At first, Royo Raju had spent the majority of his time following the one called Diego, but when it did not prove nearly as fruitful as he had hoped, he began wandering about on his own more. It certainly would've made things easier if he could speak or at least understand Ancient Hunese, but even with as prepared as he always liked to be, he'd never thought he would have much use for a dead language, especially when there were still so many other, living ones to spend his time on.
An oversight, apparently. And an extremely annoying one.
Now, he only knew what the superhumans deigned to tell him, which was not very much.
Of course, it was also quite possible, and indeed likely, that these Hun'Sho were simply not revealing very much. They had every reason not to want their treasure discovered.
Royo wondered what the one called Diego would do if he actually found it. Would he take it from the Hun'Sho by force? He doubted that the man had such conviction. Perhaps his curiosity was purely that. Curiosity.
Then again, he supposed that it would also depend on what the treasure turned out to actually be.
Ah, but he was twisting himself into knots over this blasted treasure again. Yes, it would be nice to get his hands on, but he couldn't let it distract him from everything else. That was a good way to end up dead, he knew.
The more pressing matter, of course, was dealing with the worms. Potentially, the golem and feldeath could be snuck past--at great risk, of course, but it was an option. Instead, however, Royo had hoped to learn more about how the one called Carver had apparently been able to subdue all of the worms just prior to their encounter with him. The man was obviously not a superhuman like the others, given his need to wear one of those suits, so there must have been some other reason for it.
And eventually, he did learn that reason, though it was not nearly as helpful as he'd wanted it to be.
"Oh, that was because of this," the one called Carver had explained, presenting a small, mechanical box in the palm of his hand. "It is what we call an EWE, or Enhanced Wave Emitter. You see, worms have a particular frequency at which they are vulnerable, and if you are able to strike that frequency with perfect precision, you can effectively put them to sleep."
"Fantastic," said the one called Zeff. "Then let's use that to get out of here right now."
"Uh, it would still be quite a hike to Capaporo," said the one called Diego.
"Indeed," said the one called Carver, "but there is a bigger problem to address, first. As I'm sure you are aware, worms are highly resilient, and perhaps the primary reason for that is their adaptable anatomy and biochemical makeup. You mentioned seeing them fuse and split apart multiple times, yes?"
"Yeah," said the one called Diego. "Oh! Are you saying they'll adapt to your little whatchamacallit, too?"
"That is exactly what I am saying. In order for this EWE to work a second time, it must be retuned."
"Hmph. How do we retune it, then?"
"...Trial and error, unfortunately," said the one called Carver. "On the bright side, it can be done from a... relatively safe distance away, provided you can see them in the dark. Which I have another device for. But, um, ah--I was hoping one of you fine gentleman would do it for me, this time. I must admit, it has always terrified me beyond measure."
"Fine." The one called Zeff took the box from him. "I'll do it."
"Oh, thank god!" The one called Carver suddenly hugged the other man. "You have no idea how happy it makes me to have such a dependable companion! Please never leave me!"
Everyone involved in the conversation just kind of stared, and the one called Zeff slowly peeled the man off of him.
The one called Carver was red in the face, though Royo did not understand what that meant. "I, uh--please, I apologize--ah, it was just a joke, you see--aha--um--"
The one called Zeff kept holding him at arm's length. "How long will this take?"
"Oh, um, well..." The one called Carver bit his lip. "A few days, most likely. Perhaps shorter. Perhaps... longer. It sort of depends on your luck, I suppose. Just cycling through all of the potential frequencies. In theory, you could nail it perfectly on the first try. That would be amazing! But then again, you ARE amazing, aren't you?! Aha!"
No one else laughed with him.
Royo had only pity for the poor bastard.
In the end, the one called Zeff did not nail it on the first try, as Royo had not even seen the man since. Though that was no great loss, to Royo's mind. He did not much care for that man's presence. He seemed perpetually on edge. And irritable, to boot. And with as much power as that superhuman had at his fingertips, Royo could all too easily imagine him simply snapping and going on a killing spree after someone said the wrong thing to him.
Given a choice, Royo much preferred the company of the other superhumans, and so he'd decided to use this downtime in order to learn more about them.
The most problematic on that front proved to be the Senmurai, who quite easily spoke the least and frequently went off on his own. He'd changed his armor, too, as if to compound the mystery further.
Difficult as he was, though, Royo had to admit, the Senmurai was the one who most intrigued him. More so than the Hun'Sho, even. Though, perhaps that was not saying much. What Royo had thus far learned of them, he did not like.
