He had won.

As Isaiah stared at the huge screen, which was divided into a dozen squares, that simple fact was abundantly apparent. Everywhere he looked, he saw dead bodies. Most of the corpses belonged to members of the Adventurers Guild. Apparently, Bruce Garet had an ability associated with his Guild Leader class that allowed him to magically enforce certain conditions upon people who’d sworn oaths to his guild. Given that one of the requirements to join had been a pledge to defend it unto death gave Garet all the leeway he needed to sacrifice everyone in the guild.

From what Isaiah could tell, most of the resultant energy had gone to waste. And as inefficient as the act was, it was also the only reason Elijah Hart had managed to survive. If Garet had absorbed all of the energy, he wouldn’t have simply been unstoppable. He could have squashed the Druid like a bug.

But Isaiah couldn’t concern himself with Garet any longer. He and his guild were dead. Mercer was under control, with some of the worst residents having been confined to jail. It wasn’t a lasting solution, but Isaiah hoped something more permanent would present itself soon. Because the alternative was to execute them, and that was a step he didn’t want to take.

It was a slippery slope, after all. If he could justify killing imprisoned enemies, where would it stop? He had very few checks on his power, now. And he knew that, if he allowed himself to solve his problems that way, he would end up doing so for every issue he encountered. Before long, he would start killing people for disagreeing with him too vehemently, which would turn him into a tyrant.

Isaiah wouldn’t allow himself to descend to those depths, so he’d long since vowed to find other ways. That wasn’t to say that he wouldn’t engage in violence if necessary. It only meant that he would try everything else – as he had with both the Adventurer’s Guild as well as Mercer Mesa – before going down that road.

He took a deep breath, then turned to his people. Everyone in the room had the Scholar archetype, which meant they were perfectly suited for gathering and parsing information. But none of them were fighters, and he could see how much the battles had affected them.

“We have won a great victory,” he said. “Because of the people in this room, Seattle has a chance to once again become the great city it used to be. People will no longer have to worry about whether or not they’ll get a cup of water for the day. Our gardens will flourish, and our people will survive. That’s the first step before we can regain all that we’ve lost, and due to the sacrifices of the people in this room – and our soldiers out there – we have that opportunity.

“You should all be proud of what we accomplished. You’ve saved lives today,” he said. Someone clapped, but it was clearly premature because nobody else joined in. Finally, Isaiah said, “Thank you, and keep up the good work.”

After that, he turned away from the screen and fled the command center. Not long after, he reached his office. Only after the door had closed did he let out a long sigh and collapse into his chair. Absently, he rubbed his chest. A wound he’d received shortly after the world had been transformed continued to bother him. Back then, he’d taken a spear to the chest – courtesy of a would-be bandit – and the injury had never fully healed. Even now, years later, his heart regularly skipped a beat, and he sometimes had trouble breathing.

Of course, he hid the infirmity from everyone else. A leader needed to project strength. Any perceived weakness would invite challenge and suggest to his followers that he wasn’t the man for the job. The only person who knew of the injury was the Healer he saw once a week, and according to her, it would be years before she progressed to the point where she could completely rid him of the aftereffects.

So, Isaiah had resolved himself to simply dealing with it. Increased attributes helped. So did reaching the Body of Wood stage of his cultivation. And yet, there were times when it felt like he was having a heart attack.

Stress made it worse, too. Which meant that his chest currently felt like he had an elephant sitting on it. Perhaps it was time to call for the Healer again. That usually alleviated the symptoms for a few days, at least.

But before he could do so, Isaiah abruptly realized that he was not alone. There was a statue of a rabbit sitting on his desk. Or he assumed it was a rabbit. The thing was nearly two feet tall, with giant ears that stood straight up, and a body that seemed somewhat sturdier than any hare Isaiah had ever seen.

And it was made of what looked like faceted diamond.

Not a series of gems, either. Instead, it looked as if it had been carved from a single stone. So, when it moved, turning its head toward Isaiah, he couldn’t help but flinch.

It flickered and then, an instant later, projected a beam of light onto the surface of the desk. Over the next few moments, a figure slowly appeared. To Isaiah, it looked a lot like something being 3D printed, but with light instead of plastic. As he watched, Isaiah slowly embraced the couple of combat skills he possessed, and he mentally activated his most powerful combat drone. It was strong, but because it required a ridiculous amount of ethera to operate, he usually kept it in reserve as his personal guard.

“There’s no need for that,” said the figure, which looked like a man made of the same diamond as the bunny. “Do not waste your ethera, young man.”

“What is going on?” Isaiah asked, embracing Placid Mind to divorce himself from his emotions. Clearly, the figure didn’t mean him harm. And judging by the amount of ethera wafting off the bunny, it could hurt him if it chose to do so.

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“Good. Straight to the point. No point in dealing with superfluous emotions and details. I am here to offer you an opportunity, my boy,” the figure said, gesturing animatedly. “Here. One second. I think I remember how to do this…ah. There it is.”

At that moment, a notification appeared before Isaiah’s inner eye:

A powerful entity has offered you a Task:

Obejctive:

Replace a major organ with an artificial version.

Reward:

Blessing of the Mechanique, Delp Dariq

Do you accept?

Isaiah read the notification, then asked, “How did you know?”

