Chapter Twenty-Seven

The medical tent was filled with people on makeshift beds. At first glance, they all looked perfectly fine. However, it didn’t take long to notice that something was definitely wrong. Their lack of movement was the first clue. None of them so much as twitched; they simply lay there, breathing, but otherwise motionless, staring at the top of the tent. It was their eyes that sent a shiver down Jackson's neck. He had seen these kinds of eyes before, back when he dueled that other swordsman. Their eyes were dead, void of everything except this corrupted light.

Bob nodded his head sadly.

“It’s like their soul has up and left," he said. "They just lay here, won’t eat, won’t sleep, and won’t do anything. When it started, they used to groan a bit, but it slowly progressed into this.”

Jackson glanced over at Melanie, who was biting her lip; her eyes were clearly troubled. Lazarus stood next to her, and the ancient vampyre spirit looked as if he were about to hurl. His eyes looked haunted, and Jackson knew that he knew something about this. Jackson looked over at Bob again.

“Do you have a private place where my companions and I can talk? We have our progression to see to.”

Bob nodded and led them out of the medical tent and away to a tiny corner where a medium-sized tent had been erected. Bob pointed.

“This here is empty, ‘cept a few chairs. We’ve taken to calling it the privacy tent. It's not clever, I know, but that's its purpose. Well, holler if you need anythin’.”

Jackson nodded, and they entered the tent, sitting in the chairs. He regarded Lazarus.

“Alright, spill. What is happening to them?”

Lazarus cocked an eyebrow at Jackson and then sighed, rubbing his face.

“This is—”

Jackson shook his head.

“Nope. Not this time. We need to know since this could potentially infect us too. You’re not hiding behind that ‘for your own good’ excuse this time. Out with it.”

Lazarus glared at Jackson. Melanie crossed her arms, and the spirit relented.

“Fine. You have a point. They’re corrupted.”

Jackson opened his mouth, but Lazarus waved his question away.

“Yes, yes, I know you don’t know what that means. Let me think of how to explain it.”

The ancient spirit bowed his head for a few moments before looking up.

“Those demonic seeds you crush when killing certain demons—did you ever wonder why those demons have them in the first place?”

Jackson’s brow furrowed, and he rubbed the back of his neck before shaking his head. Melanie merely looked interested. Lazarus gave a knowing nod.

“I didn’t think you had. Those seeds corrupt living beings. They burrow into their Domains, take root there, and begin to... well, pulse, is the best way I can put it. They pulse and transform the host into a nightmare that is a demon. There’s more to it than that, but that’s all I will say on the matter for now. It’s all you really need to know, anyway.”

Melanie’s mouth fell open in horror; she asked the question before Jackson could.

“Those people in that tent then?”

Lazarus nodded grimly.

“Yes. They have seeds pulsing inside them, converting them into demons.”

Jackson shook his head, not even sure what to say. He focused instead on actionable information.

“What can we do to stop it? How long do we have before they turn?”

Lazarus closed his eyes and let out a deep breath.

“Seeds come from a tree, a tree of corruption. If you want to save those people, you would have to find and destroy it.”

Jackson stood up.

“Let’s get going then!” he said firmly. Lazarus was already shaking his head.

“It isn’t so easy, lad. Sit down.”

Jackson bit his tongue and did so, and Lazarus went on.

“The tree is very likely at the top of that mountain. In fact, I am sure of it. Before you ask me how, just trust me. I have been around for a long, long time, you two, and I know what I say. What that vast experience tells me is that you are not ready for the challenges that mountain holds. If you two go as you are, you will perish. Maybe not on the way up the mountain, but the guardian, the floor boss that waits at its peak, will surely kill you.”

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Jackson growled and threw up his hands in frustration.

“What can we do then?! We have to do something, Laz!”

Melanie nodded firmly in agreement.

“Yes. We do,” she agreed.

Lazarus looked away from them and shook his head before looking back at them.

“I had intended to offer this to you once you upheld your agreement, Jackson, but it seems I have no other choice now if I want to see you succeed. I very much doubt it, but do you know what inheritance is?”

Jackson raised an eyebrow.

“Of course I do. It’s when you receive something of someone else’s after they have passed on, usually.”

Lazarus raised his hands, lifting one and then the other, as if balancing two things.

“Yes, and no. Yes, that is basically what inheritance means. However, in this case, I mean in relation to Eden and the Judge. See, if a significantly powerful individual in Eden wishes, they can pass down their knowledge, their experiences, and their path to one they consider worthy. I was fairly powerful in life, lad. The Judge allowed me to create an inheritance. A pocket world that will allow me to pass on my knowledge to you. In doing so, I will change your skills and the class evolution you received. It will influence that as well. It will allow me to train you and give you a foundation upon which to improve. It is the greatest gift I can give you, if I’m being honest.”