They had resided here in Himmekel for over a thousand years, according to the one called Diego. And yet, these "people of the fire" showed no sign of wanting to escape this place. None of the Hun'Sho they spoke with seemed interested in leaving... or even just wanting to know about the outside world all that much.
These people demonstrated a lack of curiosity. Of ambition.
The one called Diego seemed to think it was due to their inability to age, that the Hun'Sho lacked any sense of urgency in their desires because they had all the time in the world to pursue them. Perhaps one day, they would leave and explore the world, but for now, they were content to remain here, where time was all but standing still.
Royo could see the logic in that interpretation.
But he did not trust it.
An entire society which lacked curiosity? Or the pursuit of betterment?
That was disturbingly unnatural. It was hardly even human, to his mind.
The only way Royo could rationalize the existence of a culture of such willful ignorance was by means of some coping mechanism. Perhaps the Hun'Sho had been prisoners in this place for so long that they had grown to love their imprisonment.
They had given up, in other words.
But that made sense. The Hun'Sho were a defeated people. Maybe not quite extinct as had been believed, but certainly broken in spirit.
In the ancient tales passed down by his Hun'Kui ancestors, the Hun'Sho were portrayed as a wicked and terrifying people, monstrously cruel and intelligent. Something to be feared and hated. Yet as he observed them now, beings that should have been legends brought to life, Royo found himself not only disappointed but also hating them for an entirely different reason.
They were pathetic. Shameful.
These people were blessed with immortality, yet what were they doing with it? Nothing. They whiled away the days down here as if time was of no value or consequence to anyone.
He could not imagine a greater insult to mortals like himself.
The superhumans at least seemed to understand that much. While Royo did not necessarily like them much more than the Hun'Sho, he did still have respect for them. They clearly possessed values. Principles. Dreams. Goals of their own. There was sentiment to be admired there.
The most maddening thing, however, was certainly the way that the Hun'Sho did not speak directly to him or any of the other Hun'Kui present.
At first, Royo had thought that they simply did not understand Modern Hunese in the same way that he did not understand their Ancient Hunese.
But then he remembered that the one called Carver was fluent in Modern Hunese. And the man had mentioned teaching several languages to the Hun'Sho over the course of his last five years here.
"Did you not teach them our language as well?" Royo had asked him.
"Ah--I did, yes."
"Then why do they not answer when we speak to them?"
"Ah, yes... that is rather strange, isn't it?"
However, even after watching the one called Carver confront multiple Hun'Sho with that same question in Ancient Hunese, a definitive answer was never achieved.
But that was informative enough, in its own way.
His ancestors had driven their brethren to the brink of extinction, after all. And given their agelessness, it was highly likely that many of these Hun'Sho, if not all, had actually lived through it. When he realized that, Royo was no longer surprised by their behavior. Only annoyed.
Pure petulance. Refusing to speak to them would resolve nothing.
And so it was that, eventually, Royo ceased his futile and irritating attempts to cultivate a relationship with the Hun'Sho, instead deciding to focus on the Senmurai.
He was not the only Hun'Kui to want to do so, however. He observed one of the others attempt to make contact with him, but the Senmurai apparently did not speak Hunese. Royo wondered if his ghost could not translate for him, or if perhaps said ghost was simply preoccupied at the time. Unlike the other superhumans, the Senmurai spent more time on his own, away from his ghost, leaving Royo to wonder why. And at length, his curiosity could bear it no longer.
Standing in the middle of Himmekel, before its towering lavafall and beneath an archway of glimmering black rock, Royo Raju approached the Senmurai.
"Hello," said Royo in Mohssian.
The Senmurai was expectedly surprised, judging from his delayed response. "...Hello."
Royo waited for the obvious question to arrive.
"...You speak Mohssian?"
"Yes," said Royo. "I apologize for keeping it a secret. I was not certain I could trust any of you."
"That's... understandable."
"I am glad you think so."
Silence arrived.
This, too, was as expected.
"...If I might ask," said Royo, "why do you keep coming here alone?"
The Senmurai's armor shifted visibly and sizzled. "This is a good place to train. The extra heat makes it more difficult."
Training? Truth be told, Royo did not know much about the powers that the superhumans possessed. For some reason, the thought had never entered his mind that they, too, should have to hone their abilities.
How curious.
"If that is the case," said Royo, "then why do the others not train with you?"
"...They don't really need to. Not as much as I do, anyway."
"They are more concerned about finding the Sosho'Diyu than you are, it would seem."
"I don't know about that..."
"Oh? You are interested in it as well?"
"Of course. Kinda hard not to be."
