Chapter 61 - Oswell That Ends Well

Garnush’s plan was… simple, yet effective. We paid our way through the Reincarnated’s zone with the gnoll corpses we had acquired and then used as currency to bribe Garnush in exchange for his help. The Reincarnator wasn’t the big cheese, but he was definitely well regarded by his people. Gnolls saluted, grunted or made strange hand signs when they saw him pass, most offering a slight bow where they turned their head to the side as if offering their necks. Garnush didn’t preen at the attention, but accepted it humbly, seeming quite honored each time.

From there, he led us through the Bloodfang Syndicate’s territory, stopping only twice to raise one of their fallen as payment. It was a quick affair, a reincarnation. There was a dead gnoll. Garnush stepped up next to said body. He pressed his hands together. Mana rushed in from every direction, condensing above both the Reincarnator and the corpse until, with a heave, all colour in the Tower seemed to drain into the corpse, breathing life back into it. Faint spectral chains formed between Garnush and the reanimated gnoll, but the Reincarnator wasted no time before cutting them between two fingers. When he did, the chains shattered and dissipated, leaving the newly risen free and alive once more.

Garnush slumped a little after the first reincarnation, but looked like a wet mop after the second. We took a few more breaks than strictly necessary to give the gnoll some more time to rest. Sure, we weren’t necessarily physically exhausting ourselves. Pyro was doing the bulk of the work, carting us around on a raised island of dirt. Although quick, our method of transportation wreaked havoc on our poor Reincarnator’s stomach. Apparently, gnolls didn’t travel by cart. In their Tower, it was a sign of weakness to be carried, even though some gnolls tried to justify it through domination. And so, our guide happily stumbled off and onto firmer ground any chance he got, hugging the earth in relief.

We took the time to compare cultures and Towers. While Slorp’s Tower encouraged diving deep into hidden and often eldritch knowledge, Garnush's Tower encouraged large packs and gave bonuses through land domination. A key factor in each tribe being sent to our Tower was, in fact, to enhance these bonuses. Holding land on a floor apparently strengthened the tribe based on how much land they held in proportion to the other tribes on that same floor. Holding land in another Tower was an experiment of sorts, but was hoped to be a way of empowering tribes while keeping their holdings secret from the larger, more brutal, ruling tribes.

Our gnoll guide’s tribe was growing too powerful for the ruling tribes, so they were routinely culled to be kept in check. Each time, they bounced back, but you couldn’t raise bodies that had been consumed or hauled off. Casualties weren’t just numbers when they were your friends. Resentment grew and gnolls started leaving, keeping their distance from the Reincarnators. That was, until the Festival came and gave them the chance to jump ship for a while.

The Reincarnators, along with the four other tribes, had paid our Tower to become temporary citizens. As long as they kept up their biweekly payments of Festival Points, their tribes were welcome to stay on Floor 3 and only Floor 3. If a gnoll were to try and ascend or descend floors, they would reappear in their Tower of origin. If a gnoll were to try and destroy a chunk of the floor, they would be forcefully and roughly shipped back to their Tower. Of course, other gnoll tribes hadn’t gone that same route. Some gnolls were, even now, farming Festival Points in their own Tower to spend on invading neighbouring Towers to steal pieces and even entire floors for their own. Others, like Slorp, were planning out routes to visit Towers that offered magic systems that added the most complementary bonuses to their own paths.

We were darting out of the Bloodfang Syndicate when disaster struck. Well, and bullets. A shot rang out, echoing off of the trees that surrounded us.

“Gah!” Garnush hit the ground hard, blood blossoming on his chest and spitting from his mouth. Before our guide could so much as raise a hand, Pyro slammed our platform to a halt and raised half of a dome of solid rock in front of us. I summoned Slimey beside me, using him as a shield as I peered around the foot-thick barricade in front of us.

“Anything?” Pyro shouted, looking around frantically.

“All clear this side,” I replied hesitantly. “Slimey, devour!” A bit of steel entered my voice as my slime rushed out and around the barricade. This, at least, I could do. Well, he could do. Slimey spread out around thirty feet, rising up seven feet tall, then flooded forwards, swallowing up every tree and shrub it could reach while on its way.

