking for something - anything - to strike. My blood was boiling. 

 

A polearm, once Narita’s, was discarded on the ground.

 

I felt my blood moiling and the whispers from the remaining members of our furry horde echoed in my brain filled with unparalleled annoyance, yet the rifts they tried to open fizzled out, cancelled by the very air that surrounded it. 

 

This place was a trap. 

 

“Give me my girls back, or I will send you to the gods you pray to,” I growled, unsure of where the words came from, and the voices echoed it.

 

The ‘caster’ - no, the priestess - spoke in her native tongue. 

 

I didn’t have any idea what it meant, but I was certain I didn’t like the answer. 

 

Grabbing the weapon and swinging it impotently, missing the robed woman by a large margin did nothing, although she did seem shocked. 

 

The priestess made a step backwards, while I used the polearm to stand up on uncertain legs. 

 

Her eyes widened, and she tried to make some sweeping motions with her hands, unlikely random, yet visibly hastened, her lips uttering something in their native tongue. She was trying to cast. 

 

More portals fizzled up, failing to connect, disrupted by the grounds I stood on. 

 

I held the polearm with both hands and charged the priestess.

 

Rage overtook me. 

 

A tug of force tried to stop me, yet I ran it through, driving the weapon into the priestess with all the momentum behind the charge, pushing it further.

 

The body fell on the altar.

 

Major Enemy was killed. Two more to advance the General level.

 

The eyes of the priestess stared at me, draining of life, blood dripping from her body on the altar, while the foreboding, hostile feeling of the place faded with each droplet. 

 

It was nauseating and distressing. 

 

The eruption of the ruby fog returning my girls to me was however not enough. 

 

My girls respawned, and my mates returned, as the magic of this place faded. 

 

Yet, despite the revulsion and the shock, there was still something within me that simply refused to give up, overpowering the last parts of my compassionate soul in a single moment of pure hatred. 

 

My wrath sparked once again, as I withdrew the weapon stuck within the body only to slash with it, against and again, gore splashing everywhere. 

 

Then, still, in a frenzied state, with the swing, I threw the weapon against the statue of the dragon. The polearm wasn’t quite designed for throwing, but the large object in front of me wasn’t hard to hit. 

 

It chipped part of the idol and left the taint of the blood behind, and with it, a sudden shockwave of energy swept the area. 

 

Blood of the blessed spilt upon the altar of the divine!  Expansion requirement waived. We are rushing towards the end of days! Dual Elements Unlocked. Level 7 achieved. Unit cap doubles.

 

Then everything was swallowed by the thick ruby mist, erupting seemingly out of nowhere, a storm of blood-red clouds. 

 

“For Master!” 

 

The pall of smoke subsided, as more and more of my monsters kept materialising. 

 

It gave me strange satisfactions, so many creatures, all of them beautiful, all of them mine. 

 

The rejecting, hostile energy of this place was gone, replaced by the warm, loving humm of the horde, as a thousand voices chanted in unison. 

 

“For Master!” 

 

I breathed in relief.

 

“For Master! For Master!” 

 

It was intoxicating, almost as if I fulfilled the great purpose by bringing more of my followers into this world. 

 

Then, all of a sudden, an otherworldly announcement ripped the air, a voice, overpowered and imposing, cutting short the sense of fulfilment.

 

“Don’t test my patience, Root! This realm is not for you and your spawn!” it bellowed, “We rejected you aeons ago!” 

 

Shocking would be an understatement. 

 

I didn’t know what to say. It was the first line spoken in the language I understood that didn’t come from me, or my girls, in a situation I wasn’t able to predict, or fully comprehend. Yet, somehow, I wasn’t impressed, and strangely enough, it didn’t make me speechless.

 

It felt… outraging.

 

A thousand voices rose in the opposition.

 

I looked around, scanning the massive crowd, then directed my attention towards the dragon statue, and the only thing I could think about was the pain it caused through every ‘sealing’ and every voice it silenced. 

 

“If I find any of my people sealed, I’ll kill every last of your followers, and burn every last of your shrines to the ground,” I answered without thinking.

 

There was no reply and no retaliation.

 

Only the approving hum of my monsters.

 

“Very well then.” 

 

I looked at the crowd of my monsters, my girls, my people, feeling fulfilled for some reason. 

 

“Tama, burn this place to the ground.” I waved towards the statue, and without further words, promptly left the temple ground. 

 

It was on the road downhill when the implication of what just transpired truly struck me, and left me tumbling to the ground. 

 

I sat on the dirt road, staring at my shaking hands still tainted with blood.

 

Even facing the thunderous voice of the dragon that the locals supposedly worshipped, I never truly considered wishing for the path home, even if such was my desire literally a mere days ago feeling lost and confused. 

 

Now, it was different. I, in fact, wasn’t sure if the Earth was ever home, to begin with. 

 

I was alone.

 

Then, the warm, furry arms of Miwah held me in a tight embrace, and Narita crouched in front of me, gently touching my face with her clawed hands. The red eyes of an anthropomorphic rat shone with warm affection, as the surroundings flowed into me filling me with boundless energy. 

 

Somewhere behind me, an explosion boomed as the shrine was engulfed in Tama’s flames, and the endless horde of fur, scales and claws spilt over the forest, their voices singing in perfect unison.

 

“Our home is where you are, Master.” My werewolf made whispered into my ear

 

I didn’t protest.

 

My home was where my monsters - my people - were, and I was going to make even more of them, almost as if it was going to fill the displaced, confused part of my psyche with something meaningful, other than the memories of the old life somewhere on Earth, so distant and alien now after the few days of madness. 

 

There was no going back.

 

My eyes wandered off and I spoke in a soft tone:

 

“Select skill…” 

 

My words were answered almost enthusiastically as yet another of those pointlessly confusing and sinister notifications appeared, revelling in the cryptic message I could merely speculate on. 

 

Yet there were more important things to worry about right now - I gazed at the monochromatic window and pushed all my fear, anger and confusion away to puzzle out the next selection. 

Select your seventh element
Skill: “Chaos In the Depths”	Element: Fire / Water
Skill: “Viridian Dominions Unbound”	Element: Wood / Arcane
Skill: “Tyrant of the Realm Beneath”	Element: Steel / Stone
Skill: “Messengers of the Ever-Living Horde”	Element: Mind / Flesh
Skill: “The Coils of the Void Beyond”	Element: Space / Force

 

My monsters - my people - must grow.