"Heh. I was beginning to think that the Senmurai was immune to such worldly desires."
The Senmurai paused. "I keep hearing that word. S-Senmurai? What does that mean?"
"Ah..." Royo had to stop and think about it. The meaning of the name had always been clear to him, but trying to impart that meaning into a different language was not so easy. "In Mohssian... it would roughly mean Knight of the Mist."
The Senmurai made no response.
"Do you dislike the name?" asked Royo.
"...I'd rather you just call me Hector."
Hector? What an odd name. Royo had never heard the like before. But then, he did not know very many names from the surface. "Very well, Hector."
"What should I call you?"
The prideful part of him wanted to say Royo Raju, but he needed to keep his story straight. "You can call me Eleyo. It is a pleasure to make your formal acquaintance, finally."
"Ah, likewise."
More silence arrived.
Royo had another question prepared, but then Hector surprised him with one of his own first.
"Do you believe in a god?"
Royo blinked. That question had certainly come out of nowhere.
"I mean, uh, Hun'Kui in general," Hector clarified. "Do you guys have... some kind of religion? I'm just... curious about Hun'Kui culture."
"Yes, we have a few religions. There is Cushin'Sekai, the religion of the Heart of the World. There is Avarita, the religion of Avar, the God of Fire. And there is Secho'ta, the religion of Secho, the God of Growth. And probably others of which I am not familiar."
"Hmm... Do you believe in any of them, yourself?"
"Not as such, no," said Royo. And when Hector didn't say anything, Royo decided to add, "But if I were religious, I think I would be most partial to Secho'ta."
"Why do you say that?"
"Because of the story behind Secho. He was not always a god, you see. He was a mere mortal who ascended after a long and perilous journey."
"Oh. I guess that's why they call him the God of Growth."
"Indeed."
"How did he actually ascend to godhood, exactly?"
"That is the part I like best. In the story, he embarks on a quest to save his beloved wife, who has fallen ill. Along the way, he endures many dangerous trials and tests of both honor and morality. At the end of it, he encounters Avar."
"The same God of Fire?"
"Yes. When Secho and Avar meet, Avar claims that Secho has failed one of his tests and so refuses him entry into the Sanctum of the Heart of the World, where the secret to curing his wife awaits."
"Are all religions in the Undercrust linked like this?"
"No, it is only the biggest three. For those who are devout in them, it is less a matter of what they believe to be true and more a matter of who they believe to be correct. But not just according to this tale of Secho's ascension, of course. There are many other stories, and they usually include a moral dilemma or diverging sense of 'wisdom' between the three religions."
"Huh... But, anyway, uh... what did Secho do next?"
"He flew into a rage and attacked Avar. Yet, Avar was the God of Fire, and Secho was only mortal. Avar subdued him without difficulty and spared his life, believing Secho to be of no threat. However, instead of quitting himself of his quest as Avar told him to do, Secho waited four days, until Avar fell asleep, and then snuck into the Sanctum without waking him."
"Gods need sleep?" Hector asked.
Royo smirked. "So it would seem."
"Hmm. What happened next?"
"Secho met with the Heart of the World, who--"
"Ah--sorry to keep interrupting, but... what is the Heart of the World, exactly?"
"The answer to that would depend on whom you ask. In this particular story, it is depicted as a sentient presence encased in a giant orb."
"That's... strange."
"Mm. Shall I continue?"
"Please."
"Secho met with the Heart of the World, who already knew that Secho had entered the Sanctum when he was not supposed to. Rather than killing or banishing him, however, the Heart of the World gave him a choice. Secho was presented with two goblets. If he drank from the left goblet, his wife would be cured. If he drank from the right goblet, he would be granted godlike powers, but his wife would die."
"How would him drinking from the goblet cure someone else?"
Royo snickered. "You are a stickler for details, I see."
"I'm just... trying to understand."
"The veracity of these tales is not why they have survived for millennia, I feel. They were meant to impart wisdom via the means of a constructed narrative. It may be better to think of them as a manner of... primitive thought experiment. An early mechanism of hypotheticality by which the illiterate masses might be taught a sense of morality or wisdom--and hopefully, improve civilization as a whole thereby."
"Ah... Okay, sure, that's... that's a really good point. But, I mean... if the writers wanted me to believe this stuff, then they should've worked harder to make it more believable, don't you think?"
"Perhaps you are being a bit too hard on said writers. They did not have the benefit of a thousand extra years of accumulated knowledge as you and I do."
"...A likely excuse."
That earned a laugh from Royo. "Would you like me to continue with the story? Or have you grown too weary of it?"
