The clink of glasses behind me almost made me roll my eyes at this point. Surely this was theatre, and could have been done with less pomp. I swivelled, and saw the displaced bar, stuck into the rock like it had always been there. Behind the taps, in front of shelves of bottles that weren’t there a moment ago. I was no longer dripping with blood, any left had congealed and dried in the heat of my flames. Still, it definitely added to the surreality of the situation as I clambered into a bar stool.

“Dion.”

“Izaark.”

The two of us looked at each other in the silence after our greeting. Dionysus was less gregarious than usual, that was interesting. Worrying, certainly, but it was also quite nice to see him struggling to find words.

“So,” I said, nonchalant, “what brings you to this neck of the… caves?”

“You,” Dion’s voice was full of hesitance, “are shockingly effective.”

I blinked. It might just be a nice way of saying a bad thing, but from his demeanor it seemed that he was upset. His words added an extra nuance to that. Dionysus was intimidated. It took a dragon’s worth of self-control not to grin.

“As that piece of garbage found out. I still have his team to deal with, though I’m not sure what I’m going to do with them. The murderous anger has died a little.” It definitely had. As I chased down Hadonis, I thought back on the situation and wondered if I made the right choice in regards to the ones in clear servitude.

“Glad to hear you’re not going to belch fire on me, some of these liquors might add enough of an oomph to your gut to give me a singe.”

“I promise nothing. You’re being a bit evasive here Dion, what’s going on?” In reaction to my words, the mask of a smile dropped from Dion’s face.

“I don’t appreciate the tone.” The wood of Dion’s bar suddenly shifted. Light brown wood rippled and darkened. The light above him, shining from no bulb or candle, became ominous, shadows danced. I gulped. The liquid in the bottles behind him started to bubble… or maybe it was just attacking the glass, alive and angry. He seemed three times larger than his already mountainous form in my perception. “I am not some conjurer of cheap tricks.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I interrupted. At my words, the bar became normal again quickly, and I saw it for the joke it was. “Did you just try to Gandalf me? Why do you know about Gandalf?”

“When Nahariel and I scanned through the Earth stuff in your brain to connect you to the System in a way that made sense for you, some of it was pretty interesting. You are a big Lord of the Rings fan, and it rubbed off a little. I like a Song of Ice and Fire. That George guy really knew how to describe a feast!”

“I can’t help but feel we’ve gone off on a tangent here, Dion. We seem to have actually all the time in the world, but I have things to do, goblins to put to work. An evolution?” I prompted Dion back into the conversation, not looking to argue about fantasy novels that no longer existed. The sting of nostalgia was painful.

“Right, yes, I suppose we should move on.” Dion made himself a drink, it smelled of lemon and creme. “You’ll be wanting to know more about the god pacts now and how they work.” He said it like a statement of truth, which it was. “Evolution is going to be fairly intuitive, you played all of those ``mon`` games, you’ll get it. Look,” the massive man was definitely flustered, “I definitely can’t complain about your… efficacy, no I can’t. At the same time, there’s absolutely no chance that it gets any less chaotic from here on out. That said, I wouldn’t be the god of revelry if I didn’t enjoy a little chaos.”

Dion finished talking, and it seemed like he felt as though the explanation was given. “The evolution I can work out, but you haven’t explained god pacts. What is a god pact? Do we have one?” Dion looked sheepish at my question, which felt like an answer.

“No,” came Dion’s eventual admission. “We don’t have a pact. That’s how I was able to get you onto Gaia. As I said, it’s Zeus’ world… which means that,” he nodded towards to charred remains of Hadonis, “is one of Zeus’ projects.” Dion must have seen me eyes widen as panic began to rise in my throat because he quickly then said “again, this is where you not having a pact is good.”

“What does a god pact mean? What does it actually entail?”

“When a mortal receives a god pact, they join our armies. The gods, that is. A mortal bound by god pact is much more restricted than you are, but they would have boons that you don’t. Zeus in particular has some very powerful champions.”

“If Zeus,” I said slowly, trying to make myself as understood as possible, “has insanely strong fighters under him, and there’s a way to make me even more powerful, and you want me to defeat these powerful champions, why is it good that I don’t have one?” I wasn’t sure whether I would take something that bound me to Dion at this point, but the reasoning was important.

“Because if you were pacted, Zeus would know you’re on Gaia and all the fun would be ruined. Right now, you’re just like any other monster. If you had a god pact,” Dion’s voice was almost chiding, “then killing that poor, young man would have kicked off a war. Not quite ready for a war yet, are you?”

