Morgana: Everybody Loves Large Chests (Vol.4)

by Iliev, Neven

  The letters were almost identical to the sigils used in demonic rituals. The differences were so minor, that they could easily be attributed to a difference in handwriting. Combined with the long, incomprehensible chants it knew from the Demonology Skill, it was fairly obvious that demons had their own secret language. An ancient tongue of power that might hold the power to influence the world around it in some unique way.

  The Summon Familiar Skill was a perfect example of that power in action. While the physical manifestation of a being from another realm was impressive, the ten-second-long and needlessly flashy activation process that preceded was even more incredible. The concentric rings of light that surrounded the Skill’s user while the summoning was in progress were actually made up of countless tiny symbols. Ones that were in a constant state of flux and rapidly changed shape and size as the Skill progressed, almost as if they were busy re-writing the fabric of reality itself.

  While Boxxy’s Mana Locator Gland made it possible to perceive such things with relative ease, most enlightened Warlocks would probably only see them as concentric circles of solid light. That didn’t mean that the shapeshifter was the first to notice that language’s existence, however. Pretty much every adventurer and scholar that dabbled in demonic magic and lore sooner or later realized it. However, no matter how much research was done over the years, the academic community’s attempts at deciphering the language were largely futile.

  This was mostly due to a lack in reference materials. The incomplete and superficial knowledge granted by relevant Skills was the only real source of information on the subject, and it was quite insufficient. Knowing how to write the letters didn’t mean one could read them aloud, and there was a huge difference between being able to speak the words and comprehending their connotations. While the meaning of certain words or phrases could be gleaned from context, the language as a whole remained a mystery.

  There was also the fact that all demons capable of speech knew the languages of mortals, and the Skills in question provided all the necessary information to invoke the related magic. There was therefore no practical purpose in researching the language. So, while there were most certainly a few zealous people bashing their heads at it, the study of the demonic script had been largely abandoned as a lost cause. Just another of the world’s great mysteries.

  This was where Boxxy’s situation was different. An enormous sample of the enigmatic language lay carved into the wall of its dungeon, literally in front of its very eyes. It was certain the ‘ancient script’ Ambrosia spoke of and the language used in demonic rituals were one and the same. As for how the dryad knew of it, the cause was most likely the common trait she shared with demonkind in general—both were existences created by gods.

  Granted, the deities that birthed them and the circumstances under which it happened were completely different, but that common trait seemed to be the most likely suspect. It wasn’t a stretch of the imagination to say that the language was not demonic, but divine in origin. And since there was no Taboo in place that forbade a mortal from gaining such exotic, potentially dangerous knowledge, Boxxy would not hesitate to learn the meaning behind those squiggly letters and weird pronunciations.

  It was highly unlikely it could bend reality just by speaking a few words, of course. The dryad would have doubtlessly used that power against the termites if it were that easy. However, Boxxy had a hunch that there was still a chance for this language to have some kind of reality-warping properties. The shapeshifter had developed a metaphorical nose for shiny things, and this language reeked of it. Even if the creature’s assumptions were later proven wrong and these letters didn’t have such power, it could still profit off of the knowledge by selling it to the highest bidder. Not only that, but understanding the contents of Demonology-derived rituals would surely help it avoid more nasty surprises like that Unholy Wealth incident.

  Heretical goblets aside, that mystical lightning bolt had scared the shapeshifter to splinters.

  Over the coming days, however, Boxxy found out that learning a language from scratch was no easy task. Since all of its familiars communicated primarily with Atican, it had been able to almost automatically learn to speak the language. Getting the hang of the writing and reading hadn’t been too difficult, either. However, the tentatively named Divine language was an extremely formidable opponent.

