The Mook Maker

The forest was full of monsters.

 

They spilt through the forest in a tide of fur, scales, teeth and claws, some tittering saccharine, diminutive, feminine giggles, others silent, or with the quiet chant of their often repeated phrase: “For Master!”

 

The inexplicable link amongst us flared; a susurrus of thousands of whispered conversations, of which my comprehension still fell short.

 

I felt distraught by the fact I had to personally kill one of the priestesses that were sealing my girls, droplets of sticky blood still on my hands, the sensation of the crushing guilt was very quickly pushed away by the constant mental toll caused by my monsters’ sympathetic link.

 

Still, somehow, I find it reassuring - so many minds in agreement. 

 

My monsters. My girls. My people.

 

Countless voices, always excited, would echo through my mind as a small storm if I didn’t manage to push the overwhelming sensation away to perceive the world around me in a more mundane way.

 

Still, it served as a blatant reminder that their growth followed a steadily exponential curve, which, combined with their essential resurrection-based immortality, allowed them to rely on unmitigated numbers to overwhelm even the considerably stronger super-human warriors found amongst the mundane human population.

 

The more they fought, the more of them there were, but also created considerably more mouths to feed to maintain our strength. 

 

Despite the difficulties it would inevitably bring, I found myself preferring to not be without them. My survival would be next to impossible considering how hostile and belligerent the human natives are. 

 

The latest burst of growth meant our current area was practically swarming with hundreds of them, all of them giggling, chanting, or looking for something to do. The screams from the village downhill were drowned out by the noise, as our presence was no longer merely a small group separated from the main horde which was still besieging the local castle. 

 

A fireball detonated somewhere in the woods, and a few more blasts soon followed, suggesting that the wave of ‘Purifiers’ encountered something not part of our ever-growing horde, either one of the stubbornly belligerent humans or perhaps just mundane wildlife unable to flee the sudden influx of magical predators. 

 

I wasn’t sure how far we were from our original territories either - it depended on the range ‘Displacers’ teleport effectively had - so maybe there were still living animals around here, which meant more food for my freshly spawned monsters. I wouldn’t deprive my girls of a meal. 

 

Or maybe it was Tama, demolishing the shrine. That one had to go down. 

 

The selection window, still lingering at the corner of my vision, flickered furiously almost as if it wanted me to choose something to finally put an end to this, or rather demanding me to choose before it did the selecting for me. There was something wrong. 

 

The time window for the selection was rapidly closing.

 

I had to assume it was the combat that forced me to assign the skill at random - or risk everything in the process of endlessly pondering it.

 

“Select skill: Messengers of the Ever-Living Horde!” I barked out, and my words closed the deal.  I didn’t think the choice through for fear that the system would make the selection for me, barring me from the power that would change the entire dynamic that ruled our interaction with the locals.

 

The skill, whose very wording implied communication, was hard to pass and its downsides were hard to debate under the time pressure.

 

Skill “Messengers of the Ever-Living Horde lvl.1” Gained.

 

With the bland, mono-chromatic announcement replacing one prompting the choice, and the burst of the red fog erupting from the ground, a new addition to our furry horde appeared, given shape by the mist. 

 

The very first winged creature in our host!

 

Staying true to the overarching theme shared among all of my monsters, it was once again an anthropomorphic animal with an undeniable feminine shape in its humanoid body, athletic in its build, covered with brown and grey short fur. 

 

What set her apart were large and wide leathery wings in place of her normal arms, though they didn’t lack clawed fingers. 

 

She was a bat! And I thought she was beautiful, despite the realisation that my definition of beauty was very likely warped by my experiences, along with the sense of belonging with my monsters. 

 

In a departure from the actual animal which inspired her form, she actually had well-toned legs with grasping talons that would likely allow her to grab the prey, take off from the ground, as well as manipulate objects, and a long tail for balance.

 

The new addition to our furry menagerie didn’t mind me staring. Perhaps she even welcomed it. The very literal bat girl spread her wings - though the length of the part that could be dubbed as the variation to the human arm wasn’t that big on its own, her actual wingspan was quite impressive. 

 

A few of my other monsters needed to make space, and Narita stood up to not block my view while remaining very close. 

 

“Master!” The chiropteran girl breathed out.

 

I looked up at her face, finally, after taking too much time staring at the wings and body. She had unusually large and slightly rounded, twitching ears, a short cute nozzle and strikingly deep dark eyes.

 

“Sorry for staring,” I said when our eyes met.

 

“I don’t mind you looking, Master.” The bat monster answered, her voice pleasant, and sounding rather approachable, even in the short sentence she spoke. It was fitting the spokeswoman role I was thinking about, assuming she could cross the language barrier that divided us from the humans in the area. 

