The Argonian Sylph danced on the wind currents, heedless of the sprawl of humanity a ways beneath it. The Sylph cared not for most of the creatures skittering in the human city. So many were fragile and weak. Not worthy in every sense of the word.
A few, however, transcended their mortal limits and shone like beacons to the Sylph in the predawn air. These monsters, the Sylph took note of. Their every breath vibrated the air, and each of their steps shook the earth. Even if it was only a bit, it was what the Spirit of Air lived for. A half-remembered dream of the Age of Titans, where the world was allowed to thrive rather than be throttled by the machinations of Artifacts.
A pair of powerful humans caught the Sylph’s attention. She danced up along an air current, careless of the passage of time, then west. Then back east until she found herself flitting beside a closed window of a squat stone building. Four men garbed in the reds and blues of the Guard convened within the austere stone room on the other side of the foggy glass.
The men were paired, with a sharp divide in the presence they exerted upon the room. The first pair, consisted of a broad-shouldered man with a trimmed beard and a general’s cap gracing his head. He stood in the center of the room with his back stiff and hands clasped behind him. He exuded a sense of casual ease only present in those possessing true personal power.
Indeed, the Argonian Sylph knew Brigadier General Keron Arcturus well. Besides the many accolades that ornamented his breast, the very air around him trembled at his presence. At the height of the fifth tier, there were few humans within a hundred miles who had the power, breadth of skills, or ability to challenge the man. It was exciting.
The second man shared with the Brigadier General the uncanny presence, but in all other aspects, they differed. Where the general was clean-cut and proud, this man sported grimy dreadlocks and cheap clothes. His head was bowed, hiding a silver collar that glittered maliciously at his throat. He made no additional effort to make himself known. The man hid in the corner of the room, shoulders hunched as if the small act had a hope of disguising the glint of seething rage boiling behind his muddy brown eyes.
It was such a shame, this pair of tiny titans. They watched each other like caged tigers, never stepping forward and initiating the battle. Oh, how exciting it would be if they were to clash. Stone would break, and at last, the world would sing its merry melody. But alas, it was not meant to be. The disappointments stood within the room with their attention on the second pair. The undeserving pair. As if either had ever done anything worthy of the honor.
The second pairing was lesser. Neither conviction, strength of arm, nor morals mattered to Sylph, and even if the second pair had these qualities it wouldn’t have mattered. Such trivial matters were best left to the realm of mortals, and as such, of no consequence. So when either man shifted, the earth didn’t tremble at their passing, and when they spoke, their words didn’t echo with terrible finality. The Sylph cared only for the soul, and when it judged the pair. It deemed them weak.
The conversation continued for a time, then concluded with the first of the lesser humans handing a sewn insignia to the other. That human accepted it with undisguised glee before giving a cursory bow and dashing out of the room. At the last moment, the weakling gestured, and the powerful slave followed after him.
How...Puzzling, the Sylph thought, finding itself surprised. Why would the master follow the slave? Why would the great one deprive itself of the joys of combat to follow in the footsteps of one who has achieved so little? The very concept was ludicrous, and yet it was witnessed. For once, the Sylph paused its merriment on the air currents and sneaked closer, making the first effort in a decade to listen to the inane sounds humanity called language.
“Zerker always gives me goosebumps whenever I see him,” Captain Theodore Arcturus murmured once the stout oak door shut with a muted thud.
“Well he should, boy. Just means your survival instincts are sharp but tell me. Why promote the Greenwood boy? Are there no better members of your squad who are more deserving?”
“Do you remember the project I talked to you about last fall?” Theodore said as he settled into one of the uncushioned wooden chairs in the room. In response to his son’s question, the General turned to the large window that overlooked the Market Square.
“I believe the words you used were: A Guard who has purchased their position is no Guard at all.”
“I may not have phrased that the best but yeah,” Theodore winced. “What I meant is that they aren’t as willing to sac—”
“Stand by your words, son. There is always some truth hidden within slips of the tongue, even if they are oft unpleasant.” Keron turned from the window and took a seat before his son. “While I did not refute your words then and do not do so now, I trust I need not reiterate why the Guard accepts such members?”
