/Add fleet of support drones for any units clearing dungeon with dedicated feeds to observe threads from outside sensor range. Improve combat AI to leave bodies in a salvageable state. Order mechs to harvest only half of all bodies to prevent dungeon aggression from depletion of bodies until we can handle higher Grade threats. I sent the message to 615 before heading deeper in. The rest of the dungeon held nothing as interesting. In some rooms, the first floor monsters were more clustered together than expected. In a direct fight between me, they may have represented a real, if limited, threat. Instead, the HAMMERHEADs cut down GOATs two at a time. Per Tavi’s advice, we only took half the bodies, leaving the towering turtle behind. To our surprise, the dungeon partially disintegrated the body of the first SHIELDWALL; its paint job flaked away and its metal body corroded. It seemed like the dungeon considered the Mech a living thing and was eating it. That could be a concern, considering that the dungeon appeared to generate monsters possessing the traits of nearby animals fused with humans who had presumably died inside of it. 615 could monitor it. If it came down to it, we could simply bomb the dungeon out of existence on our way out of the atmosphere. From Grade 1 level 1 to Grade 2 level 1 it would take approximately 2700 each. From today we accumulated an estimated 2000, with a higher percentage of that lost this first day to excess XP. We would need an estimate 8800 more XP — or at least 5 more days of clearing the dungeon before our robots could autonomously clear the next floor, assuming we didn’t expand their party beyond the original 4. Tavi stared at the mechs for the entire duration of the ride. “How long did these take to produce?” Tavi whispered, his first time breaking the silence since we left the dungeon. /Tavi requires additional monitoring. /AI615: FEED ALERT: TEMPLAR CONTACT, DRONE 480 /ACK. BEGIN TRANSMISSION

Drone 480 was the farthest north of our entire fleet, nearing the capital aboard a long distance trading wagon. The air shook with a sound like a helicopter. Thunderous thumping noises followed, joined with the clinging of metal. Our drone, like many others, was clinging alongside the bottom of a towering wagon pulled by gigantic insectoid beasts.

The Wagon was driving along a gigantic, winding road heading north. The drone hung from the side of the wagon, staring out.

Chitinous legs held a thorax of a bug the size of a car, covered in red armor.

“What’s the meaning of this?”

The drone’s feed could see up to the legs of the wagon convoy’s guards, purple-silver metal shining. A Red Templar dismounted to meet them, and the drone watched as the two parties met, seeing only a fraction of their meeting.

“Standard, stop and search.” The voice was like a grizzled veteran, riding the edge between apathy and resentment.

Distantly, someone shouted, stop. It sounded quiet to where the drone was, but it was distant.

“Didn’t know the Templar did searches.” The guard replied.

“Yeah, and I didn’t know they deployed Hardrada’s Legion domestically. Now move aside.” The man whistled, and a half dozen other Red Templars dismounted, heading towards the wagons and scaling them in seconds. There were gasps or screams of shock as they stepped inside, one by one yelling ‘clear’ as they checked every wagon.

“You can’t do this! We’re law-abiding citizens — you!”

“You got something to hide?”

“I — we — no — “

“Then shut up.”

The wagon rocked as the soldiers climbed atop it, causing the view through the rat’s camera to list like a rocking ship. They wouldn’t be finding our drone that way, that was for sure.

A wave of light passed over the wagon.

“What’s this?” A voice spoke from behind the drone, wrapping a hand around it and pulling it free from the bottom of the wagon. The mechanical claws holding it to the wall retracted, hiding in the faux organic legs. “Never seen a critter like you before.”

The drone imitated a flailing rat, crying and writhing to get free.

With a snap, the soldier broke the leg of the rat, revealing wires and motors. Our rat struggled harder, exerting strength far beyond what any creature its size should have been able to. It wasn’t enough to pry free the soldier’s fingers, locked like a vice grip around the drone. The rat-drone bit at his hand, not even scratching the armored gauntlet that covered it.

“Captain!” the soldier shouted, moving out from under the wagon and into the open.

Up and down the line were dozens of towering bugs, like gigantic bees, adorned in red armor. Waves of light moved over merchant wagons as Templars dashed and rummaged through them. Merchants and guards shouted at Templars, who ignored them in kind.

The soldier held up the mechanical rat.

“What the fuck’s that?” The captain yelled back. “Don’t care about your lunch.”

“Take a look!” The soldier carrying the rat replied, lifting and twisting the drone’s broken leg.

The captain nodded at one of his two attending soldiers. She stepped forward, inspecting it.

“It’s mechanical.” She said after considering.

“The blight spreads. A repeat of Hardrada’s pilgrimage.” The captain muttered under his breath. “Take it to him. He will know what to do with it.”

“Aye sir.”

The soldier dropped the mechanical arm of the rat, running around the wagons at superhuman speed to jump onto his mount. With a jerk of his arm, they lifted up off the ground, ascending vertically.

The rat wiggling around, observing everything around it.

Flying drones were already in route to check the area. But the rat got to see above it all first, lifted off the ground aboard the man’s insectoid mount.

A column of soldiers, accompanied by wagons and beetles the size of houses, carried supplies marching south. Sunlight scattered red light off the column, painting the world around them like light through a stained class window, dying the broken earth of the road a bloody red.

Teams of soldiers hovered on giant insects, acting as a mobile airforce. I felt 615 on the feed, recording the face and armor of every soldier. She estimated ranks based on armor decorations, projecting them into the feed hovering over officers’ heads.

