The Crimson Tower was abuzz with activity. Kobolds, large and small, young and old, made up the bulk of the crowds moving about the newly renamed Commerce District, but there were plenty of other races represented as well. Beastkin, most of whom had been enslaved by the Imperium, were the second most common, but the population of humans had grown considerably as well. Those were former peasants who’d been enslaved or otherwise oppressed by the Radiant Host, with a few former Knights of Adontis mixed in.

Pointedly, none of the Radiant Host itself had chosen to switch sides. Clearly, they were too well indoctrinated. From what Zeke understood, a few of them had been forced to undergo said indoctrination in a place called the Crucible, but most had simply never been given another option. They were raised in the Imperium, and since childhood, they’d been taught its governing values.

In short, they were lost causes, which presented something of a problem for Zeke.

“How many are there?” he asked, striding through the Commerce District. As the name suggested, it was dedicated to commercial pursuits, with hundreds of shops having sprung up over the years. Some were manned by enterprising kobolds, but the lizard-like race were too disinterested in wealth to make for good merchants. The same could not be said for the humans and beastkin, who’d seized upon the opportunity to build something. Often, Eveline spoke of a day when people would come from far and wide to trade with the merchants in the Crimson Tower.

At present, though, most of the business was internal, centering on the trade of things gained in dungeon runs, during frequent training hunts, or from the war against the Imperium. That meant there was a lot of wealth flowing around, which made for a lot of activity.

“At last count, thirty-two thousand prisoners,” Eveline answered, walking beside him. She didn’t have to actually walk – or appear at all – but in the tower, she liked to make her presence known. It helped people to accept her authority, she claimed. “And change.”

“Have any shown any remorse?”

“They have not,” she replied. “In fact, most have made weak attempts at escape or attacking our interrogators. Even Adara has had trouble getting through to them. Their hatred runs deep.”

“I guess that should be expected, given the level of their indoctrination. Shar Maelaine really didn’t a number on them, didn’t she?” he muttered, shaking his head. A few kobolds noticed their passage, but he’d made a point of showing his face more often of late, so he wasn’t as big of a distraction.

“Indeed,” Eveline answered. “She is like a demon in that respect. I sometimes wonder if she is one.”

“Is that possible?”

“Likely not. Demonic energy is difficult to hide, especially with the amount of power she wields. However, it should be noted that with enough dedication, anything is possible. Perhaps she altered her attunements,” Eveline suggested. “It is not entirely unheard-of. But I think not. Demons do not have a monopoly on evil or cunning.”

Zeke agreed with that. He’d met too many people who displayed both characteristics, and most were uncorrupted by demonic energy. Still, the notion that Shar Maelaine – the so-called Sun Goddess – was a demon was an amusing thing to consider.

“What do you think we should do with them?” he asked, finally reaching the teleportation platform. There was a line, but the kobolds respectfully made way for him, murmuring Ak-toh as he passed. He couldn’t ignore the reverence in their tones. Or the way they dipped their heads. Once, it would have made him incredibly uncomfortable, but it had been an ongoing trend for so long that he’d grown used to their worshipful treatment of him.

“Kill them,” Eveline said as she followed him onto the platform. They teleported to the Fields of Creation – once called the Artisan’s Terrace – and she added, “Or release them somewhere they can’t cause any trouble. If you choose the latter, ensure that they are split up. We don’t want them banding together and causing problems.”

“You don’t think we can just keep them?” he asked. That was the crux of the issue. The Crimson Tower was a peerless treasure, but it was not without its limits. And at last, they’d finally found them. The Jail simply wouldn’t hold any more inmates. On top of that, the amount of energy necessary to keep them there and alive – it suspended their biological needs, including the necessity of being fed – was causing problems in the rest of the tower. Most notably, the density of the mana in the Fields of Creation, which was necessary to cultivate the amount of food necessary to feed the population of the tower, had dropped.

“You know we can’t. If you were on the verge of gaining a few more levels, then perhaps we could chance it.”

“But I’m not, and I won’t for a while.”

“Precisely,” she acknowledged. It was no secret that he’d reached the peak of the realm, and given that the Crimson Tower was tied to his overall power, it was unlikely to get much stronger in the near future. After all, even if he decided to enter the Pit immediately, descending through the various levels would doubtless require quite a lot of time. And in that span, the tower would continue to stagnate.

“So, we only have the two options. Kill or release.”

“Do you want my advice?”

“I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.”

“Kill them,” she stated. “Don’t do it yourself. Let your kobolds do it. Choose a few who’ve shown promise and allow them to execute the knights. They will gain a little kill energy that way. Or…”

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“Or what?”

“Give them a chance to earn their freedom via gladiatorial fights. Let your kobolds fight them. One on one. They will earn much more kill energy that way, especially if the prisoners believe they will be set free at the end. They’ll fight tooth and nail, fostering the perfect environment for advancement,” she explained.

“And if one of them wins?” Zeke asked.

“Give them what they want. Let them free. Most won’t make it, though.”

Zeke felt that was an accurate assessment. His kobolds, on an individual level, weren’t more powerful than the knights. In fact, the opposite was true. The kobolds’ strengths lay in their unrivaled dedication to unity. Yet, many of the knights depended on outside sources of power, like potent weapons and armor. Without those crutches, they wouldn’t be nearly as deadly.

It was a good plan.

Still, Zeke hesitated. He had few issues with killing in battle, but being an arbiter who could decide the fate of thousands of people left him feeling incredibly uncomfortable. It came with the territory, though. For all intents and purposes, he was a king, now. He had more than a million people who looked to him for leadership. So, it was a foregone conclusion that he would need to make difficult decisions.