“No sir, I was just—”
“Yes, yes,” Koren said, silencing his son. “I understand.”
He reached forward and lifted a glass tumbler half full of water as Theodore’s lips pursed into a thin line. The General lifted the glass to his lips but paused as if a thought had just come to him just before he took a sip. The moment ended as soon as it had begun with the General tossing the water back as if it was hard liquor. He set down the tumbler with a click and with brusque motions, pulled out a letter sealed with a thick gob of blue wax.
He slid the letter across the desk and waved the back of his hand at it. “The full details of your orders are written inside, but in short: You and your company will act as the official Guards for the new settlement around that dungeon Lady Mier insists on calling Soulwrest. Keep the civilians safe and maintain the peace. If you find that you have time, you may continue your project. Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” Theodore took the letter slowly, a hint of a smile easing the thin line his lips had acquired. “Thank you, sir.”
“Dismissed,” Koren said, pulling out a sheaf of paper and an inkwell. Theodore saluted and left the room.
When the door had shut and several minutes had passed, the General paused and glanced up. In a quiet voice that barely registered to his own enhanced ears, he whispered.
“Good luck.”
The Sylph breathed out a sigh and spun up into the upper atmosphere. What a shame. Papers instead of battle. What was the world coming to?
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It took me the better part of the day to reach Rockwood. When I did, the meeting was abrupt and discomfiting. I was extending my cilia into the tunnel created by the dwarves, following the walls and overall minding my own business, when I slammed into a solid slate gray wall. The impact was jarring, as never before had my cilia impacted anything, and felt like I had hit my funny bone. Tingly in the most unpleasant manner.
I explored the wall through touch, as sight was beyond me since my cilia could not extend into the wall. Rockwood dungeon was formed from an inordinately dense mass of cilia, that was entirely unlike my own. I had opted for a loose network spread over a large area instead, and seeing another dungeon do it differently made me doubt my own choices.
Logically, there were pros and cons to both strategies. A denser mass of cilia would theoretically produce more mana when a soul passed through, but would subsequently tax the soul more in turn. On the other hand, making cilia took time, so my strategy allowed me to subsume a larger area over a shorter period. Most of my mana came from human souls which had a large area of effect. Stacking density would net me more, but Captain Arcturus’ presence already touched upon the upper floors of my maze so the mana generation was sufficient. Plus, I couldn’t easily increase the density of my cilia in the forest as the verdant life prevented such movement. The strategy was interesting though, and I would be sure to incorporate it into select locations in the future.
I spent some time probing the edge of Rockwood’s domain, but nothing I did elicited a response. Pushing was nigh impossible, while mana messages vanished across the border with no indication that Rockwood heard me. It was like speaking to a wall, and it didn’t take me long to lose interest and pull back a ways to give Rockwood some privacy. I now had a neighbor and if they wanted to talk, they knew where I was.
Instead, I shifted my focus toward my newfound upgrade.
Summon Artifice Hulk:
+3 to maximum creatures
450 minute cooldown
My new maximum creature count was seventeen which meant I could control a total of fifty-one creatures across my different floors. It was a welcome upgrade as, despite the large number, my domain had grown so much that both my maze and my forest were feeling rather empty. Three more creatures weren’t all that much, but it did mean that I now had two Nothic per level of my maze, rather than some levels only having one.
I did have a third floor, however. One that would be filled with my new summon. To that effect, I needed to figure out what the Artifice Hulk looked like, and what terrain would best fit it aesthetically. I focused on Betsy’s chamber and called my exuberant little monstrosity over. Next, I summoned the Artifice Hulk.
My cilia flexed, disturbing Betsy’s flight for a moment, and a mass of stone manifested in the center of the room. It spun, growing larger and larger until it dwarfed Betsy’s already huge form. Electricity played across the surface, sparkling and crackling as hairline fractures developed across the stone. Betsy watched in rapt fascination as the fractures lengthened and split the stone into six uneven segments.
