I glanced through the player's cursor. He was a Denizen. A fairly powerful one, but still a Denizen. None of my Knights wanted to advance him into a Black Hole Knight, and I couldn't blame them for that. Or he hadn't asked. A lot of players thought they were better than everyone else. Honestly, I was surprised this was the first player to ask me directly. Maybe it was the first player that wanted a promotion at all. I never asked my knights if they had a lot of volunteers. "Why should I? You're nothing special." He attacked with a Tracker charge skill, which I blocked with a Warlord's shield skill. He bounced off and rolled for a few feet. That had been designed to prove…his incompetence? I didn't think that was a trait I'd brag about, but whatever. "You're not even level one hundred. You're barely above average, given the time available." I'd fought several that were much more deadly than this person. Given that…how had he found me? Maybe I'd ask him. "How did you find me?" this dark temple wasn't exactly the easiest place to locate, and he seemed as if he'd come to it on accident while searching for me. Since I didn't usually frequent the temple at all, it made no sense for him to look for me here. Unless he somehow knew that I was in the basement's secret corner.
"I might not be all that special with fighting skills, but my tracking skills are top notch. I could locate anyone I know the name and face of anywhere in the world, given enough time. I don't even see trails anymore unless I want to. I feel the direction of my prey, and I could follow them anywhere and everywhere." Tracking. He was a Tracker, so it made sense, but why would he hone his tracking skills? Trackers were the point of any assault, given that they were the sense of direction for a hunting party. Fighting should have been a huge priority for a tank designed to live through the tip of any assault. "As I see it, being able to find people is why you want a tracker at all, so it would be smart to get better at that than fighting. You've already got the best fighters in the world on your team." On my team? I was the combat arm of my empire. Besides, this was the wrong place to discuss a promotion. He hadn't known it, but he'd stumbled on a fatal sight. My creations down here were secret from the players. Only Arthur knew my designs for this world, and I wanted to keep it that way. I only had two options at this point, kill him or make sure he was loyal. I doubted he'd pass the test I'd given my kids, but I needed to test him somehow. I wracked my brain, but I couldn't think of a way to test loyalty that I'd believe. Apart from making him a familiar. He wouldn't do it, though. Superstitions had to be high now that we'd been teleported into a new world. I doubted I'd be able to get the souls of former humans as easily as npcs or players born in this world.
"Why should I trust you?" maybe he had an idea as to how to solve my dilemma. It never hurt to ask. "How am I supposed to know that you aren't a spy working against me? Your ability could become very irritating if that's the case." Especially if he ever met Vyktor. I'd have to warn Vyktor about Trackers. I hadn't known their skill level could increase to the point where they got a simple directional sense as to the whereabouts instead of a glowing trail left by something they'd already fought. This made them much more dangerous. "So far as I can tell, you're more of a liability than an asset. My enemies don't show their faces, so you couldn't track any of them. They're too afraid to do anything openly. Assuming they did show their faces, you wouldn't be the one to see said face because you're not a fighter." Apparently, he hadn't thought it through that far. His mouth dropped open as he stared at me. What had he been expecting? A welcome wagon for a mediocre fighter who's greatest skill was finding known adversaries? All of the adversaries I knew were half a world away and not difficult to find.
What was he staring at? "You're considering killing me right here right now, aren't you?" not a difficult conclusion. Did he think I'd just accept it if someone followed me to a hidden alcove of a secret dungeon under a building that nobody knew had so much as a basement? He lacked common sense if he thought it was a good idea to follow an evil warlord into a secret basement at all, let alone one below a church where people were resurrected every day of the week. Anything hidden below such a building would obviously be very powerful, regardless of whether it was an artifact of light or darkness. Tyrants tended to keep powerful artifacts to themselves. "Damn, she was right about you. I have a friend from the real world, she started up as a human. She likes that species better, for some reason. She's in Arthur's council, but she likes your take on things better." An interesting argument for his survival. He had a friend who could feed me inside information about Arthur's plans. Of course, this would make him entirely irrelevant after he connected the two of us. Did he not see that, or was he going to try and make me promise his survival first? "I will, of course, require a promise of my safety after the connection has been established." I nodded. Was he really that stupid? "Her name is Morrigan."
Morrigan? Arthur had the Morrigan in her inner council? She must have a death wish. Or think that the names people chose for themselves had absolutely nothing to do with their personalities. Or be ignorant of the thing she named herself after. Granted, the Morrigan was a more obscure legend, but not by much. Maybe she knew the legend differently from everyone else and assumed that King Arthur defeated death at the hands of Morgana and Mordred because there was a Morrigan on his side. I received the chat invite that linked Morrigan from…the Tracker. I followed it and was instantly pulled into a private chat. Tracker was standing next to a woman in a glowing white robe. Apparently she didn't think a Morrigan was a spirit of doom. Or it was the only item she had that was good enough to warrant wearing.
