Chapter 1
THE RIGHT TOOL FOR THE JOB
“Igmail, you have been reassigned to Dungeon Suppression,” said an older lady in a sharp suit. The nameplate on her desk read “Deborah, military personnel assignment advocate.” Her office was on the smaller side, yet neat and orderly. Her desk was made of a light colored wood, slightly rough in construction but well used. There were no windows in the room, leaving Deborah and Igmail lit by the fluorescent glow of the light stone embedded in the ceiling. “Your abilities make you uniquely qualified for such work despite your low rank, and we are shorthanded because of the upcoming city expansion. It's a six month assignment,” Deborah sentenced.
“But,” Igmail protested, his rather muscular frame radiating nervous confusion, “I’m not a combat specialist, I’ve spent the last four and a half years of my draft doing wall enhancement! I haven’t fought since my training patrols!”
“Good thing you can summon minions to do it for you then. Your file reads, and I quote, ‘Can shape a steady stream of tier two golems out of stone.’ Along with your stone refinement ability, you were practically made for dungeon suppression. A ‘steady stream’ of low level combat specialists is exactly what dungeon suppression calls for,” rebutted Deborah, clearly unimpressed by Igmail’s discomfort.
Igmail’s anxiety skyrocketed at this comment because he knew his agent was correct. It was, after all, her job to know the many unique abilities of her charges inside and out and then assign them appropriate jobs within the military. “Yes ma’am,” Igmail sighed despondently.
“Good,” Deborah said while handing Igmail a manilla folder, “Here is everything you need to know. You’re heading out tomorrow with a training patrol, so be ready by then.”
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It was 07:00 the next morning when Igmail met the patrol he would be tagging along with at the mustering grounds. Due to the danger of the surrounding forest it was too risky for him to head to the dungeon by himself. The mustering grounds was a big, empty square adjacent to the western gate of the eighty foot wall that surrounded the city of Flourish. There were several groups hanging out on the scuffed flagstones, but Igmail’s companions were recognizable by their youth and their nervousness, a group of eight conscripts headed by an unflappable looking veteran.
Igmail approached them, himself standing out for his above average height and swimmer's build, though the latter was mostly smothered by his loose and billowy choice of clothes. Additionally, he had a stone spear slung across his back, about seven feet long.
“Sergeant Withers, Private first class Igmail Stone reporting for escort to dungeon 4-12,” barked Igmail in his best impression of a dutiful military man.
“You can relax kid,” Sergeant Withers reassured him, “Do what I say when there are monsters about and I don’t care what you call me.” He was a man of average height with an active build and several visible scars around his hands and face. He wore unrestrictive armor, a simple breastplate paired with lower extremity armor covering his calves and forearms. A round shield was hooked to his back and an arming sword was belted at his waist. Overall, looking at him, Igmail got the impression of a seasoned and efficient military man, though his words revealed his lack of respect for traditional decorum.
“Phew, I was worried I’d have to pretend to have a stick up my bum,” Igmail sighed in relief, “Are we ready to go then?”
“Yep. TRAINING SQUAD BRAVO-32, ASSUME PATROL POSITIONS!” Withers suddenly turned and bellowed, startling Igmail. At his words, the conscripts, wearing the same type of armor as Wither but much shinier, scrambled to ready their shields and loosen their swords in their sheathes. They hastily jumped into a loose diamond formation with some of the recruits in the middle, able to support any side of the formation. In an abrupt tone shift, Withers turned to Igmail and said “Stone, you’ll be hanging out formation with me, seeing that your rank three status means you might just could take this whole group out by yourself.” Turning to address his soldiers, he also added “Just like ALOT of monsters we might encounter out there can, should we break formation! We will be more careful today, right, Private Sandford?”
“Sir yes sir!” rang their intimidated chorus, with one in particular shouting more vigorously than the others. Somehow their combined shouts were still quieter than Withers’ shout had been.
“New group?” Igmail asked.