< Floor 1 creature count: 15/17 >
“Hi hi!” Betsy floated closer to the Hulk. The Hulk stared blankly back at her as it fully manifested into the world. It looked vaguely humanoid with two arms, two legs, and a small pebble of a head that had two glowing blue eyes. The eyes had no pupils which served to accentuate the alienness of the minion’s figure.
I would have been rather disappointed if the Hulk turned out to be just a standard stone golem, but it was not. Instead of joints, the stone creature had conduits of sparkling lightning connecting its various extremities. It gave it the appearance of a lightning elemental controlling a stone armor rather than the other way around and appealed to me as a concept.
I pulled up its stat sheet as Betsy continued to try and converse with the rock.
Artifice Hulk
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.
Level: 14
Level Acquired: 14
Life: 1022/1022
Resistances: None
Smash: 132-270 Physical Damage
Voltaxic Burst: 79-162 Lightning Damage
Reconstruction Protocol (channeling): recover 26-54 life per second. Gain 5% to maximum resistances.
Its stats were good. Great even. It had around forty percent more life compared to any of my other creatures and its damage was nothing to scoff at. If anything, its extreme stats made it a better boss than either Betsy or Cortana. Of course that depended on how its abilities functioned, though it was hard to argue with seventeen of these guys roaming a floor.
“Mama!” Betsy yelled. “They’re not listening to me! What did I do?”
Hush now, no need to be hurt. It is not intelligent enough to initiate a conversation.
With that, I directed a small pulse of mana at the Hulk. It grumbled to life, cycling through each of its abilities in order. Smash was a traditional melee attack and wasn’t interesting other than its high damage. Voltaxic Burst released a pulse of electricity that extended the full size of the room and would be a good deterrent against swarms of enemies. Its last ability though was the most interesting. Reconstruction Protocol allowed it to pull in its arms, legs, and head to form a cocoon as it recovered life at a staggering rate.
A quick test with Betsy activating one of her secondary eyes showed that the Hulk could withstand one of Betsy’s eyes indefinitely due to its 30% resistance from the Totem of the Roller Turtle that Betsy carried around inside her. Two eyes were too much for it, but the ability certainly explained how the Worldbreaker Hulk of legends could withstand so much abuse without being destroyed.
The next question I had was what happened if it lost one of its limbs. I grabbed its left arm and pulled. The lightning joint stretched then snapped and retreated with an audible crackle.
< Floor 1 creature count: 16/17 >
...
What?
The arm I had pulled off crackled with lightning as microfractures spread across it and split to form an identical — if much smaller — Artifice Hulk. The parent Hulk crackled and a boulder split from the main body to reform the missing arm.
Hold up.
That was awesome! A closer examination revealed that both Hulks were now at fifty percent hp. Splitting didn’t magically create life out of nowhere, but it was still amazing. Especially since both smaller Hulks still dealt the same damage as before. It was the epitome of slime splitting that I didn’t know I wanted but was so glad I got. Somehow I doubted the functionality would have existed in either the Zorethan Hulk or the Artifice Legion on their own.
The mechanic combined with [Reconstruction Protocol] would allow me to bypass the cooldown on the skill, but before that could be viable I needed to figure out how to increase the size of the smaller fragments. To that effect, I tried fusing stone to the Hulks to make them bigger, but only once I had them fall into [Reconstruction Protocol] did they accept the stone.
That brought up a chilling thought. The Worldbreaker Hulk was most definitely in Reconstruction Protocol at the bottom of the Ortegan Sea. I had initially assumed it was healing, but if Hulks could assimilate mass when reconstructing, what if the Worldbreaker Hulk was...assimilating the planet?
I dismissed the thought with a shudder. That was neither here nor there, and I had a new floor to create.
I was mostly done with experimentation, but there was one last question I had. What happened if the Hulk lost an arm when I was capped on creatures? The next arm created another — even smaller — Hulk but the one after that crashed to the ground, lifeless.
< Floor 1 creature count: 17/17 >
< Maximum creature count reached! >
Fair enough.
