FINAL CORE - Chapter 37 (Patreon)

With roots that dig towards the heart of the world, the stoic giant, known as the world-tree, sits. Its boughs rise up so high as to scratch the clouds above. Its roots reach from the western shore of the continent, all the way to the eastern one.

And all around its massive base, a trunk which acts as a pillar strong enough to hold the heavens themselves up in the air, sits a city like no other.

The world-tree was given to us by the gods, during the season of their departure from our mortal-coil, all of those generations ago.

Nourished and sustained by the ashes and the bones, left behind after a world-shattering, one-hundred year crisis, a simple sprout grew to become this magnificent icon of our world.

At the very base of the world-tree is the central-beginners dungeon. An ancient dungeon that, despite its expertise and central location and floor span of well over one-hundred floors, is still to this day of the very lowest level and difficulty of any dungeons in the world.

The core has never been communicated with, despite the attempts of the high magical scholars of every generation since.

— Perhaps, like the tree itself, it is simply a gift left to us by out progenitors.

~ A side note on the world-tree, from Barnatus Barnacious’ Big Book of Dungeons

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- [Holy] -

Ascension – The landscape encompassing the dungeon’s territorial radius separates itself from the sinful world, causing the tower and all of its lands to float up into the air.

Divine Will – Wild, HOLY monsters will begin to make their way from across the world to live, nest and thrive in and around the grounds of the tower

Gloria – Augments the dungeon-core itself with a variety of combat, summoning and support abilities

- [Bastion] -

Traps – Allows your worker minions to develop simple traps and snares in your dungeon, in order to hurt enemies before they can get too deep.

Spatial Room Refactoring – Allows the separation of choices floors into smaller collections of rooms, rather than simply one room per floor.

Advanced Smithing – Allows your workers to create advanced weapons, such as high-quality swords to augment your monsters capable of using equipment.

- [Sanctuary] -

Instancing – Creates an instance portal inside of the dungeon-gate. Every party which enters the dungeon will enter into their own, individual instance and be unable to interact with other parties.

Extra large raid parties will still be able to share the same instance.

Mercy {Toggle} – While active: Any intruders inside of the tower who reach 0 HP, or who fall off of it, will be spared and teleported back outside to the dungeon-gate. A severe, unremovable debuff penalty will be applied to them for 24 hours.

Any living, mortal-race denizens of the tower will be returned to their quarters.

Experience points are still gained as normal.

Whole of Body – While on the grounds outside and inside of the tower, all living creatures receive +1 HP / five minutes. All DARK/UNDEAD/DEMON entities are damaged at a rate of -1 MAX HP / five minutes

Isaiah looks at the swath of abilities, not really able to make up its mind. There are so many of them and some of these do look very strong. However, they might also fundamentally change the structure of the dungeon in a serious way.

This is a decision best not made hastily. It will take a little time to think about the choices to make first and then return to this.

First, there is much else to do.

— It turns its head to look at the straggling humans, who it has let discuss amongst themselves their choice.

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- Caeli -

Human, Female, Battle-Alchemist

Caeli sits, leaning back on a chair that seemingly had appeared out of nowhere. Her leg is crossed over her thigh, her foot twitching up and down. Her arms are folded, her finger tapping against her bicep. She finds herself stuck in impatient thought.

“So, do you really think we’re stuck here?” asks Domi, looking at her and then towards Irascaris.

The man with the lance shrugs and the two of them look towards her again.

She knows that this choice is going to fall on her. Maybe that’s why she’s feeling a bit tightly strung?

“I just wanted to make some money,” says the woman, sighing. She looks down at the table, letting her hand rest on it instead. Her finger, instead of tapping against her, now taps against its ornately carved surface.

The table too, had simply appeared here, having been created on the spot by some sort of magical light.

“We’re fucked,” she says. “You saw those scrying crystals,” explains the battle-alchemist. “That means there are high-ranking people who saw our faces,” she says. “After the explosion…” She shakes her head. “I don’t know if we can go back to the city.”

