A maple leaf fell on Oak’s face. He groaned and sat up, rubbing his eyes and blinking in the bright sunlight. A cold snout poked his cheek and gave Geezer a pet. “Yes, yes, I’m getting up now,” he said and climbed to his feet. He gave Geezer a once-over and almost fell back on his ass. The dog's fur was no longer gray. Now it was almost completely black and Oak was sure the dog was bigger than before.

Geezer's height at the withers was at the midway point between Oak’s knees and hips now. And most importantly, when Oak looked at Geezer’s eyes, two gleaming red irises stared back at him.

“Did Ashmedai turn you into an actual hellhound?” Oak asked, barely able to contain his excitement.

Geezer just wagged his tail but there did not seem to be anything wrong with him, so Oak let the matter rest for the moment. And give Geezer some scratches. It’s not everyday one becomes a warlock. Let's take a look at the goods, he thought and focused inwards, trying to feel his soul. It would be highly embarrassing to be a warlock and not be able to inspect his own infernal engine.

Oak was not a mage, which meant he had no experience with viewing his own soul or using it to influence the world around him through thaumaturgy, so it came as a complete surprise when he succeeded immediately. In his mind's eye, he saw his soul as a bright ball of solid flame made of opaque layers.

Inside that ball was now a spiral shape of black gleaming metal flowing back into itself, surrounded by ever-turning gears. At the very top burned a furnace of such intensity that it was hard to focus on it. Ashmedai’s essence flowed through the spiral to the furnace to fuel it and then back down so it could make its journey up the spiral once more.

Like a snake eating its own tail.

There was quite a bit of essence bouncing around in his soul, left over from his ascension to a Warlock. It was dripping out of him to the world beyond. Behind it all, he could glimpse his three boons, the branches they belonged to and a vast, ever expanding night sky filled with tiny sparks glistening among an infinite foliage. His future, waiting to be claimed.

When Oak brought his focus back to the real world, there was something waiting for him. A big blue box filled his vision.

Dear Warlock,

I took the liberty of putting this interface together, so you would have a quick way to check the status of your infernal engine. For the sake of convenience, I included a section for your theurgy. Just think or say the word ‘Status’ and the interface will appear.

The infernal engine section of the interface shows two counts: Souls and Fuel.

'Souls' tells you the total number of souls you have collected thus far. 'Fuel', on the other hand, tells you the approximate potency of the souls, which are not yet powering a boon. Those can be allocated toward new branches or boons in the future.

As you know, all souls are not made equal. One unit of 'Fuel' is the potency of the average human soul. For example, the souls of ten of those centipedes you are about to face equal roughly a single human soul.

Infernal regards,

Ashmedai

Infernal engine

Current status:

* Souls: 0

* Fuel: 0

* Attunement in progress

Grafted branches

Boons

Branch of Flauros

Pyromancy: grants an intuitive understanding of fire and the basic ability to summon it.

Branch of Amdusias

Ears of Amdusias: grants sharp hearing and the basic ability to see one's environment through sound.

Branch of Buer

Demonic Constitution: grants basic regeneration, lessens fatigue, and increases the rate of recovery from physical activity.

Theurgy

Current status:

* Ghosts: 7

Wards

Attached ghosts: 3

Trauma weapons

Kaarina’s Horror

Scouts

Raven

Miscellaneous ghosts

Sparrow

Cat

Neat.

Standing around looking at his soul or his status would not make things any easier, so Oak got to work. According to Ashmedai, he did not have long before even trying to cast a spell of this magnitude would end badly for him. Oak rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck. “Come on Geezer, we have a bunch of bugs to burn and we are wasting daylight,” he said, took his sword and shield and started walking towards the edge of the maple grove.

When Oak walked across the boundary between the forest and the workshop beyond, the accuracy of his new hearing amazed him. The last time he walked into the darkness of the workshop, he had no idea the ceiling was a churning mass of centipedes. Now, he could hear them moving above him, tiny legs skittering in the shadows.

Oak tapped his sword against the edge of his shield, and a new world opened to him. The wave of sound traveled forth and the returning echo painted a rough image of the surroundings to his mind. Giant smelters, assembly lines, forges and chimneys, and the piping connecting different pieces of the workshop together were laid bare in all their rusty glory. So were the insects on the ceiling and Oak received a snapshot of the disgusting centipedes crawling over each other like flies on carrion.

Naturally, Oak banged his sword against his shield, making an awful racket. Suddenly, the ceiling was filled with eyes, looking right at him. There was a brief moment of hesitation before a single giant centipede took flight towards him and a tide of chitin and hungry maws followed. Oak stared at the approaching wave of buzzing wings and open mandibles with a strange sense of detachment. The horror and malice reaching towards him was so great, it almost did not feel real.