“Ready or not, they’re getting a war. That’s why I’m here in the first place. Also don’t pity this snivelling coward, he got what he deserved.” I turned away from the crisped and mangled body, done admiring my handiwork, and saw a strange look on Dion’s face. His eyes were glittering, excited, his hands clutching the bar in front of him white-knuckled.

“You’re a right wild one, aren’t you? Well, I do like an underdog. Have fun with your evolution, things should start getting very interesting from here on. Watch out for the god pacted ones, they’ll be the ones that give you the most trouble. Keep causing chaos.”

And with that, with the sensation of taking a long blink, accompanied by the sound of glasses clinking together, the scene disappeared. The giant god of debauchery was gone and the sounds of the tunnels returned. The smell of rock, smoke and blood filled my nostrils, replacing the cognac and cigar smell that followed Dionysus.

Before I accepted the evolution, I looked over my character page once more.

Name: Izaark

Race: Kobold

Species: Gem Dragon

Level: 01

Class: Warlock

Job: Overlord

HP:88

Strength

Tier 1

MP:172

Body

Tier 1

EP:950

Magic

Tier 3

Will

Tier 1

It bothered me that I still didn’t know what the effects of a level up were, and that I was only 50 points away from it. While I pondered the pros and cons of trying to hunt 50 EP worth of chesmites or something, I gathered up the magic items that Hadonis had been wearing.

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Continuing to take stock before moving ahead with evolution, I looked through my inventory. I wasn’t entirely sure the market value of the magical items in my possession, but comparing it to the only other trove… this was an incredible haul of items.

Inventory

Capacity: 80

Item

Item description

Weight

Ring of Night Vision

Gives the wearer the ability to see in darkness

0.1

Ring of Energy

Provides a small increase to mana pool and magic regeneration

0.1

Amulet of Solitude

Obscures the wearer from scrying, and spells of that nature

0.5

Siege Breaker Shield

Three times a day, the wielder of this shield can cause up to seven creatures of their choice to stumble.

9

Searing Dagger

Inflicts damage over time (acid) after wounding.

5

Triad Blade

Can conjure a fireball, lightning bolt or ice spear once a day each.

12

Breastplate of Brilliance

This breastplate is self-repairing. It appears pristine at all times.

30

Dwarven Mace

While not magical, the forging techniques of the dwarves make for masterful equipment.

8

Staff of Life

Healing magic cast while wielding this staff is more effective.

7

A mix of practical and impractical items. I happily placed the ring on my left hand, my right hand still missing fingers. Noticing that made it hurt more, and I hurried, placing the necklace on and heading back in the direction of my lair. I still had time, as no prompt had appeared to tell me of either one passing away. I rounded the corner and found them, right where I’d left them.

“Wow.” I hadn’t really seen the fight, so much as reacted and attacked as quickly as possible. Seeing the large chunk of roof I had smashed with my jump, the unblinking eyes of the dead elf, the terrified and angry face of baldie… Whatever else my display had been, it was definitely impressive.

“Stay back!” I managed not to flinch at the voice, though I hadn’t noticed Salan staring daggers at me, hand raised. That could have meant my life, if she had been attacking. Instead, the raised hand had a golden glow around it that was anything but hostile. Placed on the dwarf’s chest, it pulsed every few seconds, and the dwarf’s breathing became less and less ragged.

Seeing no reason to hide this ability, hoping it might assist in my mystique, I removed the staff of healing from my inventory. “Now, I… may have been a little… overzealous.” As I spoke, I moved, making my movements as obvious as possible while Saran looked at me with a combination of confusion and worry. I held the staff forward, and mimed myself throwing it. “Unlike some,” I spat the word, “I don’t kill for fun. Heal the dwarf if you can.”

For a moment, I felt as though I should check my evolution prompt again because Salan was looking at me like I had two heads. Well, either talking monsters weren’t the norm, or mercy wasn’t. In either case, it would probably be smart for her not to get used to either.

“Now, Salan.” As I used her name, she stiffened but almost robotically began moving. She picked up the staff, and the golden light that was emanating from her hand moved to the head of the stave. Quicker than before, the light pulsed. I watched, fascinated, as the wounds on her own leg began to close as well. It was almost as impressive a sight as my own magic. Almost.

“What are you? What do you want? Why are you letting me heal Logue?” Ah, so the dwarf was named Logue. She seemed to be struggling between the fear of me and wanting to concentrate on healing. I took a few steps back and sat down, hoping to look disarming.

“I’m a kobold. I’m letting you heal the dwarf… Logue… because I have an instinct that both of you are good people. As for what I want? Well, only everything I see, I suppose.” Including the services of a healer and a smith. “What I wanted was to get revenge for my goblins. Which I feel like I have done, mostly.”

