Chapter Forty-Seven

The Big Finish

Tooth awoke to find Nix still nestled deep within his arms. They both smelled of hay, as they had spent their night together in the stable. Most of the town, he soon discovered had slept in the park or the town square while their homes or businesses were being protected by Tooth’s agents. Some had naturally slept in wagons, and a few had gone to the docks and slept in rowboats or barges that had tied down for the evening. Surprisingly, no one had made a big deal out of the inconvenience. They knew what they had signed up for, and had taken it all in stride. The good people of Goulcrest took their hardships in stride. So far no one had tried to run off and escape the upcoming raid.

They had hunkered down and stoically waited for the raiders to come, not that they had much choice; anyone leaving town and the surrounding farms would be slaughtered before they were two miles from town. The deaths out there would not be as quick as those in the town itself. Raiders were brutal but swift when they were operating, but when they were bored and had nothing to do, they made cats toying with a mouse look merciful.

Tooth slowly unwrapped his arms from around the beautiful book dealer. The sun was just coming up, and they had just gone to sleep after a night of talking, reading, and cuddling. Technically, Nix had fallen asleep, Tooth didn’t need to but he enjoyed the woman’s company enough that he faked it. He didn’t mind her soft snores or the way she nuzzled his bare chest as she slept. It only made him care about her more. He enjoyed his “human” moments. He didn’t get many of those, and the sensation was just as new as him being a core companion that the two didn’t compete with one another. Being bonded to Dev was just as exhilarating as being with Nix, though for totally different reasons. Nix made him feel like he mattered for just being himself, and Dev made him feel like the two of them were going to become powerful enough for them to handle the Overseers.

He rose and slipped on his shirt and then did an alternating one-footed dance as he slid into his boots. He looked at Nix’s sleeping form, bent over, kissed her forehead, and brushed some of her hair out of her face. He tucked the stray hairs gently behind her ear; he didn’t know why but he knew that men did this all the time; tucking a woman’s hair behind an ear. He did it reflexively. It was a nice feeling. Even asleep she made him feel good.

He’d be damned if he’d let her or anyone else in this village die. Goulcrest meant more to him than he could put into words, it was the place that he had come into being. It was the place that he became something more than a tutorial for infant dungeon cores. In just a few short days the place had become his home.

Home. The word used to hold no meaning for him. Intellectually, he understood it as a concept, but it was similar to being told about a sunset as opposed to seeing one. It was a huge difference. Now Tooth could feel the word in his heart. He had a place in not only this world but the universe as a whole. He had a purpose, he had a life, and he had a home. It was more than he had dreamt possible when he was a tutorial program. He had lived out a million existences, each the lifespan of a burning candle, only to lose it all when he had finished his task. He was erased and reset to help the next dungeon core that came along. He knew of his prior lives but did not recall them.

It was like an amnesiac knowing information without recalling how they knew how to speak another language or start a fire. It was there, there was simply no knowledge of how that intelligence had been gained.

Tooth had been regularly updated with information so that he would always be able to aid a dungeon in whatever way it required. He had statistical knowledge of the most trivial things. He’d know the approximate time for a dungeon to recognize its place in the universe and begin taking steps towards becoming what they were meant to be.

He’d known everything there was to know about the universe, and some things that were outside of it as well but nothing had prepared him for Dev. There was something different about the core. Tooth had known that the second the little chunk of hematite appeared in the loading area. Dev had made him feel different, and when Dev had asked him a simple question something inside his non-form snapped. He found himself to be more aware and actually feeling things. Up until that moment he’d been in a fog, and Dev had become the light to show him his way out of the mists of confusion.

Suddenly, Tooth had found himself longing to know life. To experience simple things, such as sunshine on his face, the simple taste of an apple, and to experience the wide range of emotions that humanoids felt. Nix had fulfilled that slot. She was fulfilling his need to feel. Tooth was immortal for all intents and purposes. He would live until Dev died or he was killed defending the core. He had all the time in the universe to feel the rain on his face, the wind in his hair, and to enjoy an egg salad sandwich. It was the emotional side that he needed, and Nix coddled him. As intense as they were when they were together physically, she seemed to sense that he was emotionally naïve, and allowed him to explore his feelings rather than demand to know what he felt or why he felt the way he did.