"Emperor." She bowed like she was actually in an emperor's court instead of a very informal chat system set in a blank expanse of infinite space within the mind of a total moron. I would have expected a curtsy, but her robe didn't flare like a skirt, so it wouldn't have worked as well. It also allowed her to keep whatever armor she wore under the robe hidden. Not a bad first impression, but I thought it was a little…over the top. Especially given her choice of mouthpiece. How smart could she be when she sent a moron to negotiate with me? "Believe me when I say it is a pleasure to meet you."
"I would return the favor, but I have no idea who you are or what you could do for me. All your friend has said so far is that you're in Arthur's council. How deep are you entrenched in her system?" that was the real question. What use could I squeeze from her before Arthur found the mole and killed her? And was it worth keeping Tracker alive, despite what he'd seen, to keep Morrigan on my side? "And why should I trust you're not on her side, pretending to feed me information Arthur doesn't want me to have?"
"In all honesty, there is no reason for you to trust me. We've just met. Trust is earned over time and through multiple tests at every stage. It is a war, one that is rarely won to the satisfaction of everyone involved. As to how deep I am in her system, I'm the reason her guild rules Camelot. She owes her throne to me, and she knows it. I am as deep in her system as I want to be." A potentially magnificent asset, then. Now the second part of my dilemma; what to do with Tracker? "As an aside, if you could kill George for me, I'd appreciate it. Sorry, his handle is Silvestre in this world. The fewer that know of our complicity, the lower the risk for me." She glanced at Tracker, and I saw the ghost of a grin tweak the corners of her mouth as he gaped like a fish out of water. That explained why she'd used a moron to communicate with me; he was disposable. A safe assumption. And a way to test if I was as ruthless as she thought I was based on my reputation. "I appreciate what he's done for me, but risk is something I want as little of as possible. Especially given who Arthur's friends are. Honestly, I'll be surprised if a few others don't contact you as well, but none of them enjoy my company. I would never tell you how to do anything, but I'd appreciate it if, given the opportunity to talk with another within Arthur's court, you didn't mention me to them in any way. It could cause complications, including the dissolving of any bonds you built with them. We're not friends at all."
Which brought up the question of what she was doing working with Arthur. Weren't there any other guilds she liked better that she could have used to her benefit? I couldn't judge, I didn't know how social she was. Maybe they were the only guild she knew, period. At least she had thought this through to the end. A true traitor. A half-ass traitor wouldn't ask me to kill the messenger. Of course, given that she had asked me to kill the messenger, it could be that she didn't care about him at all and thus the sacrifice was paltry at best. It proved she had a darker side to her than Arthur, though. That was enough for me. I reached forward and grabbed her hand. Our agreement would probably do nothing for either of us, given that I'd already decided not to destroy Camelot entirely and rule the ashes, but it was always useful to have a spy.
"I'll cement this deal more thoroughly once you've proven your usefulness. There are benefits to being on my side that are better than simple revenge on a prissy bitch you hate, but used to advance your own power." Her eyes widened. I might not know emotions very well in general, but hate was one I understood very intimately. Besides, had I not gained power as ridiculously fast as I had, I probably would have taken a similar route to power. "I won't friend you, but feel free to contact me any time. I might ignore you, but don't take it personally. I don't ignore without reason." Not entirely true, but while ignoring Arthur's message for as long as I had hadn't been entirely deliberate that didn't mean I'd repeat the error. "If you'll excuse me, I have a Tracker to hunt."
I backed out of the chat and realized Tracker hadn't tried to run. He was holding one of my new slaves hostage. As I looked through the rest of his species, I realized that Tracker had chosen one of the only ones that was still unique. The female was bloated, as if about to give birth, but all of the children squalling at her feet were female. If he killed the male Tyderun…I'd lose an entire species. Assuming none in her current brood were male either. Possible. Even then, though, frogs had some weirdness that way, but I wasn't sure if that would be a Tyderun trait. The female was crying at the duress of her mate, which I found interesting. I hadn't seen a lot of empathy or other compassionate emotions that would evoke tears in this situation from the npcs so far.