“Yeah, right outta basic, this will be their second patrol. Not a tier two among them,” responded Withers.
The group, with Withers and Igmail lingering behind the formation, passed through the massive gates to see a beaten path carved through a field of various grains. Off in the distance Igmail saw a group of soldiers, much like those in front of him, guarding some farmers as they tended the wild fields. Off in the distance, more than a mile away, was a veritable wall of trees, every one of them in excess of two hundred feet tall. The sight was nothing new to Igmail, though it had been since his own training patrols in his first year of service that he’d actually entered the forest. Quite a while considering that Igmail was five and a half years into his six years of required service.
Eventually, after walking a while, Withers failed to resist his curiosity. “So, Stone, why do they got you on dungeon suppression? Not to insult you or nothing, but a 23 year old tier III material reinforcement specialist isn’t usually the type of person they send,” Withers inquired with the politeness of a high ranking officer in a very active military. “I’ve escorted several squads to this site and not a one of them was lower than tier four or in a band smaller than five.”
“You know, I asked my agent the same thing,” responded Igmail. “It comes down to two things really. First, my stone alteration ability is really versatile, I can change the physical properties of stone any way I can think of. Density, ductility, softness, sharpness, toughness, anything. Means I can reinforce the bunker while I'm there, make it safer and more comfortable. Second, and more importantly, is my golem patron type ability. Basically, I can spend about twelve hours, buckets of will, and a chunk of my soul to grant a stone golem life. They can act, cultivate, and learn independently, and I get that chunk of my soul back should they be destroyed, so I can essentially just throw tier two combatants at the dungeon till it gives up. Not too bad myself either. This spear ain’t for show,” responded Igmail.
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“Huh. Seems like you're the right tool for the job,” Withers confirmed.
“To my annoyance,” Igmail said with a small huff of irritation. “Before this I had a cushy job improving the quality of the wall. Now I get to sleep in a cave for the next six months.” By this point the squad and Igmail had arrived at the treeline, their mana soaked bodies carrying them faster than an unawakened human’s could. The increasingly anxious faces of the trainees revealed their inexperience, at least in comparison to Igmail and especially Withers. They were both cool and composed, though still attentive to their surroundings.
“ALRIGHT TRAINEES, be alert!” Withers once again suddenly bellowed, bringing the formation to a halt. A few birds took off from the nearby trees at the noise. “Jameson, be ready with that perception of yours, you’ll be calling targets! Sandford and Badger, prioritize ranged targets, DO NOT hit anybody with friendly fire like last time! Shumaker, you're on point! Remember, your job is not to kill the monsters, it is to feed them to Alexandra and Treble! Pin point barriers, be mana efficient! Alexandra and Treble, your job IS to kill the monsters! No more letting them run off, go for the jugular! Moose, Fox, you're on watch! Protect the peeper and the twinkle fingers! They may have weapons, but your job is to make sure they don’t need to use them! UNDERSTOOD?”
“Yes sir Sergeant Withers!” the trainees shouted in response, already in the described positions.
“And Stone, should we be attacked, would you let the rookies take care of it?” Withers asked in a much more relaxed tone.
“No problem, I gotta save the energy for a golem when we get to the bunker anyways,” Igmail responded with a slightly less relaxed voice, unnerved by the swift tone changes Withers displayed. With the reminders out of the way, the group entered the forest. There was a faint path, somewhat obscured by the thick and highly varied underbrush. It was moist in the forest, unnaturally so in comparison with the fields, a feature indicative of its status as a rainforest. Along with the water in the air the environmental mana also rose precipitously, all the better to produce massive monsters. Withers and Igmail stopped chatting when they entered the forest, caution having been beaten into their heads by their years of military service. This caution served them well because they were attacked not an hour into the trip.
Their assailants were on the smaller side when it came to monsters, about three feet at the shoulder, and similar to anteaters in build. They had dangerous claws, though the quadrupedal nature of the monsters made them hard to use on the squad. Their snouts were shorter than on a regular anteater, stained blood red despite their lack of visible teeth. Sargeant Withers spotted them first but it was Jameson who called out the attack.