 

“Master! Master!” The other monsters echoed the words, and the girl rested her wings, first easing them to the ground, then crossing her arms so they would form a cloak of sorts. 

 

“I’ll name you….” I said, pausing briefly until “...Arke! I’ll need you to try communicating with humans.”  

 

Unit named! Arke, The Fleshspeaker Alpha! Skill “Messengers of the Ever-Living Horde lvl.2” Gained.

 

The reaction was immediate, with yet another message, and the outburst of blood-red fog that formed into the new group of my winged companions, all announcing their presence with the screech with their girlish voices.

 

So many - seven - even though I took only a single action. 

 

“For Master!” 

 

I blinked the message away to observe the fresh addition to our host. 

 

My other girls had to make room for them to stretch. Though the smaller version of the so-called ‘Fleshspeakers’ were merely the size of the ordinary ‘Purifier’ in body, and equally cute in appearance, their wings were much more demanding when it came to space. It would spell problems later.

 

I tried not to think about the implication their breed’s name bore.  

 

Despite the somewhat ominous undertone, there wasn’t any reason to be particularly disconcerted by it as it would likely follow the naming convention the system had for all the other kinds, although I did hesitate in naming more.

 

There was something amiss with the entire mechanism of numbers for names, even if the whole tendency where the killing was rewarded should be much more distressing. 

 

Arke herself, on the other hand, made a humming sound seemingly busy with thoughts for a short while. 

 

“Arke?” She intoned, tasting the name on her tongue.

 

“You don’t like it?” I asked, genuinely worried about what I would do if some of my girls simply disliked the way I called them. It made me frown, though it was me being disappointed with my creativity, or rather lack thereof. 

 

Can I even rename them? 

 

“Oh, it is a meaningful name!” The anthropomorphic bat answered with the expression of the realization, “I am Arke, your messenger, Master.” 

 

“Master. Master!” Her smaller siblings echoed, along with several others joining in the chant. This was starting to feel like a recurring theme. 

 

The chorus didn’t last for too long as the two ‘Eviscerators’ suddenly appeared from yet another outburst of the familiar fog, with none of those annoying overlays accompanying their arrival - it spelt trouble.

 

“For Master!” They, too, cried in their feminine voices, announcing that they fell to some unspecified enemy. Mundane ones, likely, not their ‘elites’ or ‘casters’. 

 

Their rebirth didn’t sting, not as much as the backlash from the ‘sealing’, but still agitated me. Not the voices, my little canines were adorable, but the fact those damned humans never stopped antagonising us. 

 

As much as I was focused on Arke, I entirely forgot this area wasn’t completely secure and some humans in the village were still fighting. 

 

I didn’t know for a fact how large the village was as I’d seen only parts directly visible from the road to the shrine, suggesting I may have underestimated the resistance they may have put up.

 

A boom reverberated behind me, and the stench of smoke filled the air. It was most certainly the shrine uphill going up in flames. 

 

“Miwah? Direct all of your new sisters to pacify all the humans in the area. And all the Purifiers too.” I ordered, “Now, please.” 

 

I leaned backwards at my werewolf companion. She was still behind me, faithful as ever, her silky-furred arms held me. It dulled my outburst somewhat. 

 

“Yes, Master!” Miwah replied, and the hundreds of voices echoed the response in unison.

 

“For Master!” 

 

With a new outburst of blood, the ruby fog gave birth to a ‘Purifier’ and then, it seemed to be over, with several new fireball blasts ending the threat before it managed to draw closer. 

 

Narita still carefully inspected me, needlessly worried, since it wasn’t me who was in the line of fire as the host of canine and vulpine monsters rushed into the village down the hill, while I got up back on my feet. 

 

There was no point in sitting on the road, even if my girls were doing all the work. 

 

I decided to head down the hill, towards the settlement.

 

My first thought, and intention, was simply to wait and witness the effects of the ‘Fleshspeakers’ on my own eyes, allowing me to stop the process should it be immediately deadly to humans in an attempt to prevent unnecessary casualties. Test it on those who were freshly healed, or at least already subdued, or those too hostile where the fight to the death would be inevitable.

 

Anything reasonably justifiable. 

 

It was a fatal mistake. 

 

Skill “Slayer of Men” Lvl. 30” gained.

 

The system message blinked and our monster-birthing fog brought new ‘Eviscerators’ into the fold. 

 

More blasts echoed in the distance. 

 

“Arke. Go and tell the humans to stop fighting.” I ordered, without even thinking whether the simple communication would even work this way - I didn’t know for certain what the bat’s power did, but it wouldn’t matter. The more natives would perish in the fight, one way or another. 