Tooth attributed a lot of her understanding to being an empath, but he was certain there was more to it than just that. In a very short time, Nix had become his rock. She centered him and made him feel like an individual. She had made him into a person, not a companion, not a teacher, not a protector. Dev had molded him into the other things, but Nix had made him a man.

Goulcrest, for all of its flaws and scars, had become the place that he had laid down roots. It was his home. Yes, intellectually, he knew that there were far better places to live as well as far worse ones he could have chosen, but the fact was this place was where he was born. He didn’t have flesh or form until he brought Dev to the body dumping crevice. Tooth’s first steps were taken in that cavern. For better or worse, Goulcrest was his birthplace and that made it special to him. He knew that it did not matter where once came from, only that you did not let your history affect your future. No place was inherently bad or good, not on the principal physical dimension anyway, and it was up to the individuals that lived there to improve their lot in life. He thought of Numblee and Q’uillen. There were good people here, and they deserved to have an opportunity at that good life. He intended on giving them that chance.

He and Dev had come up with a plan. The shop, Weapon of Choice, was already manned and set to automatically provide whatever the customer wanted without having to have to bother Dev every single time someone made a purchase. It would allow the core to focus on other more pertinent matters, rather than having to divide its attention during the defense of the town. There were a lot of things that you could say about the people of Goulcrest, but one thing you could not say about them was that they were late sleepers. They were up at the crack of dawn. Tooth suspected that was a carry-over from when the town was overrun by the undead. You had to do your business while the sun shone, and that meant getting up at cock’s crow. So, going outside and calling for a town meeting at the square at the current hour would not be as problematic in Goulcrest as it would be in other places.

As he made his way to the town square he noted that people were already out. Some were getting supplies, some, the ones who had refused his and Dev’s help in preparing for the upcoming raid, were doing their best to fortify their homes and businesses. The raid was due soon, but these people, for the most part, were ready to face it now.

Emotions, so palpable that he could feel them, swarmed around him. The majority of them were a combination of fear, love, and anger but mostly, there was an underlying feeling of hope. Hope that he had given when he had prepped their homes for the raid. His mere presence brought the ephemeral emotion out. He could feel the moment that someone looked at him, as their hope rose almost exponentially. It was simultaneously disconcerting, that they placed so much on his shoulders, and uplifting that they had so much trust in him. He hadn’t been in Goulcrest long, but he could feel its embrace.

Tooth stopped in the center of the square and looked around. He was satisfied that there were enough people about and that more would come to hear him as he went on. He looked back over his shoulder and looked at the mayor’s office. The windows were closed and the curtains were drawn. The mayor had either slept late or was in hiding. Not that it mattered to Tooth; it was time to start the final step of their plan to defend Goulcrest.

The big man took a deep breath, not to steady himself, but to have enough oomph to be loud enough to make his announcement.

“Good people of Goulcrest, I beg that you hear me and heed my words. Some of you know me as Mister Tooth,” he gave the passersby a wide grin as he said his name, “And even though I am new here I am proud to count myself among your number. I call this town my home. I consider you my friends. I come today to ask for nothing, but only to once more offer to help my fellow Goulcrestians in their hour of need.” He outstretched his arm in a giving gesture, one that you might make if you were offering to help someone up from the ground.

Tooth heard a window open behind him and knew that the mayor wasn’t asleep or out of the office. He looked at the crowd that was quickly gathering around him. He had been heard. He could feel the hope build around him, although the anger that was emanating from the mayor’s office bore an intensity he had never felt before. He continued.

“As you know, I have done my best to protect your businesses and homes. I come to amend an oversight that I made in not doing the same for yourselves. I offer to you now a means of protecting yourselves that no one else can offer.”

“Blood and bones,” the mayor cursed, “Are you offering to bodyguard the people of Goulcrest? What are you going to do that the town guard and constabulary cannot?”

