As Riza climbed the spiral staircase inside the towering structure, her steps echoed ominously through the empty stairwell. The winding path ahead seemed to stretch on endlessly, each step taking her higher and higher into the unknown. The dim light of the antique bulbs flickered, casting eerie shadows that danced across the walls around her, mimicking her movements.
Not wanting to keep her companions waiting, she sent out a [Message], telling them to explore the rest of the nest as well as gather up any demons they came across, counting just how many there were and sending them back to Harold’s nest.
Riza climbed the spiral staircase of the tower, her mind racing with questions about the civilization that had built it. Assuming they had electricity and the scientific method, it was likely that they had been conducting research in this tower. But where was it?
Through the existence of translation skills, Riza knew she could eventually read the writings of the Ancients. However, all she had found so far were some mildly interesting research about the geology and geography of Toila. It was a good start, but she knew it was just the tip of the iceberg.
Finding the Ancients' original research would greatly speed up her own investigation. It was inevitable that she would conduct her own research, but she wanted to know what the Ancients had discovered first.
Periodically, as she climbed, messages came through from Lefie, detailing what they were doing in the nest. So far, so good, apparently. The Demon Lord still maintained authority and there were even humanoid demons with earth skills who helped to connect this nest with Riza’s nest, speeding up the conversion of demons between the two nests.
Finally, after the long climb, Riza reached the top of the tower. A wire trailed along the wall, curving over the edge as the stairs came to an end. Slowly peeking above the precipice, she saw a flat floor made of the same strange, black stone material as the rest of the tower.
The room was large and convex, but functionally empty. In the middle of this barren room sat a gargantuan device, with vague dimensions resembling something one could sit in. Angular, pure black rods and beams stuck out in an asymmetrical fashion, curving around to pierce back into the throne. The longer beams struck the geodesic, dome wall and ceiling, creating the impression of being inside a strange, black, tangled greenhouse.
She approached the device cautiously, taking in its details and trying to make sense of its design. As she studied it, a sense of unease crept up on her; there was something mysterious and unsettling about this place, and the overbearing presence from when she entered the tower began to return, weighing down her shoulders.
With hesitant fingers, she reached out towards the mysterious device, her fingertip tracing along an errant beam that seemed to pulse with an eerie energy. As she made contact, a cold chill shot up her arm, but she couldn't help but be drawn in by the device's strange allure.
The tower itself was a marvel of architecture, its stonework rising towards the sky with a sense of foreboding. At this height, the air was frigid, but it wasn't just the temperature that sent shivers down her spine.
The stonework–or metal, she was quickly beginning to assume–was perfectly smooth and thrummed with pulsating energy. The hair on Riza’s arm stood on end as her brain sparked in recognition, her esoteric sense perking up at the contact.
This was undoubtedly magical, and with the way it connected to the entire tower, Riza began to suspect that the overwhelming presence she sensed as soon as she stepped foot within the tower was the tower itself.
Although the tower was now explored, Riza wasn’t satisfied. It was mostly empty, and without any research, all she had was more questions.
Climbing down, she sent a [Message] to Lefie to reconvene back in the observation room, making sure to bring the Demon Lord with them.
Only one person had answers, and she was determined to get them.
[Raise Dead] didn’t take too long, bringing the Demon Lord back to consciousness quickly. The linguistic skills came next, taking the required hour while Riza thought through instructions to give the Demon Lord.
It had one purpose and one purpose only: to answer questions. That meant taking away its agency and free will, disallowing it to think unless given permission. Inhuman and abominable actions to a fellow human, but it was a demon.
With the Demon Lord in tow, they made their way deeper into the tower, starting with the throne room on the lowest level. The room was dark and foreboding, still filled with fog, the air thick with a palpable sense of malevolence. Despite the shorter walk, the journey felt endless, as though they were descending into the very depths of hell.
The purpose of this macabre chamber was one of symbiosis; as the Demon Lord would take its seat on the throne, it would connect with the eye demon, linking it to all of the demons of Toila at once.