 

“Yes, Master.” Freshly named Arke confirmed before I could doubt myself. 

 

Other monsters made way as my anthropomorphic bats took flight. 

 

Interestingly enough, they were able to launch themselves into the air from a standing position, though it took an effort through a mighty sweep of their wings, while the animals which inspired them required the falling momentum to do so.

 

This wasn’t the time to marvel at that. 

 

I looked around as my flying monsters made a circle in the air and headed towards the village, then continued. 

 

They shrieked, as I lost sight of them.

 

“Tell Sora to get Ari here.” I ordered, “If Arke’s powers don’t work, she will do the talking.” 

 

“Yes, Master.” 

 

As absurd as the idea of the translator who could only talk to the enemy was, there was no other alternative should Arke’s effort fail. 

 

This village would have to go down either way, as I sensed that my hunt for the priestesses might set something in motion I wasn’t able to backtrack on anymore. 

 

Shrieks continued, though no more monsters were spawned, suggesting no further casualties on either side, though I rather wouldn’t think about how much blood was spilt in order for the level to rise - it wasn’t one-to-one.

 

I rushed downhill, the passing moments allowing me to debate my decision. 

 

There were certainly safer choices compared to the one I’d made.  As far I recalled, though their associated elements overlapped with what I had - whether it was the possibility of the magic distorting woods or tunnelers that would allow us to go under the enemy’s walls.

 

One thing was certain though, there was, however, no point in water-associated powers - I was reasonably certain we were too far inland, but as far as other powers were involved, I couldn’t ever be certain.

 

I was hoping that passing on the better version of the ‘Corruptors’ or the supposedly trivialised mining didn’t completely ruin everything, which made me nearly desire the next skill, the next breed of monsters, so we could settle down. Then I realised what I would have to do to achieve that. 

 

Yet, that was for the future. 

 

My bet was completely on the ability to negotiate with the humans, albeit the realisation that messenger wasn’t synonymous with translator also crept into my mind, making me question the choice

 

There was no point in doing so, as now I would have to live with it. I pressed on. 

 

When we finally left the forested area, the village was revealed to be larger than I anticipated. 

 

Twice, perhaps even triple in size of the previous settlements we had encountered, or even more, with many more houses in slightly better shape if it wasn’t for the fighting. Many buildings, sturdier in construction, with better roofs, bore the marks of the monsters barging through the barred doors.

 

There were a few cries, drowning in the ruckus my horde made while they combed through the village. Perhaps I could even refer to it as a town, even if there weren’t any walls per se. 

 

Shouts in the human’s native tongue were still noticeable among the chaos but were immediately silenced by a shriek, and the laments were no more. 

 

My girls were everywhere, with the ‘Eviscerators’ and ‘Purifiers’ overrunning the local inhabitants, and the rest catching up to us. 

 

There were also a lot of dead bodies, humans, torn or burnt, and the stench of scorched flesh filled the air. The village square awash in blood marked the spot where the ‘Ravagers’ entered the fray. 

 

The scene would have filled me with regret, but there was an immediate and unexpected distraction. 

 

I caught a glimpse of Kuma attempting to pick up the golden-headed staff that once belonged to the local priestess. At least, I thought it was one, I’ve previously only seen it from a distance. I was immediately stricken by a sudden, yet brief migraine, almost as the item refused to be wielded by any of us. It was unpleasant. 

 

The whispers, previously silenced and pushed to the background, protested. 

 

 It ended when Kuma dropped the staff. 

 

The ‘Defilers’ spent some of the nearby trees’ life force to make us feel slightly better. 

 

“Kuma! Don’t touch that!” I said quickly before the obviously enchanted item gave us an aneurysm, or something equally unpleasant, or even fatal. I still had no idea what rules governed the local magic, as even if absorbing the armour made my ursine stronger, it was apparent that the effect may not always be so beneficial.

 

The brief, passing pain which stung through the telepathic link caused me to forget the carnage that transpired for me to arrive at this point.

 

Still, if there was quite a literal magical stave lying around, it should not ever fall back in the hands of the natives, especially if it somehow augmented the casters’ abilities. The original owner of this item was able to cause quite a few problems. 

 

“Try to push the staff with sticks, or something similar, to avoid touching it directly …” I offered quickly, “If not we will melt it using Tama’s power.” 

 

The nearby ‘Defiler’ indeed tried that with the spear, catching the item by the golden loop that crowned the stave, and pushing it away carefully.

 

At least, I thought briefly, but soon something different caught my attention.

