Chapter 30
[Snake Report]
“We are not safe here, Great One.”
The familiar voice echoes beside me as I slither across the land, but I do my best to push them away.
Ethereal and empty, the presence of the sand here has worn down. Growing finer and finer, the texture is almost painful. As if it has been broken too much from over-use, and never been given time to properly heal.
Stripped away.
Drained of everyting.
Hunger and hatred.
Those emotions are present, as are others. Alien and unfamiliar, but still very real.
Such, is this world.
I can feel it, beneath the soil. Always there, always reaching out. The entity there hasn’t forgotten us. It hasn’t forgotten about any of those who’ve wronged it.
Yet, we traverse the distance, unimpeded.
Across the great expanse, I can feel the pull. Much like gravity: we’re falling towards the source. Dragged onward, as the oceans pass in the blink of an eye.
The land shifts, the sky darkens, the hungry sands merge in a blur.
And we’ve returned.
Traveled, all the way back to the place I was born. The land in which I was born, beneath.
“Great One… we must leave.”
They still plead with me, still. Their voice, what I’ve come to know as wrathful and solid, seems all too frightened by my actions. They are an unwilling accomplice to this great journey.
Again, I press those words back down.
Now is not the time.
I need to know.
Need to see.
As the land spreads out before us: an expanse of ashes.
The empty sands have been replaced, it seems. In their place is something worse.
The ground, the soil, is black. Filled with the scent of cinder, and burning.
"Great One..." The familiar voice calls to me. "Take us from this place..."
I hear them, and I understand.
They do not wish to die, and they do not wish for me to die, either.
I’ve wondered if such a mindset represents true loyalty.
It is pure, if simplistic.
The companion of a separate entity beside my mind, pressed against my own thoughts. Regardless of their intentions, I know I should heed their warning, for they are as much a part of me as this limbless body. This tiny vessel, in which I reside. Contained within blue scales, built by mana and power, ruin and death.
"You have no such strength here." That same voice reminds me. “Not even a God can fight, in this place”
I ignore them, still.
Grooves are cut, filled with crumbling charcoal, as I continue.
We move in painful strides. Hot to the touch, I feel the agony seeping in as I am burn by the embers on my belly, enduring heat as scales catch and blister.
Forward.
The noise of our travel shakes the air with grayest wisps of smoke. In the absence of all else, our passage here is almost deafening.
“Not prepared… not ready…”
Where is it?
I truly wonder now, for I’ve traveled far. My eyes search for all they’re worth, but the farther I go, the less I am able to see, and the changes are only growing worse.
The smoke carries through the air, and within it, I smell a still raging source of heat. Thicker and thicker, until there is a shrinking horizon: Closing in around us, until the expanse is contained, and we can barely make out the way before us.
“They will come for us, soon. Soon, Great One…”
There is a great sense of urgency in the words, for I know it is the last warning. The final sign, before the point of no return. For all my hesitance in giving them my trust, they have not lied yet.
Still: We are so close, now.
So very close, to where this began.
Through the smoke, through the ashes, though the fear: The madness reaches, and I hear those horrible whispers. I see those swirls in the dark begin to take truer forms.
Finally, they have taken notice.
TRESPASSER…
CATALYST…
The words rumble: deep, but violent. Horrid, but familiar.
I feel the pressure, the weight, of ten thousand eyes turning at once. Of endless laughter, cackling in the dark.
YOU COME BACK TO US?
All I can do is push on.
Despite the risk, I know this chance will not come again. I need to know.
TINY SERPENT.
The calls have grown louder.
Heat rising, smoke twisting into eyes, into teeth. They dance about the air, laughing at the pitiful sight before them. Smoke is swirling around us, but above- above, the sky is deep red. As if an ocean of blood looms above us, like a void of endless depth.
“Great One! We must leave! We must!”
Desperate pleading, but I need to know.
I need to understand.
They can laugh, mock, and scream.