“Personally,” Constable Trond Guro said as he stepped from around the Town Hall, “I have spoken with Mister Tooth, and believe his plan is sound.” He stopped just behind Tooth as he completed his sentence. He gave the big man a nod and said, “Neither I nor my men, will be able to defend every individual when the raiders come. The truth is most of the populace will be on your own. I would listen to this man, and accept his offer.” He placed a hand on Tooth’s shoulder and bade him continue.

“I have a rare opportunity for the townspeople. As you know,” Tooth said, “I have come to Goulcrest with the intention of becoming a local merchant.”

“Aha,” Keong cried, “This is the part where he asks for all your money! Give him your life savings and he will save you when the raiders come. Humbug and Hogwash! This man is not your friend! Do not listen to him.” The mayor roared and sputtered, and the people did look at Tooth in askance.

“I want nothing from you. I seek nothing at all.” Tooth reassured them with a soothing yet booming voice. “My shop, the Weapon of Choice, will be offering a special today only. I will provide magic weapons and armor to any and all who will use it to defend themselves and others when the raiders come. I will charge nothing, but there will be a price involved.”

“Do you see the duplicity,” Mayor Keong screamed, “He says he charges nothing, but still there is a price to be paid!”

“Nothing in this life is free,” Tooth nodded in agreement, “And I get nothing from this. I have made a bargain with a god who will provide what we need for something in return.”

“This one’a them blood makes the grass grow kinda gods, or is it a stack the bodies until they reach they sky powers that be?” asked a farmer that Tooth hadn’t seen before.

“Thankfully neither,” Tooth said, “This god wants to go unnamed and unknown, and believes that blood is something that must sometimes be sacrificed in order to preserve things like freedom and life. It seeks not your worship, a pledge of devotion, nor your souls in return.”

“What then does this beneficial and benevolent god of blood desire,” sneered the mayor.

“What do you think,” Tooth asked rhetorically, “The god wants blood. A token and nothing more. In exchange, it will provide magical weapons of various types that will impart a level of skill that will make one either rival or exceed the skills of the incoming raiders. Armor will fit and will be light no matter the type that you get. The only condition is that once the raiders are killed or routed the items you received will return to the god.”

“How is we apposed ta fight if’n we get all wounded givin’ blood,” someone in the back asked.

“Good question,” Tooth said, “We have a healing stone, another gift from the god who shall go unnamed, that will heal and all ailments that you might have in addition to the small wound that you receive for giving blood.”

“And how, do tell, do they give blood, just walk in and lop off a finger? Slit a wrist? How much do they give, a gallon or two? I’ll bet you are feeding some vampire hidden under the floorboards,” Keong complained.

“Why don’t you come down and debate this out in the open rather from the window?” Tooth asked nicely. “That way if you really have a problem you can talk clearly and explain that your problem is, rather than making slanderous remarks about my establishment and its nonexistent connection to the undead?”

“I would rather. . .not,” Keong said taken aback at Tooth’s peaceful request. Clearly, he had been expecting to rile Tooth up into a shouting match so that he could make him look foolish. Tooth smiled inwardly at the thought. Normally, he would have gotten his dander up and probably said or done something that would have made him look bad, but he was cycling his serenity channels hard and had an utter and undeniable peace about him. Keong could have set him on fire and he would have just smiled and thanked him for keeping him warm. “I think I’ll just go back inside and wait for the empire’s soldiers to arrive,” he said wryly.

“Wait,” a man in the crowd yelled, “Are you saying that the empire is sending troops?”

“Well of course,” Keong smiled, “Did you think I would know about the upcoming raid and not do something about it? Did you think I would simply hope that some stalwart citizen, such as Mister Tooth, would step up and defend the citizenry for me? No, I requested aid the moment that we knew about the raid.”

“A-a-actually,” a new voice added the mix, “The eh- eh-empire never received our r-request. I learned only moments ago that our courier was captured and slain by the raiders. He never made it further than three miles. We are in this ah-alone.” Tooth didn’t even have to turn around to see that the speaker was Chozen. He was, in truth, covering up the fact that the mayor had never sent for help but still throwing him under the wagon wheels by letting everyone know they were in this alone. No one was coming to save them. If they were going to survive; they were going to have to do it alone. Chozen returned to his clerk’s office so quietly that no one but Tooth had noticed his absence.

