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Tower in Shambles: Population Control [Summoner/ Anti-Hero/ Progression/ Tower Climber]
42. A Frank Conversation with the [Serpent’s Hand], Paladin of a Blood God

42. A Frank Conversation with the [Serpent’s Hand], Paladin of a Blood God

42. A Frank Conversation with the [Serpent’s Hand], Paladin of a Blood God

“A little to the left. No, left-left, that’s right.”

“Right like this? Seems off as shit.”

“No, you went right. Go left about a foot. Pivot. Pivot. No, you are not pivoting.”

“Well, you said left! I went left! Fuck sakes. What other left is there?”

“No. Look. Just set it down. Ok, pick up my end and stay put.”

I smiled awkwardly at Yagmar as we both watched Thwain and Pyro argue back and forth about the positioning of the altar’s fountain. The [Serpent’s Hand] had used her class skills to bless each component of the altar, leaving us with the task of assembling the pieces before she could activate it completely by blessing it one last time.

The altar was a sight to behold, equally captivating and intimidating. It consisted of a wide circular dark gray base, almost identical to the dark stone that surrounded the portal archways. A large rectangular chunk of lighter gray stone rose up in the middle of the circle of dark stone, carved with intricate patterns of twisting serpents in hues of green, yellow, and red. The serpents seemed to be chasing each other around the rectangular stone, their sparkling eyes appearing to judge those who approached the altar. Atop that was a magnificent anvil, decorated with fields of wheat on rolling hills. Trenches were cut into the stone around the anvil, like drains waiting for blood to be spilled into them. Each piece had started off as crudely shaped bland hunks of rock formed with Pyro’s skills. Once Yagmar blessed them, however, they transformed into beautiful and exotic pieces of art. After a few more minutes of bickering, the altar was squared up.

“Perfect,” Yagmar said softly. She approached the altar, caressing the serpents with her fingers and tracing their long slithering bodies. When she channeled her skill again, wind rushed towards her as mana was sucked in from nearby, but it wasn’t nearly as dramatic as her first skill that she had used to obliterate the slimes.

“Totec, may this altar be a beacon of salvation in the darkness. May our enemies tremble at your sight!” The altar started glowing bright red, then doubled in size, the dragon carvings slithering around the stone and roaring silently. The altar shifted and stretched, widening until it almost looked like the base of a pyramid with an anvil on top. Blood welled up, forming a dragon’s head that rose from behind the altar, opening its mouth to bathe the anvil with fire. Slowly, the altar’s light dimmed. Yagmar’s mana was spent. The dragon head, its mouth open, dimmed like molten metal cooling down, solidifying in a glassy dark red stonelike substance. The [Serpent’s Hand] sat down heavily, turning around to rest her back against her god’s altar.

“There… It is… Done…” She closed her eyes and began snoring softly within seconds.

Pyro let out a low whistle.

“Ya think we’re gettin’ murdered in our sleep or we gettin’ murdered while awake?”

“My vote is during our sleep,” Thwain replied. “No sense in getting ready for my day just to be obliterated.”

“Damn right,” Pyro agreed. “Fuck me right up while I’m dreamin’ of bein’ washed by three redheads. Fuckers better not wake me just to let me know they’re ‘bout to assassinate me cuz they hate this snake shrine thing.”

“What do you think it does?” I asked. I couldn’t seem to stop looking into the serpent’s eyes. I had the distinct feeling that it was watching me right back.

Pyro shrugged. “Put shit on it and see what happens.”

Curious, I walked to the edge of the platform and summoned Slimey, sending him crashing into the slimes below. After he had collected a couple of loot orbs, I unsummoned him and summoned him right next to me again. I was starting to feel less and less strain when summoning and resummoning Slimey as the days went on and I strengthened my mana networks. I was excitedly awaiting the day that I could attempt to summon Slimey and Sunder at the same time. ,

Once Slimey was next to me, I withdrew a pair of ostentatious green pants and placed them onto the anvil. Nothing happened. Pyro snickered at me, not hiding his amusement in the slightest. Thwain, however, conjured his wings and readied to leave.