"...Sorry, go on."
"Very well. Where was I?"
"The Heart of the World gave Secho a choice between godlike power or his wife."
"Ah. This is the part of the story I find most appealing. The decision. Secho was an ambitious man. And indeed, it was that very ambition which had caused him to 'fail' one of his tests, according to Avar. But after his encounter with Avar, Secho realized this about himself. And perhaps even more importantly, he had heard over the course of his journey about the capriciousness of the Heart of the World. Therefore, he did not trust this choice as it was presented to him and believed it to be some form of trickery."
"So what did he do, then?" said Hector.
"Secho worried that the Heart of the World had lied to him about the placement of the goblets, but he did not know for sure. So before he decided, he asked the Heart of the World a question: 'Why have you presented me with such a terrible choice?' 'To show you your truest self,' the Heart of the World told him. And based on that answer, Secho decided to drink from both goblets at the same time."
Hector breathed half a laugh. "And that actually worked?"
"His wife was cured, yes, but the Heart of the World explained that there had been no goblet which would grant him the power of a god. That had been a lie, as Secho expected. Instead, that goblet had been simple poison."
"Oh."
"As Secho lay dying, the Heart of the World chastised him for his greed, telling him he was fool for thinking he could have both his wife and power. Rather than despairing, however, Secho laughed in the god's face and said that he'd known all along he couldn't trust the Heart of the World's words, so drinking from both goblets was the only way to ensure that he drank from the one which would cure his wife."
"Hmm."
"Then a miracle occurred, and Secho ascended to godhood truly."
"Wha? How?"
"It is explained thus: Secho, due to both his intention and ultimate decision, had effectively rendered the Heart of the World's entire 'game of choice' meaningless. He completely avoided making the difficult decision between love and power, which was what the Heart of the World was trying to force him to do. Or in other words, he had 'defeated' a god. And in doing so, he became a god himself."
"That's... convenient."
"I enjoy this story, because while it at first appears as though Secho will be granted the power of a god by another, that does not happen. Ultimately, he ascends to godhood independently, as a result of his own actions."
"What difference does that make?"
"The entire ending of the story is about the temptation and promise of power. It is about how these things can be illusions and dangerous. The 'goblet of power,' for instance, was never even real. It was poison all along. And yet, the story does not wholly dismiss the notion of obtaining power, either. It simply provides an alternate explanation for it."
"Eh... was it really explained, though? Seemed like it kinda just came out of nowhere, to me."
Royo bobbed his head. "It certainly depends on one's perspective. For me, I find the explanation to be not only interesting but also an important lesson--relevant even to this day."
"Really?"
"Oh yes. A lesson in the natures of power, greed, and heroism. I should admit, however, that my opinion is generally considered to be one of dissension."
"Why's that?"
"Many people," said Royo, "when they hear the tale of Secho's origins, view Secho as a martyr. They see his decision as an act of self-sacrifice for his wife, and they opine that it is this sacrifice which 'earns' his ascension to godhood."
"But you don't think that?"
"Of course not. How could it possibly be considered an act of self-sacrifice when, at the time of drinking, Secho does not know that one of the goblets is poisoned? The parable even describes his thoughts on the matter. He is concerned that the goblets have been swapped, perhaps in some manner of cruel irony, but never does he worry that he may die as a result of drinking from them."
"Hmm. You have a point. What do you think the lesson of the story is, then?"
"As I said, it is about the natures of power, greed, and heroism--specifically, in regard to how they can be linked. Secho is a heroic figure. There is no doubt of that. He saves his wife, along with various others whom he encounters during his journey to the Sanctum. But he is also portrayed as ambitious, perhaps even greedy. We can infer that he did want to become a god. He simply did not want it more than he wanted his wife to live."
"Okay...?"
"If all of that is the case, then Secho's heroism is not truly 'pure,' which further demonstrates that it is not some vague notion of 'moral worthiness' that allows him to ascend to godhood. Rather, it is simply his ability to defeat a god. His ability, as an individual."
"But he still would've died, if not for that last minute miracle, right? Which, uh... I mean, where did that come from? A different god? Or just nowhere? I don't really..."
"It came from himself," said Royo. "That is the ultimate lesson of the story, in my view. Simply put, power cannot be granted to you. True power cannot. Certainly, lesser power can be bestowed upon you, as by that of a king, but in such cases, you will always remain beholden to the granter's will, which makes the granter inherently more powerful than you. True power, as that of a god, must be seized for oneself. And perhaps most frighteningly of all, true power does not discriminate based on any sense of morality. Whosoever has the ability--the will--can achieve it, be they for good or evil."