It sounded pretty great, but Jackson had some concerns. He pointed at Melanie.

“What about her? Are you able to offer it to her as well?”

Lazarus nodded.

“She can, but that is all the Judge will allow. However, this isn’t the solution that will save those people, Jackson.”

Jackson blinked.

“What do you mean?”

Lazarus looked away.

“Imparting the inheritance will take time, lad. There’s no telling how long. We can stay as long as we like in the pocket world, but time will still pass normally here. Those people—lad—they’re too far gone. I give it a couple of days at most before their will breaks and the seed turns them. If that happens, they will kill everyone in this camp and begin corrupting the other monsters here. There’s already one demon that corrupted the kobolds; there are ten people in that tent. Ten demons, lad, all of them corrupting this floor. You don’t want that; I’m telling you, you do not want that.”

Jackson growled in frustration.

“What then? What can we do?”

Lazarus spoke quietly but firmly.

“You kill them, Jackson.”

Jackson looked sharply at him, and Melanie’s eyes widened. Lazarus spread his hands, his features twisting into an expression of sorrow.

“I know, lad. I know. You don’t have any other options right now, though. The alternative is all of these other people dying and unleashing a plague of demons in this dungeon, which will lead to even more untold horrors. You have to feed on them, Jackson. So they die a final death. There’s nothing else you can do.”

Jackson hung his head. He clenched his fists tightly, and Riselle’s image flashed through his mind. The memory of him feeding on her, draining her blood as she cried out in terror.

“You want me to be a monster. Is that what I am doomed to, Lazarus? Feeding on helpless people? First Riselle, and now these people? How many more will there be?”

Lazarus spoke softly, but his words were granite.

“There is a lesson you need to learn, fledgling. The hardest lesson.”

He leaned in close, and Jackson felt Melanie’s eyes intent on them as Lazarus spoke, his voice colder than a winter storm.

“Sometimes the world needs a monster. Someone must make the hard decisions—the choices no one else wants to or is capable of making. Eden is not for the weak, Jackson. I have tried to empathize with you; I have tried to share my own experiences in an effort to help you along and to relate to you so you have someone to rely on. We do not have time for that path now. The coddling is over, fledgling. To be weak in this world is to be a victim, to die. Morals are well and good, but this is not a world of black and white. It is one of gray, and now you, Jackson Grey, must make that gray choice. Either you feed on those people to save the others, or they will, I promise you, turn into demonic nightmares that will consume these other folks and ravage this dungeon until it becomes a demonic plane.”

Lazarus leaned back, his face hard.

“Make your decision, Jackson.”

Jackson looked away from him. This wasn’t the heat of battle. This wasn’t a situation in which someone else was trying to kill him, and he defended himself. It wasn’t him losing control. It was a conscious choice. It would be murder, plain and simple. Maybe it was motivated by good intentions, but he recalled an expression. The road to hell was paved with good intentions.

This would be a step in that direction. But what else could he do? To do nothing would be for these others to die. He tried to come up with a solution.

“I could tell them to leave, to flee away from here,” he said, hopeful. Lazarus shook his head, and Melanie looked deeply troubled.

“Where would they go? The exit is up the mountain, and they would die. Even if they were willing to attempt it, even if they moved across the plains, the demons would simply find them, or they would have corrupted enough of the dungeon that it wouldn’t matter. No, lad. This is your choice. It is an evil one, but sometimes all you can do is choose the lesser of the two.”

Jackson felt Melanie’s hand slide into his, and he looked at her, shocked. Her hazel eyes were troubled but filled with sympathy.

“I forgive you, Jackson. For Adaran’s death, for Riselle’s. I see the burden you carry, and I understand now that I helped put it there. Lazarus is right; this has to be done. You aren't a monster for having to do it; do you know why?”

Jackson shook his head mutely.

“Because monsters don’t care, Jackson. They don’t care about others; they don’t trouble themselves with guilt or anything else but their own desires. I used to think you were offering excuses for your actions and that you didn’t really care about the deaths you caused. I see now that that isn't true. You do care, and if you could have done it differently, you would have. You made mistakes, but nobody is perfect. This though? This is necessary. Do it.”

There was something about the touch of another person that had a magic all its own. Jackson squeezed Melanie’s warm, soft hand in his own before withdrawing it. He took a deep breath and allowed the heat of resolve to wrap around him. He focused his mind as he would in a battle, and he stood up.

He did not want to do this. He did not want to kill those people, but the consequences of not doing so were worse. If this was a burden he had to carry, he would do so. Not because he was some noble hero, not because he even thought of himself as a good person, but because it was needed. Yes, that was who he was. He was the person who did what was needed.

“Okay then. Let’s go talk to Bob about killing some people.”