Chapter 63

Neverending Wars (II)

The landing party squared off with the welcoming committee–had Ethan not immediately stepped forward, chances were that the soldiers would immediately lash out and attack, believing to have been ambushed.

Rather, his worry was unfounded as, right then, everyone except Ronald and him faltered and fell, weak in the knees, their innards churning. Whether the welcoming committee's hopes were dashed at the sight, they didn't let it show on their faces.

Strangely, they were not humans–but what people lovingly dubbed ‘Devilkin’. They weren’t actually devils of any sort, but their dark, reddish skin and a singular protrusion upon their foreheads reminiscent of a horn led many people down that path. In reality, they were called Altukeens and were a fairly common race inside the Tunnels.

Members of the race all stood rather tall–the shortest being just shy of six-five–and, at least very early on in the life cycle, were fetishised… quite a lot. Male members of the race for the robust muscles and height, and female members due to the fact that they had four breasts. Though Ethan never quite understood it, he didn’t disparage it either–as it went, different strokes for different folks.

The leader of this particular group of Altukeens was a seven-foot-tall behemoth of a creature wearing nothing but a knee-long loincloth held together by a makeshift belt made of some sort of black leather. He held a long spear by his side, tipped in a reddish hue, and had a pair of shimmering, crystal-clear star ruby eyes. He was flanked by two elders, as was customary, who stood just shy of six feet as they were hunched over, a classic appearance of an old and wane Altukeen.

“Greetings, strangers,” Ethan understood them, as did everyone else. Not because they spoke English or German or French or Mongolian, but because Altukeens spoke a language of intent. It was… strange, to say the least. Linguists never quite figured out the structure of the language, but because of it, they remained one of the few races inside the Tunnels that could be reasoned with.

“Hello,” Ethan’s words were hollow as they couldn’t understand him. However, he mimicked their hand movement–opening up a palm and shelving to the left with his right arm–which was indicative of a greeting. Eventually, a whole system of language would be developed based solely on that. Naturally, Ethan couldn’t use it, despite knowing it.

“We, Mighty Altukeen, request your services,” while everyone else just started recovering, gobsmacked at the sight of some hundred inordinately tall people who looked too human not to be 'human', Ethan focused his attention to the string of notifications that flared in front of him, informing him of everything. "Will you help us?”

“...” Ethan didn’t have to say yes. It wasn’t a mandatory ‘quest’ to complete the Tunnel. In fact, looking around at the surroundings, as well as the heaving behemoth of a city beyond, Ethan quickly surmised that it was a Storyteller event. “We will,” Ethan nodded. Agreeing did them no harm, especially because Ethan recognised the event. It was called The Dying Breath, and it was one of the events that Ethan himself had only ever heard of second-hand.

“We express our gratitude,” the leading man bowed faintly for a moment. “Allow us to escort you to your shelter.” As Ethan told the rest to follow him, and as others obeyed in confused silence, he started trying to recall as many things about the event as possible.

Originally, the Tunnel leading to the event appeared about a year from now and it appeared somewhere in southern Spain. It was just around the time that humanity had started getting somewhat comfortable clearing the Tunnels and around the time the first 'superstars' started truly making their appearance. The reason why that Tunnel, in particular, was famous wasn't that it was a Storyteller event–there would be plenty of those–but because it was the first one to introduce humanity to a lot of different aspects of the Tunnels–friendly races, free manoeuvring, open choices, and a slew of other, minor things that would only scale up in the future Tunnels.

As they made their way over the ridge and down a slope, Ethan caught the sight in full–the sight of a city so majestic and awe-inspiring it was inordinately difficult to put it into words.

The city of Thoyn was nestled inside a valley, gently embraced by the surrounding mountain rings, none of which were passable through ordinary measures. The city was layered, incorporating natural, tall cliffs of the valley into the architecture, building on top or even into them. The architecture was predominantly baroque, though evolved well beyond that for some staggering centrepieces. Additionally, there were specifically three, oddly-shaped, bulging cliff sides that afforded the city its more common name–’Eggworld’.

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The cliff sides were thin at their roots and then bulged out like balloons midway and up, forming vast landscapes on top that were all littered with marble-cast buildings

Central to it all, the heart of the city, was the arrayed palace–shaped in an eerie similarity to the cliffs, it was thin at the roots, though never quite bulging out as much as cliffs in the middle, and then thinning out into tall, spear-shaped spires toward the top. And it was all… large. In fact, some of the tallest buildings of the city easily reached the height of average skyscrapers, though with none of the modularity and modern technology that made those skyscrapers possible to begin with. How, then? Simple–magic.

