by Demi Harper
The memory sent my thoughts along darker paths.
‘Ket, how are we going to defeat the kobolds?’
‘All in good, time, Corey. All in good time. For now, we just have to defend against their next raid.’ The sprite paused, glowing mischievously. ‘How do you feel about making some god-born creatures to get in the way of their next attempt?’
Fifteen
Creation
Finally! Back to the interesting stuff.
Or so I thought.
‘I suggest we practice with another squirrel-fox – sorry, forrel – first,’ said Ket. ‘Just until you get the hang of things.’
As much as I wanted to experiment with other combinations, Ket’s suggestion made sense. The first forrel – even before I’d upgraded it into Ris’kin, my avatar – had proved itself to be quick on its feet, and I suspected a small pack of them could prove very useful in a fight.
‘All right, then,’ I said, navigating to the Augmentary’s blueprints. As I did, I noticed two rows of shapes along the very top of my vision.
The first row consisted of four small squares, lined up horizontally. The row underneath were circles – twenty-four of them, to be precise. Having already just come to terms with a whole lot of new information regarding my Augmentary – mainly the map, Vocation allocator and construction options – I groaned at seeing yet another feature to be explained.
‘Ket, what’s all this?’
She zipped in front of me, her tiny glowing form hovering just above the two rows of boxes.
‘Don’t worry, Corey, it’s really quite simple.’ The sprite pointed at the top row, gesturing at each of the four squares. ‘These boxes represent your Pantheon—’
‘My what?’
She scowled at me. ‘Stop interrupting. Your Pantheon is just a panel showing the number of god-born species you can have in existence together at any one time. In this case, you’re permitted to have up to four.’
‘Wait. If each of those boxes represent a species I’ve created – a species that’s currently in existence – why are none of them checked off? In case you’ve forgotten, I made a forrel. Or doesn’t Ris’kin count?’
‘Your avatar is classed as a separate entity,’ the sprite explained. ‘The universe recognizes that Ris’kin is no longer a regular god-born creature, and so the slot taken up by the forrel species is once again freed up.’
‘Okay.’ That made sense, I supposed. ‘Why four?’
‘You mean, why do you only have four available Pantheon slots?’
‘Mm-hm.’
‘I’d have thought that was obvious. You’re a tier four god, Corey. You gain one Pantheon slot per tier.’
My mind began ticking ahead to future possibilities. ‘So as long as I continue to grow in power myself, the number of species I can have at my disposal will also continue to increase?’ I pictured an army of god-born, a wild assortment of creatures prepared to deal with any situation… or any enemy.
Ket shattered that hope before it had fully formed.
‘Unfortunately, no,’ she said. ‘My past experience has shown that a Core’s Pantheon slots are capped at five. That means you’ll gain one more slot when you reach tier five, but that will be your maximum, no matter how high you Ascend after that.’
‘But that’s not fair!’
Ket simply shrugged, and waited patiently for my next question.
I glared at the four box-shaped Pantheon slots, then turned my attention to the row underneath.
‘All right, then, Ket. What are the circles for, and why are there so many of them?’
The sprite hovered beside the row of circles. ‘These, Corey, represent your Creation limit. Unlike the Pantheon slots – which simply determine how many active species you can have at any one time – the Creation limit, well, limits how many individuals you can create within those species.’
‘Huh?’
She tutted. ‘Honestly, it’s quite simple. For example, if you were to create a forrel, one of your square Pantheon slots would be filled with the ‘forrel’ species. In addition, one of your circular Creation slots would also be filled, because you’ll have created one individual creature. With me so far?’
‘Ye-es…’
‘Okay. If you were then to create a second forrel, it would use up another slot in your Creation limit – but not another Pantheon slot—’
‘Because it’s an individual member of a species that’s already in existence,’ I finished. ‘Right. So I could make up to twenty-four forrels right now if I wanted?’
‘You could,’ she agreed. ‘However, you’d then leave no room for other species. The key to a good defense is a balanced force, which means a variety of creatures. Also, you don’t have nearly enough mana to create that many creatures all at once – not yet, anyway.’
‘Okay. And why twenty-four?’ I asked.
‘Your Creation limit, you mean?’ she said. ‘Again, it’s related to your god tier. You’ll gain six slots – that’s six individual creatures – per tier, which is why you have twenty-four right now. You’ll gain another six – along with your fifth Pantheon slot – when you reach tier five.’
‘Let me guess – thirty will be my maximum?’
‘That’s right.’ Before I could protest, she raised her voice and said, ‘But thirty is plenty, Corey. And twenty-four is more than enough to be going on with right now. Shall we get started?’
My mind whirling with all this new information, I pulled up the squirrel and fox blueprints. Last time, I’d left the entire process to fate. Creating Ris’kin had been a heat of the moment thing, and I’d had no time to explore my options. Not so this time.
I lost myself in the Creation process as Ket guided me in how to connect different blueprints to one another, adopting or mutating some features and discarding others. Examining the blueprints themselves led to some surprising revelations. For instance, my first instinct had been to get rid of the squirrel’s tail entirely; to me, it seemed unsightfully bushy and encumbering.