 

One of my new monsters, a bat girl, perched on a still-struggling human on the ground. 

 

Before I said anything, the chiropteran monster stepped away, and the human body twitched and moved. I watched as the limbs twisted in unnatural angles as the muscles bubbled, working together in forcing the human to stand up upright once again, only to remain motionless with an absent-minded gaze.

 

The ‘Fleshspeaker’ nodded in satisfaction and hopped to sink her talons into another corpse. 

 

At this point, I realised that not all corpses were, in fact, dead, but some were still living people merely paralyzed in some form of shock, their bodies twitching, entirely defenceless until the bat monsters had a chance to work their magical powers through their claws. 

 

Maybe it was how their magic worked. 

 

I started to silently bemoan my choice but still decided to approach. 

 

Soon, another human was affected by whatever ability the ‘Fleshspeakers’ actually had, and forced upright, the eyes once again glassed over, while the bat girl seemed quite tired, hunching down with her wings lowered. 

 

Despite the bulging, blackening veins and the entirely soulless gaze, the human seemed to still be alive as he breathed steadily while his body seemed to be completely hijacked by whatever ability my newest follower had. 

 

I was genuinely shocked when both men spoke in unison: 

 

“Tired, Master!” 

 

Not in their language, but ours! 

 

Two humans, normally unremarkable, in their dull grey farmer clothes, and vaguely Asian features, would be lost in the countless other humans that kept assaulting us, were now giving the impression of the puppets controlled by the disembodied force turning off unnecessary functions.

 

I looked at them, and the bat girl - she was using them as mouthpieces. 

 

“Tired. At the limit! Master! Can’t do three!” The men repeated, their expression forced as something unseen was seizing control of their own muscles, making me unsure whether anything remained beneath. 

 

It was unnerving, but still, the lingering sensation in the back of my brain made me feel sorry for the bat monsters that overextended her power. 

 

“Narita!” I called, “Try to find something to infuse her with some life energy. Quickly. Any plant nearby or animal nearby, but not the humans.” 

 

I gestured towards the ‘Fleshspeaker’ and her two… puppets - now painfully aware of what the system meant by its undoubtedly sinister naming scheme. 

 

There was an opportunity to question and regret my selection, though considering the situation we were in, was there any skill that wouldn’t make our grave situation worse? 

 

“For Master!” The chiropteran happy chirp interrupted my thoughts, this time speaking through their own voice instead of the two puppets. The infusion of life energy made her better, proving the ‘Defilers’ were irreplaceable to the whole ecosystem, and reminded me how underappreciated Narita’s work was. 

 

The ‘Corruptors’ started providing new greenery to consume already, and the cadavers were devoured by the rapidly spreading vegetation, leaving me with only one problem to address - the prisoners. 

 

I was about to object to simply mind-controlling the humans but stopped myself. 

 

My precious bats didn’t deserve that treatment, they did exactly what I asked them to, to the best of their abilities. 

 

“Can you…” I directed my question towards the ‘Fleshspeaker’ suppressing the desire to name her to ease the communication: “Can you make them speak the local tongue?” 

 

The monster girl frowned, and for the moment she almost looked like she sifted through some unseen manual, then made her two puppets release a torrent of words which I didn’t understand. 

 

The chance this could be theoretically used as a form of translation or would sound gibberish to the native ears was equally high. There were no guarantees, as always. 

 

“What happens if you won’t directly control them?” I asked instead.

 

The two humans fell to the ground, then gathered themselves up again and shambled away entirely ignoring the collection of my monsters, seemingly apathetic to everything around them.  

 

“For Master!” The nameless ‘Fleshspeaker’ said in response, proudly spreading her wings and sticking her chest out. 

 

“So they will not attack us anymore because you made… permanent changes?” 

 

“For Master!” She confirmed and I had no strength to berate her for that. Stopping humans from attacking us was precisely what I wanted, and it was what I got. At least technically, and back then I couldn’t comprehend or predict the true nature of the skill that referred to itself as ‘Messenger’. Although, it was obvious in hindsight. 

 

I looked around, trying to set my mind on something different, though I couldn’t help but feel somewhat depressed for not foreseeing the apparent mechanic.

 

“Excellent job.” I said, deciding that my girls weren’t to blame: “Where are the other prisoners?” 

 

“For Master!” The bat girl said, obviously happy with praise. She directed me some further away. 

 

“Thank you.” 

 

I briefly glanced at my other monsters who were getting themselves reequipped, or busied themselves with securing the village, or even giving the place a slight rework considering the extent of the ‘Corruptors’ powers. 