“Dammit!” Keong shouted and then crawled back inside his office and slammed his window shut. Tooth saw his opportunity and took it.

“Good people. I know that you do not know me well, but I will promise you this. I will fight beside you, I will bleed with you, and if necessary, I will fight to the last man until I can no longer lift my arms. I will expect no one to fight, I ask that you join me in defending those who cannot fight. The young and the old, the ill and infirm, if we do not protect them who will?”

“’Ow does we donate this blood and get our stuff?” a member of the crowd asked.

“You go to Weapon of Choice. My manager is there. His name is Frank. Frank will be more than happy to help you with any questions you might have, but the gist of it goes like this. Form an orderly line, enter one at a time. There will be a slot in the wall. Explain what kind of weapon you would like, then place your hand in the slot. You will receive a small cut and you will bleed. When you have made an appropriate donation your gear will appear on the counter. Withdraw your hand, go to the counter, place your wounded appendage on the gemstone that is embedded in the counter. You will heal. Once you are fully healed, please take your items, and move on so the next person can get their items.”

“You think that giving me, say a sword and armor, will let me know how to use it?” Another voice asked.

“Each weapon will endow its possessor with a certain level of skill. Swords go as high as nine, maces as low as the fourth level. Knives, I believe, can go as high as the sixth level. They will also be highly durable and extra sharp. So be careful.” As tooth spoke he scanned the crowd and saw that everyone was paying attention. He even saw Q’uillen and his father across the street. The boy’s dad was signing everything he was saying. He made a mental note to catch them later and make sure that Q’uillen and his family hunkered down in the weapon store. He did not want them involved in the fighting. Tooth didn’t want to see Q’uillen die, and he didn’t want the boy to lose his father.

“We doesn’t get ta keep them though, the weapons or armor?” Another person asked.

“No,” Tooth said firmly, “These things are a boon from a benefactor, and as such will not be permanent.” Tooth kept steady and let his words hang in the air before continuing. “However, the blood god intends to continue providing for the people of Goulcrest once things have returned to normal. The god will still offer a variety of magical wares but will require bigger donations later. We will not transact in gold.”

“You sure you don’t have a vampire under your floorboards,” an old lady asked with a laugh.

“I’m quite positive.” Tooth said with a wink. “I’d go now, and get what you need. It is open to everyone, and I promise that if you do this you will feel better than you have in a long time.” He didn’t tell them that the stone in the shop, which he affectionately referred to as the Rock of Regeneration, cured everything. They could learn that later. Trond began herding people along and led them to the shop in an orderly fashion.

Tooth watched as the crowd began to disperse and was about to go and speak to Q’uillen when another man approached him. This man was not familiar to him, and he wore fine clothes and carried a noble air about him. His posture was perfect and his eyes were alert. His clothes were made from fine silks and leather. Tooth was certain that Dev would have loved to have gotten a taste of the man’s boots.

“That was very surprising. I did not expect that there would be someone here who would stand up the ineffective mayor.” The noble reached out his hand, and Tooth took it. The man had a firm grip. “My name is Sir Lucas, and I have come here looking for my brother who has been missing these last three weeks. Since my arrival, I have been assaulted by blaggarts and stymied in my efforts by the mayor and his crony.”

“How can I help you, Sir Lucas?”

“I believe that you and the people of this town will succeed in not just defending against the raiders, but from what I just heard, completely annihilating them. I will offer my sword and my skill for when the time comes. As you said, I will stand beside you until the end.” Lucas’s eyes never lost contact with Tooth’s and did not blink once. “When this is over, I will ask for your aid in finding my brother. You seem an honest chap.”

“I will be happy to help you, should we survive this mess.” Tooth already suspected that the man that Lucas was looking for was the first body that Dev had deconstructed when they’d arrived. He was fairly sure that Dev could reconstruct the body, but the mind would be void of memories. Would the nobleman be satisfied with a complete amnesiac for a brother? That was a question to be answered in the future.