The golems reminded me of those suits of armor you find in old castles for some reason and I kinda wanted to make them a castle. I immediately thought of placing the castle at the top of my cliff, but I paused since that didn’t sound right to me. I was still thinking like a human. A castle at the top of the cliff was cool, but there was no territory I was defending. I didn’t need the height advantage to repel invaders, and if anything, my maze served as a better deterrent than any castle walls ever could.
I also did not need additional mana as my forest was growing to the point where I was gaining a level every couple of days just from its mana production alone. It was slowing down, but it would be a tier or two before the growth of my forest would be eclipsed by my mana requirements. Even then, I had several ideas to bolster the mana production from the forest if necessary, and I doubted that my third floor would net me anywhere near as much mana by being placed at the top of the cliff.
I descended inwards as I thought about why I was doing what I was doing. I was relatively safe and had a steady income. What other goal could I possibly achieve with an additional floor? I could expand towards Krimta and make merry with the humans there, but that didn’t feel right either, and I felt like my pacifist forest was more than good enough for the humans to be happy. The dwarves were a new race I had little information about, but they seemed to like the sand produced by [To Dust]. As far as I was concerned, they were welcome to come train and farm my second floor to their heart's content.
I was also beginning the long road of fixing the injustices in this world. Christina had certainly fallen into my lap, but as long as her soul was fractured, I didn’t see any reason not to requisition her help when the humans inevitably returned. If anything, I found myself patient. Willing to wait until Christina was first comfortable with me, before asking anything of the sort. If that took weeks or years, so be it. I had time. It was a strange sort of revelation that arose from so long without sleep or interaction. It was hard not to relax and slow down when sleep didn’t naturally cut up the day.
All my plans were coming around. It would take time and none required a third floor to function. So why make a third floor?
The answer danced around my psyche as if shy and reluctant to come out. It teased me from the darkest creases of my mind, hinting at but never revealing itself. What do you do when you have everything? Make something. But why? To pass the time? To satisfy another? For myself?
Why else should I make something, but for myself? Because I wanted to. It was selfish, but all acts were inherently selfish. Even a selfless donation given freely with no regard for recompense gave the donator a feeling of pride and accomplishment. A good feeling that they did something worthwhile.
I wanted to make a castle so I would, but I wouldn’t place it atop the cliff side. It would be cooler than that.
----------------------------------------
Three days passed in relative peace as I ferried stone after stone to the lower atmosphere. It had taken significant engineering to build the thing, but I was more than happy with the result. My original cilia that supported my magnifying array had been expanded tenfold to support the additional weight. I also needed to install supporting structures as I couldn’t place the castle directly over the magnifying array since that would block the light on my trees. Instead, I had shifted the castle a quarter mile to the southeast so that it floated above the peaks of the mountains.
It was an imposing sight.
Within the castle, I had fashioned seventeen Artifice Hulks into the shapes of medieval suits of stone armor with cruciform swords. At fifteen feet tall each, they cut an imposing figure. I had given each one a cape made from some of the Shadow Sources that were piling up in my core room. The capes did nothing, as my minions could not benefit from any worn equipment, but it certainly helped make them stand out. It also gave each one a sense of mystery that appealed to me. There was just something about two glowing orbs flashing from underneath a black cloak that made me giggle like a schoolgirl.
I couldn’t wait for people to come and marvel at the sight.
In the time, my forest had shifted and grumbled at the beck and call of the wind. The constant movement netted me a steady stream of mana, and I had ticked up sometime during the night of the second day.
< Mana 3,916/3,916 >
< You have leveled up! >
< You are now level 17! >
< Mana 0/4,596 >
The level-up came with an upgrade that I had spent some time ruminating over.
