Death: Genesis

Zeke cracked his knuckles as he looked at the freestanding arch. The interior was filled with gray fog, through which he could see nothing. That wasn’t surprising, given what he was looking at. He turned to Pudge and asked, “When did it pop up?”

“Yesterday,” Zeke’s demonic bearkin companion answered. Pudge had been a big part of the previous battles, stepping in when the kobold legion was on the verge of being overwhelmed by powerful foes they couldn’t handle. He’d passed the level seventy-five threshold, meaning that he could stand up to just about anyone the Radiant Host could throw at him. His path of progression wasn’t as powerful as Zeke’s, but he was clearly an elite in his own right.

The same could be said for Sasha, though she’d rarely added her own thumb to the scale in battle. Instead, she’d spent most of her time working in the Crimson Tower’s academy, teaching young kobolds about mana. Her efforts had yet to truly bear fruit, but Zeke felt certain that that would change soon. He’d sat in on a couple of her classes, and he’d been exposed to a few ideas that even he hadn’t known before. He’d used some of those theories when constructing his latest skills.

But it was an indisputable fact that her levels had begun to lag behind everyone else’s. Zeke wanted to say something about it, but at the end of the day, some people simply weren’t cut out to reach high levels. It took an incredible amount of slaughter to achieve what she already had, and that was only a drop in the bucket of what would be required to progress further. And Zeke knew that trying to force someone to become a killer – or to continue down that path – was a road to heartache.

Still, at least she had contributed to the tower’s well-being. There were plenty of others – mostly the formerly enslaved beastkin – who hadn’t done nearly as much. They weren’t quite to the level of being a drain on the budding society growing within the tower, but they weren’t that far off, either.

“Just kick them out,” Eveline said.

“What? No.”

“Why not? If they aren’t contributing, then what good are they? The tower is not a charity. People need to earn the right to live there, and if they don’t, they can go elsewhere. You have enough land under your control that you can accommodate that,” she pointed out. “Just send them back to Adontis. Or what used to be El’kireth. There’s enough life in that area that it should become decent enough farmland. They can take care of themselves.”

Zeke wanted to say that he hadn’t considered it, but that would have been a lie, and they both knew it. It was so frustrating, seeing people who’d been given the chances that the residents of the tower had, only for them to squander every opportunity. It was easy to excuse by pointing to how they’d been treated in the past, but at the same time, plenty of others had made the most of the benefits provided by the tower.

The compassionate part of Zeke wanted to leave everything the way it was, but the more practical side said to cut the freeloaders loose and let them fend for themselves. It was a conundrum, and one he wasn’t sure how to solve.

“I know. Follow my advice,” Eveline remarked.

Zeke just ignored her. Instead, he focused on the arch in front of him. “Has anyone gone inside?” he asked.

Pudge shook his great head, saying, “No. We don’t know what to expect inside a wild dungeon, so we didn’t think it was smart to go inside without talking to you first.”

“I see. What would you do?” Zeke asked his oldest friend.

“I’ll go in,” Pudge offered.

“It’s not safe,” Sasha offered from beside him. “We’re getting conflicting results when we test the grade. I think it’s because it’s so new, and it hasn’t quite settled into its final form. If we go in now, there’s no telling what we’ll find.”

Zeke frowned. In a lot of ways, he wished he could just drop everything and head into the dungeon alone. It was just the sort of distraction he needed after spending the past months at war. He’d only fought in a handful of engagements, and only when his assistance was absolutely required. Otherwise, he’d stood back and watched while his followers fought for him.

So, not only did he have a lot of pent-up frustrations he could exorcise within the dungeon, but he could also start making some headway toward reaching the peak. Because he’d begun to stagnate. Even on the few occasions when he’d let loose and slaughtered hundreds, his level had barely moved. He needed a larger challenge, and he expected that a dungeon would provide just that.

However, even though he wished the situation was otherwise, he had to agree with Sasha. Going into a wild dungeon was not a good idea, even for someone like him. Maybe especially for him.

“We need to set up a perimeter around this portal,” he said. “A fort maybe. No one goes inside until it stabilizes, and then we will let groups give it a shot. This is a strategic resource, just like the arena dungeon. We’d be silly not to use it once everything comes together.”

Kianma, who’d been standing to the other side of Pudge, nodded. “As you say, Ak-toh,” she replied with a nod of her head.

Then, she headed off to do his bidding. A trio of powerful legionnaires followed close behind, clearly intent on protecting her. That wasn’t a bad idea, considering that she was far and away the most important administrative force within the tower. Without Kianma, everything would grind to a halt.

“I will have one claw stationed here until we can finalize plans for a fort,” Silik stated. He didn’t often speak, but when he did, it was normally straight to the point.

“That’s a good idea,” Zeke responded, giving his blessing. It wasn’t necessary. Most of the tower’s forces could act autonomously, yet they always preferred to get his approval before doing anything. “Let’s get to it, then.”

After that, the small group started in on their respective tasks, and in only a couple of hours, they had everything in hand – which left Zeke with nothing to do. Throughout it all, he kept glancing at the dungeon’s entrance, wondering all the while whether he really needed to follow his own dictate.

The answer to that was a resounding no, but he’d long since decided to set an example for the kobolds. And he refused to show himself to be so weak that he couldn’t do what he’d asked them to do.

