Chapter Four / Fount of Souls

The UI screen flashed bright red in front of Arn: “Emergency! Your dungeon is currently being invaded!”

A line below the above text promptly read: “Do you wish to teleport immediately to the active invasion zone?”

A miniature version of the map from the throne room shimmered with the blaring notification. On the map a bright red dot flickered at the end of the current West hallway.

“We’re under attack, my Lord?! Shall I rally your troops?” Gelicarus said beginning to compose himself.

“How many Skeletons are outfitted for combat?” Arn asked.

“I’ve only managed to outfit one unit, my Lord.” Gelicarus lowered his head slightly.

“You’ve exceeded expectations, Gel. Good work. I’ll go alone to the threat. Have the outfitted Skeleton unit guard the west hallway entry point.”

Gelicarus hesitated for a moment, before responding: “Very well, my Lord. I will have them ready for your command should you need them.”

Arn looked at Gelicarus, half expecting him to put up more of a protest at his decision. Did I have some kind of biased view of Gel? Arn thought to himself. Arn had no desire to put himself in harm’s way, especially not this early. He didn’t feel strong, nor did he have any way to gauge his current abilities. Gelicarus glared at Arn, a hint of discomfort at the decision but also confidence as he smiled.

Arn grasped his shimmering mask from the table and placed it upon his face. Gelicarus stood from his seat and bowed.

“I will be waiting patiently for your victorious return, my Lord.” Gelicarus said.

Arn nodded: “Look forward to it.”

“Teleport?” The text grayed as Arn pressed upon it.

The floor moved under Arn’s feet; a quake shuddered through the stone beneath. He had teleported to the furthest point the west hallway had been extended. In front of him he could see a group of Covetous, specifically spotting Rakan in the group – but none of them appeared to be moving. In front of them was a dark entry way of collapsed rubble, like the area on the east side – yet Arn could feel a presence beyond.

Rakan and Covetous, move behind me further back in the hall and await my orders. Arn thought in their general direction.

The group turned, their hideous flesh moving towards him, taking a moment to bow before him and around him before moving behind him. Taking a step forward, Arn felt the presence beyond moving and the floor shaking in synch. Whatever is beyond the darkness - is large. A tight feeling welled within his chest, his tongue drying like he was dehydrating rapidly, and with every step forward the feeling of dread gained more prominence.

Arn had never been in battle before. Was that what waited for him beyond? Arn coughed as his throat chaffed in anticipation. He needed to calm himself. Panic would only invite fear, and fear would cause him to make mistakes. As he neared the rubble entrance, Arn took a deep breath, and as he exhaled a wave of dread slammed against him. He had never experienced something like this, like all the animalistic senses of his human body were tingling, his hair all standing on end. All screaming for him to run. Arn couldn’t calm himself, fear spread over him like a wildfire of sweat and heat, and yet his feet didn’t stop walking. It was too late to run now.

The room was quiet and dark – no tremors were felt. Nothing stirred. Light. The white orb appeared in the air and ventured to the center most point. To Arn’s surprise, the room was cavernous in size. Everything that was observed by Arn’s senses told him that the room was smaller than this – the air heavy and dense as if he was in a box. His breaths were loud in his ears, and his eyes restlessly scanned the area.

There’s something here. I can feel it, but where is it?

Something hit the ground in front of him; a plume of smoke puffed into the air momentarily. The ground dissolved in patches, pooling outwards like water. Arn quickly looked upwards, the orb of light hardly having to move, and his throat nearly shut completely. The creature above him stared intently with large black eyes, then as if knowing it had been noticed, soundlessly extended itself to the floor in front of Arn. A number of limbs extended off its long body, too many to count, two large black eyes, hiding many more, watched and didn’t watch Arn observing everything all at once. A pair of antennae sprouted from the front of its head and twitched in the air, and mandibles concealed themselves beneath.

In the world from Arn’s past they would call this creature a Centipede, yet it was at least one-hundred times its normal size. It loomed over Arn like a house, encapsulating the creature’s name from his memories. Despite the creature’s size – it made limited noise if any. It didn’t move and observed him. Then suddenly it dashed at him with incredible speed.

 

Arn didn’t move. His muscles were locked in place, unable to even twitch. Oh, so this is where it ends. Eaten by an insect. Arn could feel his mind slipping away from him. It was impossible to think of what was in front of him as normal. Is this what the world was like here?

Don’t these things normally eat other insects? Arn thought. Is that what it thinks I am? Nothing more than an insect. Arn felt himself chuckle, but the dense air made it soundless, or he was so overwhelmed by fear he couldn’t hear it himself. He withdrew his sword, the blade rasping against the scabbard, his fingers shaking.

The monstrous Centipede was on him in moments that felt like an eternity to Arn and brought down its front limbs towards him to drag him to its eagerly awaiting mandibles. Just before they struck Arn, however, he moved. Gliding away to the left, Arn was surprised by his weightlessness, and more so at the fact that he moved. Landing squarely on his feet, Arn felt the fear subsiding within, but it didn’t leave him. Instinct took over his body, and Arn embraced it. He took long breaths, cooling the heat from his fear, and watched as the creature rushed him once more.