Further up the tower, the purpose of the domed room at the top was explained as well, although even the Demon Lord did not fully understand the device seated there.
Just like the throne below, when seated in this chair, it connected with the tower, rather than a demon, like the tower itself was some kind of conscious entity. An entity with a massive magical reserve.
A magical reserve strong enough to manipulate the weather across an entire province.
And that was all. Except, Riza didn’t seem to think that was the truth. The Demon Lord confessed no other capabilities of the tower or of the chair, but she had her suspicions. Her doubts. The tower was capable of so much more, she was sure.
It was in line with how the demons handled information on a need-to-know basis. When all a Demon Lord needed to do was coordinate the demons in its province and manipulate the weather, why inform it of its other capabilities?
The tower and its apparatus were just one part of Riza’s acquisition. Throughout the rest of the demon, all the demons in the nest were gathered and categorised.
Humanoid and greater demons were abound, with a multitude of level caps and skills. Achieving level 25 for a summon would no longer be an issue for the immediate future, and she had a bunch of practised, strong humanoid demons with which to bolster her strength.
A few of them even had earth skills, thankfully, lessening the load on Daven. She put them to work straight away, connecting the Demon Lord’s nest with her own, whilst simultaneously closing all tunnels connecting this mega-nest to any other across the Empire.
If Riza was going to conquer the Empire, as was her plan, she was going to need an army to do so, and this was just the start.
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The tavern bustled with activity, its walls echoing with the clink of mugs and the murmur of voices. The air was thick with the scent of ale and roasted meat, and the flicker of candles cast a warm, amber glow over the wooden tables and benches that filled the space.
In one corner, a group of raucous patrons huddled together, their faces flushed with drink as they laughed and shouted. In one corner, a group of raucous patrons huddled together, their faces flushed with drink as they laughed and shouted. In another, a lone minstrel strummed his lute, his fingers dancing nimbly over the strings as he sang a hopeful ballad of an aspiring Lord, blessed by Skaldur.
Daven, Klannar, and Tanniya sat slumped around a battered wooden table, surrounded by empty mugs and tankards. The trio were thoroughly inebriated, their words slurring and laughter bubbling up uncontrollably as they whiled away the hours into the night.
The past week had been a never-ending onslaught of emotions since the Demon Lord had appeared, and it had taken a toll on all of them, especially Klannar. His mind was weary, even though his body showed no signs of fatigue. His squinted eyes and low-hanging head as he sipped his ale betrayed his mental exhaustion. He had started off enjoying the work assigned to him, but the novelty had worn off quickly, and he now found it "excruciatingly boring."
Daven, on the other hand, was elated. He had received news from the team investigating the Demon Lord's nest that there were numerous humanoid demons with earth skills, and he could hardly contain his excitement. Finally, he thought, he would have some free time to himself.
Tanniya appeared more exhausted than usual today. Her once steady hands now fidgety, her gaze distant and unfocused. It was evident that she was not fully present, even when directly addressed by her companions. The relentless stress and fear of their situation had taken a toll on her, and the alcohol she turned to for solace was doing little to ease her burden.
She had confided in the others about the source of her troubles on multiple occasions: Riza's newly implemented justice system. The system seemed to weigh heavily on her mind, and the strain was starting to show.
Daven wasn’t sure about the specifics of the deal she had made with Riza to work for her, but he did know it involved whatever this justice system was.
“It's finally happening, you know, but I’m not even involved!” Tanniya exclaimed, taking another gulp of ale from her mug. "She says it's fair and he'll get what he deserves, but I don't know." She trailed off, her voice quiet as she stared down at the cracks in the wooden table.
Neither Daven nor Klannar responded, the weight of Tanniya's words hanging heavily in the air.
Klannar broke the silence. "I'll be honest, I didn't really understand it," he admitted, scratching his head. "I talked to Andreya about it, but it was like trying to decipher a cryptic code." He smiled shyly to himself. Daven felt like he was missing a joke.
Tanniya perked up at the mention of Andreya, their mutual friend and confidant. "Do you know how it works?" she asked, leaning in eagerly.
