by Wolfe Locke
"Was there something you needed, Sadie?” Michael asked. “The first class is almost finished.” His face remained focused on the screens as he spoke, his eyes hyper-focused, never moving away.
“Those things you’ve appointed as masters of the floors have delivered a message that they are in place,” Sadie said, her expression struggling to remain calm, and not twist with the disgust he knew she must be feeling.
He frowned, rubbing his face before answering. “It can’t be helped. The Demon princes are powerful—powerful enough that they can manage a floor without relying on my power. I know they have their own motives, but so do I. Moving my dungeon back in time has crippled me in ways I had never considered. Be careful; I will watch them as I can. So long as they obey the rules of the game, I will not revoke their position. Now is there something else?”
"Well… yes, Master, there is something," she replied nervously, lines of concern etched on her face. "I don't understand why you're doing these things. Why give these people another chance? Why harm yourself like this? Why sit in this office and pretend to be human? It's confusing to me, and it's confusing to the rest of the workers. It's just… it's just, I don't know. I don't know how to phrase it. It's hard to understand why you would go to all this trouble."
Michael noticed the tinge of fear in her voice and concern for him. "It's fine, Sadie, but please call me Michael from now on. Michael, the General Manager, that’s all anyone, especially the players, need to know me as. Make sure you disseminate that to all the workers; we do need to keep up appearances for all of our new guests."
When she didn’t respond immediately, Michael tilted his head to the side and looked at her. “You’re wondering why a nearly all-powerful being like myself would feel the need to come up with this elaborate charade, limiting me to an office rather than spreading my omnipresent consciousness throughout my dungeon and actual body?“
Sadie bit the inside of her mouth, not wanting to admit she and the other workers had been second-guessing some of his decisions. She eventually shrugged her shoulders and smiled in admittance that it was true. "Yeah, pretty much, Master. We just don't understand a few things that are going on, and we have been hoping you could shed some light on things and give us a little clarity and guidance in how we are supposed to react—especially with that man."
"It's simple, really," replied Michael with a smile as he pushed a hand through his hair. "Because I want to.”
Sadie closed her eyes and bit her lip again, unsure of how to respond, eliciting a laugh from the General Manager.
Noting the shocked expression that briefly crossed her face, Michael added, “Of course, it’s not something as simple as for my own enjoyment, Sadie. I am not so petty. It’s a joke, a human thing; enjoy the moment more. Because I have to," explained Michael with a grin before his expression turned dark. “In order to regain the power I lost by granting humanity a second chance, I need that man. Otherwise, I would need to consume this entire world to survive.”
“Why him, Master?” was her only response.
“Because, Sadie, he survived and reached the altar of the end, but he reached it alone. He was the only one I could send back. My ark is wasted saving just one man—no matter how powerful—but if he could elevate humanity to be near the same power while growing his own, they have a chance. Then we may all have a chance at finally defeating Aeon and putting an end to the madness of the blight.”
“What do I need to do, Master?” Sadie asked, her voice low as she took in the enormity of the task in front of them.
Michael paused and considered his answer. “Treat him like you would any other player. Now, above all else, I need him alive; I have invested too much into his survival. My survival depends on his. There is little he can do currently besides making the most of his time to explore and grind like the other players. He may unlock the power he once had—or even powers he never had before—but I cannot unseal his true body and restore it to him. He must do that on his own, and you, you must help him."
Michael changed the subject. "I want to do things differently this time. I need to change and grow if I am to survive; we all do. Humanity is far more fragile than I had ever imagined a species could be. But they are so numerous and malleable, I know we can save them. We can win. This charade of a game is for their benefit, not ours. We need to help them succeed, despite their volatile nature."
"I don't really understand what you mean, Master," Sadie admitted as she struggled to keep pace with his explanation.
Michael’s expression became severe; he wanted her to understand. If he could get her to understand, Michael knew she would spread the word to the other workers; this was a conversation he would prefer to have just this once. He needed them to understand. Even now, he had still been unable to repair the damage to the dungeon that had occurred in the final battle, and almost all of his energy had been used traveling back into the past—an effort that rendered him more weak and vulnerable than he’d ever care to admit.
Sadie knew he was serious when he completely turned in his chair and faced her, his eyes boring into her, giving her his undivided attention—or at least as close to full attention as an almost all-powerful being could provide.
"Sadie, before Aeon's Blight destroyed Titania, how did your people respond upon its discovery, and the discovery of how it warped nature?" asked Michael softly as he touched upon a harsh nerve.
She frowned at the mention of her homeworld. It was not a pleasant memory. The death of her world was not something easily revisited, even for the master of the dungeon. "Master, we didn't call it Aeon's Blight; we called it the Green Madness, and we did everything we could to try and stop it. We cordoned off entire areas, seeking to control its spread. We quarantined those who had been exposed to it. We evacuated our people and tried to keep them safe. We fought and never stopped fighting against it, but even with the power we gained during the Genesis Game, it still was not enough to save our world. You know our numbers had always been few, and you know what happened."