It struck down again, repeating its previous action, and Arn again dodged but a shorter distance away. The centipede’s front limbs, however, detached at the tips while still piercing the ground. The Centipede regenerated its former tips, but the detached ones began moving, several flesh-like limbs sprouting out of the tops and dashed towards Arn. All at once, the detached limbs and the Centipede struck him at all angles. The larger limbs of the Centipede were easier to dodge, but the detached tips smaller limbs collided with his blade as he defended against them. A pattern emerged in the tip’s attacks, and as if noticing this, they moved to surround Arn. One on his left, another on his right, and the Centipede in the center. Arn wouldn’t give them the chance and rushed to the right creature.

Arn defended against the right tip’s attacks, but forced it backwards, away from the other one. The Centipede attempted to intercede, but Arn dodged the attacks. Finding a gap in the attack pattern, Arn jumped, flipping over the tip, and slicing several limbs off in the process. Its scream emanated from an invisible mouth, and Arn plunged his blade through the top opening. The other tip rapidly approached, and with the creature still on his sword, Arn flung the corpse of the tip over his head and smashed down on the other. Neither moved, and Arn retracted his blade. The Centipede in the meantime had gotten closer, its face just in front of Arn, and using its forcipules, limbs at the front of its face – deftly struck at Arn. The forcipules dripped with toxins, the floor parting from the intensity of the droplets. With one stroke, however, Arn severed one of the forcipules and the Centipede wailed in pain.

The Centipede jumped back and upon landing, detached all the tips of its limbs, then jumped and reversed its body to land on the ceiling. It regenerated its limbs and watched Arn, taking caution to approach him. The detached limbs all rushed towards Arn, and he prepared himself. Holding the blade in front of him, Arn felt a tug from the blade and himself. He pulled the blade back to his left side, the tip pointing behind him. Arn then slashed the air, and with his Authority commanded: Reach.

Almost instantly the detached limbs were all further detached horizontally, and upon the further back wall a large gash appeared in the rock as if it was slashed. Arn quickly turned this technique on the Centipede, slashing the air and commanding again: Reach. The Centipede, as if noticing the ability, jumped from the ceiling to the floor; a large gash appearing where it once was on the ceiling. The creature kept its distance, again detaching some of its front limbs to send at Arn. Arn dispatched them with ease, but the Centipede didn’t approach. Arn ran after it, but it was quicker than him, constantly detaching its limbs to send at Arn. It was becoming a battle of attrition. A tug again came from the blade in his hand, and Arn knew what he needed to do.

Arn reached out his left hand and commanded: Pull. The Centipede suddenly moved towards Arn, more precisely Pulled towards him. It struggled by piercing the stone, but it was futile – the pull was absolute. The Centipede flew towards Arn, and Arn plunged his blade through the front of the creature’s head, commanding: Reach.

The Centipede split in two, its black eyes separating from each other as its body split vertically. Arn expected the creature to bleed, but instead a bright blue glow emanated from its body and an innumerable amount of small projectiles pummeled the ceiling until the body of the Centipede disappeared entirely. The projectiles created a lake of dim blue at the ceiling, almost like water, but every droplet moved individually. Every so often the projectiles would lurch towards the ground, like splashes, until eventually one of them sprouted so much so to the ground that it left one behind as it sank back to the ceiling.

Arn recognized the small dimly glittering orb as a soul. Arn reached out to the soul, and a wave of visions washed over him. Places, faces, laughs, and cries that Arn recognized only as memories. These souls are inhabited. They were victims of the Centipede – thousands of them. He couldn’t identify them all, but they are older souls, he felt, than the time they currently occupied. By what margin, Arn couldn’t tell. The soul in his hand was particularly old, perhaps one of the first to be taken by the Centipede.

When examining the soul in his hand, Arn looked over their status screen, noticing their profession: Sigil Blacksmith. A skilled blacksmith would be a great asset to his forces, however, as he scanned the screen another block of red text rested at the bottom of the screen: “Requires full Human body.” Arn knew there had to be catch, and unfortunately, he was unable to make bodies with flesh. Arn was also hesitant to create underlings with free will, especially Humans.

“Humans can’t be trusted, especially good ones.” Arn said violently aloud.

Arn paused for some time, and then took the blacksmith’s soul, eventually he would need their services. Arn retreated towards the center hallway, waving Rakan and the Covetous back to their work. He was tired, fatigue building over his body, not all of it, however, was physical.

The creation of humanoid underlings was inevitable, but would he really be able to create them? Arn was only willing to do so if they wouldn’t undermine his plans, but in order to prevent that he would need to ensure they were completely loyal. He would need to remove their free will.

“Can I really do that?”

Arn approached the end of the West hallway, back at the center hallways, and observed his unit of Skeletons armed with spears and shields. Gelicarus waited in front of them, a smile forming on his lips which made his unclear age even more unclear.

What is a Dark Lord?