“That’s a crock of shit!” argues Domi, slamming his fist against the table. “They basically kidnapped us!” he argues. “How is that not self-defense? Why are we in trouble?”

Irascaris folds his arms, leaning back to copy Caeli prior posture. “Because we’re poor,” he says. “Those guards were noble-blooded. That’s all the argument they’ll want.”

“I had a run in with the nobles too,” says the strange man, dressed as a priest. He sits at their table. “It’s not so bad here,” says the priest. “Let me tell you my story.”

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- Isaiah -

“Thank you, Rorate,” says Isaiah. It finds itself underground, in the resting area. “I would have been lost without your help.”

Red had explained what the whole situation with the mushroom-brew and the monk had been. It was really very clever of her and her timing was perfect. She really is a useful and valuable person.

— But perhaps it is necessary to stop thinking in those terms alone?

It seems an unbefitting way to treat someone who has put in so much work.

Rorate lifts her hands, shaking her head. “No, it was nothing. I’m just glad I could really be of use to someone,” she says.

Isaiah lifts a taloned hand, softly pushing hers back down. “Please accept my gratitude,” it says, looking around awkwardly. They’re just standing there in the hallway at the entrance of the underground. It looks over its shoulder, towards the kitchen.

“Would you care to tell me about your journey?” asks the creature, gesturing towards the kitchen table.

Rorate blinks, staring in surprise for a quiet moment, but then excitedly agrees.

Isaiah can’t help but feel very awkward in the kitchen as it sits at the table. It’s a very unnatural environment for what it holds itself to be.

But, perhaps this is a sacrifice that is good to make.

It listens intently as Rorate excitedly babbles on and on like a stream of flowing water as she tells it about her trip to the witch and her trip to the city and everything between and after that.

It goes on for a while and Isaiah can’t help but notice that the flow of her speech is so strong and free, that it feels like a cascade of water, breaking free from a dam that had held it in for far too long.

_____________________________________________

Isaiah lifts a hand.

(Isaiah) used: [Summoned Worker {2}]

Cost: {4} SOUL {100} EXP

SOUL: 34/38

A new uthra appears. This one is orange.

It stretches itself out, yawning and rubbing its face.

“Hello,” greets Isaiah. “We will be having a lot of foot traffic soon. Please tend to the grounds outside of the tower.”

Orange rubs its tired eyes. “Is that it?”

“— For now. Thank you.”

The new uthra nods and flies off.

Isaiah stands atop the tower once more. With the uthra all returned to their work, the tower can once again resume construction. The death of the second inspection party has sealed their fate as something which the humans will try to destroy, as far as Red had explained to it.

Isaiah lifts its gaze, as it clambers up its very-big-tree, towards a high branch. From there, it pops its head through the crowd and stares up towards the clouds and the sky.

It is still very far away.

What a world this is.

Isaiah lowers its gaze, looking at the people sitting at the table. They aren’t too bothered by it anymore and are talking to each other, lost in deep discussion. Beulah seems to have calmed them down. Perhaps this would be a good job for him in the future? Outreach?

Red flies in. “Hey, chief,” says the uthra. “Everything is back on track,” she says. “I flew out through the forest a bit, our territory is getting pretty massive, you know?” asks Red. “A lot of interesting stuff out there. The villagers are all talking about the tower.”

Isaiah nods. “Thank you for sticking with me,” it says.

Red waves it off and flies away. “Yeah, yeah. Where else would I go?” asks the uthra, somewhat snarkily as she vanishes.

But behind that sass is an honest question.

Where would she go?

Isaiah stares down at the people at the table. If not for the tower, where would they go?

It thinks of Rorate, who has invested herself in body and soul to this endeavor. Where would she go?

This new life of its is… difficult.

It is challenging and honestly, it still feels very rough and, perhaps even lonesome. Being surrounded by people who are in awe of you, who are under you, who fear you — These things are not the same as having a family.

