FINAL CORE - Chapter 78 (Patreon)

New segment with Witch Perchta at the start and at the end of chapter 67

https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/54046/final-core-a-holy-dungeon-core-litrpg/chapter/1004411/chapter-67-the-fools-crown-adorns-the-head-of

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Taishi-shi

Vildt (Rabbit), Male, Classless

The far off Eastern Continent

“What is your name?” asks the entity.

Taishi-shi lays on his back in a field of grass, staring up towards the endless void above his head. “Taishi-shi,” replies the boy, his long ears twitching.

He’s not actually awake — this is a dream, he’s pretty sure.

“Taishi-shi,” repeats the voice from above, taking note of his calling. The stars that he is looking up towards shift, drifting around the night sky like flakes of dust that float over the surface of a pool of water. The stars move, coming together into the body of a person with the wings of a bird. Other stars drift around it, taking on many colors as they swirl.

“I am Isaiah.”

“I know,” replies Taishi-shi.

“I have felt your presence for a time now,” explains the voice. “You have been reaching for me.”

Taishi-shi lies on the grass, feeling the heavy ticking of the clock from across the world reaching his chest and striking in synchronicity with his heartbeat. “Is it true?” asks Taishi-shi. “Are you really going to bring us to heaven?”

“No,” replies Isaiah. The stars shift and turn. “— I will be bringing heaven down to us.”

Taishi-shi sits upright. “What can I do?” asks the boy, clenching his fists excitedly. “I’m really far away, but I want to help!”

It’s quiet for a time as the stars move, swimming around as a shapeless thing, like a bird in flight, vanishing behind the clouds. “Pray,” says Isaiah. “I will speak my word to you, Taishi-shi,” says Isaiah. “If you wish to help, then you will preach it.”

Taishi-shi nods, staring up at the sky, his long rabbit-wears flopping.

“I will ask of you to build my church, Taishi-shi, for those who I can not reach here.”

“I’ll do it!” exclaims Taishi-shi.

The stars spin around, taking the form of a bird that leaves in flight for a faraway place.

Taishi-shi wakes up, his eyes opening as he stares at the broken ceiling of the ruined house that he lives in.

“Build your church,” says the voice in his ears. “And we will speak more.”

The boy sits upright, looking around his home that he is alone in, deep in the middle of the night.

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Isaiah

Isaiah sits on the roost. What a useful ability this was to take. The ability to project a message to others of the faith, as long as they are within its influence. Thankfully, given that the tower reaches up into the global tradewinds, this is most of the world.

It will establish churches across the world. Not just in this city here, but in every city. It will have disciples listening to its words, preaching its ways.

It cannot bear the burden of such a task alone; as with the tower, there is a reason it has helpers.

NEW (HOLY) ABILITY - [Revelation](Active)

• Allows you to project a vision to any sleeping person of your faith, provided that they are inside your territory.

NEW (HOLY) ABILITY - [Preaching the Gospel](Active)

• Allows anyone who worships you to establish a church of Isaiah on consecrated ground, that carries some of the tower’s passive, protective effects against DARK and UNDEAD on a smaller scale.

[Church of Isaiah]

Every visitor here will give a small portion of their passive magic to Isaiah. The more fervent their faith, the stronger the donation.

In turn, they will be able to receive communications and blessings from Isaiah.

The humans and the witch will return for their final onslaught soon enough. The tower is good. It is strong and resilient, as are the island and the people of good hope who reside on it. But the more its message spreads to the outside world, the stronger and more protected they will all be — not just from immediate attacks but from assaults on character and trust.

Isaiah smiles, turning its head to look at Scion and Rorate, who sit at the edge of the water of the hot-springs atop the tower, babbling and gagging as they talk about this or that. The two of them seem to have become friends of a sort.

Isaiah turns its head the other way, watching Red chase after Crystal, who is trying to run away from her nagging at him.

It looks down at the human camp, full of burning, warm fires and food.

There is so much good that must be protected.

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Anderwal

Human, Male, Scholar

Location: The southern city

Anderwal exhales, his breath leaving him as he sees the tower far off in the distance.