“Implement that plan,” he said, overlooking the Fields of Creation. Once, the floor had been no more than a single mountain that had been carved into various terraces, at which people could work on various crafts. That still existed, but the bulk of the floor was dedicated to vast farms that stretched for miles all the way to the horizon. “How big is this area?” he asked Eveline.

“Approximately a thousand square miles,” she said. “We have plans to implement vertical farms, though. Soon, our production will double. Perhaps even triple, if our farmers succeed in their plans for development.”

“A thousand…”

That was far larger than he’d expected. But then again, he rarely visited the Fields of Creation. He hadn’t even been the one to rename it. That task had fallen to Eveline, who’d assumed the responsibility of managing the entire tower. She seemed to enjoy it, but that was probably just because it gave her something to do. After all, a life without purpose was a life without meaning.

“I remember when this tower was just a single cottage,” he stated, shaking his head. “It’s insane that it’s grown so much.”

“It will become much larger once you descend and your divinity is unchained.”

“I know,” he acknowledged. “What do you think it’ll be like?”

“The Pit?”

“Of course.”

“No one knows, precisely,” she admitted. “There are stories, but from what I understand, it isn’t the same for everyone. It is tailored to each individual, usually as a cultural representation of whatever your species considered hell to be.”

“What if a species doesn’t believe in hell?”

“Everyone believes in Hell, Ezekiel,” she stated. “Maybe not overtly, but the concept exists in every world and every reality. It is part of being mortal. One thing I can tell you is that it will test you in ways you’ve never imagined. It will not be easy, and you will almost assuredly be remade as much by the descent itself as the evolution you will experience in its wake.”

“I see.”

“Don’t underestimate it, Ezekiel. This will not be easy for you. Perhaps if you had your skills, you would have no difficulty, but…”

“I know, Eveline,” he said with a sigh. “Thank you for your concern, but there’s no sense worrying about it. I have to do this.”

“Do you?”

“Of course.”

“But why?” she asked with no small degree of concern. “You could have a good life here. The kobolds are only going to get stronger. You could take over this entire realm. Or nourish a small and prosperous kingdom. You could –”

“I’ve already stagnated for too long, Eveline. I have to keep moving forward. Otherwise, I’ll lose my nerve,” he said. And that was true, too. The siege had lasted almost two years, and almost two months had passed since he’d killed the Oda-possessed Ignatius and concluded the war. However, in even that short amount of time, he felt that his momentum had begun to dissipate. If he spent any longer confined to the Eternal Realm, he would never progress.

And he very much needed to keep going. He wasn’t even sure why. It was almost as if it was a biological imperative – an instinct – he could not ignore. Maybe it was just in his nature. Perhaps that was why Oberon had chosen him in the first place. At the time, the dwarven god had claimed it was because of Zeke’s sacrifice on his brother’s behalf – and maybe that contributed – but he expected that it was likely more because of his mix of personality and singular dedication.

He wasn’t just obsessive. When he latched onto something – like he had with baseball – he cared about little else. In the world into which he’d been reborn, that dedication had ushered him to power few in the Mortal Realm had ever achieved. And the same was true of the Eternal Realm, where he’d just managed to defeat one of the most powerful nations in the world. On top of that, even with most of his skills locked away, he’d killed a peak fighter who’d been possessed by a demonic deity.

Nobody else could have done that. Zeke knew that much down to the core of his very being. He was special, and he needed to see his path through to the end – even if he suspected it would end with him throwing himself against a foe he had no hope of ever defeating.

“I might die in the Pit,” he acknowledged. “I probably will. But I can’t just stop, Eveline. I don’t have that in me.”

“I know,” she said. “Let’s finish the tour, and then we can make your final preparations before you head into Hell.”

Zeke agreed, and after that, the pair visited the Hunting Grounds, which had expanded to hundreds of rooms where kobolds and beastkin fought against previous foes in illusory environments. Nobody ever gained any levels in the Hunting Grounds, but it was an amazing tool to develop their fighting ability. Some rooms had even been developed where whole battalions of kobolds could engage in wargames.

After the Hunting Grounds, Zeke visited the Residential District, which had continued to grow to accommodate the enormous population. To him, it looked like a vast city on par with some of the greatest of Earth’s metropolises. It wasn’t as densely populated as some of those huge cities, but it was still made for quite an impressive sight.

Finally, he visited the newest floor – the Hall of Affinities. It presented as a series of natural caves – thirteen of them, in fact – each one representing one of the affinities for which he’d gathered a natural treasure during the quest that had unlocked the floor. Inside those caves was densely attuned mana that would slowly inoculate a person, much like continued exposure to a powerful natural treasure.

Each cave was occupied by a group of juvenile kobolds under the supervision of a spiritweaver. Those groups would cycle each week in the ongoing effort to broaden their possibilities and hasten their ascent to species-wide sapience.

For his part, Zeke had already partaken in the Hall of Affinities, though he’d been disappointed to find that it was, for the most part, too weak to affect any changes within him. Still, that continued exposure had the capacity to help him – at least according to Eveline. It would just be a slow process.

Once his tour was completed, Zeke returned to the Lord’s Manor, which looked much the same as always, where he headed inside his mansion and settled in to meditate. Something told him that when he entered Hell, he wouldn’t have much of an opportunity for peace, so he wanted to get as much of it as he could before he took that step.