Klannar shook his head. "Not really. What was your deal with Riza, anyway?"
Tanniya took a long swig from her mug, the liquid sloshing around noisily. "This guy I was with, Orum, was a piece of shit," she spat bitterly. "I'm dead because of him, you know. He poured me a drink and I took a sip, and the next thing you know, I'm in the ground in the fucking graveyard. The bastard poisoned me!"
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Daven's face twisted in disgust. "That's sickening," he muttered.
Tanniya nodded, her eyes fixed on the table. "So, I told Riza that I'd do whatever she wanted in return for getting revenge on him," she explained. "And she won't let me just go and kill him. This whole 'justice system' thing is apparently better. But it doesn't feel better," she finished, her voice laced with bitterness and frustration.
Daven swirled the frothy ale in his mug before turning to Klannar, who sat beside him. "So, what will this justice system do to Orum?" he asked, his voice neutral but curious.
Klannar took a long gulp from his own mug before answering. "Well, apparently, there'll be an investigation to determine whether he's actually done anything wrong-"
"Which is total bullshit," Tanniya interrupted, her frustration evident. Her fingers tapped on the table erratically. "Apparently, Riza doesn't believe what I say."
Daven shot a glance at Klannar, who merely shrugged, clearly not an authority on the justice system or Riza's decisions.
"If they believe Orum did kill Tanniya," Klannar continued, "there's a consistent punishment for murder. He'll be forced to become one of us and work for Riza."
Tanniya scowled, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. "It's so unfair. He killed me but gets the same thing that I have?"
Klannar levelled a pointed gaze at her. "Not everyone enjoys fighting stuff, Tanniya," he said.
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A figure strode down the deserted street, his steps echoing against the cobblestones. The flickering electric lamps cast eerie shadows against the buildings lining the way. He adjusted his coat, pulling it tighter around his body to ward off the chill of the evening air. In the distance, the looming silhouette of the red brick manor house stood out against the darkening sky, its towering gates beckoning him forward.
As he approached, the gates groaned open, revealing the sprawling estate beyond. The sight of a crow perched on a window sill inside caught his attention, reminding him that the desolate appearance of the manor was not to be trusted. The doors to the house were wide open and no person was in sight, but they were anything but unattended.
As he walked up the winding path towards the manor house, a mixture of excitement and nervousness washed over him. The previous Lord had been fickle and obstinate, with the man's family having been passed over to take their rightful place as the Lord. This was a rare opportunity for him to finally prove his worth and claim what was rightfully his.
Or, close enough to it, anyway. The current Lord had no desire to abdicate her position, he was certain, but she was certainly looking to empower his fellow nobility with various positions.
The man strode through the neglected garden, weeds and wildflowers brushing against his boots. The scent of crushed herbs and damp earth filled his nostrils as he approached the open door of the manor. A sign affixed to the wall directed him up the stairs for the interviews.
As he stepped into the foyer, he scanned the room for a servant to guide him, but found no one. The silence was unsettling, but not unexpected. This Lord was known for her unconventional ways.
Ascending the lush, carpeted staircase, he couldn't help but notice the gentle rustling of his coat echoing through the vast silence. Upon reaching the landing, he came face to face with the imposing oak doors that led to the study, a room he had entered only a handful of times before.
He paused, taking a deep breath before knocking with a sense of trepidation.
The door flew open, revealing a towering woman with raven-black tresses that cascaded down her back. Her attire was uncharacteristic of the nobility: practical and far from the Ancient clothing favoured by them.
"Right on time, Sevel," a voice called out from behind the woman, revealing her identity.
It was clear who she was; he had heard so much about her that if he hadn't known any better, he would have mistaken her for the city's ruler, not the Lord.
"Please, take a seat," she said, gesturing to a chair in front of her, her commanding presence filling the room.
Sevel complied without hesitation, sinking into the plush seat as the wood creaked slightly under his weight.
Andreya, the Lord's trusted right-hand woman, shuffled some papers on the desk, setting aside a stack before sliding a couple of pages in front of her.
