Chapter Two / Build the Work

The cracking of the wood lingered softly, then dimly and distantly until it became barely heard. Until it was all around him – Fire. Screams echoed so closely he thought they were next to him – because they were.

“Dad?! Mom?!” He screamed into the fire.

The fire parted and a street entered, the buildings continued to burn – illuminating a night sky as brightly as the day.

He was running, his breath catching on the rushing air. Around him people were being torn apart, their limbs spewing onto the asphalt. Shots rang out against inhuman wails; shadows stretched and tore against flesh. The few moments his panicked eyes had to see the source of the inhuman wails were nothing but monstrous creatures of many forms with no apparent pattern, mandibles, pincers, arms, and legs – dyed violet. Yet that mattered little.

He ran around a corner of a building, into an alley way – which led into the back of a store he was familiar with. When he opened the door, he was immediately met with a body. A body he should be familiar with but had no skin upon the face or upper chest to convey familiarity. A tentacle stretched out from the dark, nibbling away at the flesh with small mouths dotting its surface. It ate like it was tenderly savoring the flavor before indulging upon the meat below.

“Run.” A barely audible voice said from the dark.

Arms stretched out and pulled on the gray cement floor and pulled until the woman came into view. She pulled closer, and before he could say anything, went limp against the floor – thudding with a wet slap. Blood pooled below her waist, as nothing was there to collect it. The shadows moved in the dark, more tentacles emerging.

He ran out the back of the store, through streets, through the city, on the road, and through snow covered woods until he could run no further. He trudged through the snow, his limbs running cold, and his feet dragging beneath him. He could barely walk, and in front of him was a lone dead tree against the forest. He was too tired to go any further and sat against it. Snow lightly began to fall from the black sky, and his eyes grew heavy.

A bright light flashed suddenly - blinding him. Then the light diminished, and a metal capsule appeared in front of him. The glass door opened slowly and inside was white cushioning. It looked so comfortable. Something slammed on his back, and he fell forward into the white.

Waking, wide-eyed and sweating, Arn jolted from his sleeping position. He rolled onto the side of the bed, his feet touching the stone floor below. A dream? Arn thought. It was- It felt so real.

“Good morning, my Lord.” Gelicarus said from the door.

Arn jerked in surprise, then rubbed his wet hair.

“I’ve drawn a bath for you. Whenever you are ready.” Gelicarus motioned to Arn’s right.

Directly to the right of the doorway, on the same wall as the fireplace, was another doorway that Arn hadn’t noticed before. Arn stood and walked past Gelicarus to the doorway.

“Thank you, Gel. Give me a moment.” Arn said walking past.

“Of course.”

Arn walked into the bathroom, the same stone flooring left little for the imagination – but also the walls remained the dark wood slating. Inside was a singular black marble bathtub, its legs polished yellow akin to gold. Warm air emanated from the tub, and Arn approached. He let a finger touch the surface and felt it was neither too hot nor too cold. Then plunged in fully. It was more than relaxing, the aching in his bones and muscles fading in the warmth.

Several items were stacked by the tub, a white towel, a bar of soap, and glass jars that appeared to house shampoo and conditioner – though unsure of their ingredients. It was strange to Arn to see these items here; he had little context for what era of technology all this inhabited. He soaked for some time before going about his cleanliness routine, then dried himself. Along with the tub was a white marble sink, a small and tall wood table beside the sink, and a marble toilet, which was just a fancy looking hole, that he used.

There was a primitive looking toothbrush and toothpaste, but like other cleanliness products – of nondescript make. No mirror hung above the sink, only a small one enough for grooming sat on the table beside the sink. He took the mirror and examined his face. He had short black hair, his front hair long enough to reach his eyes, of which he moved to the right of his head and up. A tangled beard nested on his face, and a pair of scissors revealed themselves inside a drawer of the table. He cut it to a shorter length, giving himself a cleaner look. Arn then looked himself over; a pair of blue eyes staring back. He was decent looking, Arn concluded.

“My lord, I’ve left a clean pair of clothes for you on your bed. I will be outside when you are ready.” Gelicarus said from the doorway.

Arn finished in the bathroom and put on his clean clothes, which were the same as before. He walked to the nightstand and placed the mask on his face, and then his gloves and gauntlets. He tied his laces tightly around his boots and clipped the chain to his cloak on his back – raising the hood over his head.

Gelicarus was waiting, as he said, in the hallway in front of the door.