“Nothing from up here,” Thwain shouted, circling high above us on his midnight black wings.

I reached over and examined Garnush. He was alive, but barely. His chest seemed to have been blown open.

“Blown open…” I muttered. Something wasn’t right. If it was a bullet… Bullets usually came in clean and got messy when they exited. Then, it hit me. Not the bullet, but the realisation.

“Pyro, behind!” The crater in Garnush’s chest was an exit wound. We weren’t going to find enemies in front of us because there were none. My shout came too late. Pyro’s hands twitched as two more shots rang out. I threw myself back to the ground, my heart beating in my chest so loud that I thought the ground was rumbling. But, eventually I realised that I was unharmed. I looked up to find Pyro’s skull burst open like an overripe watermelon that had lost a fist fight with a sledge hammer. Well, against a sledge hammer. It wouldn’t be holding a sledge hammer, because then it wouldn’t be a fist fight (and totally not because watermelons don’t have the weapon proficiency to wield sledgehammers).

I shot to my feet and ran towards Pyro, but wet tentacles grabbed onto me, pulling me to the ground. I fought against them, bit into them, tried to rake them with my nails, but they were rubbery and unforgiving.

“The gnoll! The gnoll!” I didn’t care about the gnoll. Garnush was… nice… I guess. But he wasn’t family. Slorp had known him for almost as long as he had known Pyro, but I had known Pyro my entire life. He and Thwain had grown up together and I had joined them and their schemes, one just as hairbrained as the next, trying what we could to keep our families alive in the poorstricken Slums. I would have died years ago if it hadn’t been for Pyro.

More gunshots, but they felt so far away, like they were in another room. A tentacle grabbed my face and wrenched it violently towards Garnush. “He. Can. Reshurect. People.” Each word was punctuated by a wet slap on top of my head. Anger grew in my chest.

“Obviously not in his con-” My ‘the situation is hopeless and you’re dumb’ speech died on my lips as I finally figured out what Slorp was trying to tell me. Garnush was minutes, if not seconds, from death. Pyro was already dead. We didn’t have healing potions or rocks or candies or magic. What I did have, was almost necromantic summoning powers.

When Slorp understood that I was moving towards Garnush, he pushed me to help me along instead of restraining me. Then, walls of water shot up around us, where Pyro’s barrier hadn’t covered. I skidded to my knees next to Garnush, blood leaking from his mouth and gushing from the right side of his chest. His right side, not mine. That didn’t matter at the moment. Gods damn it, focus! I reached down and slid one of Garnush’s daggers from his belt, then looked him straight in the eyes.

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“Ok, I’m sorry, but this is the only way.” Fear and pain. That’s all I got back from the gnoll’s eyes as I slammed his own dagger into his neck. When the prompt I was hoping to receive appeared, I accepted it eagerly and focused. Pages of my Bestiary appeared, flipping quickly from one to the next until settling on a new page. Deep purple and black ink covered the page.

Bestiary entry: Gnoll (Garnush) selected.

Soul strength: 5%. Collect more essence to increase soul strength.

Warning! Bestiary capacity: 3/3. Upgrade your Bestiary to hold more souls.

Summoning Garnush took far less mana than summoning Rella had, back when I had first… acquired… my demon summon. He coalesced from within the pages of my book of souls, staring around in shock.

“Ahem…” I started lamely. “Sorry?” It definitely came out as a question. “I didn’t have a way to heal you, but I reeeeally need you to rez Pyro.” I stared pleadingly at my friend’s corpse, hoping this whole thing would work. Garnush, for his part, just looked around in wonder, examining every part of his skin as well as some spots between the two of us as if he could see the threads connecting us. A frown slowly appeared on his face.

“Garnush never go home, now,” he said sorrowfully.

“And, for that, I’m really sorry!”

He shook his head. “Garnush died.”

“Only… a little?”

“Garnush has many strings now. Garnush not can raise friend. Garnush not have enough… oomf.”