Tears of Gold:
+1 to maximum Fountains
Items steeped in the Tears of Gold are elevated to the start of the next tier
Battleground Malice:
Enchant an unenchanted item with a curse
666 minute cooldown
Summon Totem of the Rotblood Hivemind:
+3 to maximum totems
Minions near Totem of the Rotblood Hivemind summon up to 2 Rotblood Swarmlings
Rotblood Swarmlings respawn 50 minutes post death
Rotblood Swarmlings do not count towards maximum creature count
200 minute cooldown
It was hard to tell just how strong the first option was just based on intuition. The level scaling was exponential and one tier didn’t necessarily always mean the same thing. My current equipped item granted one-hundred and ten life and was enchanted to give forty-two percent fire resistance. Every time I leveled, I had to recraft that item, but the bonuses to levels were slowly growing ridiculous. The first level in the fourth tier was twenty-two. If I extrapolated from my existing data, I should expect somewhere around one-fifty to one-eighty life on the new gear. That equated to between 40-60% more life without even mentioning the increase to resistances from the enchantment.
Of course, the effect of Tears of Gold would be maximized at the beginning of the tier. My old level fifteen items only granted a maximum of eighty-nine life, so if I steeped them it could mean a 70-100% boost in stats. That was...slightly insane, but was tempered by how I could expect only a five to ten percent boost for an item at the cusp of the next tier.
The second upgrade rubbed me the wrong way. I didn’t like curses on principle but seeing as I didn’t have much choice in the upgrade, there was a chance I was going to get the ability to create them. I did not doubt that I could create some nasty items with [Battleground Malice]. There was no reason I had to use those items on people though, even if I made some, and I felt like the upgrade would allow me to answer a few questions I had about my artifacts.
Lastly, was the simplest of the options. Another Totem was welcome, and a quick read of the monster manual revealed that Rotblood Swarmlings were harmless. Oh, they were certainly dangerous, but they didn’t spread disease or other afflictions that would ruin the land around me and brand me as ‘kill on sight’. Instead, they were little four-legged spider-like creatures that inflicted a minor poison with any of their four claws. Giving my Betsy some minions for her boss room might be fun, plus I was sure I could figure out ways of abusing the totem. Like...What if I converted all my Nothic to ceiling horrors? Would that allow me to replace my first floor with 34 Rotblood Swarmlings that respawned every fifty minutes?
It was an interesting thought, but I knew that there was a chance I would get a skill fusion. Using Artifice Hulk as an example, I knew that merged skills didn’t give me access to two unique skills, but rather one skill combining the two skills' attributes. That meant that if Tears of Gold and Battleground Malice combined, it meant that any item I threw into the fountain would become cursed in addition to a level increase. Cursed Rotblood swarmlings was an interesting — if scary — thought, but I had no idea how combining Tears of Gold with the Totem would behave.
I was abruptly pulled from my ruminations as Cortana pulled my attention to a disturbance coming from the west. I navigated to my telescope and saw a caravan of humans chopping their way through the forest. I couldn’t quite tell faces apart at this distance, but as they approached I made a few upgrades that solved that. I coated the inside of the telescope with shadow stuff and increased the size of the outer lens by thirty percent. Together the two upgrades increased the picture quality enough that I could see that Captain Arcturus was back.
He marched at the head of fifteen caravans. Most of his company was with him, but there were a few notable additions. One caravan contained a few people who I could only describe as scholars. They wore robes and waved about quills and inkpots as if they looked down on the lowly pencil. Miranda and her daughter, Gella, sat at the head of the wagon and made me think they were the head honchos of that particular group.
A few of the caravans had people who looked like peasants. Undyed clothes and a whole host of farming tools nailed to the side of the cart. While the peasants had undyed, simple clothes, none were tattered or in poor condition. It was as if this was a brand of humans who didn’t care too much about appearance, and instead focused on practicality and function. Or in this case farming.
I instantly liked the group. Their cheerful manner and their callused hands spoke to me. I was certainly reading too much into their appearance, but their simple clothes made me feel they were trustworthy. An attribute that I couldn’t say about the lead caravans.
Seven of the fifteen caravans oozed zealotry. The wood was painted white with holier than thou inscriptions of a large female figure in a robe looking down on a congregation. Her hands were splayed to either side as if in benevolent acceptance, but the way the believers supplicated themselves gave a slightly different impression. The strange feeling I got only increased when I noticed that on either side of the caravans, a line of chained people trudged along.