  To begin with, it apparently had a mind-boggling two hundred and fifty-five letters—ten times more than Atican. Many of them had multiple syllables and read like short words in and of themselves. Letters such as ‘ubuth,’ ‘rakar’ or ‘fus’ were examples of this. At least Boxxy was able to confirm that Ambrosia’s language and the words it spoke during rituals were the same. It also found out that Snack’s full name, which was listed as ‘Xerababadubuth L’okrelaila’ by the Status screen, could be spelled out in only nine Divine letters. If this was the standard, then it suddenly made sense why demons always seemed to have such long, nonsensical-sounding names.

  The succubus herself had no idea about any of that. While she could speak several languages thanks to Versatile Tongue—a Skill derived from her Succubus Job—neither Divine nor Demonic were among them. The ability had the potential to let her use exotic languages such as Draconic and Cogton, whatever that was, once it got to a high enough Level, but that was beside the point. Not just Snack, but all three of Boxxy’s familiars were completely unaware of the meaning or origin behind their names. Apparently, such things were assigned at random, so the Divine spelling involved in them was likely Joseph’s doing.

  Incidentally, of the shapeshifter’s other familiars, ‘Koralenteprix Khusuuszun Caonthioxxaa’ was ten letters long and ‘Dreaheath Uniolphial Maramakartor’ was eleven. Other demonic names Boxxy was familiar with were Carl’s ‘Katorolomaongott’ and Punchy’s ‘Nagnamor,’ which were respectively six and two letters long. It also seemed impossible to actually spell Boxxy’s full name in Divine, as the closest Ambrosia could come up with was ‘Bo-kusi Tu-rapp Mo-rin-ge-wud.’ Three words that, oddly enough, could be loosely translated to mean ‘rosebud frozen peas.’

  Such trivialities aside, it was obvious that learning this language would take a very, very long time. It would be a difficult feat, despite Boxxy’s INT and WIS Attributes greatly boosting its natural mental capabilities as a doppelganger. Still, the shapeshifter found out it could work on learning the language while pretending to sleep at night through the dungeon-assisted communications with Ambrosia. The core couldn’t properly convey the Divine letters themselves so it was a bit tricky, but definitely not impossible. More importantly, these lessons gave the shapeshifter something else to do at night.

  Anything was better than practicing that infuriating Meditation Skill at this point. As expected, trying to Level a Skill that relied on inner peace and pure thoughts was too high of a hurdle for a murderous, violent creature brimming with worldly desires. The fact it got it all the way up to Level 4 was praiseworthy in and of itself, and even that much was mostly due to Boxxy’s patience and stubbornness.

  However, that Level was more or less its limit. The monster seemed unable to build any additional proficiency, no matter how much it tried. Much like Shapeshift, it was not a Skill that could be mastered through simple repetition and hard work, so Boxxy had to be satisfied with an overall 40% boost to its automatic MP recovery rate. It was not an insignificant result, as the monster’s MP was very much its lifeline, especially during prolonged battles where Meditation’s effects would shine. It would’ve liked to advance the ability further, but it accepted that the task seemed impossible. Rather than dwell on things it couldn’t change, the shapeshifter instead focused on improving the things it could.

  Boxxy slipped back into its new-yet-unchanged routine. It continued acting the part of Keira, had Ranger training for most of the day. Afterwards it wandered around town looking for information and prey during the afternoon and evenings before returning to Rowana’s house at night. There, it played a bit with Minic,
spent some ‘quality time’ with the elf, and then went to bed. Since it only needed to sleep once every two or three days, it spent most nights either studying with Ambrosia or playing around in the dungeon.

  Xera and Kora were left mostly idle during this time. Since the termites plaguing Ambrosia’s tree had been completely exterminated, they had very little to do unless their Master called upon them. It went without saying that they spent much of that time performing all manner of lewd acts, sometimes involving the obedient dryad behind Boxxy’s back.

  As for Drea, she kept herself occupied by stalking her master during the day and producing silk at night. She had to be extra careful around that Faehorn fellow, though. That elf was really sharp, and seemed to notice her presence at times, despite there being over a hundred meters between them. A high-Level Ranger’s senses and intuition were not to be trifled with, so the fact the stalker hadn’t been found out completely spoke volumes to her sneaking ability. Still, Boxxy eventually warned Claws to give that old guy an even wider berth, as he was bound to grow suspicious if he kept noticing something, even if he didn’t know what it was.