“Excellent! I look forward to fighting at your side, and I won’t need to make a donation. I am of sufficient skill, and my blade has some enchantments of its own. Look for me when troubles come. I shall be there when you need me.”

The man was really hokey, but he was sincere. Tooth gave him a nod as the nobleman left. It was good to see another person who had little to no stakes in the town being willing to fight for the town. It was such as shame that the mayor wanted the people dead. Such a man should never gotten into the position that he was. Maybe Tooth would do something about that. Perhaps he might institute a recall, and run for the position himself.

The Ogre’s Path to Victory

Sweat and a steady stream of curses streamed from Bannedgeik like a stream falling over a mountain ridge. He was lathered in a fine layer of perspiration that had mixed with road dust, causing black steaks to cover his exposed skin, giving him a tigerish appearance as he walked his way to Goulcrest. He cursed because he was tired. He hadn’t anticipated the walk taking as long as it had already.

By his estimation, he should have been there by mid-day. He was already almost two hours beyond that schedule, it was an hour before the noon sun would hang over him and he wasn’t even a quarter of the way to the town. Ogres were ponderous creatures, recognized for their ferocity and raw power, not their speed.

The sluggish pace of his people was evidenced by the way Bannedgeik galumphed along. He did not walk, so much as he waddled like a baby on unsteady legs. His body was built much like that of a human toddler. An image not dispelled by the fact that the short loincloth he wore looked like a cloth diaper that had split open.

Bannedgeik was hungry and he regretted not bringing a goblin or two along with him to snack on. He blamed no one but himself. Ogres were beasts who operated on little sleep but required a large intake of food. His people slept a little more than two hours a day, and those brief moments of shut-eye refreshed them instantly. Lack of food, however, made them irritable and grouchy. It also made them move slower until food presented itself. It was in those moments that they could move with the alacrity of a boggart hiding from children.

Bannedgeik’s issue was that he hadn’t slept at all. When word had come to him about the destruction of Goulcrest he had already been up far longer than he’d intended. The idea so captured his imagination that he’d left immediately, wanting to expand his territory as much as possible.

He’d considered taking on the town several times in the past, but he knew it had a protector. One that he dared not confront on his own. Now, though, the town leaders themselves had requested that the bandits do their best to eliminate the town from the face of the world, and he took that to mean that the area was up for grabs. The town leaders wouldn’t do anything that would go against the land’s true leader.

As far as he was concerned, the bandits could loot whatever they wanted. Ogres cared little for gold. Once they had what they wanted he would make them leave. They would have no further business on his property. An ogre’s power was measured by the size of his domain. The more land an ogre controlled the more respected they were by their peers. Also, ogre females put a lot of stock in how big a male’s territory was; what an ogre could do with his land was inconsequential. In their minds, and on this particular topic, size mattered.

That thought had spurred him to move when he could have better prepared himself for his journey. Stopping at the bandit camp had been unnecessary. He owed them nothing, and it had cost him several hours that could have been spent making his way to Goulcrest. He hadn’t even gotten any provisions there. They would have given him anything he’d demanded. He could have even gotten some shut-eye before starting out all over again.

Now, he was on the road, tired and hungry, and not really in the mood to push himself any more than he already had. His baby-like legs stomped in frustration and the Ogre decided that he’d had enough. He spied a stump just off the roadside that was big enough for his bulk, and tread a path to the former tree. He sat with a splat and gathered his thoughts.

He could, he estimated, take a couple of hours to catch up on his sleep. It would mean making it to Goulcrest ever late than he’d figured, but whose schedule was he on? He wasn’t working for the bandits. If anything, they were helping him. He couldn’t kill every being in the town on his own, well he could, but it would take him a while, and frankly, he didn’t want to waste his time doing that. So, he could arrive whenever he wanted, but the truth was he wanted to get there sooner rather than later.

