“This stinks like a trap, Dono. I’m out,” Pawl said. “Risk reward ain’t mathing out properly.”
“What? You’re giving up the chance for some sweet, virgin demigod pussy and ass?”
Laughter.
“I’m more looking forward to those soft, virgin mouths!”
“I still remember those tits. Real mommy milkers, but on a tight, young body. So perfect. Impossible, really. But that’s what a God’s blood does.”
More laughter.
The mercenaries and adventurers had been given a grand hall in one of the towns at the foot of the mountains where they could see the World Tree sitting astride said mountains.
A few hundred ate and drank a feast generously provided by the God himself.
“Why would a God offer us his kids? Reward or no reward. I’m thinking there isn’t any service we did or could do that’s worth that!”
Dono scowled, scars knotted angrily, at Pawl.
“You heard the eidolons. It’s also some kind of test. Weed out the weak from the strong. I figure the ones I stick ain’t strong enough that the God gives a shit what we do to them, yeah?”
“You’re walking in there without weapons, armor or any gear.”
“Don’t be a pillow biter. It’s kids. They can kill quadhorns, but the only thing those dumb things have going for them is size,” Dono said.
“And the horns!”
“Point is the risk isn’t worth it. We’ve got plenty of top class whores down here.”
Dono shook his head and raised a fist.
“I swear, shut your pussy mouth, Pawl, before I do you myself. The point is this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. How many can say they had demigod pussy? Ass? And mouth?”
“Plus, we’re helping our God out. You know? With the testing thing.”
“On your heads then. More whores for me.”
Dono clamped a bear paw-like hand on Pawl’s shoulder and squeezed hard.
“Virgins, brother.” He fixed hard eyes. “Free virgins.”
“Ain’t nothing better than virgins and free. Combine the two? Paradise.”
Pawl downed his ale and slapped Dono’s hand.
They were both hard-eyed warriors.
He wouldn’t be intimidated into ignoring his gut.
Not for this.
“Getting another. Anyone want more?”
Laughter followed him all the way to the crowded bar.
…
As far as celebratory feasts went, it wasn’t much of one.
At least for Sixty-eight.
She had been too preoccupied with strategy and tactics to pay attention to everything from the food to the entertainment.
The only thing that had drawn her attention was her God— not father— sitting on his throne.
Painful to look at, but drawn to him nonetheless.
As for her half-sisters and half-brothers?
She didn’t know.
They had all been seated in their individual tables, which were more like school desks, in a sequestered area from the rest of the fancy, powerful guests.
She imagined they had done the same as her and had shoveled food into their mouths mechanically.
The long trip to Suiteonem Prime. Protecting the convoy from beasts and monsters. The Grand Brawl.
They had left her famished, starving for nutrients.
The food had been the only positive thing for her.
She was glad to take the portal back to the dormitory even if her room was like a prison cell. Much larger, but still a cell.
…
Sleep came quickly.
The body may have been energized by the surge in power from her divine blood awakening to greater heights, but her mind and soul had been pushed to their limits and drained of the energy to continue.
Dreams and nightmares warred.
Happier times with her mother and true father.
Dark times with the imagined future.
“Intruder alert.”
The hollow, reedy voice of the wood automaton woke her in an instant.
Her parents had trained her to go from sleep to combat ready like a seasoned warrior.
A weapon was her first thought.
The rack was empty, but it was solid wood.
She was a ten year old child, which meant small, thin limbs, not much muscle.
She had a God’s blood flowing through her veins, which meant strength beyond a man three times her size. More if she let the red-gold anger boil over the pot into rage and beyond.
A few kicks gave her a jagged-ended length of wood.
Men’s laughter and children’s screams came from outside her open doorway.
A door would have been nice.
In lieu of which, she crouched low in the empty corner.
She hadn’t seen where the automaton had gone. She figured there’d be no help from them since this was probably another test.
Boots stomped on the white stone. A shadow passed the dim light from the crystals outside her cell.
A man rushed through the doorway. Right into the jagged end of her makeshift weapon.
She had thrust high to account for her small size.
Which was perfect to catch him under the chin.
Scarred face, ugly face. Twice-broken nose. Puffed up ears.
A fighter.
Mercenary?
Adventurer?
The wheels in her head turned.
Definitely a test.