My mind raced. He was only at 5% soul strength. We had to power level Garnush, and do it quickly. I didn’t know if this new version of him would reincarnate others differently, if the time between death and reincarnation was shortened along with his drop in power. Being at such a low percentage, he would see the largest boosts early on. We just needed… My eyes drifted North, towards the entire territory of the Grassy Gnolls that lay before us. We had some grinding to do.

It turns out it would be a little more difficult than I thought it would be to slam some soul strength into my Bestiary. When Slimey dissolved the gnoll that had killed Pyro, the marksman having already been killed by Thwain once he had found it on a small hill, Garnush’s soul strength didn’t budge. And again, once Slimey ambushed some more gnolls, who were harder to spot than their less green-clad counterparts from other clans, it didn’t go up, either. I groaned as I accepted that both Slimey and Rella were somewhat cheaters that could increase their own strengths by feeding on others. Maybe Garnush would have some sort of hack as well, but we hadn’t found it in the few minutes that had passed.

Instead, I had Slimey scoop up some gnolls and push their heads out of his body, keeping their arms pinned to their sides with the help of some of his enchanted metal sheets. We tested both myself and Garnush dealing the killing blow, but the percentage of soul strength didn’t seem to vary. Soul strength : 7.2%.

And so, the slaughter started. Slimey delivered me sacrifice after sacrifice, and my blade sang out, uncaring whether the victim be old or young, snarling or crying. Heck, I didn’t even check to see if they were from the Grassy Gnolls or not. I assumed they were, but I was just petty enough not to actually care about checking. Thwain scouted, as usual, but was shot at frequently. Fortunately, he had a strange necklace that deflected a handful of ranged attacks every few minutes. I wasn’t sure where he had gotten it. Probably the Festival Shop. I’d have to ask about it, as we should all get some just in case this exact scenario popped up again.

Slorp was on defence while we rampaged, raising walls of water instinctively to intercept bullets, then sending jets of water back at our foes, trying not to kill them outright. He didn’t seem too thrilled that I didn’t so much as pause when using pups to fuel my Bestiary entry, but he never stopped helping, for which I was immensely grateful.

After brutalising large swathes of land, clearing them of every berry picker, guard, sniper, nap taker and hauler, then doubling back in a wide circle to do the same on our way back, I had to admit, the progress was satisfying. It took over 275 gnoll sacrifices, but I could almost finally rest. 100.3%. Garnush’s soul strength had just crested over one hundred percent. I rushed him back to Pyro’s body and begged.

“Alright, you’re at one hundred percent. You can raise him, can’t you? Reincarnate? Please, Garnush, I’m begging you, I need this.” I wasn’t proud at how whiny I sounded, but the only thing holding back an absolutely apocalyptic amount of rage was the thought that Pyro wasn’t really dead. He was just taking a nap. Garnush would reincarnate him, he’d stand up, brush the dirt from his pants, then grumble about how we interrupted a nice dream.

In reply, Garnush raised his arms up and focused. Mana converged and roiled, forming a sort of tornado as it spiralled and was forced into Pyro’s unmoving form. First gunk, then bones, then skin regrew where it had been blown away. After only around twenty seconds, Pyro’s body was lifted off of the ground, a gentle white light bathing our surroundings. The moment his feet softly touched down, Pyro opened his eyes and stood on his own, life now permeating his very being once more. Tears streamed down my face, and even Thwain took a rare break, dismissing his wings and pretending we couldn’t see the wet streaks on his face.

“The fuck y’all starin’ at?” Pyro simultaneously picked his nose and scratched his sack, then flicked what was either a booger or a piece of brain matter to the side and kicked out his leg to unstick the boys. I couldn’t hold back my laugh, but I groaned and covered my face nonetheless before explaining.

“You got domed. Shot in the head by a bullet from a Grassy Gnoll who had a rifle and a longshot skill of some sort. Well, there were three shots, so the gnoll might have had an accomplice, but Thwain didn’t find any trails. So, a longshot skill as well as a quick reloading skill, maybe.” I cringed slightly as my rambling petered off. Pyro looked down at himself in confusion.

