The Warden of Earth, now retired, the Light of The Empire, The President for Life, Aldus Divine, once again replayed the footage of Ben’s party clearing the Citadel of Horrors.
It shouldn’t have happened. A level nothing, broken classed [Prince] with a party in which most of its members didn’t have any levels, along with a group of rich-kid iron ranks should never have been able to clear a Citadel, regardless of how weak it was.
Except, there was a human in the party. Aldus’s disgustingly handsome face twitched in displeasure. He’d been reviewing the data feeds coming from The System, and what he’d seen was nothing short of disturbing.
The humans were fucking dominating. Between their absolutely absurd Ring of Sacrifice bonus, their Plus Player perks and the evolutionary options after they regained their humanity. . . this wasn’t even counting the fact that they hadn’t acclimated to even the most primitive levels of magic and technology available to them.
Sure, on the surface, they were doing terribly. They were oppressed, being farmed, being hunted, blah blah blah. Even if Aldus didn’t have one of the most advanced brains The Empire could design, he’d be able to make the very obvious projection that humanity was going to break out of The World.
Again.
If Aldus had more than, oh, a week on the job, he would have been able to appreciate the fact that The System was a proven ineffective prison for humanity properly, like every previous Warden had. He still would have thrown them in, he’d had no other choice, but had he been more cognizant of that little gem of information, he might have been a little smarter about it.
He’d kind of been hoping that humans would go extinct within three months, like nine out of ten other species that got thrown into The System did. He hadn’t even considered that a good portion of the human population actually preferred the highly reward based brutality of The System to their planet!
So, that had been a failure. His mind returned to Ben’s party, and their totally improbable defeat of the Citadel of Horrors. His mind inevitably replaced the Citadel Lord with Aldus Divine getting his skull bashed in, and he began to feel uncomfortable.
Humans were going to get out, he realized. He realized this, and also, that when they did get out, they were not going to be very happy with him personally, and his species in general. Further than that, when they got out. . . they were going to be very, very strong.
“Damn,” Aldus said, as he ran through all his possible options. Space Elves were, admittedly, the greatest species when it came to genocide. They had the most practical experience initiating it, and the most advanced theories about how to do it the most effectively. Most of them were, unfortunately, non-starters, due to the Inevitable nature of human beings. Occasionally, in their conquest, the Space Elves had come across other such anomalous beings. They were usually occupying the ruined husk of a world that had been completely ravaged by their discovery of The Beyond, and the Weird Apocalypse that Inevitably, pardon the pun, followed.
The problem with Inevitable beings wasn’t that they couldn’t be killed. Quite the opposite, they could be killed just like anything else! It was just, after all the Inevitable beings were dead, they just cropped up somewhere else miraculously, and usually not just in one place. It was, to say the least, extremely annoying.
Aldus didn’t quite know how he was going to defeat humanity, yet, but he did know that all the possible plans he would come up with would have one thing in common. Aldus smiled, a rare sight these days, and shuddered with anticipation.
“Drevus,” he said softly, knowing the automated systems of the planet he was on were listening, “Oh, Drevus? Your empire has need of you.”
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One extremely gratifying perk of being President for Life was the ability to snatch anyone in The Empire, at any time, and teleport them directly to the capital. It was a perk Aldus had really been looking forward to abusing back when he was running for President, and finally had a moment to try out.
Drevus Swift was a Space Elf who looked eerily similar to Aldus Divine. Through no fault of their own, they shared a genetic lineage, a bond that humans would call ‘brother’ and that Space Elves didn’t have a word for. Their rivalry started back in their respective childhoods, when they noticed one another and realized that they looked very similar. Too similar.
This was, apparently, unacceptable to both of them, and had started a lifelong relationship of mutual hatred. Drevus Swift, thus, wasn’t surprised at all that he’d been teleported to the capital. He’d known it was going to happen.
“Took you long enough,” the near clone of Aldus Divine muttered, looking away and prostrating himself before The Glorious Throne by laying on his back and putting his legs into the air, the traditional way to show total obedience to whoever was in charge.
“Stand,” Aldus commanded, and Drevus stood, surprised. “Drevus Swift, your empire has great need of you. I have personally witnessed your competence and cruelty on many occasions, and have deemed you are the correct Elf for this job.” Drevus frowned a deep frown, because, this was not going how he thought it would.
“I live to serve The Empire?” he said/asked, unsure what was going on.
“Indeed you do, as do I,” Aldus said, standing up, “and thus, I must bring you into the fold, and tell you of one of the highest secrets of our people. I must tell you the secrets of the Forbidden Zone, the Dead Galaxy, and the terrible secret contained within it.”
“Really?” Drevus asked cautiously, now totally lost as to how this conversation should be going. He’d expected gloating. He knew that he’d be gloating right now, not sharing state secrets.
“Yes. Tell me, have you ever heard of the species known as Human?”
Drevus shook his head, and Aldus began to explain, and as he did so, he realized how that fucking traitor Dremian, the former President for Life, had felt. It was hilarious to watch someone go through the various stages of understanding as they comprehended, in terrible layer after layer, just what exactly a human being was.
Aldus explained everything, for hours, giving Drevus the explanation Aldus wished he’d gotten.
“. . . And thus,” Aldus concluded, “now you understand what a grave threat humanity poses not just to The Empire, but the entire universe at large. Drevus you have been chosen to assist me in my ongoing efforts to keep Humanity in check.”
Drevus was silent, the shock of everything he’d just learned still bouncing around his advanced Space Elf brain.
“Few know this,” Aldus continued, “but as the Administrator of The System, I have certain. . . privileges. I am unable to intervene directly in The World, but there are things I am able to do from my end. The humans, owing to the fact that they have previously escaped The System, started out with the Plus Player package. This has granted them abnormal benefits, and an extremely advantageous position. I, as the Administrator, am able to create such a package from scratch and grant it as I see fit. Naturally it comes with a cost, and naturally no President for Life has ever felt the urge to utilize this power, but it is available to me.”
“Aldus,” Drevus said, sounding concerned, “why are you telling me this?”
“Ah, Drevus,” Aldus said with a sigh, the malice oozing naturally and fondly from his voice, “You are the most capable Elf I know. Be proud, because now your reward is upon you. I am going to make you the most powerful and well positioned individual in The System,” Aldus Divine said, looking at Drevus with Space Elf Love in his eyes. “You will be my hands, the instrument by which I keep humanity contained.
As the reality of what Aldus said hit Drevus, he did the only thing he felt appropriate; he immediately tried to kill himself. Aldus had seen that reaction coming, after all, he would have done the same thing if his alternative was getting thrown into The System. Drevus lost control of his body, despite how he tried to yell and scream and run away.
Aldus walked over and cradled the limp form of his rival, taking a moment to really look into his eyes and smile with genuine joy. It was as close to a tender moment as Space Elves got, which was just absolutely fucked up. Drevus looked at Aldus, his eyes the only part of his body he had any control over, and sent him a single psychic message.
‘Please don’t do this to me,’ he begged. Aldus chuckled, tears coming to his eyes as he stared at his oldest enemy, joy and mourning mixing as he both savored his ultimate victory, and let go of him.
“Dear, precious Drevus,” Aldus said, stroking the man’s long ears, “It’s already done. Don’t worry, you’re going to love it.”