  Fizzy divided most of her time between fighting in the arena for money and working on her Silk-Weaver machine. She had a prototype ready within a week of starting the project, and although successfully it produced Demon Silk from the raw thread, it had a myriad of issues. It worked slow, was too small in scale and the quality of the silk was quite poor. The stalker demon also objected to the design. Being forced to squat down and ‘poop out’ silk directly into an opening on the side of the machine was too high a hurdle for her, especially since Boxxy was there to watch the trial run. The upside was that the golem obtained a lot of useful data from that particular experiment, so she was certain she’d make a better one eventually with the shapeshifter’s assistance.

  That had been more or less how the group of monsters and demons spent the two weeks following the ‘silk hole’ incident. During that time, Boxxy had been able to steadily increase all of its Job Levels. The Doppelganger Job got all the way up to Level to 21, giving it access to two new Skills. The first was Broken Reflection, which allowed it to consume a humanoid corpse and become a perfect copy of it. This included replicating any clothing or gear it happened to be wearing at the time. This was ultimately an illusion born of flesh, so any armor or weapons created through this Skill were for purely decorative purposes and would disappear after an hour or so. The ability’s most powerful effect, and the one Boxxy actually cared about, was that it would also absorb the victim's most recent memories like a post-mortem form of mind-reading.

  The second Doppelganger Skill was called Puppet Parasite. Using it involved implanting a piece of Boxxy’s flesh into the base of a living target’s skull. If successful, the monster could gain full control over the victim’s movements for a short time. Their minds would be unaffected, meaning the subjects would essentially become prisoners inside their own bodies. Although Boxxy’s insidious mind thought of many ways it could torture its captives through this method, leaving their minds conscious was ultimately a drawback. Not only did it leave their memories of the act intact, but it also gave them a chance to fight the Puppet Parasite’s influence. Indeed, someone with a high enough END and/or MNT Attribute could completely resist the Skill’s effects. It was still possible to dominate more powerful targets, but only once they had been sufficiently weakened through blood loss and major physical trauma.

  The Warlock Job had also steadily progressed to Level 40, mostly due to its familiars keeping themselves busy by squashing small fry. It wasn’t much of a power boost, but it was just enough to allow Boxxy to learn a Skill called Despair Aura. This was essentially the all-purpose, super-powered version of Butcher of Humanity, as activating this Skill caused the Warlock to practically radiate dread and malice. Hardier individuals would likely be able to shrug off this oppressive aura, but most would find themselves overcome with fear and panic. Unlike the Perk, however, this one could be toggled on and off, making it an excellent tool for what was to come.

  And what that was had steadily become clear over the last ten days. Faehorn and the other elderly instructors at the Consortium had increased the intensity and frequency of their lessons, focusing more on longer, tougher expeditions with mixed groups of students. It was essentially a form of power leveling, as everyone, Keira included, reached Level 25 of their respective adventurer Job quite rapidly. Every student had slowly but surely come to understand the reasons behind this sudden spike in activity on behalf the teachers, so they were all prepared the dire news finally arrived.

  The Lodrak Empire had officially declared war on the Ishigar Republic.

  Their justification was that the Republic refused to cooperate in tracking down the completely fabricated ‘terrorists’ that caused the Calamity of Monotal. The elven Exarch—the temporarily-elected commander-in-chief—had fervently denied such accusations, stating his cabinet had absolutely nothing to do with that horrific event. Although he wanted to avoid war at all costs, there was no way he would accept the Empire’s demands of allowing their soldiers to march unhindered through the Republic’s territories. This was, unsurprisingly, exactly what the warmongering Imperials had been counting on, as evidenced by how they gradually prepared and escalated their armed forces over the past few months. Although the Republic’s military had done the same, their troops were clearly inferior in both quantity and quality.