“Look at that…” says Anderwal, pointing off to the sky. All of the members of the Witches’ Sect stop, staring that way too. “Fascinating.”

“That is the enemy, brother Anderwal,” replies his friend.

“I know,” replies Anderwal, taking out a notebook and making a rough sketch of what he sees in the distance. “But can’t I be impressed by it?” he asks. “It’s beautiful.”

His friend looks at him for a moment, before he turns back to the massive island, floating off in the sky, far away. “You are not wrong, Anderwal,” says the man next to him. “But do not speak such things near the witches. You understand.”

Anderwal nods, sketching.

Witches can be very… emotional. It’s not their fault. They are strange creatures by the way nature has crafted them.

But that’s what makes them so interesting.

They see things that the people, who are led by the misguiding hand of the church, are never able to see. There are connections and patterns in this world that are hidden by the standards of modern living and humankind as a whole is suffering for it.

Their mission had failed a decade ago.

But perhaps now is their chance to make things right, to fix the world, and to make it a better place for everyone to live in, free from the tyranny of the seats of old power.

He glances at the tower and makes a note next to his drawing.

‘A funny birdhouse.’

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???

Female, Dryad, Wood-Mother

The dryad stands at the edge of the pool, looking down at her reflection in the moonlit waters of the hot-springs.

“Hey,” says a voice from the side. She turns her head, looking at the dark-elf, who lifts her hand and pats the water, inviting her over. “Come join us.”

She frowns, turning her head back to look at the water.

The last time she was in the water, it hurt.

It hurt really bad.

The dryad blinks, touching her face to look at it, running her hands over her cheeks and teeth as she has done so many nights before this one.

— She should get back to her forest.

As a wood-mother, it's her duty to look over the land that is hers and keep it safe and healthy. It’s her task to foster and nurture the creatures living there, keeping them safe from humans.

She looks around.

But how can she?

After what happened to her, the horrific rupturing of her body and what happened to her land, much the same, how can any of it ever go back?

“Hey,” says a voice from next to her. She turns her head, looking at the dark-elf, who holds out her hands to her. “Come on in. It’s okay. It’s not deep,” says the woman.

The dryad frowns in uncertainty, fidgeting.

The water is warm and comforting.

But she really should find a way to return to her duties. But… she doesn’t feel like she’s ready to go back. Not after what happened. It was all… It was all just too much. Maybe here instead, she can find another way?

“Wanna try?” asks the elf, getting her attention again. She pokes her fingers with her hand. The dryad looks at her and then holds her hand, shuffling onto her bottom as she slides her legs into the water.

It’s very warm.

“It’s okay,” says the dark-elf. “You don’t have to rush.”

The dark elf sits down next to her legs, lowering herself back into the water. The other elf comes over, sitting down on the other side, and the two of them continue their talk, just sitting on her sides now instead of on the other half of the pool.

The dryad tilts her head, swinging her legs a little.

Water like this is very rare. Healing water of such purity can only ever be found in a place of incredible natural strength, a garden that has been tended by a keeper of immaculate power and standards. It’s far better water than anything she had in her forest.

— The dryad slides forward and slowly lowers herself into the water between the two elves, all the way down to her mouth that she submerges to bubbles with, as her eyes rise up to look at the silhouette in the great, strong tree of old birth that sits here.

Its marble white gestalt silhouettes the night sky, shining like the light of a full moon.

Beautiful.

It, this place, is beautiful.

…Maybe she can stay for a little while. Her tribe has likely managed without her thus far. A little more can’t hurt.

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Grob

Goblin, Male, Scout

Location: Beneath the tower-island, to the east

Everything is awful.

Grob looks around at the lands of his tribe. The forest has been sundered and ruined; masses of rocks and dirt have been ripped up to the sky, becoming a part of the island. Craters dot the landscape; brackish water leaks everywhere.

How long was he gone?

What happened?

Where’s the wood-mother?

He walks through the mess, trying to find anything that resembles the home of his tribe.

“…Grob…?” croaks a voice in the trees. Grob looks. “Grob, is that you?” He turns to look, lifting his gaze to the yellow eyes of a fellow goblin of his tribe.

He sighs in relief, as several other gazes light up the night, observing the lost member of their tribe finally returning.