 

Then, with Narita and Miwah in tow, I headed towards the spot where my monsters rounded the prisoners, hoping that at least some of them were able to survive the ordeal without being turned into the psionically controlled husks. 

 

A feminine voice, excitedly speaking in the local tongue I still couldn’t grasp, convinced me that there were still clearly natives not under the ‘Fleshspeaker’ spell.

 

There were quite a few of them, still.

 

Confused, terrified, or crying, with all the anger and aggression notably absent among the crowd, and for the first time there didn’t seem to be anyone attempting to struggle or fight against the odds.

 

I suspected those who did were reduced to the nearly catatonic dolls of flesh and bone by Arke. There were quite a few of those too, I noticed, among the humans my monsters gathered, sitting, idle, awaiting instructions. 

 

It made me feel rather bad. 

 

There was only a human seemingly unphased by the events - Ari. 

 

The crazy girl, and the only friendly native we encountered, wasn’t seriously bothered by the fact she was dragged through the spatial rift that killed the ordinary humans. She thanked the ‘Displacer’ that pulled her through the portal with a graceful curtsy and then gave a much deeper, and more respectful bow to Arke.

 

She said something on her tongue I didn’t understand, followed by the only sentence she was able to parrot: “For Master.” 

 

The ‘Fleshspeaker Alpha’ touched the girl with the clawed hand that was part of the chiropteran arm, and the only friendly human briefly experienced the same thing the other villagers did. Blackening veins were a telling sign. 

 

However, before I could say anything in protest against endangering the only friendly, even if slightly insane, human we had among ourselves, the effect ceased and Ari was, once again, fine. 

 

The crazy girl said something in her language which was equally incomprehensible to me as the moments before, but this time, I believe I caught Arke’s name, and then she rose up to her feet, seemingly no worse for wear. 

 

Then she noticed me, and once again lowered herself down in the proper obeisance, not showing the single sign of being actively controlled by Arke or the other bat kin. 

 

Only discernible words from our slightly insane human were once again “For Master”, with others still in her native tongue. 

 

“She says she thanks your blessing, Master.” Arke translated, “She feels much stronger.” 

 

“Blessing?” I replied, confused, and I added in surprise: “You understand her?” 

 

It made me pause. 

 

“Yes, Master,” Arke confirmed. 

 

“So you can speak the local language?” I asked, even more baffled. 

 

“No, Master. I sense her as I do my sisters.” Arke shook her head and took a much more comfortable stance by folding her wings. Ari, on the other hand, remained with her sight lowered.

 

Somewhere, in the crowd of sitting, or kneeling humans, someone cried out, only to be silenced by a shriek from one of my bat monsters which sent the protesting villagers down in the seizure. 

 

It failed to register to me behind that, as my thoughts quickly shifted to something seemingly more important.  

 

“But you can’t …” I said, but I stopped myself, as the realization hit me. Ari was, unlike the natives, consistently immune to all the negative effects of the power, so even if the ‘Fleshspeakers’ turned the normal humans into the vegetative stance the crazy girl wouldn’t probably feel a thing. 

 

“She doesn’t feel any pain?” I wanted to confirm, “Oh, and she doesn’t have to bow to me.” 

 

Ari replied, though still kept her head down for a while before she rose up. She still didn’t speak our language but seemingly reacted to my words as they were technically addressed to her - at least, the girl didn’t seem that lost by it. If anything, I would read her as shy and polite. 

 

“No. She is grateful.” Arke translated, while I remained somewhat perplexed by the situation. 

 

I wasn’t prepared for it. In fact, the realisation that the ‘Fleshspeaker’ weren’t, as the name of the breed suggested, a real translator, made me unprepared for a situation where someone did understand me. I was about to resign on the chance that it would work. 

 

There were perhaps about a million things I could ask Ari right now. I couldn’t think of any. 

 

The momentary uncertainty was interrupted by Tama.

 

“We found you something you looked for, Master!” 

 

I turned around. Tama, accompanied by the few ordinary ‘Purifiers’ struggled with the ornery wooden chest, only to drop it down, its content spilling on the ground. 

 

Papers, both clean and covered with writing, were scattered around. 

 

After previously finding nothing more than the scratches in the bamboo, and having to resign in the messages that were nothing more than the slightly better pictograms burned into the wood planks, it was surprising that they were papers and likely ink. Nevertheless, it was logical that the chance of finding the more expensive materials rose with the size and wealth of the town. 

 

My depression about the inability to communicate, and the incompetence to turn the tides, were suddenly cast away, making me for the first time think that the unfortunate fate had turned the page.

 

Without thinking, I turned towards the single human who wasn’t completely hostile to us and asked: 

 

“Ari? Can you read and write?”