“I’ve been watching you, my boy. Ingenious, what you’ve done with so little ethera. That leg of yours is quite an impressive feat of engineering, if I do say so myself! And the heart? You’ve a little way to go before it’s usable, but you are on the right track. It takes me back to when I first started replacing my organic bits. Ah – good times,” Delp said.

Of course, Isaiah knew about the mechaniques. They were one of the few surviving elder races, though the most reclusive. The guide he’d read said that they were living golems who cared for nothing but their machines and replacing bits of their bodies. When he’d read the description, Isaiah had assumed they would all be emotionless robots, and yet, Delp was quite animated.

“Your blessing. What does it entail?”

“Ah – that. I’m supposed to tell you that you will get three options of equal value,” the mechanique said via his projection. “Hogwash! Oh, I like that word. We had a similar word in my original language. No one left who speaks it, though. Just me…”

After a moment of silence, during which the projection hung his head, Isaiah asked, “Three options?”

“Oh. Right. Only one is worth taking. Core advancement. Not possible on this planet yet, except in very special circumstances. If you had a nature attunement, perhaps you could take advantage of those, but you don’t. In any case, this is no ordinary core. You’ll have a Mechanique Core. Far more powerful than anything you’d get through natural cultivation.”

Isaiah didn’t need to be told about special cores. He’d already met three people with such advantages. Elijah Hart was one, and according to everything he’d seen, the Druid’s Dragon Core was the most powerful. However, the two visitors he’d received a little more than a month before had both possessed Angel Cores that could, in most ways, rival Elijah’s.

“And all I need to do is finish my project,” Isaiah stated. The artificial heart he’d been building was not really his project alone. Instead, it was a cooperative effort between himself, a former heart surgeon turned Healer, and an Engineer who’d once built robots for a living. Between them, they’d almost finished the prototype, which used all sorts of rare and powerful materials, though Isaiah was still hesitant to shove that thing into his chest.

“If it makes any difference, you won’t live more than six more months without it,” the mechanique said via his projection. “There are no Healers on this planet with high enough levels to repair a heart that has been damaged so severely. If you’d had access to a high-level Healer with the right class, perhaps they could have fixed it at the time. But by now, too long has passed. Healing an old injury is far different than mending a fresh one. It should have been a death sentence.”

“Kind of sounds like that’s exactly what it is,” Isaiah said. “Just a delayed one.”

Delp Dariq let out a booming laugh that rattled the desk. “That it is, my boy. That it is. But as I said, this is an opportunity. Take it,” he said. “Implant that heart, and all your problems will be solved.”

“All of them?”

“Well, most. Some, probably. One, at the very least!”

Isaiah didn’t hesitate before accepting the task. In a lot of ways, he didn’t have much choice in the matter, but he also knew that it was an opportunity that most people would not receive. He knew about special cores, and he recognized just how powerful they could be. For instance, Elijah Hart had an archetype that wasn’t exactly suited for combat, and even though his class worked to correct that, he still should have been weaker than even-leveled foes. Yet, because of his core cultivation, he could not only hold his own, but also defeat enemies that would have otherwise killed him with little trouble.

Isaiah hoped for similar benefits.

“Good!” said the mechanique after Isaiah accepted the Task. “I’ll see you again when you start to advance your core!”

Then, without any warning, the rabbit turned and hopped away. It disappeared into a rift in space before it hit the ground, which left Isaiah with a host of questions that he knew wouldn’t soon be answered. In any case, he had a goal now. All he needed was to shove an artificial heart into his chest – and somehow survive – and he’d gain a significant boon.

He was tempted to leave his office right at that moment, but he knew that would be a mistake. Not only did he have a hundred tasks pulling him in as many directions, but he could sense a visitor coming his way. So, he took a few minutes to compose himself before Elijah Hart knocked on his door.

“Enter,” he announced, standing as he adjusted his shirt. He wore the same black fatigues as his underlings, though his had been made from sterner stuff than the standard issue uniform. There were increased dangers to being the leader, and so, he needed increased protections, too.

The door opened, admitting the Druid. The man hadn’t made any concessions to civility. His beard was still wild and untrimmed, his hair was shaggy, and his clothes – while high-quality – looked unremarkable. Most of all, though, Isaiah found himself annoyed by the man’s bare feet. He didn’t care if it was, as his information suggested, tied to an ability. It was just bad manners.

Of course, he didn’t expect more from someone like Elijah Hart. The man was powerful, but he was reckless, selfish, and, worst of all, unpredictable. One day, those traits would get the Druid killed, and Isaiah wasn’t certain if he would celebrate or mourn the man’s passing.

“What can I do for you?” Isaiah asked.

“I’m just here to let you know that I’ll be leaving tomorrow,” he said, uncharacteristically thinking of how his actions might affect other people. “Just wanted to make sure we’re square before I leave. K’hana is going to stay behind. I guess she wants to get started on the exchange of services.”

“There’s no reason to wait,” Isaiah admitted. Indeed, the elven woman had already started the process of finding water, and the initial results were promising. When she left, she would lead a team of his fighters to her tower.

“Right. So, is there anything else we need to discuss? Because I’ll admit that I’m tired of city life.”

“There’s one more thing,” Isaiah said after only a moment’s hesitation. “There’s a situation in Hong Kong. I promised I would spread the word to any powerful people I might encounter. You qualify.”

“Alright? Lay it on me.”