He toppled over her but she had the strength to push him to one side and free her weapon.
Wait for others?
Children’s screams.
Men’s laughter.
Then men’s screams.
It was a test.
More privileges meant more resources. More resources meant more to use for her go home plan, as empty as it was currently.
She was Sixty-eight.
The magic patch on all of her uniforms said so.
That would never change, but she could still earn those privileges.
She took a moment to search the dead man, ignoring the fact that he was her first kill of a person.
Nothing.
No weapons or anything else useful.
She grabbed a boot.
Then skulked out of her cell and into chaos.
Suiteonem Prime, Sinaya’s Gift, Bathalas, 213916
Stop!
Aunty Bilaya’s click was sharp, snappy.
Exit now!
Ragay shoulders slumped as he swam to the edge of their bubble of ocean water.
He pushed through the barrier, which always felt weird with how thick the water was. Almost like swimming through honey. Fortunately it was only about as thick as half his height.
The waterlock had normal ocean water.
Aunty Bilaya was right behind him.
They pushed the water from their lungs as the small chamber drained.
It served its purpose well, special enhancements made the process comfortable compared to the discomfort of doing it out in the wild, so to speak. It even dried them completely by the time the door slid open with a soft hiss.
He remained silent as he followed his favorite carer and harshest trainer outside and to a review room.
They passed other people making use of the training complex and he couldn’t help but feel the judgment in their gazes.
She gestured to one of the chairs.
“Sit. Watch. I will return with refreshments and sustenance.”
The orb responded to her gestures and played their training spar.
He cringed, but dutifully paid close attention and took notes.
There was a lot that wasn’t good for them to go over.
She returned shortly with heavily protein-infused nutrient bars and drinks.
“Well?”
Bland, tasteless, which meant she was really unhappy with him.
The training complex provided the highest level services across every conceivable thing.
The sustenance especially.
High performance results with gourmet taste.
“I did many things wrong, but it all flows from my lack of focus.”
“Good.” She rubbed his hair, messing it up. “We don’t have a lot of time.”
“Again with the urgency. Aunty, will you tell me why?”
“I would, my cobalt cutie, but I can’t.”
He groaned, rolling his eyes.
Her term of endearment had been embarrassing since he turned ten.
He complained, but not with any true heat.
Whenever he got in trouble or faced difficulties it was always her face and voice that came to him first.
“Does this have something to do with my progenitors?”
Her blue-gray scaled face froze into the warrior’s mask she always wore in their spars.
“Why would you ask that?”
“I, um, may have heard from, uh, sources that they, um, might have told my trainers to go hard on me.”
She sighed.
“Sources? Talima, huh?”
“She didn’t tell me!”
“Well, it’s not a big secret. So, don’t worry about that.”
“Then you’ll tell me?”
“Now that, I can’t.” She regarded the frozen image of him caught in the middle of her catching him in the side of the face with the butt of her training trident.
The open mouth and one eye half shut made for a humorous picture.
“Please don’t save that and send it to the others, Aunty.”
“Don’t worry, they have plenty of those already. Back to your lack of focus. Why?”
“It’s—” he was about to dismiss it, but remembered her many lessons. “It’s the last few weeks. They’ve just been really busy. Everyone from my trainers at junior reef defenders and my teachers have been riding me like a sea ox. It’s like one morning they all woke up and decided that I have to be perfect at everything!” he snapped as the complaints that had been building like a tsunami against the Great Barrier Wall finally breached over the top.
Aunty Bilaya listened actively as he poured out all his grievances with his trainers and teachers.
This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
“I told them you needed to know, but they decided that—”
“It’s okay, Aunty. I know, you can’t tell me. I don’t want you to get in trouble because I’m being a child.”
“You’re still a child.” She flicked between his eyes to stop his protest. “Listen. You are. Four more years until you can even take the trial for the first time.”
“Less,” he muttered.
She moved suddenly, catching him off guard with the quickness of a high level warrior.
He couldn’t even mount a proper defense or counter.
But, instead of testing him with an attack she scooped him up in a tight hug like she did when he was a small child instead of a taller, broader teen less than four years from being a man.
She lifted him and swung him around.
“Oh my Sinaya,” he muttered.
If anyone saw… he would just die.
She plopped him back into his chair.
“They have been very unfair to you, my cobalt c— warrior.” She smiled through glistening eyes.