They can twist the madness rooted in my mind, contort the fragile balance of my sanity with the chorus of every language known to man. Everywhere I turn, now, I see them. Creeping out like slowly closing pincers in the darkness. They are bodies of curling flame. They are whispers of laughter, shouts of every language ever known.
They are death.
Yet, across the root, out of the ashes.
The climb is sudden.
From root, to trunk, the smoke is left behind as we rise. Body, reaching up in a wide spiral, we make our way, farther. Up, until I feel as if my bones are of lead and my scales of weighted iron. All while, beneath us, the shapes move to chase. They lift, as if an eruption. An up-well of heat and laughter. As the voices swell around us, wrapping us in their horrible embrace, the branches begin to crumble. Past dust, past bone, they are stripped of all things. Their substance is lost, entirely: final echoes toppling down and disappearing in the rising chaos.
But, I have found what I came here for.
From atop the precipice, atop the final branch: the tallest reaches of sky are a dying gift. From shore to shore, my eyes see what is, and what is not. I look upon the land of my birth, and at last I understand. At last I see.
There is nothing left but fire.
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……………………..
[Snake Report]
Waking up screaming.
So it goes.
Another terrible nightmare that I can't quite remember, partnered with the nagging feeling that it might have been important. And that I really, really, need to remember.
Only, I don’t.
I know I should, but I don't.
I’m not prepared for this sort of mental hurdle as soon as I wake up. The mornings are difficult enough without the inexplicable urge to try and remember some intangible, fragment, of a memory, that might not even exist.
A memory that might just be a trick of the mind, making me believe I have a memory to remember.
Sss…
This is exactly why I never feel like going to sleep anymore.
What kind of God needs to sleep, anyways? If you ask me, this is just a perk that should come with the title. I skipped a couple days with no problems at all. So, what’s a couple thousand more going to matter?
Sleep is for the weak, and as the saying goes:
“The weak get eaten by giant spiders.”
Yes, that’s the saying.
Sure of it.
And those things are back, in case you were curious.
Dungeon defenses have been a major focus, but even with my best efforts, the past couple days have not been pleasant.
I mean, you know it must be pretty bad when you have to tell your body guards to stand behind you.
Long story short, it is safe to say that patching up the holes in the walls and completely blocking off the mining tunnels has backfired.
It was a good plan.
Well-executed, decently well thought-through. In fact, I’m not saying I wouldn’t do it again.
The problem is just that I know now, through the miraculous power of hindsight, that my actions were like a plugging a bunch of holes in the monster bucket.
Foolishly, I thought that no more leaks would mean no more problems.
It made sense, at the time.
No easy way for monsters to get through to Tiny Snake territory, thirty slithers of solid stone is one heck of a barricade to try and claw through without some serious magical firepower, and I made sure there wasn't so much as a single seam they could slip through.
But, imagine for a moment:
There is a large, evil, object, filled with all manner of "Nope." And it is sitting quietly, patched nicely, no longer leaking a steady trickle of eight-legged death hungering for snake-meat.
This is good.
This solves many problems.
Yet, it doesn’t exist in a vacuum.
Slowly, this evil bucket is being filled.
As more and more monsters attempted to take their previous routes, they found the easy passageways were blocked, and they were redirected. Forced, in all likelihood, to turn completely around, and to go back. To search out a different route.
Thus, keeping with the every-straining bucket analogy: we’ve got a situation that is, almost, as if an evil tap has been left running. A circumstance where the lack of holes in the bottom means that after a long enough stretch of time…
Well, eventually the evil bucket of doom is going fill up.
And tip over.
Or… something.
Look, I just woke up. I don’t have the mindset for clever analogies.
The point is, to hell with the bucket. I set that entire bucket on fire. I went full Trogdor on that bastard. I scorched earth so bad, that my resistances were ranking up because of the poisonous fumes of flaming spiders.
I spit out so many [Leviathan Breath] spells that Steward and Alastar were starting to melt.
Granus is very lucky he's on butler duty. Because that sort of damage is tough to fix.
And it was still three full days of spider-torching, before the swarm ran out.