“Alright, I’ve spent too much time here. I’m going to scout out more of the floor.”

“Making much progress?” I asked. Thwain shrugged.

“I’m getting faster, able to cover more and more ground, search farther with each trip. I haven’t seen any more portals, nor have I seen any activity from the Church portal.”

“Should pay ‘em a visit.”

“I think I’ve visited them more than enough for now, Pyro.” I was still unsure about my last venture through that particular portal.

“Ask her about that,” Thwain said, nodding to the sleeping Yagmar. “And about the key. We haven’t been able to make any progress on either.” At my nod, Thwain took off into the air, flapping his demonic wings powerfully as he shot away.

After a few minutes of listening to Yagmar snore, Pyro wandered off to shift more dirt around. I sent Slimey into the slimes again to farm more loot orbs while I sat around and kept an eye on the [Serpent’s Hand]. I didn’t want to take the risk that she’d get ambushed while she slept. I soon grew bored, though, and headed down to the slime traps. These traps were monitored by an unfamiliar woman who held a heavy-looking mace. I chatted with her for a bit and snagged a slime card that she had looted, excited to assemble another set, but still sour at the shenanigans from last time.

I checked the room that Pyro had set aside for Baz, too, a few times. She hadn’t yet returned, but I wasn’t worried. I was expecting her to take a few more hours before returning with her smithing supplies and my order. I hadn’t ordered too much, in the grand scheme of things, but I was nervous to see what information she would bring back from the Slums. I hung around, making my rounds and checking on everyone for a few hours until Yagmar awoke.

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“Glad to see you up. Need anything?”

“Not unless you have a way to increase ambient mana concentration, no.”

“Nnnnno… Do you know many people that can do that?”

She shrugged. “I’ve met a handful of people who can do so.”

“How do we use the altar?” I asked, changing the subject to what I was really interested in.

“Simply place something atop it and channel your mana into the altar.”

Feeling kind of foolish, I channeled mana into the altar. The pair of green pants vanished without so much as a flash.

“Guess he won’t be naked?” I said with a nervous smile. Yagmar rolled her eyes.

“Indeed. I am glad that the millennia-old blood god will have T-1 pants. Any other questions? I would like to ascend as soon as possible. The lack of mana density is making me feel powerless and stifled.”

“What are the chances that we get assassinated for having this altar?”

“Do you plan on advertising it?”

“Nnnno?” I said, halfway between a question and a statement.

“If you don’t advertise it, you should be fine,” Yagmar said.

“But what about the one who came after you? She arrived within minutes of you using your skill. Won’t they be able to track the altar, too?”

She shook her head. “Altars give mana directly to the gods while my tribute skill uses the Tower as an intermediary. The Council probably had some sensors put in place to detect a skill of that magnitude. It sends far more mana in a shorter amount of time than the altar, but it’s much more conspicuous. Altars, on the other hand, need to stay in one spot and are far more vulnerable to sabotage, but can send mana as long as you have enough wealth or people to keep sacrificing.”

“People?” I asked nervously. “You don’t expect us to… You know,” I said, gesturing to the altar.

Yagmar shrugged. “It’s up to you to do what you want with the altar. I can only hope that you use it regularly, even if it’s with loot. It isn’t uncommon for people to sacrifice their enemies upon the altars of their gods, however. I won’t ask you to go out of your way to engrave Totec’s symbols on the corpses of your enemies, though. That might draw too much attention at this point.”

“People really do that?” Defending yourself was one thing, but going out of your way to…

Yagmar nodded. “Of course. You’ll find more and more unfortunate souls strung up in various places, if you climb high enough. Flayed, hung, branded, arranged in various diagrams and rituals. Many followers torture others and leave them up as a sign to the other ‘heretics,’ as they call them.” She frowned, shaking her head. “They never learn. Devotion through fear. Pfft! Useless. Fragile. Oh, don’t make that face. There was no way that you thought the Tower was peaceful. You’ve seen the Slums and Floor 1. It only gets worse from here.”