Michael shook his head in disagreement; her answer wasn't what he was looking for. "That's not what I meant, Sadie. Every animal alive will fight when its back is to the wall. Nothing living craves oblivion. It’s what else your people did that matters. They investigated Aeon's Blight when they found it. They probed the outskirts, quantified and qualified its limits, sought knowledge of the monsters within its mists, and sought ways to prevent its spread.”
Looking her in the eye, his expression grim, Michael continued, “You banded together, you patrolled its outskirts, you limited your casualties, and you honed the magic that you already possessed and the skills you had been building during your training. You fought back and never gave up—never questioning that fighting back was what you needed to do, never giving up on looking for answers, and never questioning that true evil and total annihilation had come for you.”
“Master, I’m not trying to be rude. I’m really not. But how does that explain what you’re doing here masquerading as a man? Also, you know we don’t like to talk about what happened,” replied Sadie as she fidgeted nervously.
“It’s OK; you don’t need to be nervous,” replied Michael, in an attempt to soothe her nerves. Her anxious movements called attention to her growing unease; her body language revealing her fear as she talked to the god-like being.
“Here, have some coffee,” Michael said as he poured her a cup when his attempt to quell her anxiety didn’t work. “I’m assuming two creams and one sugar. It’s quite the delicate ratio for coffee. It’s important to get it right, or it throws off the whole brew.”
“Master, I’m fine, really,” she said, protesting as she pushed the cup away, anxious to be done with this conversation, and regretting that she had even asked.
“I insist,” said Michael, forcefully pushing the cup back towards her. “Here, I’ll set it down on the table, and if you decide you want to drink it, it’s already there. Besides, you should sit down for a second. I m
ight be new to this, but I can see you’re not alright. I can see that you’re deeply uncomfortable. You’re literally shaking right now. Though I’m unsure if the shaking is due to the memory of the destruction of your homeworld or fear of me. Please, just sit down, have a drink of this coffee I made for you, and I’ll explain.
“Routines are important, Sadie. They make people comfortable; it helps them embrace what they may otherwise run from. A simple cup of coffee can be the difference between the comfort that keeps one of our players from going psychotic. We need them to grow and get so much stronger than they are now, but we also need them to survive—lots of them. Many more than I told that man I needed,” admitted Michael as Sadie stared blankly.
Michael stood and waited until she sat down, and when she finally did take a seat, with a bit more coaxing, he leaned against the wall and continued his explanation. “It is my belief that your world was destroyed by Aeon’s Blight—or as you referred to it, the Green Madness—not because your world and your people did something wrong, but because there weren’t enough of you to oppose it. Winning my game has never been a guarantee of safety, only a measure of strength and opportunity. You know that. You know all too well what we are up against."
When Sadie heard those words, her face flushed red in shame, but she had no response to it. Her homeworld had fallen, and many of them only had lived because the dungeon had offered them sanctuary from Aeon’s Blight.
"There's no need to be ashamed, Sadie," said Michael in response. "Most of your people were able to evacuate and took refuge within the dungeon, becoming my minions, my workers. I truly admire your people. I have never given that opportunity to any other world. Truly this is a testament to your people; if numbers had been on your side, I believe you would have avoided the judgment and desolation."
Sadie gave him a sad little smile, much of her fear and unease gone. "Thank you, Master."
"But Earth doesn't have a problem with numbers as of right now,” explained Michael. “They number in the billions, while your people numbered only in the thousands, and these humans—though they number in the billions—are not the unintelligent barbarians we have seen purged from some worlds.”
“They have another weakness—they do not possess the same sort of magical knowledge that your people did. They do not boast martial prowess, and the warrior classes of their nations conduct their conflicts from afar. They find things that challenge their perception of reality to be maddening, and they question the veracity of what they can see with their own eyes.” Michael gave a quick look at the screens and noticed no progress before continuing. “With humans, the reality of the Genesis Game is counter-intuitive; it drives them mad."
"But Master? Is it not a mistake to let him go free? This is not the boy Luca," asked Sadie in confusion.
Michael responded with a frown. "He is not the same man anymore who consumed millions of his kinsmen to boost his own power, the man had been willing to purge millions of lives to prevent the growth of the Infernal Armies. He is becoming something else, something in between. Something closer to what I always intended him to be.”
“But I have taken precautions regardless of which version of him now walks in my halls. He chose extinction for his race, and extinction was not something I could accept. I was able to use the residual energy from the last battle, and the deaths of so many warriors and monsters, to propel myself and that man into this timeline. That is why I am doing things differently this time. I do not possess the power I did before; my true body lays shattered in a ruined future, just as his true body lay sealed and catalogued deep with me."
"Why would you do that, Master?" asked Sadie. It was a question that Michael pondered for a moment—an issue that Sadie feared was out of line. Eventually, Michael answered. It was an answer she had not expected.