Three days.
The last of those eight-legged bastards to come bumbling in from the Dungeon’s hallway was so big, it barely fit into the tunnel.
So, there’s another breach farther in, if I were to guess.
Possibly, pretty far down there.
Which means, unless I want to be stuck on monster-removal duty for the rest of my days, I’m going to have to go and do something about it.
Ug.
God damn it, I actually have to go back down there.
Sss...
…
Breakfast first though.
………….
I’ve gotten into a bit of a routine. When things aren’t going terribly wrong, I opt to try and keep my days pretty regular.
So, I eat something, spend some time cleaning up and improving the main room. Add a few more details to the mural I made for Imra, slither up and hang out with Rocky and the tree.
Sometimes these things are all out of order, but status checks during breakfast are a bit of a ritual, at this point.
Normally, there isn’t much in the way of changes, when I'm doing these.
I just make little ticks up, here and there. Since I use magic for random things, all the time, it’s to be expected that there will be a couple improvements. Rankings having tiny little increases.
This and that.
But…
[Sentient Golem - Rank 27]
Hmm…
[Voice of Gaia] are you sure that’s right? I don’t think that’s right.
[…]
Hey.
[…]
You know that angry silence is my thing, right? If you weren’t evil, I’d almost respect you for this.
But I don’t, so just show me the stupid number again.
[…]
Do it.
[Sentient Golem - Rank 27]
Right.
So, Rank 27… Yeah.
Maybe it’s the sugar rush from swallowing an entire bag of stolen Empire Pancake mix, but that seems high to me.
Alastar and Steward stomped a lot of spiders before I took over, but not THAT many spiders. Once the really big eight-leggers showed up and started spitting acid that could melt stone, I did most of the work from that point on.
So, it goes to reason that something must have happened while I was asleep.
Which is weird.
Alastar and Steward don’t appear to be covered in monster guts.
Rules them right on out.
And Gorf is fine, too.
He’s down here, this morning. Apparently, he’d decided that playing with the glowing swords we acquired is more entertaining than playing with the water jugs.
It’s like watching someone with mittens carrying toothpicks, but whatever. At least he’s entertained.
Still, that only leaves one Golem it could have been.
Which is Rocky.
Sss…
Well, to the stairs we go.
Slithering onward and upward.
Which brings up an interesting topic: have you ever seen a snake climb stairs?
I mean, it’s possible, but holy crap. I must have a system by now, right? Some sort of magical floating platform, or some earth-sculpted variation of those mobility scooter things built out of the wall.
I could.
Well, maybe.
Floating platforms are tricky. Sand grains that condense into a shape are one thing, but actually floating a throne around all “Prophet of Regret” like, might be pushing it.
Luckily, I consider any of those options to be cheating.
Of course, I could find a way, but using mana is the easy out and I don’t want to get too complacent.
So, instead, most days I just go for it.
I’ve come to think of it almost like a commute. A little bit of time to practice less important spells while I focus my brain on taking on the stairs.
Today, though, I just need a break.
I'm using Earth Magic to move and reform the stairs like an escalator. Which is surprisingly tricky to get right.
Back to the point, though.
The Golem are ranking up super, super quickly.
It makes sense, considering I’ve got four of them active and wandering around. And, I went above and beyond when creating their bodies, so they’re able to do a lot more than they’re supposed to. But, I really didn’t expect to see so much progress, so quickly. And, much as I hate to admit it, I’ve grown attached.
I mean, they’re just magical spells that walk around, but at the same time- clearly there’s a bit more to them. At least, recently.
Which, is a bit of a problem. A contributor to the mental block, or maybe just the list of reasons and excuses I’ve accumulated, for opting not making more of them.
I mean, I could use more help. Another dozen Golem, and this Dungeon fiasco I’m about to undertake could just be delegated to a… group of them?
No, that’s not a proper word for it.
A clump of Golem… A gaggle of Golems?
Clump.
I’ll go with clump.