But as I examined the blueprints I learned that the tail not only aided in balance – which, while there were no trees down here to climb, would certainly be invaluable for navigating cave walls and ceilings – but also in communication, and even in swimming. I thought back to the underground lake I’d seen on my way to Observe the kobold base.
You never know when you might need to swim.
Finally satisfied, I prepared to proceed with the squirrel-fox’s creation, but hesitated.
‘Are you sure forrels will make good guardians? They’re kind of… small.’
‘Size and strength are all well and good, Corey,’ said Ket, ‘but when it comes to patrolling and close-quarters fighting in the tunnels, I’d much rather have a pack of small, deft hunters to strike from the shadows than pin all my hopes on one huge blundering guardian that can’t even fit through the narrowest passages. Wouldn’t you?’
Now I thought about it, I wasn’t sure. The thought of having huge hulking minions policing my tunnels was extremely reassuring. But Ket had a point. The tunnels were narrow and claustrophobic in many places; creating god-born creatures that could easily outrun and out-maneuver our enemies was probably the smartest thing to do right now.
With a glance at my mana globes, about to be emptied once more, I went ahead and created the forrel.
There was a flash of white light, and then the creature was sat on its haunches, blinking in the darkness. As Ket had promised, one of the four square boxes representing my Pantheon limit was now filled with a forrel-shaped symbol, and a single circle in the row beneath was grayed out, bringing my remaining Creation limit down to twenty-three.
The forrel I’d just created was much more squirrel-like than Ris’kin, who, aside from her ability to walk on two legs instead of four, was almost entirely fox. This new creature was gray – all the better to blend in with the stone – and its tail was bushy; its front paws resembled clawed hands, and its ears were high and tufted. Its snout,
however, was pointed and filled with vicious teeth.
The eight Faithful gnomes still loitering by the altar gaped at the forrel. Those that didn’t just stand there gibbering immediately shrieked and sprinted off down the hillock, or fell to the ground in terror. Mana stopped trickling back into my globes, two of which had been emptied in the act of Creation.
‘What’s wrong with them?’ I asked Ket, alarmed by their reactions.
‘Generally speaking, denizens and god-born creatures are not… compatible,’ she explained. ‘With very few exceptions, denizens simply cannot co-exist with your creations. No one knows why.’
‘Then what should I do?’ The forrel was still blinking at the cowering gnomes. It twitched its whiskers, and one of the gnomes whimpered.
‘Don’t worry. We’ll send it away in a moment. First, think carefully about where you’re going to station this creature, Corey,’ said Ket, as I replaced the blueprint options with the Augmentary map so that the tangle of golden tunnels was once again before me.
‘For example,’ Ket continued, ‘there are many advantages to placing your god-born creatures away from your base. First and foremost, they’ll be your eyes and ears on the edge of your Sphere of Influence, and can instantly alert you to the presence of intruders. Secondly, the further away from your denizens those intruders are stopped, the better.’
‘Makes sense,’ I said slowly. ‘But… I’d feel better about having some close by, too. What if the kobolds slipped through the net and came on another raid? We’d be undefended.’
‘You’re right, Corey. So, for now, we’ll keep this little fellow,’ she indicated the gray forrel, which was now grooming its whiskers diligently, ‘as close by as we can. Luckily, there’s only one tunnel leading directly into our base.’ She pointed it out on the map. ‘But there are multiple routes to and from the other end of that tunnel, and it’s best we eventually try to cover as many as possible, including those on the lower levels and even up on the surface. That means we’ll need more god-born creatures, and soon.’
As I sent the new forrel off down the tunnel – much to my fearful gnomes’ relief – Ket’s words suddenly made me realize the full extent of my domain. Up until now, I’d thought of it as simply expanding outward each time I Ascended, but of course it was a Sphere of Influence, and that meant it also extended above and below.
And I had to defend it all.
My heart sank as I realized the enormity of my task.
‘This is going to take forever! Especially with my mana regenerating so slowly.’
Ket glowed reassuringly. ‘Chin up, Corey. You know what doesn’t cost mana? Exploring the rest of your Sphere of Influence.’
‘Are you suggesting we go sightseeing?’
‘Do you have a better way of spending your time right now?’
She had a point. It wasn’t as though there was anything I could accomplish around here, not while my mana was so low. Besides, we had plenty of time to pass before my new gnome workers finished cutting enough trees for a lumberyard.
Ket took my silence for acquiescence. ‘Gneil and the others are still worshiping, so while we explore the new areas, your mana will replenish. Then you’ll be able to create more god-born!’ she said excitedly. ‘Plus, think of the new blueprints you’ll be able to identify! I wonder what sort of creatures we’ll find?’
That was a pretty exciting prospect.
With a final look at my frustratingly near-empty mana globes, I said, ‘All right, Ket. Let’s go!’
Sixteen
God-Born
The power to fly around and survey anything I wanted was yet to get old. Though I was limited to my Sphere of Influence, it was growing large enough that this fact no longer felt as constricting as it once had. When I’d first begun life as a little purple rock, my domain had been restricted to the outer walls of the Grotto. Now, it was so much more.