“There’s much work to be done today, Gel.” Arn said.

“I’m at your command, my Lord.”

“First, we walk the halls. Get a hands-on feel for the dungeon. Then we build.” Arn said.

Arn with Gelicarus in tow walked the length of the hall and into the waiting area before the throne room. He looked at the two main hallways, which had large arching openings. The layout of the dungeon would be important, but its design should be simple for now. He could do little with the information he currently had about the area he could expand into – not knowing how far it was until he reached his limit on this floor.

Arn walked down the left hallway and was astonished by the size of the hall. Some one-hundred feet across in width, and perhaps just as close if not taller in height. The thought of a logistical nightmare filled Arn’s mind at the scale of what the dungeon could become.

“Do you have an estimate of what our current stock of materials is, Gel?” Arn asked.

Gelicarus waved a hand in front of himself, and out of nothing appeared a leather-bound satchel from which he pulled numerous documents.

“We currently are stock piling stone, which is the easiest resource to acquire considering we are buried here. If you wish to expand our dungeon further, the Covetous would dig us out by dissolving the stone and refurbishing it into expendable materials. This process also gives us a very diminished supply of iron. Wood will be hard to come by, but we have a decent starting amount. Food will last us a full year, but that estimate is only based on the two of us.” Gelicarus said, eyeing the documents in his hands.

Arn cycled through his Dark Lord tabs, looking at his Authority and Soul Engraving tabs specifically. Authority was essentially his ability to command troops and what kind he could command. The first level of Authority allowed him to create Skeletons. They were a weak first unit, but their application wasn’t restricted to military use. He could also use them logistically if he needed to move supplies. Tabbing over to Soul Engraving¸ he noted that this was a more complicated beast. Engraving would allow him to upgrade his units by inserting souls into the skeleton’s bodies, however, to do so he would need souls.

For now, Arn decided he would need to prioritize making units.

“We don’t currently have any souls, do we?” Arn asked.

“We currently have five souls, my Lord.” Gelicarus answered.

“We do? Do we have any bones?”

“We have a stock of five-hundred bones, my Lord.”

Skeletons required five bones to make and needed nothing else.

Arn paced in front of a large arching wooden doorway etched in iron fastenings to the left side of the hallway. This was the entrance to the initial Soul Forge. He opened the door and walked inside. Inside, the room was illuminated by iron sconces on the walls and ceiling. The room was half the size of the hallway in width, and as tall as the doorway. At the far end of the room was a long glass tube that ran from the ceiling to the floor and sat on a pedestal. That chamber would be used to fuse a soul to a body – a soul chamber. For now, however, Arn only required the room itself to call upon the skeletons.

Thankfully as Dark Lord, Arn was not required to physically move materials to make something. Bringing up his Authority tab, Arn hovered over the create Skeleton button. In front of him appeared a small black orb, and from the orb bones structured themselves into the form of a human skeleton. Skeletons were capable of simple tasks and strategy but were unable to be situationally aware. They were a decent front-line unit. Arn, however, felt that they would be better used as a fodder unit for a stronger more elite unit.

The question then became whether Arn would use all the bones currently available to him. He had a sinking feeling when he thought of their situation. Were we buried on purpose? Arn thought to himself. Perhaps we should be cautious. Arn then decided he would create his legion of skeletons and prepare for the worst. Ninety-Five skeletons were created to fill in five units of nineteen skeletons. Additionally, these units would be led by five captain skeletons, Dark Skeletons, which are skeletons that are upgraded with a soul and visibly covered in black runes and are situationally capable of strategy and command. Dark skeletons would take time to make, an hour each, to allow the soul to meld with the body. He also only had one soul chamber, which limited how many he could upgrade at a time.

For now, five units (nineteen per) of skeletons filled the room and waited for his command. Arn ordered them into the hallway with a thought: hallway. They moved with cold precision, and orderly fashion into the hallway where they formed into the separate five units. Two units paired beside one another in the hallway, until the final unit was by itself in the back. Arn walked to the soul chamber and watched as a soul descended from the ceiling and into the mixture of the chamber where the Skeleton waited. It was a tiny thing, a soul, no larger than the palm of a hand. It glittered in a dim light, and Arn could see its details as it descended. It was a blank soul. It had no previous life nor any abnormal tendencies and had only one trait: loyalty to the Dark Lord. Arn required nothing else from these souls. The soul entered the chest cavity of the Skeleton and disappeared. The infusion began. This process would repeat four more times. Arn, however, decided it would be best to check in with the Covetous.