His belly rumbled and again he cursed, only this time it was directed at himself. Bannedgeik was a rarity among his kind. He was a smart monster. Among ogres he was practically a genius, more so among the bandits. He couldn’t believe that some of them even knew which end of a sword to hold. Their leader, who was steps above the others of his kind, was still an idiot for even calling on the ogre for help. He could have claimed the town for himself and never involved the ogre at all. He was too scared of a single individual. A human called Toot.

This Toot was so intimidating to Chibot that he’d requested Bannedgeik personally. The ogre could not imagine what was so horrifying that the leader hadn’t just opted to overwhelm the character with disposable bodies of his men. Bannedgeik just couldn’t see it. Toot was a man. He was not, as far as the ogre knew, a mage or wielder of arcane power. A man was just a man, and to an ogre, a man might as well have been a rabbit. A solitary man, no matter how well-armed, no matter how armored, was not enough to impede an ogre that was irritable, let alone on a rampage.

Rabbit. That thought made his stomach rumble again. The one light at the end of his tunnel was the fact that there would be plenty of food in Goulcrest. When all the fighting was done and the dust had settled, he would be able to eat like a king. He would be able to gorge himself for several days he imagined. For now, he would focus on getting some rest.

Bannedgeik placed an elbow on his massive knee, made a fist, and rested his chin on his hand. The fact that it made him look contemplative did not matter to him. He closed his eyes and let the weight of his exhaustion bear down on his eyelids. He was satisfied that he would be able to sleep for approximately two hours and then get back on his way. He would be alert and ready to fight when he arrived, and very hungry. He would be happy to eat the gate guards or some farmers he found along the way, treating them like the appetizers they were in preparations for his later banquet.

Satisfied that he had more than enough time to get to the town before dark, and would be in better shape than if he pushed on as he was, Bannedgeik let himself fall into a state of sleep that he would not rouse from unless he came under attack.

Meditations in the Park

Two hours after his announcement in the town square Tooth was situated on his park stone, seated in the lotus position. The town was silent and no one was about. He assumed that the people had taken his advice and gone to the Weapon of Choice for their temporary weapons and armor. The few people he had seen had recognized that he was busy and had left him alone. Thus, he sat in relative silence and began to descend into a meditative state.

He had done all that he could in preparing the people and the town, now he needed to work on himself. Dev had given him quite a set of tools to work with when it came to cultivation, and he had yet to even examine them.

Tooth had built and grown his channels so that they connected to his chakra points, but he had done little more than cycle them. Each one had taken some time, and he had forged them while Nix was sleeping. Each emotion did something different to him. Anger, he’d learned amplified his strength. Fear made him faster. Serenity provided him with focus. Hope increased his healing. Sadness made him wiser, for it was a result of lessons learned, and love unified his mind, body, and spirit. But there was more to it than that. Love also seemed to connect him to the world and other beings in a way he didn’t understand. He was new to emotions, after all. Tooth was certain that he would figure it all out in time.

The majority of the love that flowed through his channel had come from Nix, and for some reason, it seemed stronger and more potent than the errant bits of love that floated throughout the town. There were snatches of a mother’s love for a child, a boy’s love for his dog, and some people’s love for their town, but nothing fueled him like the energy that Nix provided. He was glad to see that there were people who cared for Goulcrest as much as he and Dev.

The town meant a great deal to Tooth. For an eternity of eternities, Tooth had been little more than a voice that had no say. He had no message of his own, and it wasn’t until he had come here that he’d found others who actually wanted to hear him. He would gladly die in defense of Dev and the town.

In order to avoid that fate, he focused on his task. He was cycling all of the emotions that had filtered into him before reaching the harvesters, but it wasn’t enough. By his own estimation, he had increased his power by fifty percent just from the cycling. Pushing energy through his channels provided quite a boost but he knew there was more that he could do to increase his power.

Unlike most beings who cultivated Tooth had no need to purify his body. Purification was a necessity for cultivators since they had spent years living imperfectly. Their bodies had acquired taint from poor foods, from the air, from unprocessed mana, and so forth, but his body hadn’t. As far as bodies went his was still very much like that of a newborn. He hadn’t had time to have impurities seep into his physical form. The fact that his form, as human as it looked, was not his only one and that shape-shifting as he was capable of also cleaned out any impurities. For example, Tooth could not catch a disease no matter how virulent it was. So he did not need to worry about cleaning his body out so that it could process the emotions better, and he didn’t mind skipping that step at all.