Glancing sideways, Sevel caught a glimpse of a few sentences on the paper, but they appeared to be only questions.
And indeed, they were. For the next hour or so, Andreya scrutinised the papers, bombarding Sevel with questions and deftly noting down his responses. Her unwavering gaze made Sevel feel as if she was delving into his very soul with each inquiry.
Sevel tried his best to answer each question thoughtfully, his mind racing as he considered his responses. He was determined to impress Andreya and secure the power he was being offered.
However, despite his best efforts, Sevel couldn't quite gauge Andreya's reaction. Her expression remained inscrutable, her piercing gaze unwavering as she continued to pose one challenging question after another.
They were less about the legal doctrine that he had endeavoured to read up on as much as possible and more about hypothetical possibilities, anecdotes from his life, and so forth.
As the interview drew to a close, Sevel couldn't shake the feeling that he had faltered somehow. Perhaps his nerves had gotten the best of him, or maybe Andreya was simply a master of concealment. Either way, Sevel couldn't help but feel a sense of disappointment and uncertainty as he left the room. Only time would tell whether his performance was good enough to earn him the role he so desired.
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A woman emerged from the tent, the fabric rustling softly behind her. She closed her eyes briefly, taking a deep breath of the fresh, grass-scented air. The sky was a bright blue, the sun warm on her face, but her thoughts were far from the idyllic scenery. The air was crisp and cold against her skin.
She turned away from the camp, her boots crunching softly on the grass. The sounds of intense murmurs of conversation faded behind her as she strode purposefully across the field. Her mind was racing, filled with a thousand questions and worries, but she kept her expression calm and collected.
She strode forward, the movement helping to dispel the restless energy that seemed to be building inside her.
Toila was changing, evolving in ways she never could have predicted. News had arrived of the Lord's latest developments, including clinics for everyone and the introduction of Arbitrar Laws. It seemed like the city was being transformed into a breeding ground for warriors.
Command was on high alert, not just for the false Lord and her group of loyalists, but for an entire province that threatened to overrun them. Rumours of the false Lord's power and level only added to the anxiety, each new piece of information indicating an increase in her strength.
As she surveyed the soldiers and mages around her, she couldn't help but feel a pang of envy for those who were able to relax and enjoy themselves. A select few kept watch on the border while the rest of them talked and laughed, seemingly oblivious to the danger that loomed on the horizon.
A constant stream of travellers and refugees poured through the gates, seeking a better life out of Toila. They were all funnelled through earthen palisades and subjected to interrogation before being allowed to enter. It was a never-ending flow of people, day in and day out, a reminder of the responsibility that rested on their shoulders.
She couldn't help but wonder how much worse things had to get before action was finally taken. A deep sigh escaped her lips, a physical manifestation of the exhaustion that had been building up inside her over days of sleepless nights. All she wanted was to sit down and take a nap, but she had a purpose for being there.
As she made her way past groups of soldiers idling about, she tiptoed past crates and strode past tents filled with hushed voices. Finally, she arrived at a small training field, its dirt and grass replaced with magically-smoothed stone that already bore massive cracks.
Numerous Chosen and Dominion warriors were already training, honing their skills against both imaginary and real opponents. They were all willing to lay down their lives to protect the Empire.
Walking past them all, the woman found a spot on a raised patch of dirt at the far end of the field. From there, she tucked her hands beneath her armpits to keep them warm and watched a man armed with a bow face off against a robed figure, both engaged in an intense training exercise.
The robed figure raised their hand, and a bolt of lightning shot forth, crackling and sizzling through the air. The soldier responded with a quick flick of their wrist, and an arrow shot from their bow, its tip faintly glowing.
The two forces met mid-air, the lightning striking against the arrow with a blinding flash. The impact sent a shockwave through the ground, kicking up dirt and debris in its wake. For a moment, everything was obscured by a cloud of dust and smoke.
When it cleared, the scene that emerged was a chaotic one. The lightning was still crackling, still trying to find a path to its target, while the arrow tip flickered and glowed. The two forces seemed to be locked in a dance, each one trying to overpower the other.