Arn and walked the hallway to its very end until coming to a wall of rubble. At the wall of the rubble, stood the Covetous. Five waited, facing the wall, their sizes varying between them – perhaps an indication of varying ages. Out of the group Arn, somehow, recognized one.

“Rakan.” Arn called out as they approached the group.

The tallest of the Covetous turned and knelt upon the ground, the others turned and did so as well.

“EMINENCE…” Rakan said.

“Is this all of you?” Arn asked.

“Ten…”

The others must be in the other hallway. Arn thought.

Arn decided he would put his in-person command ability to the test.

Just as he did before with the Skeletons: Dig. Arn thought to himself.

Without a word the Covetous stood and turned to the wall, as if compelled by another force – his force. They stretched out their arms, their palms facing the wall, and the wall began to move. The rubble flew towards them and was compressed by an unknown force into a single point. The point filled and filled with rubble until it was a large stone orb in front of each of them. Then the orb was compressed further until it disappeared out of sight. The large chunk of the previous wall of rubble had been moved forward, and the Covetous stepped forward to do the same again.

Arn had succeeded in getting a feel for his command ability: it was an unspoken and forceful thought. A will to be precise. His will forced on his subjects.

Arn turned from the scene in front of him and made his way back to the throne room with a silent Gelicarus behind him. The map was already waiting for them, as Arn had commanded it to do so before they arrived. He scanned the layout of the dungeon: his orders for the Covetous a line of green boxes stretching into the unknown until it could no longer. They were far from the end of the dungeon and there was still a large portion of this floor unknown to them. Arn flicked a finger over the previous order to dig and highlighted the green back to its original position – canceling the order. Arn imagined Rakan and his group stopping suddenly in the hallway. Then he flicked his finger on the end of the hall and turned it west towards the other end of the dungeon, doing the same with the other hall but east.

“For now,” Arn thought aloud, “We should explore the rest of this floor before continuing to the entrance. I’d rather be ready for whatever is there.”

“A wise decision, my Lord.” Gelicarus said from the other side of the map.

“Are you capable of making weapons, Gel?” Arn asked.

“I am capable of any task at the bare minimum, my Lord.” Gel said humbly, “But it would be wise to only use me in those roles temporarily. I am better suited by your side, or in any bureaucratic role you wish me to assume.”

Arn nodded, noting Gelicarus’s character screen. It was as he said: he was skilled in many categories, but only a master at one.

“For now, I just need you to make the skeletons basic spears and kite shields. Outfit the rank-and-file skeletons with spears and shields, but the captains should get a sword instead. I’ll get prepare the rooms, once they’re finished, I’ll assign a unit to provide the supplies to you.” Arn said already pressing on the screen.

Arn set up the Smithy next to the Soul Forge, its size of the same proportions. Then he created another room across from them on the other side: the Storage Room. It was proportionally the same size as the other rooms to keep them ideally from taking up too much space. Eventually he would need to sort these rooms and make them bigger.

“Keep in mind, my Lord, that when assigning rooms to be built that you are taking Covetous away from other dig orders.” Gelicarus said.

Meaning the Covetous would not dig the hallways first if a build order was assigned.

“I see.” Arn said.

Unfortunately, these build orders would also take time. Arn could do nothing but wait now.

“I will go prepare for your orders.” Gelicarus bowed and began walking to the door.

Just as he got to the end of the table, Gelicarus stopped and said: “Ah, but before I forget.” He rummaged around on his person and pulled something from his robe.

It was sword sheathed in a black scabbard. Gelicarus held it in his hands and raised it to Arn.

“Your blade, my Lord.”

Arn took the sword, its description only reading: Blade of the Dark Lord. It was basic in appearance: the black scabbard was a bit rough looking but well kept, and the hilt was covered in a frayed black fabric as if it had been used many times already. It was long enough to be held in two hands, but light enough in his hands, he found, to be used with one. The pommel was a round black metal orb with no other features, and the guard was also made of black metal. Both had no outstanding features, which made Arn more curious of its making. He fastened the scabbard’s black belt over his own, on his left hip. He pulled the blade free of its sheath and to his surprise it was finely kept; his own image showing upon its face. A fuller ran down the center of the blade, the edge clean and sharp.

“While we follow your orders, perhaps you should remember your blade skills, my Lord.” Gelicarus said.

Arn looked the blade over and said: “Perhaps I will.”