Isaiah closes its eyes, looking over to a statue, above a nest.

_______________________________________________

The blackbird stands on the edge of the nest, scooting around its rim as it stares in towards the clutch in curiosity.

The first egg shakes.

_______________________________________________

Isaiah opens its eyes, jumping down from the very-big-tree in a panic as a strike of cold terror shoots through its body. It lands at the base of the tree and grabs the time-stopping sun-dial, resting in the tree’s shadow.

The creature spreads its wings out wide and gets ready to fly.

— But then it doesn’t.

Isaiah finds its feet firmly planted on the grass, growing atop the tower. Its wings, held wide, feel the wind flowing through them.

But it doesn’t budge as its eyes wander out across the distance, across the beautiful world all around them. Bright petals fly free in the spring gales. Birds flock and sing atop the crown of the forest. The sun shines with lazy rays, which linger through the drifting clouds.

Everything comes together to paint a scene that feels… familiar.

Isaiah lowers a hand, feeling a spot on its breast that it recalls once being pierced with a blade in its old human life.

It turns its head, looking at the people sitting there, watching it in confusion.

Isaiah turns back forward and then sets the sun-dial back down onto the ground.

It isn’t right.

Rorate had brought it this sun-dial, because she knew of its goal. She knew that it was trying to get restored to the form of a bird, which would destroy this place. Red had told her as much.

But she went and got it anyway.

What exactly is its plan here?

Is it going to use a strange, dark magic on its own prized family of its old life? Is it going to put their lives on hold, in the hopes that it can selfishly return to them? Is it really going to steal this kind spring from their lives?

Isaiah stares at its talons.

Isaiah the paladin had died. He is gone forever.

It does wish to do so, but perhaps…

— Perhaps it is time to make a choice. The choice of if Isaiah, the black-bird, has died as well.

Listening to the sounds of the world, to the uthra flying around and working, to the sounds of someone coming up the stairs to the roost, Isaiah isn’t sure if it has any choice but to do so.

It has been holding on to its old life, desperately trying to claw to it.

But it has found something new now.

Isaiah lets out a long, slow exhalation and closes its eyes again.

______________________________________________

The eggs crack. The male blackbird turns its head in excitement as it scans the area and watches the nest, the eggs.

The first piece of shell breaks off and a tiny beak presses itself out, squeaking for the first time.

If the blackbird could speak, if he was perhaps a little more advanced in his faculties, he might be wondering why the statue adorning his tree was leaking water from its face.

— As are all of the statues around the area.

But he is just a blackbird.

And life is good that way.

He chirps excitedly, lowering his head as he watches the clutch hatch.

______________________________________________

- [The humming man] -

???, Male, Chronomancer

The humming man walks up the staircase to the roost.

The scene is very quiet and serene. What a beautiful view. What a strange place this is.

He looks around himself as he walks across the arena. Pretty weird for a dungeon. He’ll have to keep an eye on it.

Calmly, he adjusts his hat and strolls towards the weeping, angelic monstrosity.

— Just as planned.

He slips in between it and the tree, despite there being ample room to walk around the creature on the other side. Bending down, he reaches in and grabs the sun-dial. It’s pretty heavy. Sheesh. Witches always have to make stuff like this complicated.

He shakes his head and then pulls the sun-dial free from the entity’s grasp, tucking it into his bag.

Hoisting it over his shoulder, he looks at the dungeon-core, standing there, lost in a distant vision.

The man lifts a hand, patting it on its back once.

He then nods, content that he got what he wanted and begins to head back down the tower, humming all the way.

“Ah…”

He stops on the staircase, seeing the dark-elf, frozen half-way in time as she was on her way up.

The humming man steps back a few steps upstairs and fixes a loose brick that would have caused her to fall off into the river below.

He gives her a thumbs-up and a wink and makes his way back down.

The humming man hums. Time returns to its real flow.