In the meantime, he distracted himself by scanning his surroundings. There were a few beasts in the area, but that was nothing new. The Muk’ti Plains were a wild place, and though he wasn’t currently in much danger, that would change if he let his guard down.

The dungeon had appeared on the edge of their territory, and if it had happened only a few months before, it would have been within the area claimed by the Radiant Host. However, when he’d defeated their demonic champion, their lines had broken. Since then, a month had passed, during which the remaining forces had been steadily pursued to the edge of the plains.

“Zeke,” came a rasping voice, and he turned to see Talia standing nearby.

“What is it?”

“We need to speak in private. It is important,” she said.

He nodded, then told her to lead the way. A few minutes later, they’d gone a couple of miles from anyone else. When they reached a small pond, Talia slowed to a stop and turned to Zeke.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“A month ago, we defeated the largest of the Radiant Host’s armies,” she answered. “But there is something I did not tell you about that day.”

“What?”

“The leader is familiar to us,” she said. Then, the undead girl took a deep and ultimately unnecessary breath. “Abby was with them. As far as I can determine, she was their leader.”

The news hit Zeke like a ton of bricks. “What did you do?” he asked.

“We fought. I won, but she escaped before I could kill her.”

Zeke frowned as a thousand complicated and conflicting emotions raced through his mind. He’d long since moved on from his relationship with Abby, but the idea of killing her was the furthest thing from what he wanted.

But that wasn’t the most shocking aspect.

“She was with the Radiant Host?”

“She led them,” Talia stated evenly.

“And you’re sure?” he asked.

That earned a nod, and Zeke’s heart jumped into his throat. Before they’d ascended, Abby had made some sort of deal with Lady Constance, but Zeke had never expected that to last once they’d reached the Eternal Plane. Clearly, he had been wrong. Suddenly, a wave of guilt swept through him. If he had chosen to ascend alongside Abby and his other friends, then perhaps things would have turned out differently.

“It is not your fault,” Talia said.

Eveline agreed, “She is her own person.”

Zeke wasn’t so sure. He shook his head, saying, “I don’t know. We abandoned her, Talia.”

“She deserved it.”

“I wish…”

He didn’t finish the statement, because he knew it was ridiculous to wish that things had been different. It wasn’t as if he could simply go back in time and change the past. Abby had made her own choices – good or bad – and the consequences for those decisions were hers alone. He knew that, but the reality was that reason didn’t really matter. He still hated what had happened.

And more than anything, he hated what it meant for the future. He knew – deep down where he didn’t want to look – what the development meant.

“You might not have to kill her,” Eveline pointed out.

“Do you really believe that? She’s the enemy. She led an army whose sole purpose was to come here and slaughter my people. I can’t imagine she’ll just stop. Even if she did, she’s still the same person who made that choice, right?”

“I…I can’t argue with that,” she admitted. “But I will say that people change.”

“Clearly,” Zeke muttered to himself.

Indeed, the Abby he’d known never would have sided with the Radiant Host. After all, they were unrepentant bigots against anyone that wasn’t human. They considered everyone else inferior, and they weren’t shy about using deplorable methods like slavery to get what they wanted.

And that was only the tip of the iceberg. From some of the prisoners he’d interrogated, Zeke had discovered that things back in their Imperium were characterized by fascism and fear. Whole swaths of the former nobility had been executed, and only because they’d refused to side with the man who’d taken the Imperium as his own. It was disgusting.

By joining them, Abby had given those tactics her tacit approval.

“She likely participated,” Eveline pointed out. “She’s been with them for a short time. The only way to rise that quickly in that sort of organization is by doing precisely what they asked of her.”

Zeke had not thought of that, but the moment Eveline said it, he realized that it made sense.

“What do you want to do?” asked Talia. “I can hunt her down. I know that because of your history, you wouldn’t want to be the one to –”

“No.”

‘What?”

“I said no, Talia. We don’t hunt her down. Not specifically. If it comes to a fight, then we’ll fight her, but so long as they’re running away, we let them,” he said. “There are more important matters.”

“Like?”

“We need to find Micayne first,” Zeke said. “That is priority number one. You know better than most just how much damage he can do, right? He’s a despicable creature that has the capacity to destroy this entire continent. Perhaps the whole realm.”

“I do not believe he will,” she said.

“He’s done it before, Talia. We have to assume he has the same goals he had back in the Radiant Isles,” Zeke stated. “I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but this is how it’s got to be.”

Indeed, Talia held a particular enmity for Abby that far exceeded anything reasonable. Micayne had taken everything from her, and still, Talia hated Abby far more than she did the necromancer who’d transformed her into one of the undead.

Eveline let out a long-suffering sigh. “You are so blind, Ezekiel.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked inwardly.

“The girl cares for you,” Eveline said with a mental roll of her eyes. “Perhaps not romantically, but I won’t rule that out, either. She hates your former lover because of what she did to you. She wants to protect you.”

“Very well,” Talia said, interrupting the unspoken conversation he’d been having with Eveline. “I will endeavor to hunt down the necromancer, then.”

“Take some of the Inashi. They should be a big help.”

She nodded, then took off before he could say more.

“People are complicated,” he muttered to himself, glancing across the plains in the direction of the dungeon. “Monsters are way easier to deal with.”