“I survived a shot ter the head? I don’t even feel no pain. Wait, do I have bullets in my head right now? Am I bleedin’?” He gently prodded at the back of his head as if he’d suddenly feel the pain once he found the bullets lodged in the back of his skull.

“No…” I gestured at Garnush, then explained how we had raised him back from the dead. He took it reasonably well. Better than I would have, for sure. Then again, if he hadn’t even realised that he had died, being brought back to life probably just felt like he had nodded off for a nap and missed a few hours.

“Boss. Garnush nap now,” the gnoll said, his entire body sagging and covered in sweat. “Call on Garnush when boss need Garnush. Boss not call when boss not need. Garnush sleep now.” The gnoll fractured into a puff of rainbow smoke, dismissing himself. I stared blankly for a moment, not knowing that he could do that.

“Thanks, buddy,” I murmured, patting my right side where it felt like I would be holding my Bestiary if I had a physical copy. “You really did pull through for me. I’ll make it up to you, somehow.”

We did not, as the saying goes, ‘fuck with’ the rest of the floor or the rest of the Grassy Gnolls. Pyro, having learned his lesson, built us a simple rock shack before raising it and hurtling us North the rest of the way through the floor. Even Thwain joined us, unable to keep up with the pace our cranky Geomancer set. All in all, we made it to the exit portal in less than two days, far shy of the three we had been quoted, and all thanks to Pyro’s skills. We may or may not have left a blazing trail of destruction in our wake, ploughing over trees, shrubs and gnolls alike in an uncaring blitz, but we made it and none of the party complained at reaching the end of yet another floor.

You have reached Floor 4 of the Tower. How do you wish to proceed?

Option 1: Permanency? Permamancy? Whatever. Go forth and grow, my minions. (Cookie crumb of knowledge: this upgrade will give you the option to grant more autonomy to your summons, for a price).

Option 2: It turns out that souls taste… good. Very good. (Cookie crumb of knowledge: this upgrade will let you consume souls to grow your own power).

Son. Of. A. Bitch. Me and my dumb mouth. You see, I wouldn’t be in such a bind if I hadn’t told Rella and Garnush that I’d “do my best” and that I’d “make it up to them.” I should have just told them to be grateful that they still exist and that I’d be the one making decisions to better my own damn self. But noooooo. I had to go and catch feelings for my own damn captured figments of monster souls.

Consume souls to grow my own power? That sounded fantastic! Wasn’t that already part of what I did for my summons? We consumed souls of their brethren to empower them. And, let me tell you, a 5% soul power Garnush would get curb stomped all day by his 100% soul strength counterpart. Imagine if I could take that power spike and apply it to myself. Maaagine!

I grumbled, pissed off that I had put myself in a sticky situation and knowing damn well what I’d pick. Permanency. Granting Rella and Garnush autonomy, whatever that entailed, and in exchange, they’d leave my conscious the fuck alone when I picked a whole ass-load of selfish picks for the 96 other floors of the Tower. Well, minus the safe zones. Actually, were there 100 floors, or was it 50? 30? I wasn’t sure, and all of the stories from my childhood had wide ranges of floors, but most of them hovered around either 50 or 100. The first 30 floors were definitely there, as plenty of people claimed to know of people who met people that had climbed that far up. STILL. A bare minimum of… well, ok, an ass-load of floors to go, where I’d pick picks for me and not them. Right.

“Fuck me, lock in option 1, System.”

Class : Summoner, rank 3.

Soul Echo (rank tied to class rank). Passive. Effect: absorb a portion of your opponent’s essence upon their death, adding it to your Bestiary.

Summon, rank 3. Active. Cost: variable, diminished. Effect: summon the power of the souls in your Bestiary. Examine and influence the stats of the souls in your Bestiary. Reserve a portion of your maximum mana to allow summons to act freely, and as such, gain power independently.

Bestiary monsters: 3/4.

Soul Forge, rank 1. Active. Cost: variable. Imbue the souls from your Soul Forge into items.

Soul Forge slots : 0/1. Choose an item to imbue.