He dropped his shield and called for the flame inside his soul. The fire answered and Oak cast, with his left hand, pointed towards the coming swarm. “Perish,” he said, and then all he could see was the fire. Flames exploded violently from his palm in a great blue and white cone, blasting through the insects and scouring even the ceiling high above. The heat of it was unbelievable. For three heartbeats, Oak burned the horrors arrayed against him from the world and their screeching was like music to his ears.

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When Oak staggered to the side and cut out the flames due to the strain on his soul, only desolation met his eyes. Ash rained to the workshop floor and the chains hanging from the ceiling had melted, dripping molten metal over the labyrinth of iron and steel in front of him. A lone centipede flew at him from the side and Oak bisected the monster with a single brutal swing of his blade, sending the two halves flying in different directions, spraying ichor and gore. Silence descended.

Oak breathed hard, panting from the exertion. Sweat covered his body and his hands were shaking. Oak took a couple of steps back beyond the boundary of the grove and fell on his ass on the soft grass, staring at the devastation he had wrought.

“Well, I’ll be,” he said. A notification popped up in the upper right corner of his vision.

+ 31 Souls

+ 3 Fuel

Geezer popped his head out from behind a nearby tree and looked around, making sure the coast was clear of any flying monsters ready to sink their mandibles into him before he ran out to Oak and started licking his face, tail wagging around madly.

“Yeah, yeah I love you too buddy,” Oak said, and after scratching the dog behind the ears for a bit, he gently pushed him away. “Sorry, but everything has its time and place, and right now, we really need to get moving.”

Oak stood back up, picked up the shield he had dropped, and returned to the grove.

Water was still streaming down the foliage of the maple trees, forming little rivers as it fell down to the forest floor. Oak put his mouth under one of these little waterfalls and took his time drinking his fill. He currently had no way to store water, so if he could not find a suitable container or something prevented him from returning here to fill it, this might be his only chance to drink for a long time. After curiously turning his head this way and that, Geezer followed his example and drank as well.

When Oak had quenched his thirst, he took another look at his soul and the infernal engine within. There, in the now familiar spiral of gleaming black metal flowing back into itself, tiny motes had joined Ashmedai’s essence. The gears turned and the souls of the centipedes cycled along, rising to the top of the structure to fuel the furnace and heading down so they could once more feed the flame inside his soul.

It wasn’t much, but it was a start. Oak withdrew from his own soul and waited until Geezer had finished drinking. Then they returned to the edge of the forest and took off to find the essentials needed for a trip across Ma'aseh Merkavah.

The workshop was much less scary, when a swarm of giant centipedes was no longer using the ceiling as a nest, but that did not mean there was nothing else lurking in the darkness, waiting to sink its teeth into man or dog. Oak and Geezer took their time as they walked among the rusted smelters, worktables, and other machinery. There was no need to rush and make noise.

The place was massive, but thanks to Oak’s new ability to see his surroundings through sound, finding a way out through the darkness was not overly difficult. There were multiple exits and Oak chose one on the northern side of the building based on the fact nothing had used it in a while, since there was a layer of dust all around it.

Stepping outside was an experience.

Before the Doom, Ma'aseh Merkavah had been the massive capital of the Old Empire. Now, it was both a tomb of a great civilization and the cocoon of a calamity. There was no sunlight or any other visible light-source, and yet it was not utterly dark. To Oak, it felt more like a cloudless night with a full moon than anything else.

Oak raised his gaze and wherever his eyes landed he saw more streets, squares, parks and buildings until he was looking straight up and still the city continued, curving back down towards the ground miles behind him. The summoning of God’s flesh to creation had warped the city around the pieces of the divine corpse, forming a sphere that twisted back on itself.

He looked across the city, towards the western corner of the central district. There was his landmark, a giant four-sided marble obelisk in the middle of a large square, rising above the surrounding buildings. He let out a breath and shook his head. Getting there will not be easy, Oak thought. Let’s hope my luck holds.

Based on the buildings around him, Oak assumed they were in some kind of commercial or manufacturing quarter of this section of the city. There was the workshop he and Geezer had just left, a giant beast made of stone and red brick, and all along the street were buildings that looked like warehouses, with large double doors that would allow entire wagons to enter and leave easily. Chimneys rose from the darkness, hinting at smithies and forges that had laid cold for centuries. And yet, beyond the dust and grime, everything looked almost pristine.

Some street lights and lanterns hanging from the sides of the buildings still burned, runes glowing in the darkness. The city was undisturbed by the elements of the world outside the sphere and Elven construction was built to last. Whoever had erected these buildings had loved plaster. Every exterior stone- and brick wall had been covered so they could be painted and the street was a riot of different colors competing against each other.