“You’re definitely not like any kobold I’ve ever heard of.” I don’t think she meant the words as a compliment, but I swelled with pride all the same.

“Indeed, I’m one of a kind. I heard the pathetic leader of your’s say that you wanted to spare my gobl-”

“He was not my leader.” Salan interrupted, a visible shiver coming over her body.

“Good for you. Interrupt me again and it won’t matter that you were the voice of reason. As I was saying, you seem smart enough to look at a situation and judge it from there. So, I have an offer.” I watched her as I spoke, gauging her reaction. It was the exact amount of confusion and intrigue that I had hoped for. “I am building an empire, and I would like you to join it.”

I had only decided to build an empire in this conversation, but she didn’t need to know that. My ruler’s presence would be enough to give weight to my words, fast and loose as they were. This was not simple convenience, or a proverbial olive branch but instead a calculated decision.

My anger had truly been spent. I’d gained more than I had lost at this point, and was beginning to see clearly again. If I could prove to this dwarf and elf that I was relatively benevolent, then trade may be possible further down the line. For now, just getting more information about the world from them would be valuable enough.

“An empire of monsters? You don’t know anything about us,” she was confused, clearly on the back foot and wondering what the trick was, “why would you want us?”

“Because,” I hid a grin as I spoke, my verbal riposte already planned, “I’m going to change the world.” I had watched the group from afar. I had a guess towards some of the nuances in the world above. As I saw not fear but hope fill Salan’s eyes for a moment, I knew I was right, so I pressed on.

“Humans act like kings because they were born to power.” A small nod, unbidden, from Salan at that. “They take, and they take, and they give nothing back but derision and spite. I am not like them. I’m not looking for destruction, or carnage. The opposite, actually. I just want a quiet life.” As the ruler of Gaia.

I didn’t say the last part, as it would undo the spell of words I had placed on Salan. I knew, once I returned to my lair and gave her and the dwarf lodging in my small dwelling, I wouldn’t even have to convince Logue, the dwarf, myself. She would do that for me when he awoke confused. Pleased with myself, I looked up from my faux noble act and saw tears. I couldn’t help myself from asking, though I knew it was just nosiness.

“It’s been hard? Yes?” Another small nod, her voice seemingly absent. “I look after my own… as you’ve seen. Loyalty is quickly rewarded. Come, I’ll carry the dwarf.” There was a stammered disagreement at that, something about him being too heavy. That was quieted quickly as I lifted the stocky, still unconscious dwarf over my head. A fireman’s carry would have been better, perhaps, but he was too wide for that. It wasn’t a long journey, and with strengthen active on myself, we would make good time.

“What about…” Salan trailed off, letting her gaze be all the question I needed.

“Burials are hard to come by in this rock, and I don’t know the customs of these people. Do you have any suggestions?” I didn’t want to be blasé after having killed these people, they were potentially her friends. She walked over to Baldie first. I began to feel guilty as her eyes welled with tears. However as Salan screamed a battlecry and kicked the jaw of the dead woman, my understanding of the situation continued to grow. I pointedly ignored the vulgar names she began shouting at the dead body, wondering if these echoes would travel far enough to be heard.

After she got what she needed from that, she turned to the fallen elf.

“Oh, Ash.” Salan knelt and closed the eyes of the dead man, her eyes lingered on his face for a moment. She then closed her own eyes tightly, taking a deep breath. She released her eyes at the same time as she exhaled, then focused on me. As she stood, she clenched her fist and said a phrase under her breath. I jumped back, having dropped the dwarf already, but I was not under attack.

The rock beneath Ash, the dead elf, dipped. Like a thumb had pressed into clay. He sank into the ground as it fell away slightly. Salan moved both of her hands in a circle, before throwing them apart, as though tying a large bow. More words fell from her lips, too slight for me to hear. Stone began crawling over the elf’s body, entombing him. The process was finished with Salan punching her right hand into her left palm and stamping her right foot. The ground was sealed. The spell was done. The only sign of the grave was a slight mound in the rock.

“It’s not perfect, but it will do. We elves aren’t picky about our funerals, don’t worry. As for her,” Salan spat the word with as much hate as I had ever heard, “that’s up to you.”

“Leave her for the chesmites.” I’d smell enough burned flesh today, and just wanted to return to my lair. The body would be eaten by something in the next few hours, I was sure. “No more distraction, we move. You have my word that no harm will come to you. If you aren’t convinced by the time you have rested, you are free to go.” To stress my sincerity, I reaffirmed the words. “I promise.”

“Alright,” Salan said, helping me lift the dwarf over my head this time. With a more than a hint of morbid curiosity in her tone, “you could have killed me at any point… if nothing else, it will definitely be an adventure. Fine. Let me see this empire.”