Which freaked him out more than anything else.
She had never even come close to crying in front of him before.
“Am I? Am I going to die?”
She choked out a laugh.
“No. Of course not. You’re brave, strong and skilled. That’s what our training is for, after all.”
He gulped.
It was nice to know that he wasn’t about to die, but he still had questions.
“I’m ready to start again. This time I will be focused.”
…
“To the reef and back!” Senior Reef Defender Semerae’s shrill voice cut through the chatter of everyone on the beach, drawing attention from those out on the bright, sunny day for fun and not brutal training. “Ragay! Carry that!” She pointed at the turtle shell filled with a pile of smooth stones.
He stifled a groan.
The shell was bigger than him and the pile was almost as big as his torso.
“No Skills!”
Great.
That meant he was going to have to run all the way and back with just his natural strength and endurance.
…
“Ragay, give me seven alternate plans the 20th Karagatan could have tried using to prevent the sinking of the Darklight Abyss with at least a twenty percent survival rate of the entire population.” Teacher Wesi suddenly pointed a finger at him.
What did the sinking of the sub-mariner city have to do with the trade deals between Suiteonem’s Sanctuary and the pre-industrial Empire of Man?
…
“Ragay, he took my doll!” Visaya wailed.
“Ulus, give her back her doll or I will dunk you in our pool like a spearbill does a nuthoarder.”
“I was just joking!” Ulus yelled from the other room.
Ragay sighed happily.
The racket of the children he was supposed to be watching was like the calm lapping of the soft lagoon waves upon the sand.
He supposed it helped that every muscle in his body was sore, which meant lounging in the soft chair wasn’t optional. The only thing that would have made it better was healing gel, but that would’ve minimized his gains.
And as Aunty Bilaya had always said, “Pain is gain.”
…
“Ragay, meet me at Lover’s Cove after dinner,” Talima said over the communication gem. “You better not keep me waiting.”
…
“Ragay, do you know me?” the Karagatan said.
They stood on the reef.
The Golden Moon was as bright always and the sky was clear.
It took him time to comprehend the question.
Her barely-contained power was too much for him.
“Miss Karagatan?”
“I’m sorry, but you have potential.”
Suiteonem Prime, December, 2057
Cal stood behind a large orb, half-embedded into the ice and metal floor.
It reminded him of the spherical ice the modern pre-spires era bougie people used for their drinks.
He liked his whisky neat most of the time.
The empress’ stockpile of alcoholic beverage was large enough to last a nation of drunkards millennia.
Apocalypse war loot.
She had a lot of loot.
Consumables protected by stasis magic of such high level that as long as they had mana they’d last forever.
“Sarnathan, the Doom That Scratches.”
He addressed the corpulent revenant.
Sarnathan’s chubby cheeks made him look much younger than his actual death-age.
“Yes, my Imperial Majesty?”
Cal already knew the answers to his questions, but they didn’t need to know that.
“Your nails don’t appear particularly sharp.”
“Ah, yes. I’m not one for the scratching of things, except perhaps a bug bite, but such things ended a long time ago.” The dark-skinned revenant with an aquiline nose and large, round blue eyes cleared his throat. “The sobriquet was granted to me for my loyal service to the long-dead Emperor Tralaqusim of the Empire of Tralaqusim.”
“Doom at the end of a pencil or did your people use pens?”
“I used both, but the reference refers to the latter. Ink is permanent, graphite is made to be erased.”
“What do you want, Sarnathan?”
“To serve your empire, of course.”
“There is no empire, nor will there be one. So, no titles and honorifics.”
“I shall serve you with ironclad loyalty in all things. That is all I desire.”
“The truth is what I require. Think carefully. Be as specific as you can be.”
The revenant paused for a long time.
“I don’t desire oblivion. Nothing else matters beyond that. I’ve seen and been a part of every atrocity by both imperial majesties I’ve been forced to serve.”
“I’m not forcing any of you.”
“Yes. Freedom,” he mused. “I’m not built to fight or act on my own. Doing so will eventually lead to the loss of that freedom and another master to serve or said oblivion. Your offer is generous. Too good to be true, but my bar is so low as to be beneath the floor. Therefore, I ask, how may I serve you?”
“You know my rules?”