“Attack from 9 o’clock incoming! Bloodstraws, six of ‘em!” He shouted in abject panic. However, despite their fear, the trainees’ training kicked in and they smoothly pivoted the formation to point Shumaker at the monsters. A few seconds later the bloodstraws arrived, but their charge was blunted by a narrow band of bluish light from Shumaker’s ability. They impacted it at their chest level, and though it broke, it allowed Shumaker to shrug the first one to his left with his shield. Unbalanced and stunned, Treble put it down easily, the wind visibly coalescing to add power to his blow. Meanwhile Sandford and Badger moved to the edges of the formation, turning it into more of an arrow than a diamond, and started letting magic fly. Sandford was condensing and hurling spikes of ice, elemental manipulation abilities being rather common, and Badger was throwing large summoned needles with absurd force. As per Withers’ orders they were targeting the bloodstraws at the back and managed to kill one apiece before the monsters even reached Shumaker. This left three magical anteaters still charging at the formation, however, all of which were given the same treatment as the first. Overall, the practiced, efficient, and simple formation ensured that the entire battle was over in less than a minute with no injuries sustained on the side of the patrol.
“Better!” praised Withers, “Much better!” With his emotional capacity for approval towards trainees completely exhausted, Withers proceeded to pull a flexible hoop twisted into a smaller hoop from seemingly nowhere. He unfolded it, set it on the ground, and tossed the corpses of the blood drinkers through, each disappearing when they should have hit the ground. “Stone, that reminds me, I’m to brief you on the use of a transport hoop. It's a nifty bit of magic, convenient too. It's a portal to base meant for transporting spoils of war. Living things can’t pass through, it recharges in dense ambient mana, and it’s convenient to carry around too. It compresses into a ring you can put on your finger. You’re to use it to transport the monsters you cull back home.”
“Thanks Sergeant Withers. I read about it in my assignment file, but you explained it a lot better than those pencil pushers. Not that I can talk, I’m half pencil pusher myself,” Igmail responded, the last bit said in a tone of self-deprecating humor.
“Ohhh, don’t beat yourself up too much. A sturdy wall is arguably more important than reducing the number of monsters to attack it,” Withers said in a reassuring manner.
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~An hour Earlier
Toto felt it when his master left Flourish, the sense of caution and watchfulness radiating over their bond unique to the times Igmail had left the safety of the wall. Toto was on the short side, only about 5’5, and his proportions were odd. His arms were longer than his legs by a noticeable amount, his neck was nearly the same thickness as his head, and his facial features were distinctly gorilla-ish. The casual observer also wouldn’t miss the fact that he was made entirely of a bluish gray stone, striated with stripes of deeper blue. Toto was one of Igmail’s stone golems, the first, in fact, created when Igmail awakened his abilities at age thirteen.
Currently he was walking slowly around the interior of the city walls, enhancing the toughness of the stone minutely with each step in an eternal revolution. For ten years he had been a constant companion of Igmail, learning and growing alongside him. Toto had gone to bootcamp with Igmail when he started his required service at age 18. Together they learned to fight, to cultivate, to march, and to work as a unit with their squad. When Igmail did his six months of training patrols Toto was there too, supporting him. Igmail had created other gorilla golems in those ten years but they never lasted long, being terminally expendable. While Toto aided his master in reinforcing the wall the others were sent to support patrols, and usually died quickly by covering for their less replaceable human squad members. Toto was fine with that. To him, Igmail’s will was supreme. He would kill and die for Igmail, even if he didn’t approve of some of his master’s lazier tendencies.
Toto worried for his master and wished to go to the dungeon with him, but Deborah’s assignment packet had specifically ordered him to stay behind and continue his Master’s work, so that's what he did. He walked, he reinforced, he observed and grew, until such a time that his master needed him to do something else