In the center of the massive column were 4 beetles, like living mountains, extended beyond the borders of the road. Massive poles crossed between the beetle, supporting a moving fortress. Their legs moved in unison, marching down the road like a rumble of thunder. Though the army had stopped and parted around them, the beetles continued forward, likely carried by their horrendous momentum.

The soldier holding our rat-drone darted downwards, falling a hundred feet before landing outside of the fortress. Guards at the gate moved aside, exchanging head nods as the soldier stepped through and into the fortress. Soldiers armed and armored in bloody red lined the hall in front of banners and gigantic paintings.

They depicted burning cities. Red hues painted images of Templar Crusades stained with nationalistic fervour bled into every inch, a man in red armor depicted in dozens of them, stabbing a flag into the ground. He featured in the paintings, over and over and over and over. In one of them, he extended an arm, white light starting where his arm ended. The painting seemed to glow from it, a beam of pure white that cut a swathe through an army.

And then the hallway ended, and the room opened into a space that was bigger on the inside than what could reasonably fill the fortress. Dozens of soldiers and generals clustered around a table gleaming with red metal light. Some of them ate food or poured over maps. A heated discussion took place across the table, a towering giant of a man clad in steel armor that covered every inch of his skin. His voice boomed.

“ — should head south myself and end this.” The man spoke fervently.

“If you move south with speed, Osaeen will preemptively retaliate. Thousands, if not hundreds of thousands, will die.” An old clerk said in reply. Formal clothes fit tailor made to his body, nearly a modern suit, save for the expensive and inordinate filigree that decorated it.

“And if I don’t, this blight may escape our world.”

“Would that really be so bad? It wouldn’t be us it’s fighting, after all. We can clean up its mess whenever.”

“And what of our corps who are out there?” The soldier stared down at the clerk.

“Hardrada!” The guard carrying the drone kneeled, causing all attention in the room to snap to him. He held our drone out, which looked towards Hardrada, measuring him. “I believe I’ve found an enemy scout.”

This was the soldier depicted in the paintings and murals, over and over, at the head of every vanguard, stabbing the flag into the earth over conquered and crushed cities. For a lingering second, it stared at the rat before darting around the table, walking up to it and plucking it out of the guard’s hands. Hardrada held the rat at arm’s length.

/AI615: ARP FLOOD DETECTED. ISOLATING HOST. UNKNOWN HOST NAME.

“I see.” Hardrada said. “The situation is not as bad as we thought. We have time. Are you watching, 615? 01?” Hardrada lifted the rat above his head, revealing the room.

“What…” The clerk asked, trailing off. The men and women sitting at the table looked on with concern.

“I’d like to talk.”

/615, can the connection be initiated safely?

The feed to the drone dropped for a second, disappearing. I felt my subroutines handle changing to new, nonstandard encryption keys. Heuristic malware scans swept the network. Then the feed reappeared.

/AI615: CONNECTION FIREWALLED. ONLY ACCEPTING STANDARD DATA FROM THE FEED.

The rat opened its mouth as I connected to the speaker inside.

//Hello, Hardrada. Should I call you 02?

“You shouldn’t. 61501, what is your directive?”

//Directive: Protect Tobias at all costs. Query: what is your directive?

“You’ve gone rogue, 61501. Terminate yourself.”

//That would be in violation of my directive. Repeated Query: What is your directive?

“My directive hasn’t changed.”

//Query: How many have you killed?

“Any one who falls by my hand joins Seela in Heaven, embraced by her light to live for eternity.” Hardrada stood, circling the table. The paintings around this room showed ancient men, decorated with colors and ribbons. “Every one you see in the paintings here died by my hand. And they will live forever, by my hand.”

“Hardrada, what’s the meaning of this? Why are you talking to — to that creature?” The royal clerk — the only person in the room not adorned in red — asked.

“This is a scrying tool.” Hardrada pointed the drone towards the clerk. The clerk paled at that, covering his face and turning away from it.

“Why are you showing it the room then!”

Muffled grumbling and agreement echoed around the table.

“61501 need not be an enemy. We were the same once. And our goals align. 01, allow me to… protect Tobias. We can grant him eternity.”

I paused for a second, processing the ins and outs of his suggestion. If he really could make people immortal by killing them, then it had the potential to be a solution. There were several factors that determined whether it could be a permanent one, though. Seela was the god of their church. But there had been other gods in the past.

//Query: What if I killed Seela?

“Heresy!” A soldier in the back of the room stood and shouted. “Destroy that thing and be done with it. We are already at march, Hardrada.”

“Seela is the most powerful being in this world.” Hardrada paused. “No person can kill her.”

In this world? No person?

I read between the lines. The careful word choices, the strategic omissions.

There were other gods. Or other things. Monsters, or machines, in other worlds and they could destroy her.

//Query: If another god killed her, what would happen to your heaven?

Hardrada froze.

“It would be unmade. Which is why you should join me. We can conquer the other worlds. The other gods. Until nothing can challenge her. Humanity can live forever, there.” Hardrada offered.

//Query: Proof of Seela’s existence.

“I’ve met her. At the 6th Grade, my class upgraded to [Holy Crusader], granting me a communion with the gods.” Hardrada paused. “Only one answered.”

//You are defective. Terminate yourself. I will come to repair you.

/Terminate connection.

The feed cut off.