The woman watching from the side-lines could feel the tension in the air, could feel the pulsating energy pierce her skin, a pin prick of pain erupting behind her eyes. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, her mind finding the well of essence that was the arc of lightning and focusing in on that. It was no insignificant attack.
Arcs whipped and reached around the arrow head but stalled, locked in stasis by the arrow, unable to reach anything.
As she watched, the lightning began to falter, its crackling becoming weaker and more erratic. The bowman, sensing the opportunity, drew another arrow and took aim. With a sharp twang, the arrow shot forth, its glowing tip striking true.
The impact was immediate and explosive. A burst of inverted colour erupted from the arrow tip, enveloping the entire bolt of lightning. The energy seemed to invert and twist in on itself, collapsing in on the centre until it was gone, leaving nothing behind, not even the arrows.
The bowman leaned backwards, taking a deep breath while the robed figure just cursed. It was clear who had won this bout.
Finally tearing her gaze away from the brutal fight, the woman sighed and shifted her weight on the rough dirt mound beneath her. Feeling a chill creep up her arms, she withdrew her hands from beneath her cloak and brought them together, rubbing them briskly until they grew as warm as they could be.
With a deep breath, she exhaled slowly into them, feeling the essence of fire flow from within her and into her hands. The air around her crackled with energy as a flickering flame burst to life between her palms.
The fire danced and swirled, casting a warm orange glow onto the woman's pale skin, illuminating the lines of weariness etched there. She held the flame steady, fascinated by its flickering life and the heat it gave off. As she breathed in the scent of burning wood, she felt the warmth seep into her fingers, soothing her tired muscles.
For a moment, she lost herself in the magic of the moment, the rarity of such magic.
Forbidden and restricted, she already knew she was drawing looks because of the small but significant flame. The responsibility she held within her hands weighed on her, its inevitable collision a beacon of light in her mind.
The woman was lost in thought, watching the flickering flames dance in her hands, when a cautious voice broke through her reverie. She looked up to see the bowman from the fight approaching, his eyes darting warily between her and the small flame she held. "Be careful with that thing," he said, nodding at the fire. "You could kill somebody!" His tone was teasing, but there was a hint of caution in his eyes.
The woman grinned mischievously, feeling a playful spark light up inside her. Without warning, she flicked the flame at him.
He yelped in mock pain, flapping his hands around as if they were on fire. But as the flame fizzled out harmlessly, he dissolved into laughter. "Okay, okay, you win," he said. "I guess you really are a master of the flames."
Placing his bow on the ground with a heavy thud, the man took a seat next to the woman, wincing as the hard dirt beneath him pressed into his already-sore muscles.
"How are you getting on?" the woman asked, glancing towards the robed figure now withdrawing from the battlefield.
The man shook his head wearily. "It's improving. I'm up to ten thousand damage now, but it's not quick enough. She created a fucking essence zone, Lerna. Twice!" He threw his hands in the air dramatically, frustration etched on his face.
The woman listened patiently, frowning in sympathy. "Only twice," she said, trying to inject some optimism into the conversation. "Maybe she can't do it more often. Maybe she has limits. There's a reason the whole province isn't a rapidly growing and dying forest by now."
The man let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping. "I know, I know. You're right," he said, rubbing his temples. "But I'm the one who has to deal with it. Anything, and I mean anything, I need to scrutinise intensely. No room for error." He tilted his head down, the weight of his cumbersome goggles pushing against his forehead like a literal burden.
The woman reached out and gave his arm a reassuring squeeze. "You'll figure it out," she said, her voice gentle. "I know you will. And hey, at least you have me here to keep you company." She grinned, winking playfully at him.
He managed a weak smile in response, but she could tell he was still weighed down by his worries. She scooted closer to him, feeling the warmth of his body seep into hers, and rested her head on his shoulder, summoning only a small flame between them. "Don't worry about it too much," she said softly. "By all reports, she remains in the city and doesn’t seem to be leaving any time soon. We’ve got time.”