Ket and I toured from cave to cave, passage to passage, lake to lake. Once we’d explored the ‘entrance zone’ – the levels where the outside and underground environments first began to interact and mingle, as in the Grotto – we moved deeper through the branching caves, into what Ket referred to as the ‘twilight zone’. Here, light was scarce. I could see perfectly, of course, my god’s-eye vision transcending the limitations of flesh-and-blood eyeballs, as could Ket.
In the underground lake cavern I’d first spied while using Observe, we found creatures as strange as they were intriguing.
My Insight ability taught me all I needed to know about cave salamanders (amphibious lizards capable of regenerating lost limbs), millipedes (whose armored carapaces could withstand even the bite of a fox), and skeleton fish (whose bodies were almost entirely transparent, making them all but invisible to the casual observer).
Though I could not drown, I found the still blackness of the subterranean lake truly unnerving, and beat a hasty retreat back to dryer air immediately after absorbing the details of the skeleton fish.
Most exciting of all, we also found a huge spider. Unlike the small, black, bulbous cave spiders I’d found on my first tour of the Grotto, this one – which Insight informed me was called a wandering spider – was brown and hairy and tarantula-like. Its furred legs each ended in a pair of hooked claws, and its fangs were large, fierce and venomous.
‘What’s this fascination with spiders?’ Ket asked, shuddering when she saw the wandering spider crawling along the ceiling.
I simply stared at it, captivated.
Later, in a narrow fissure in the lowermost levels of my Sphere, we found a geode containing the fossil of a prehistoric shark fetus. Ket said these caves must once have been under water, and that the shark had lain there for millennia beyond counting. I tried to glean more information using Insight – with the secret hope that I’d somehow be able to add the fearsome fish to my menagerie of god-born components – but it was a dead end. Literally.
‘You can only gain blueprints of living things, Corey,’ Ket reminded me.
‘I know, I know,’ I grumbled. ‘Shame, though. Can you imagine having shark soldiers defend the Grotto?’
She frowned. ‘No.’
‘You’re no fun…’
While I waited for my mana to replenish, I took stock of the layout of my base’s surroundings. The sole tunnel leading from the Grotto twisted and turned for several hundred meters before branching out in three directions. One of these branches led directly to the underground lake I’d explored earlier.
Judging by the path on which Observe had taken me, I guessed this lake cavern was the most direct route for the kobolds to reach us, and therefore the one the raiders would most likely take. It made sense to guard it, though I would also have to cover the other routes just to be sure. There was no guarantee the kobolds were our only enemy, after all.
As we explored, I kept an eye on my mana globes. When they were finally full enough, and after conferring with the sprite, I opened the Augmentary and created my first boulderskin.
Unlike the first time I’d used Creation, I now had enough mana – three globes out of my current total of four – to be able to combine vertebrates and invertebrates. To make the boulderskin, I chose to splice the blueprint of an olm – a white, snakelike salamander with no eyes but an acute sense of smell and hearing – with that of a millipede.
Insight had informed me that as well as being difficult to penetrate, the millipede’s body armor was permeated with toxin glands. Anything attempting to get up close and personal with this thing would not live long enough to regret its life choices.
The millipede also had four penises, but Ket and I both agreed that splicing those particular appendages onto our new creation would have been overkill. So I simply grafted millipede-like armor onto its hide.
Since the millipede’s jaws were weak and suited only to eating damp vegetation, I decided to keep the head and body of the olm – whose mouth was filled with small sharp teeth.
These were designed for crushing snails and crabs an
d eventually — once I’d mana-enlarged it — kobolds.
When I was done, the heavy lizard-like creature was roughly the size of a small fox – about the same size as a kobold, and twice the size of a forrel – which gave it more than enough bulk to easily take down a kobold or three. Furthermore, its grey body armor meant that while it was slower than a forrel, it was also much tougher – hence the name ‘boulderskin’.
A glance at the top of my Augmentary confirmed that the second of my four Pantheon slots was now filled with a symbol representing the boulderskin species. However, the creation of this individual creature had also taken up another two of my Creation slots.
‘That’s not fair!’ I complained. Ket tutted at me.
‘Of course it’s fair, Corey,’ she explained. ‘The requirements for splicing a vertebrate with an invertebrate – in this case, an olm and a millipede – are much greater than when you created your forrel, which was a basic combination of two mammals. Besides, look how impressive your new creature is!’
The amphibious boulderskin was heavy, so it couldn’t exactly swim, but it would be well suited to lurking on a lake bottom in the shallows, waiting to burst out and take down any unsuspecting intruders passing its shores.
I let the boulderskin trundle across the cavern and submerge itself into the subterranean lake. A deadly surprise for any future visitors, I thought with satisfaction.
A quick check on my gnomes in the Grotto showed a handful of them – led by Gneil – worshiping, their heads bent lower than ever, lips moving fervently to spew their nonsensical zeal. Apparently, they were really grateful I’d sent the forrel away. Just as well – mana-wise, creating the boulderskin had left me almost empty, with barely one globe remaining. Again.