It was a loose answer, but it was also very much true–each building had a massive magic circle at its root that encased it in a sort of ‘gravity prison’, making it so that, despite its unnatural shape, it wouldn’t topple over and would continue to stand tall, no matter the weather.

Most buildings of the city, however, were nowhere near tall enough to warrant it–while the central area surrounding the ‘palace’ was lush with ambitious architecture and buildings each more inspiring than the last, everything past it and on the outskirts was far simpler, poorer, and in line with expectations. However, it was all built out of stone–mostly limestone as the valley itself was sort of a natural quarry for it–with wood only ever used in the upper echelon of buildings to display wealth and status.

While he was surprised and still in awe of the city, Ethan had seen even grander displays of incomprehensible wealth and design. The city of Thoyn simply stood as a regal entry point to the absurd creations humanity would visit in the future, but it still held up, nonetheless, if for nothing but the unique integration of the surrounding landscape. Rather than fighting against it, the Altan Empire embraced it.

On the other hand, however, his companions were far from immune to the sight. In fact, they all gaped at it, shocked and certain it was all a lie. Despite being well over thirty miles away from the city, its majestic sprawl was all-encompassing, perhaps painting a vastly better picture of the place than its reality.

After all, from the tidbits that Ethan had picked up over the years about the place, he’d learned that it was a city built on the illusion of wealth and that it was ‘best admired from afar’.

While the others started lagging behind, he didn't need to stay and route them as there really was only one place to go–an array of stone huts built on top of a flatland of a mountain slope. There were some sixty of them, all built sporadically and with no particular pattern. The welcoming committee expanded further into the array of families that eyed him and others behind him with curiosity. Though they were children, calling six-foot-tall, muscled-out folk 'children' felt weird even to Ethan.

In fact, he was fairly certain that one of the first boys he'd seen who was just a smidge taller than him was less than ten years old because the protrusion on the forehead hadn't even begun to form yet as it started appearing during the 'puberty'.

“Are you their leader?” the same man asked as they made their way through the muddy streets of the town. It had rained recently, but the weather was rather temperate.

“Yes,” Ethan replied, nodding. Looking about, he saw that there were some eight hundred folk here.

“We need help. With war.”

The man didn't elaborate further; instead, a pop-up screen detailing the entire scenario finally showed up.

[Welcome to ‘Deathless Valley’!]

[You have been summoned here by the last vestiges of the Altukeen People within the Altan Empire. As natives of the land, they fought wars for generations, trying to hold on to the ever-shrinking habitat they once called their home. However, they were slowly pushed out, and in their last act of desperation, chose to besiege Thoyn, the Altan Empire's capital city. Due to their magic, the city is unaware of them, but as they know it is a battle they cannot win on their own, they request assistance from the Travellers.]

[You may freely choose what to do–either align with the Altukeen and help them take the city, or perhaps sneak away and try and warn the Empire of the impending invasion. Or, perhaps, something else entirely–the choice is entirely up to you.]

[Conditions to clear the Tunnel: Unknown]

[Rewards: Unknown (dependent on your choices)]

[Time Limit: None]

[Good Luck!]

It was a rather succinct summary of what was likely a history of brutality. Ethan, in some corner of himself, felt sympathy for them, but he didn't let it cloud his judgment. Common sense dictated that they abandon what was effectively a 'tribe' and either warn the Empire or simply bide their time in the shadows and try to get some profits while the battle lasted.

But that was unnecessary. From the onset, Ethan had already made a choice–he’d march upon the city and the empire. There were a lot of reasons for it, lacking a ‘chief’ one–from the fact that he roughly knew how the Tunnel went ‘originally’, to the fact that he had a General with him to lead the army. Beyond that, there were also soldiers–soldiers with knowledge and understanding of modern warfare, namely the intricacies of infiltrating the city beforehand without being seen.

While magic was a variable that always had to be accounted for, one of the reasons humanity tended to fare rather well in most 'war scenarios' inside the Tunnels was the modern knowledge of tactics. Even Ethan, who was far from well-versed and simply dabbled in the shallow waters of it all, understood that the mountain was a perfect choke point that the Empire didn’t defend. It wasn’t the only entrance to the valley, and perhaps not even the easiest one, but leaving one of the few entrances to the city entirely undefended, be that due to either stupidity or hubris, was… well, a lot of things, but smart wasn’t one of them.

He didn't want to pursue the line of thinking any further as he wasn't the one who would be forming the plan of the attack. In the end, Altukeen were strong–they were far, far, far stronger than anyone else he brought with him. In fact, Ethan himself could barely contend with some young adults of the tribe and would be beyond demolished if he faced any of the experienced warriors.

All he knew, however, was that it wouldn't be a long stay–after all, the last go-around, the Tunnel was cleared in less than a day.