I shook my head vehemently. “No, that’s not it at all.” I took out a coin and scratched a symbol into the wall: a triangle with three vertical lines running through it. I turned back to Yagmar. “Do you recognize this symbol?”

Her eyes widened. “Where did you see that symbol?” She asked, stepping forward. An ominous red light slowly started filling her eyes.

“It was branded on some people strung up in a church, on the other side of a portal to the Slums.” I explained, backing up a step as she advanced towards me, an intensity in her gaze that I hadn’t seen since she had used her first skill.

“That is the symbol of the Council. Well, not the entire Council, but the three most prominent, most influential members. They call themselves the-”

“Triumvirate?” I asked, cutting her off with an eye roll.

“Yes! Well, the Shadow Triumvirate Syndicate. Why ask if you already knew?”

“I didn’t. But I’ve heard about seven different stories about a group of three evil masterminds forming a group called the Triumvirate before being bested by the unlikely hero. Figured they’d be just as cliché, if they’re a group of three powerful people with a triangle and three vertical lines running through it as their symbol. But, wait. I thought this was the symbol for the Parted Summit or the Sons of Merchandise or something. I’ve never heard of Council members having symbols.”

Yagmar nodded gravely. “Propaganda. They give prominent groups the right to wear their symbols. It boosts its infamy and recognition without dragging their name into it. That way, they can have multiple altars that all go to them without taking any of the heat directly.”

“Fair. So, if they’re stringing people up…”

“In a church? Then there’s an altar. It’s all but guaranteed.” Her eyes blazed with red light. “Show me to this portal, boy.”

“Wait, wait, wait! We can’t just go blazing in. Ok, maybe you can. But for how long? Your mana levels must suck. Can’t you climb a few floors, regen some mana, then come back down and blast em with more juice in the tank?”

She seemed to calm a little at that. After a moment, she nodded. “That is a solid plan. I want at least twenty people ready to raid the portal. You have three days to prepare.” With that, she simply walked off the side of the domed platform that held the altar and waded through the slimes, speeding directly towards the portal to Floor 2. Slimes disintegrated as they drew near, not even having the chance to get within a foot of her as she disappeared over a hill in the distance.

“But… Argh!” I threw my hands up in frustration. I ran down into the base and asked around until I finally found Pyro. I caught him up on the situation, but he seemed to grow more and more excited as I explained.

“RRRRRRRRRRRRRRAID!” He bellowed, running out of the small room that he was excavating and into the main hall where most of the people were gathered. People started panicking. Swords, maces and other weapons were drawn. Lightning crackled between fingertips and wind whipped about before people realized that Pyro’s yelling was joyous instead of an alarm. The Geomancer wreathed himself in stone and raised himself up with a pillar as he yelled orders.

“You fucks that agreed to fight, get to watchtower 3. I’ll be there in a min. Support staff to watchtower 1. Jean’s in charge. Listen to him. Crafters to the crafting hall. Josh’ll be there in a sec. Unclassed, watchtower 4. Rest of you rando fucks, get to watchtower 2. Jeb’ll decide what to do with ya. RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAID TIME!”

“RRRRRAID TIME!” The crowd roared back. There were even a few “GANG WAR!” shouts thrown in for good measure. People ran in every direction, gathering gear and heading to their designated watchtowers for further instruction. After watching the people scramble like ants for a moment, I rushed to watchtower 4, sighing at the large group of people forming. There were so many new people to bring to Floor 2 and not much time to do it. I took a deep breath, assessing the mood and my own situation before speaking.

“Ok! Despite that rousing speech, I’m pretty beat. I can do a run or two before heading to bed, no more.” There were groans and protests from the still-growing crowd. I raised my hands to quiet the moaning. “I know! I know. I’m pretty sure that I know more than most how serious and dangerous the upcoming raid will be. I’ll do what I can tonight and we’ll finish the rest tomorrow. Afterwards, I’ll help anyone that needs it with farming slimes safely with the time that we have left.”

That seemed to calm the crowd slightly, but I could tell that they were still antsy and ready to go.

“Ok, let’s start with the four fastest runners. Let’s go get you some classes.”