“Somehow, I do and I won’t forget. How I know this, I don’t know.” He shrugged.
“Very well. I expect you to do what you do best. Start by codifying my laws for you revenants.”
“Of course, perhaps, you can illuminate my loyal self in what exactly those are.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll know them when you start writing them down.”
“Will this be turned into a magically-binding contract?”
“Yes. Now go and send the next person in, Secretary Sarnathan.”
…
The Rime Pits dotted the landmass a quarter the size of Antarctica that acted as a cap over the planet’s south pole. Hundreds of them, though only a handful were somewhat open to the surface. The rest were covered by thick glaciers or magic ice hundreds of meters thick.
Killing spells pointed down the holes and lined the walls going all the way down the kilometers into the underworld.
The subterranean realm was just as populated as above ground and the ocean depths.
Thinking beings and monsters to create the entertaining environment Suiteonem desired on his decades-long vacations.
Cal was familiar with Stone Lords.
The rest were new to him. Like the huge, centipede-like humanoids that held the territory beneath the pole and much of the Frozen Eternities.
Well, not entirely new.
Suiteonemiades had known plenty about them, about all of them and what the demigod had known, Cal now knew.
The distance was great from his position above the frozen landscape to the dark below.
He scouted with eyes and senses that made that distance irrelevant.
Skittering legs and chitinous armor, spells and Skills, classes and a highly-pronounced drive to kill everyone else.
They had sensed the empress’ destruction and had launched an offensive.
Revenants and undead robbed of her presence and power had given much ground in the half day.
He pushed his thoughts into the centipede-like people and halted their advance across dozens of fronts in the dark tunnels and gaping caverns by killing them.
If necessary, he’d venture into the underworld personally once he had finished scouting the world.
Those revenants needed to be included into the transition and given their choice, eventually.
They would all be freed, one way or another.
After that, they would be reinforced.
…
He floated in orbit.
Still over the Frozen Eternities.
North of the island fortress lay a vast ocean of white.
Ice sheets stretched across over a hundred kilometers to a jagged coastline of mountains rising many thousands of meters.
The blue-skinned people lived on the northern side of the mountain range, extending their territory to encompass the enormous valley filled with thick boreal forests and five lakes large enough to be visible from orbit.
He touched their thoughts briefly, seeking potentials and perils.
They spent most of their time inside their vast mountainholds. Only venturing out into the small, fortified villages that sat outside the entrances on necessary business or during the brief warm season.
In this case ‘warm’ meant a few degrees above freezing, while ‘season’ meant a few weeks.
Otherwise the frozen mountains were left to the monsters.
The north of the valley was marked by another mountain range. One that roughly cut across the landmass in a horizontal line from west coast to east coast like a vicious scar.
The Empire of Man had encroached in the last decade.
They had crossed the mountains and had established a few frontier towns in the valley.
The farthest one lay on the northern shore of the largest lake nestled on the outskirts of a large forest.
A massive fortress thousands of years old guarded the only known pass.
The massive tunnel had been carved in the early years after Suiteonem’s conquest of the world.
The land flattened into great, grass-filled plains and gently rolling hills as Cal’s eyes left the mountains.
An impressive network of roads covered much of it, connecting everything from tiny villages to bustling cities.
It reminded him of home.
The population density dwarfed that of the people in the frozen lands.
How would he describe the society to his family back home?
Renaissance, but with some industrialization?
Heavily integrated magic with technology, but with a steampunk aesthetic?
A lack of standardization in favor of artistry even in mundane things?
Less mass-produced cars and more hand-crafted automatons shaped like animals and monsters.
Although, recent years had seen the former begin to rise in prominence.
At the moment that standardization had only permeated into the military.
He grunted.
More evidence to verify Suiteonemiades’ information.
The secret rulers of the empire had received hints from Suiteonem’s pawns that a regularly scheduled apocalypse was on their horizon.
Past the sprawling network of gray lines cutting through the wide expanse of green lay a perfect circle of blue.
The Inner Sea had been created with intention rather than formed naturally, obviously.
So too were the two rivers that connected it to the oceans on the west and east coast.
No natural river ran in a perfectly straight line.
The vast majority of their population lived in the cities that lay around the circle of blue.
Dark-skinned as expected from a people close to the planet’s equator.
He scanned them, searching.