"Because this is also my homeworld, Sadie. I have chosen my fate. If they die, I also die. I have become tethered, and it is a bond I cannot break. Now go tell the workers what I have told you. Remember the goal is to try and keep these people sane and alive. White lies, charades, and a little flair go a long way, but the moment they believe they've seen the impossible, these humans will break if they’re not yet adequately prepared."
“I will, Master. But one last question. Why do I know some of this man, but not of humanity?” Replied Sadie as she started to walk away to tend to her duties.
“Sadie, I know this will be difficult for you,” said Michael as he resumed watching his screens. “My revival is not perfect. Not all of your memories survived the process, and I am deeply sorry for that. I truly am. But I’m sure you will have some residual memories that cannot be ignored of the man who destroyed Hometown and banished many of your race beyond respawn to face their true and second death. Whatever hatred you may feel towards him, ignore it. Keep him alive. Your people depend on the life of this one murderer.”
Chapter 2: Here After
* * *
“Welcome to Hometown.”
The words hung heavy in the room as lifeless eyes stared out in judgment from the ruined skull of the body on the ground. The floor was slick with blood, though most pooled beneath the dead man, soaking the carpet. Seraph knew the spread would stop soon. Eventually, a body runs out of blood. It was apparent the man had been killed, but that didn’t stop Paul and Jack from casting hard glares in his direction as they worked to try to revive the man—an effort that Seraph was in debate whether it was from naiveté or if they were simply unwilling to accept the deadly consequences of the man’s actions.
“We have to help him make room for me,” Paul told Jack. Paul’s voice was laced with anxiety as Jack rushed about, pushing aside the tables and clearing space as Paul knelt next to Alexander’s body, working to staunch the bleeding, administering all the aid at his disposal and using every life-saving technique the man could think of.
But to Seraph, dead was dead. The wound had been fatal, obviously so, and as he looked on, it became clear to him that Jack knew it too. The man was just going through the motions. Likely trying to garner some goodwill from my father, Seraph thought.
Looking back at his father, Seraph dismissed a judgmental look from his face. His father, Seraph could tell—apparent through his father’s frantic actions—believed he might be able to save Alexander. I mean, it’s not impossible to believe it could happen. This is after all the World Dungeon, Seraph thought, knowing firsthand that more miraculous things had occurred within these walls.
As Paul started doing chest compressions and mouth to mouth, Seraph had to stifle a laugh. The man’s refusal to accept reality was almost comical.
Paul turned, an angry look on his face, his hands covered in the man’s blood as he resigned himself to the truth: nothing he did could save Alexander. Standing up, he levied a finger at Seraph. “Why the fuck are you laughing? What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“That man,” continued Paul, pointing at Alexander, “didn’t deserve to die. I don’t know who you are anymore, or what kind of monster you are, but you’re no son of mine.” Jack looked away uncomfortably, and Seraph had nothing to say for himself; either his father would learn the truth with time and understand, or he wouldn’t.
Leaning against the wall at the front of the room, Garen started to laugh. A laugh that reminded the rest of them that they were not alone, that the place they had found themselves was wholly alien to what they had known in the past. Watching their every move and seeing their unease, his face broke out in a grin.
Seraph was unsure if the other two had noticed it, the way the elf enjoyed this. Garen always had, if Seraph remembered correctly. The elf thrived on conflict. To him, there was no more magnificent spectacle. “I’ll just wait here until the lot of you are done with your poor friend over there before continuing with the in-processing,” said Garen, the undercurrents of mockery in his tone picked up on by everyone in the room.
All this did was serve as a remembrance of why Seraph had learned to hate the elves, and why they had e
ventually come into conflict with one another. The way Garen, as the leader of the elves, smiled at the three of them infuriated and angered Seraph.
One day there would be a reckoning, but today would not be that day. The differences in their respective levels were far too significant. If Seraph came for Garen, the elf would easily overcome and kill him. But, one-day, Seraph would be strong enough, and whenever that day arrived, Seraph knew he would go looking for Garen and his mocking smile—much in the same way he had done before.
Garen looked directly at Seraph, daring him to try something, to say something. Seraph knew the elf was trying to goad him into something that he couldn’t win, and when he made no move, Garen shrugged, quickly losing interest.
“Actually, never mind,” said Garen as he turned his gaze away from Seraph with a wink to address all three of them. “While it’s cute that the two of you think you’re going to be able to help that man, we all know how this ends. He’s dead, and nothing you do is going to change that. So, let’s go ahead and skip to the part where one of you just won’t give up until every avenue has been exhausted. It’s not like you knew him that well anyway. I’m going to go ahead and get everyone else in here. It’s time to move on from this sideshow. Time’s wasting.”
Garen walked over to the exit of the in-processing room and opened the door. With a hand on the doorway, he poked his head through and yelled down the hall. “Dwight, Mary, George, get in here, they’re all done! It’s time to wrap this up!”