There are still a few mana crystals I could mine out and scrunch together. At least enough for a couple more Froggy-warriors, if I was careful. Plenty more, if I decided to reopen the tunnels I closed up, and actively set myself to mining them with magic. Which, I could easily do, if I made enough of Golem to help.
In fact, I could probably set up an entire mining operation, once I worked the logistics out...
But I’ve started to wonder if I should.
Of course, the act of doing so is well within my ability, but the Golem are just a little too much like people.
Giant people, sure.
Giant people, made almost entirely of stone, with quite limited cognitive ability- but people all the same. If I somehow made ten, or a hundred, or a thousand Golem, and each was specifically meant to fight and die for my sake: could I really justify it?
I’m not sure.
This world has enough terrible stuff happening without me going and adding into the mix. Unless I had a really good reason, I can’t break away from the feeling that it would somehow be wrong.
Maybe that’s a misplaced human sentiment, but at least for now: there’s a delicate balance to maintain.
Four Golem is plenty, I think. As long as I’m careful.
Alastar and Steward are plenty strong, though they rely on each other a bit too much. Which, isn’t really their fault. It’s just a result of what I’ve had them doing, which has been standing guard at the tunnel that keeps flooding with giant spiders.
Gorf, on the other hand, is extremely powerful. Comparatively, I would actually say that Gorf is as strong as Alastar and Steward put together, because when he hits something, he really hits something. But he’s also slow, and clumsy. He misses more often than he lands a hit, so as a result, he’s better suited to blocking damage or just distracting dangerous threats.
Really, out of all of the Golem, Rocky is the only one capable enough to deal with threats on his own. When faced with an enemy, he doesn’t stumble. He doesn’t rely on me, or anyone, and he just acts.
What’s more: he never wastes my time.
Where Gorf might want to show me a pretty rock, or how he managed to catch a live, very angry, scorpion, Rocky never comes to me with anything unless it’s super important.
Which…
Well, I’ll admit: this is exactly what has me stumped, right now.
Sss…
Alright, Rocky.
One more time.
No-no, I hear you. I just need you to repeat that last part.
No- the last part, Rocky.
Yeah.
The part of your dance, where you fall down.
What was that thing you did with your arms? Was that important?
It wasn’t?
Okay.
Okay…
Sss…
Language barriers.
I'll admit, it's a little funny, being on the opposite side of this problem, for once in my life.
I have absolutely no idea what he’s trying to tell me.
Charades is not cutting it today, and if there is a deeper meaning to the creative dance Rocky is now displaying, I have no idea what.
Okay…
One more time, Rocky.
I know, I know. Just, take it from the top.
Sss…
Yup.
Yep.
Okay.
Not sure.
The general gist of things makes sense.
First, there is waiting. Then, there’s some stomping and some posturing. Rocky swings his club, looks intimidating- but what has me confused, is that his show ends with a heavy tumble…
There it is again.
A heavy tumble, before he gets back up and waves his arms.
Alright.
Yes.
… No.
I don’t get it.
Maybe there was another monster? He saw one, swung at it, and fell down?
I mean, he stomped the hell out of a red lizard, like… two days ago. I only know that because I saw him.
He didn’t bother to try and tell me about it, though. I don't know why this would be any different.
It’s weird to seem him so excitable.
Sss.…
“Message received, Rocky. Keep up the good work. I’ll send the others up here to back you up, in case something happens.”
Signature [Tail-Thumb’s up] and-
Slither quick, because it’s a fib.
Back down we go.
Yup.
It’s not like I don’t know “something” happened, but I don’t see any evidence of an attack.
Rocky is fine.
The tree’s fine.
There’s no humans in sight, or anything else.
It’s all good.
So, I’ll compromise.
Gorf and the others will go and reinforce Rocky for a day or two, and that works out, because that’ll give me free reign to deal with the new spider-breach situation, somewhere down the tunnel.
I can let loose without worrying about them.
All good.
Perfect plan.
Besides, I'll only be down there for a couple days, tops.
What could go w-