Many millions, but time was subjective, if he wanted, when he used his powers.
An ideal candidate needed several things.
Ability was one.
Desire was another.
Location couldn’t be discounted, both in the geographical sense and societal sense.
Then there was the will needed to accept the risks.
He found a young woman shooting an enchantment-powered rifle in a barracks practice range.
A conscript soldier.
Angry at the injustice of a system put in place by the wealthy to make people like her mother and younger brother into playthings.
He marked her for later.
…
A vast ocean to the east filled with unnatural phenomena that made it more treacherous for ship passage than any ocean back home in the pre-spires era.
Life on the islands, natural and unnatural, stationary and mobile.
The same for beneath the waves.
Entire cities on the ocean floor.
City-submarines, some larger than the largest aircraft carriers, floated with the deepwater currents.
Peoples of the ocean.
Aquatic and semi-aquatic.
They separated themselves into the landborn and oceanborn.
So many different kinds.
The true natives of this world.
He touched their thoughts, but stayed away from those with Sinaya in them.
Another false god.
He kept his distance.
That was an unnecessary conflict.
He only wanted Suiteonem.
Besides, it was their world.
If only they weren’t compromised he would’ve sought an alliance.
Then again, there wasn’t a people on Suiteonem Prime that wasn’t compromised by the so-called god in one way or another.
He gave the massive archipelago of over ten-thousand islands, Sinaya’s Gift, a quick scan.
Hundreds of millions on and around the archipelago alone.
Suiteonem’s indoctrination efforts had born fruit.
…
Suiteonem’s Sanctuary.
The continent to the east.
The World Tree astride a mountain range with roots thick enough to hold cities inside its arteries even without their efforts to carve out more space. With branches that reached past the atmosphere and leaves large enough to shelter an entire city from the rain.
He kept his distance.
The Empyreals couldn’t be risked lest he reveal himself much earlier than planned.
A lofty name for parasitic worm octopuses with psychic powers.
He couldn’t simply kill them all without alerting Suiteonem.
Thus, he turned his gaze across the vast void to the moons. One in particular. The Golden Moon and Suiteonem’s moon-sized palace.
He didn’t do anything.
Suiteonemiades’ information had been clear.
The moon and the palace could only be reached one way.
He needed the World Tree’s permission and help.
Failing that Cal needed to catch Suiteonem when he was on the planet.
A fight wasn’t so simple.
It wouldn’t be enough to kill.
As an energy being, Suiteonem was essentially immortal.
Cal needed demigods to make sure the kill stuck.
The anger in him had been wrapped up tightly in a coil of Threnium cable.
It was the proximity that made it boil over into rage.
He clamped down tightly, burning his metaphorical hands.
The pain was welcome.
His son was dead.
He had failed Boy.
Pain was the least of what he deserved.
He dropped out of orbit and into the ocean and down a deep trench not far from the Frozen Eternities.
The telekinetic bubble around him began to writhe. The surface erupted with spikes that stabbed in and out angrily like porcupine quills and whipped tentacles around like the nearby kraken.
Far enough from possible detection.
Cal began punching his bubble.
Pain in his natural fist mirrored the pain in his head.
His robotic prosthetic lasted three punches before it shattered.
It had been steel and plastic filled with magitech for strength and structural integrity.
He wasn’t one to waste his good hands on a childish tantrum.
Psychic waves of rage and hatred pinged the depths like sonar.
He had chosen the spot because it was a spawn zone.
Monsters, he didn’t care about.
Natural animals, he did.
The former got to die.
Their minds shattered, collateral to his tantrum.
They tried to flee.
Only the strongest few tried to attack.
None of them, not even the island-sized kraken, could get close before their thoughts were shredded like cheese, leaving hollowed out bodies, alive in a biological sense, but not for much longer.
Blood flowed from his face.
The bubble cracked.
The bubble reformed.
Though the cracks remained if he squinted at it at the right angle.
He wasn’t alright.
He would never be alright.
…
He sat next to Nila, watching her sleep.
Tears leaked.
His and hers.
The bleeding had stopped by the time he had returned.
But, those cracks?
Now that he had seen them, he couldn’t unsee them.
Had they been there the whole time?
Since their son—
“I’m not thinking about that.”
Instead he focused on the happy smile on her face as she dreamed a memory like it was the first time.