He gulped convulsively as he realized I was out of the chat and the time had come. He pressed his blade harder into the gap between the king's neck armor and helmet. I assumed he wasn't enough of an amateur to not have already broken the shield over the armor, though his blade was still far enough away that it was questionable. Regardless of skill level…why had he gone after the armored Tyderun? There were two defenseless females of the other species that had only sons. Maybe he thought if he killed the Tyderun the armor would become his, or something. It was a good deal better than his uninspiring gear, but it would take too long to loot and equip. Assuming it could be equipped by someone with a different species. I wasn't sure. Anyone could equip the current king sets, but my new species' didn't fit the mold of just shrinking or enlarging the armor. "I'm walking out of here with…whatever the fuck this is. And you're not going to stop me. I have no idea what you're doing, but I know this is the only boy." Not technically true. The female was bloated, the offspring could very well be male. The uncertainty was still an inconvenience. He started dragging the small being with him toward the exit.
He'd underestimated me, though. Red lightning ripped through both of them from a rune he hadn't seen me maneuvering under his feet. I had to spread it wide, since I couldn't move it without drawing attention. I hit myself as well, but I was used to this sort of pain. No spell I could cast would come close to Ryne's. This level wasn't even equivalent to the feedback of forty pets at once, or so. The Tyderun dropped to his face, screaming in a very strange tone. Apparently their vocal cords didn't work the same way as human ones. He'd sounded a bit gurgle-ish when he became my vassal, but not enough that I'd call it inhuman. Tracker dropped to his ass, surprise and pain dominating his expression. I rushed forward and grabbed him by the throat as I tossed him away from my fragile new vassals. I activated a Berserker's charge altered with a whirlwind ability and severed all four of his limbs from his body. His torso dropped to the ground, screaming like a little girl. I wrenched my guild seal out of him as I drew back for the final blow. He wasn't even cognizant enough to beg for his life as I ended it.
I glanced back at my vassals, but none of them were paying attention. I'd given them orders, and they were working on it. Even the Os'Minog. I'd expected them to immediately head to Hate, but I was wrong. They took expanding the species as a more pressing order than claiming their capital. I tried opening a gate, but the Dark Chapel resisted me. So I couldn't open a gate from this room directly, but I could teleport? A strange restriction, but okay.
Looking around at this glorious chapel, though, I realized I'd been putting something off for a while. I teleported into the temple proper and started building another spell. It was a good thing I'd practiced with Arthur's species statues, because these ones needed to be impressive. I'd also need to build in some enchantments as well, just so I didn't need to explain to everyone a million times.
This world was lacking in terms of religion. There were generalized myths of Heaven and Hell, but ones that didn't really make sense given the fact that both were places people could go. This world needed to know it was a world, not just a collection of odd stories from another one. Its own myths. Its own gods.
This temple was a massive cathedral in a cross shape, one end leading to the door, the other three to massive windows that filled the space with red light from my sigil. In that case, three gods in the highest positions, and two other points of great interest. Excellent. In the right position, one you actually had to go into the temple to see, I created a massive statue of Ryne, partially animating it so I could change it from stone to something more akin to a fleshy marble. Posing like a courtier giving a modicum of respect, not hiding her cruel smile in the least. The ultimate Goddess of my new religion, Ryne was the Future. Progress. Change. Improvement. Potential. I needed to suck her dick a bit to make sure she didn't destroy me before I could match her power level.
Next I turned to the front and created a statue of WWO. It was visible from outside of the building because WWO was the actual host of the world itself. If anyone deserved that position it would be her. I made it slightly feminine since Nobody had called it a her, so I assumed it knew something I didn't. It would also give her a bit of the motherly quality that people liked in their compassionate gods. In that vein I had her do a classic Jesus pose. Wuw'Oh would be the Present. Potential. The best thing that could actually be achieved was, after all, the present. Utopias were an idea, you could spend lifetimes chasing the future and never achieve anything. The present, with all the good and bad that came with it, was real. I thought she'd appreciate that.
Turning around, I created a twisted and broken abomination. A mutilated shadow of a personage. Urt was the Past. The "glory days" that force pride on the impotent. Trauma. Shattered dreams. "Tradition" and all the detritus attached to it. The comfort and corruption of never needing to explore to gain new knowledge.
Then I built a statue of myself at the crossroads between Ryne and Wuw'Oh. Not a god, simply a legendary aspect of authority. Power. The perfect Emperor. On Urt's side I created Arthur, complete with a heroic pose for her "freedom" and "justice". Or envy of my power and jealousy of my authority, either interpretation was valid. While I could have maligned her like Urt, I didn't want to. I wanted her to be a competent adversary for eons to come. That she represented Urt was good enough. Satisfied with the look of the statues, I implanted the enchantments that would allow people to know what I meant just by looking at them. If they looked even deeper they'd realize the true mythology of this world, that Wuw'Oh was imprisoned by Urt until Ryne ripped her free and allowed the world to grow into more than a trophy in Urt's dusty wasteland.