Oak and Geezer crossed the road and stuck to the side of the buildings as they creeped forward along the cobblestones. Once upon a time, millions had called this place home and now the loudest noise Oak could hear was the beating of his own heart hammering in his ears. Strangest of all, there were no corpses or skeletons, no sign of the people that had once lived here. He could admit that the city was spooky.

After walking for about five minutes, Oak stopped next to a promising looking three-story stone building with a flat roof. He could not read the sign out front, but there were no broken windows or anything else that would indicate something had used the place as a nest. When Oak peaked inside, he saw a small counter and some shelves in the back. A small shop might be just what he needed.

The door was not unlocked, so he and Geezer walked right in. A cursory examination revealed nothing useful. Whatever had been for sale on the counter or on the shelves behind it was long gone and only trash remained. The counter had a drawer though and there Oak struck gold. He smiled as he pulled out two steel flasks, probably made to hold alcohol. The flasks were empty, but he could fill them with water. He would need more containers, but this was a good start.

Emboldened by success, Oak headed to the back of the shop and opened a door that led further into the building. He promptly closed it and rubbed his face in agitation. “Geezer, why does the first place I decide to look into have to be a butcher’s shop?” Oak asked and opened the door again with trepidation.

Behind the door was a large room filled with meat hooks hanging from the ceiling. Some hooks still had a skeleton hanging from them, but the meat had already rotted away to nothing. Oak was not embarrassed by the fact that he squinted at every single one, making sure the skeletons belonged to cows before he stepped into the room. He did not want to find himself swinging from a meat hook.

For a moment, memories whisked Oak back in time. In place of the meat hooks hanging from the ceiling, he saw hanged men and women swinging from the branches of a great tree. Dark clouds and distant lightning framed the macabre spectacle. He could feel the wind and the drizzle on his cheeks, and hear the Butcher’s laughter. The Butcher had always enjoyed his work. The sound of the door closing behind Oak almost made him piss his trousers.

Shaken but otherwise unharmed, Oak crossed the room without issue, and Geezer followed. On the far wall, next to a double door leading outside, was a tool rack and a stand that drew his eye. There was a giant, brutal looking meat cleaver hanging from the stand in a leather sheath. He grabbed it and let out a small whistle. The blade of the cleaver alone was longer than his forearm, and the thing had a reassuring weight to it.

Oak took it out of the sheath and stroked the well-oiled steel surface of the blade. A shiver ran down his spine. There were runes carved into the blade and he could feel ghosts embedded in the metal. Oak doubted the enchantments were anything major, but he would probably find that this cleaver did not require sharpening and was lighter to swing than it should have been. He snorted. Typical for the elves to enchant even their butcher's tools. You can never have too many blades, Oak thought.

“Finders keepers, am I right Geezer,” Oak said and clipped the sheath to his belt. It felt right.

Searching the rest of the building from top to bottom revealed no more treasures for Oak to pilfer, so he and Geezer left the building and started breaking into the warehouses they had already passed. Oak did not want to venture too far away from the grove inside the workshop before he had the means to bring enough water with him to last at least a couple of days.

The first warehouse was a bust, mainly housing raw materials, but in the second warehouse, Oak had opened only a couple of crates before he found a crate of wine. He was not brave enough to drink the wine itself, but he could clean the bottles and fashion stoppers for them or reuse the corks if it was possible.

Now he just had to solve the minor problem of transporting the bottles and his flasks, since he could not carry everything in his hands and hold a shield and a sword at the same time. Running around Ma'aseh Merkavah with his hands full and no way to draw a blade without dropping all of his water to the ground did not seem like a smart idea.

Oak almost gave up hope of finding anything useful, since the passage of time had surely destroyed every sack and other piece of available cloth, but Elven enthusiasm for enchanting everything came to his rescue. A section of the warehouse held crates with runes carved on them that Oak was fairly sure had something to do with preservation. He popped one crate open.

I can’t believe it. Fortune favors me today!

There were sacks and rope inside the crate, and they had not rotted away during the centuries this building had stood abandoned. He took four sacks and some rope with him so he could fashion a primitive backpack.

Laden with their salvaged goods, Oak and Geezer returned to the maple grove. In no time at all, Oak had filled the bottles with water and stuffed them inside the backpack he had fashioned out of sacks and rope. He tied all the extra rope he had around the glass bottles so they would not clink against each other. As Oak stepped outside the workshop once more, he looked across the city to the obelisk and nodded to himself.

“Let’s go fulfill Ashmedai’s oath, save that sorry bastard and get out of here,” Oak said to Geezer and put one foot in front of the other.