To distract himself from the aftereffects of his Ability, Duke went through his Notifications. There were a lot, so he skimmed most but some were more poignant than others.
*** For contributing the slaying of 2,016 foes of Tier Three or lower, you receive 122,400 experience. For directly slaying 62 Tier Four foes of similar level to you, you receive 992,000 experience. You are now level 145 and have 144 Characteristic Points to spend. ***
Your Abilities have seen growth:
Your TELEPORTATION has increased to Grandmaster 81
Your REGENERATION has increased to Master 9
Your OVERCHANNEL has increased to Adept 106
Your MENTAL FORTITUDE has increased to Adept 45
Your FORCE has increased to Initiate 49
Your UMBRAL REAPER has increased to Adept 81
Your CLEANSE has increased to Practiced 44
Your RESTORE has increased to Master 79
Your IDENTIFY has increased to Practiced 22
Your REMOTE CASTING has increased to Initiate 16
Your INVENTORY has increased to Practiced 52
Your ARMOR SKIN has increased to Adept 73
Your FLIGHT has increased to Practiced 79
Your DUNGEON SENSE has increased to Master 39
Your DUNGEON CORE CREATION has increased to Adept 31
Your Diplomacy Skill has increased to Practiced 14
You have singlehandedly defeated a superior force again through the application of horrific Abilities. This has been witnessed by the entire Steel Talon Clan while you acted in their defense. This action, combined with your inspired words to their foes has had a significant affect on their collective attitude towards you. There are some among the Clan who regard you as a potentially divine being. Be wary of the unwitting steps to godhood as you may find the end result more restrictive than expected.
***
Duke found the last notification more than sufficient distraction. I don’t know what I am becoming or what I ultimately will be in this world, but no fucking way am I going to be a god. I’ll take a bit of hero worship because I am that awesome but that’s as far as that needs to go. I’m just getting by and doing the best I can with an increasingly shitty hand.
Settling his thoughts, Duke headed back to the battlefield to find the Steel Tusks congregating around the fallen foes. He saw more than one body being kicked out of the way. Clearly, they had no regard for their Syndicate foes. As he approached the point where he saw them congregating, he noticed Gro’nok’s mech in the center and picked up his pace.
“And here he is now,” Gro’nok announced. “Everyone, please allow me to introduce you to Duke. Duke is our staunchest ally in this new struggle against the Syndicate. As you can tell by the fallen foes around us, he is a terrifying force on the battlefield.”
“You could say that again, I damn near pissed myself watching whatever in the hells that was!”
Duke did not see who had said that but the laughter that followed refreshed his heart. He smiled, “Yeah. That Ability takes a bit of nightmare fuel. Is everyone OK? I know it was a pitched battle when I got here so I hope I arrived in time.”
A wizened orc elder stepped right up to Duke, sizing him up with her rheumy red eyes. Despite her bent-over posture, her eyes were still right in line with Duke’s. She squinted and spoke, “You don’t look like any god I’ve ever heard of.”
Duke stared the orc straight in the eye. “That’s probably because I am no god.”
“Then why does the system label you as a Chosen Champion of a True Elder?”
“Is that what it really says?” Duke asked, shocked.
“Indeed, youngling. That is what the system says. Care to explain that?”
Another voice cut in, “Grandmother, please. The Duke came hundreds of light years to come here and save us from the Syndicate attack. Don’t offend him.”
“Pshaw. I’m not offending him. I’m asking him a question. Learn the difference, child. Now, if you will answer my question…”
“Grandmother?” Duke hesitantly started before receiving a nod from her to continue. “I am indeed the Chosen Champion of an Entity, but that in no way, shape, or form, makes me a god. I may no longer be human, and I may have Abilities far beyond most, I am still not a god. Nor do I ever want to be treated as such. Ever.”
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She smiled, showing her few remaining teeth beyond her pair of cracked and yellowed tusks. “This one passes. He may enter the hall.”
“That’s not your call, crone!” An equally old and hunched orc hobbled up supported by a cane. “That is MY call to make.”
“Very well, make your decision already, you feeble, crochety old orc,” she replied impatiently.
“I have decided that this one is allowed into the hall.” He did not wait for a response before turning and hobbling back towards the castle. The orcs surrounding them all smiled warmly.
Duke felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Gro’nok standing next to him. He whispered to Duke, “Now you have met the two eldest on the council. They are a married couple that were old when I was a child. Somehow, they still carry on annoying each other to no end. Come on, I’ll show you the Clanhold.”
The walk back to the Clanhold was interesting as more and more orcs seemed to forget what they were doing and formed a crowd around the two of them. Gro’nok pre-empted Duke’s question, “They are interested in who this strange human is that summons the terrors of nightmares to slay our enemies inside their own mechs.”
Duke’s typical response would have been self-effacing in the past. Now, he had Overmind’s words nearly constantly echoing through his mind. “Good that they are interested in me for I am the death of the Syndicate. They have made an enemy of me, and I will teach them that their only chance at survival is to come groveling at my feet, begging forgiveness and mercy.”
“That’s downright bloodthirsty. This is good. Very good. Now, enter the Citadel and be welcome in our Hall.”