Hector fell quiet.
Royo wondered if he had perhaps said too much. It had been some time since he had last engaged in a conversation so passionately. He had grown so accustomed to never truly speaking his mind to anyone that he now felt somewhat embarrassed, as if he'd revealed a part of himself that he had not meant to. "I must apologize," he said. "I did not mean to rant at you."
"Ah," said Hector, "don't worry about it. I was... I was the one who kept asking you questions."
Rather than responding, Royo merely looked at the armored young man and listened to the ambient noise of Himmekel around them--the thick sloshing of falling magma, the slight and ever-present trembling of earth, and of course the muted hissing of Hector's visibly shifting armor.
Royo felt as though he should bring up a new topic, keep the conversation alive, but something made him hold his tongue. Something about this person standing next to him.
Certainly, when he had first heard how young the Senmurai sounded, Royo had been surprised, but he had also heard tales of how the immortal supermen could appear deceptively young. Yet now, after listening to all of his questions and his manner of speaking, Royo had the distinct impression that Hector was indeed as young as he sounded.
Young. And perhaps... impressionable?
Mm, perhaps not. After having actually listened to what Hector had been saying, the young man did seem to be amusingly stubborn in his way of thinking. And sure, Royo had molded more difficult personalities to his will, but there was also the ghost to consider.
Best not to wade into that territory, he decided. A valuable ally or friend was likely the most he could hope for here, despite how much he would have loved to have a loyal superhuman at his beck and call. And even that might be overreaching, if he didn't watch his words.
At length, Hector was the one to speak again. "...I can't say I disagree with your view of power."
"Is that so?" said Royo.
"I've... I've seen a lot of power, lately. And... it's exactly like you said. Power doesn't discriminate against good or evil. Power is just power. Whoever has it, has it."
"Indeed." Royo couldn't help smiling a little, feeling as if the young man wished him to continue his rant after all. "And I believe that is also why evil--or what we perceive as evil, at least--seems so prone to obtaining power."
Hector turned his gaze away from the lavafall to look at Royo. He didn't say anything, but that strange, sunken gaze beneath his armor told Royo that he was waiting to hear more.
"Imagine it," Royo went on. "When an opportunity arises for an individual to seize power of any sort, what will that person do? A good man will hesitate. A good man will think, 'Is this wrong? Am I being greedy? Will this power hurt someone?' But an evil man will not think such things. An evil man will not hesitate. He will take that power as soon as he is able."
Hector looked away again, perhaps thinking on those words.
Royo still had more to say. "What, then, are we to make of a circumstance in which a good man has an opportunity to seize power before an evil man does? If that good man hesitates in his goodness, and in so doing, allows the evil man to take that power from him?"
"I don't think people can be broken up into such easy categories as good and evil," Hector finally said. "If they could, the world would be a lot simpler."
"And that is exactly the point," said Royo. "Actions are good or evil, not men. And yet, perhaps some acts that many would consider evil are not truly so--the seizure of power, being the relevant example to this conversation."
"Hmm..."
"I think, therefore, that more good people should realize: if you have the opportunity to seize greater power without incurring too great a cost, then you should take it. Because certainly, if you do not, then someone else will."
"...I suppose I agree," said Hector, "but it's the 'without incurring too great a cost' bit that worries me. Who's to say what too great a cost is, really?"
"Who's to say, you ask? Why, the only ones who can say, obviously! The fortunate or unfortunate ones who find themselves confronted with the choice! They are the ones to say. And do not fool yourself--they will have their say. They will make that decision. To the boon or cost of everyone around them. Such is the way of the world."
Hector fell quiet again.
Royo felt as if he could go on, perhaps more specifically about the virtue of ambition and the far-reaching benefits to be gained from a culture which fosters it in their youth, but in the end, he reminded himself of his concerns about overreach and decided to hold his tongue.
Then he noticed the ghost wander up behind the young man. That ghastly visage still turned his stomach, but he tried not let it show on his face. The ardor-infused goggles hopefully helped with that.
"I shall take my leave," said Royo. "It was a pleasure speaking with you."
"Ah--same here."
And he walked away. A part of him had wanted to ask about the ghost, among other things, but Royo thought it was too early to probe for that sort of information. Moreover, he worried what the ghost would think of him, what the ghost would tell Hector of him.
They unsettled him, those intangible phantoms. He almost didn't want to know more about them, and instead wondered if it wouldn't be better to simply avoid them as much as possible.
Probably not, he eventually figured. Remaining comfortable in ignorance was not how he preferred to live his life.