  This was where Keira and her fellow students came in. The elven government was forced to conscript adventurers into its armed forces, something that was only seen as natural since the country backed pretty much all adventurer guilds based in the Republic. Much to Boxxy’s surprise, every single member of the Consortium, trainee and veteran alike, gladly took up arms to protect their homeland. The shapeshifter knew the people of Azurvale had a strong sense of community and patriotism, but the pragmatic monster expected at least some of them to run away from the war. Such people did exist of course, but none could be found among the members of the eight guilds within the Central Consortium.

  Of course, it wasn’t just the elves. Many dwarves, gnomes and, even humans all threw their lot in with the Republic. The Empire’s widespread disdain for elvenkind was no secret, so they were convinced that this would not be a peaceful occupation if they just sat by and let it happen. To them, this conflict had nothing to do with race. For some, it was about standing up for what they believed in. For others, it was about fighting to protect their loved ones and the lives they’d built here. Others still were simply glory seekers that sought to make names for themselves on the fields of war.

  Each one of Boxxy’s minions was also uniquely motivated in their own way. Whether it was to spread violence and chaos, satiate their desires or show off in a flashy manner, all of them had one thing in common—they would make themselves useful to the monster that had brought them together. Well, except for Ambrosia. The dryad was physically unable to venture too far from her tree, so Boxxy didn’t even bother asking her to join. It wasn’t as if she understood the first thing about warfare or large-scale conflict anyway, though she could probably be useful in some other capacity.

  Overall, while every enlightened soldier or conscript had their own motivations, none of them could match the sheer enthusiasm of a certain box-minded catgirl. Although one couldn’t tell from Keira’s face, the monster hiding behind it was positively giddy at the prospect of open warfare against humanity. Its goals and objectives had nothing to do with politics, beliefs, honor, or discrimination. What were those things, anyway? Were they tasty? They didn’t seem tasty.

  But humans most definitely were tasty, and Boxxy was salivated at the thought of the feast that was to come. This conflict was the perfect opportunity to slaughter them by the hundreds and then feast on their bodies. It would bite, stab, cut and maul them to death. It would come at them without mercy or hesitation, striking at them with no warning and for no real reason other than because it wanted to.

 
Just like any real monster would.

  Interlude

  Long-Distance Relationship

  Rowana and Keira were having dinner together as per usual. However, the normally noisy table was gripped by a heavy silence. Only the clatter of silverware and the odd chewing and gulping noises could be heard throughout the house. The elf had expected something like this to happen, but there was only so much she could take.

  “So… tomorrow’s the big day?” she asked, not even trying to hide the worry in her voice.

  “Yeah, it is,” Keira replied flatly.

  The elf couldn’t bear to see her normally energetic girlfriend so lifeless and subdued. Even if the catgirl’s lips curled in a faint smile, the distant look in her eyes proved it wasn’t genuine. It was obvious the beastkin was trying to keep her feelings in check, and was failing miserably. She seemed to be the kind of person whose thoughts floated onto her face without her noticing, so Keira’s attempts at masking her nervousness fell flat. Yet, Rowana hesitated to call her out on it, because she wasn’t sure which one of them Keira wanted to reassure with that flimsy front of hers.

  “You don’t… You don’t have to go, you know,” the elf added after a few minutes. “I know that conscription is mandatory, but there are exceptions…”

  Keira stopped raising the spoonful of stew towards her mouth, and slowly lowered it back into her bowl. She moved her gaze away from her meal, looked directly into the elf’s eyes and spoke with a level voice.

  “You’re wrong,” she disagreed.

  “No, I’m sure of it. I’m certain there was a clause in it about immigrants and-”

  “Rowie,” she interrupted, “not that. I know I can get out of it somehow, maybe make a run for it. But I won’t. I want to go.”

  “But why?! Why do you have to go off and join a war so suddenly!”