The entrance was large enough to accommodate the titan mech. Duke observed the carvings with all his senses, seeing beyond the blackened stone to the structures underneath. There were depictions of heroes and great battles that gave the entrance a greater weight than even the thick stone provided.
As they proceeded through the gates and into the inner courtyard, the walls were lined with dead mechs. They were of many different styles and types, and all bore grievous wounds that likely would have killed their pilots. Duke could see where many were propped up by reinforcements built into the very walls. The crowd dispersed around and ahead of them, heading into the Clan Hall. Duke presumed to get a good seat to watch.
“These are the mechs of fallen champions of the Clan. Whenever possible, we recover the mech of the fallen and bring it back here so that they can be honored for their sacrifice.”
“You know-“
“Not the time to discuss such things.”
“Um, right. Sorry, continue with the tour.”
Gro’nok pointed out a large mech that was missing both arms and part of a leg. It was pitted with hundreds of holes that spoke to weapon impacts. “That mech was my father’s. He sacrificed himself so that a dozen others could ambush a far greater force. He was the sole casualty from the Clan, but no enemy walked away that day. It was a glorious death. I hope when my time does come, I can be as brave and glorious.”
“When your time comes, you will go down, drowning in a river of your enemies’ blood while you tear the last of their kind’s throat out with your tusks.”
Gro’nok nearly stumbled. “You speak so much like a Clansman. I almost forgot you are not one.”
“I understand the honor of battle and how much better it is to burn out than fade away. It’s been a phrase amongst my people for many generations.”
“It is a good phrase. One worthy of a warrior. Now, we enter the second gate and into the hall proper. I am sure I don’t have to tell you that many here will not trust you so don’t give them a reason to not trust you.”
“Yeah, I get it. I’ll let you do most of the talking until it is time for me to speak. I’ve been through enough D&C and command briefings to know when politics comes into play. That includes when to shut the hell up and when to speak the hell up.”
“This will be the first one for a bit. Let the Clan argue with each other.”
“A bit hard for me to make my case to evacuate the Clan while not saying anything.”
“Let me talk. You are a powerful ally, but you are not Clan. Your words will have little sway amongst the Council.”
“So, I just stand there and look menacing?”
“Something like that.”
They had been traveling down a wide hallway decorated with scenes of battles past. The scenes depicted had become increasingly primitive as they traveled. They had progressed from mech and ship-to-ship battles all the way down to clubs and spears. This only served to reinforce the Clan’s focus on martial tradition. Duke studied the scenes, committing them to memory as he casually spent his Characteristic points, putting 44 into Psyche and 100 into Agility.
Finally, they came to the Grand Hall of the Elders. The entrance was a grand arching hallway with each of the arches connected along a central spine. It gave Duke the feeling of entering through a gigantic beast’s ribcage with each rib curving into the wall, disappearing, and re-appearing curving out just above the base of the wall. For all he knew, it actually was the ribcage of some ancient kaiju slain by the Clan. Duke committed everything he saw to memory and adjusted the Dungeon Core for the Clan accordingly. His DUNGEON SENSE was able to pick up on countless details he wasn’t able to see from his current vantage point, but colors did not translate as well through the Ability.
As the precisely-fitting, enormous doors opened up towards the pair, they were greeted with the grandeur of the hall itself. Duke was, in a word, underwhelmed. The chamber was a circle, no more than twenty meters across that resembled a cavern more than construction. Each of the elders sat upon a pile of furs rather than any chair. The piles of furs were resting on a raised ring along the outer edge of the chamber.
He strode to a stop as Gro’nok silently indicated. He could feel the gazes of the elder orcs of the Clan staring down upon him. He did not meet their gazes, rather standing at full attention.
Gro’nok spoke first, “Elders of the Steel Tusk Clan, this servant of the Clan has returned with a new friend and ally to the Clan. May I introduce him to the Clan?”
“Tell us of his deeds that make him an ally, nay a friend of the Clan?” The one to speak was withered to the point that Duke wondered if she could even move from the furs she sat upon without help. She was seated in the center of the elders and was in direct alignment with the direction Duke was facing.
Gro’nok related the tales of their exploits starting from before he even met Duke and describing the Syndicate’s actions in taking over the mech transportation business. The story was detailed and unembellished.
When he was done, the elder who had spoken earlier continued, “It would seem that this friend of yours has embroiled the Clan in a fight against one of the largest organizations in all of the cosmos. We are a strong and proud people, but even the Steel Tusk Clan in its entirety does not have the resources to fight such an enemy. Perhaps it would have been better for you to allow the Syndicate to take over the transportation business and not bring this down upon our heads.”
Duke opened his mouth but was silenced by Gro’nok’s hand upon his shoulder. “Elder Maw’huk, while I agree that we would be safer had we not opposed the Syndicate, I say that we would be instead slaves to their whims. Without being able to control our own transport, we cannot choose what contracts we wish to take and which we do not.”
This started a fierce argument among the elders that got more and more heated. After a full five minutes of listening to the Elders argue, Gro’nok escorted Duke back out.
“Gro’nok, isn’t it a mistake to leave like this?”
“Nah, let them argue for the next few hours. They will tire and grow hungry. The real talk and decisions are done over a meal. We have time.” He led Duke back out into the outer Clanhold and towards the kitchens.