Dev, so full of knowledge, was certain that he had never heard of an emotional cultivator. Every cultivator that he knew of, every bit of information about cultivation that he had all centered on the cultivation of mana.

His knowledge was a conundrum at best. It was something that was difficult to explain so that it was clear and understandable to a layman. Tooth had knowledge of countless things. Things he had never seen nor experienced, but of which he had intimate details. For Nix, it meant he was the best lover she was ever going to have. There was statistical information on untold events, personality traits, and any other thing you could think of that a core might need to know in order to make an informed decision when it came to building their dungeon. So, yes, that even included the naughty stuff.

As the tutor, Tooth was reborn and destroyed every time he encountered a core and then sent it on his way. He knew that he had existed and that he had interacted with core after core; he even knew each core’s name, but he had no memory of what he had said or did while in their presence. This lack of knowledge did not impact the information that the overseers gave him. This was why he knew how long the average core took to accept their fate and begin working with him, or how many spent centuries crying over their new life’s prospects. Statistics. Cold and impersonal as they were, they were what rattled through his head.

Furthermore, knowledge did not implant skill. Knowing how to swing a sword did not mean that he would be a master swordsman if he tried. Somethings, like lovemaking, did not require years of practice. Others did. Even though Tooth knew the keys to success, he still had to find the proper locks to open. He had no affinity for magic, although he understood every spell that had existed up until he abandoned his role as the tutor. He could not teach the spells to anyone because he did not work the magic. It would be akin to telling someone how to build a skyscraper from scratch without providing blueprints, just a list of materials and a vague idea of what the end result would be.

And he could not just impart such knowledge to Dev. He could teach a new language, that only required some root words, a base knowledge of some syntax, a few vowels, and the core would add the language to its repertoire in no time. To verify this fact, Tooth had taught Dev the language that Q’uillen had used with his family. It was a very basic sign language and Dev had picked up on it quickly. Naturally, he couldn’t sign back, but he could understand everything that Tooth had signed in less than ten minutes. He could not do that with spells or a myriad of other things, no matter how badly he wanted to do so.

So, when he checked his memory and found no trace of information pertaining to the cultivation of emotions he came up empty. Which meant that he was on his own, and would have to discover his own path. The first thing he realized was that a normal cultivator would most likely only cultivate one specific emotion. They would focus on that solitary feeling and hone their knowledge of it like a blade on a grindstone. If he had to guess, Tooth would imagine that emotion to be fear, since it was what dungeons were restricted to using. He did not foresee a lot of serenity cultivators appearing. So, the fact that he was working with multiple emotions told him he had jumped into the deep end with a lead weight tied to his legs and he had no idea of how to swim. In other words, getting to the top wasn’t going to be easy.

Then he wondered why he was treating it like it was more than one thing. Anger, joy, serenity, sadness . . . they were all emotions. Would it be possible to bundle them up into a singular system? He didn’t see how he could create another set of channels that would connect them all together.

His serenity channels ran exclusively through his brain. Joy rested in his face, beginning with his eyes, but never quite connecting to the brain itself. The rest of the channels ran through their respective body parts. Never the twain did meet, things too different to exist alongside or understand each other were not meant to run in tandem or parallel to one another. But Tooth had another revelation. He was not just an emotional cultivator. Dev had set him up to take in blood as well. The cultivation stone for that was where his blood was filtered; in his liver. He hadn’t used it hardly at all. He’d only been in one fight so far, and Farmer Ted hadn’t really bled all over him. But it was there nonetheless.

The funny thing about it was that he hadn’t needed to build a series of channels for the blood cultivation. His own circulatory system had substituted as a premade one. Placing the stone in the liver had been genius, as the liver naturally filtered the blood. Thus, the stone would actually be a better filter as it would emulate the functions of his liver on his own blood. It would work out perfectly for him. For some reason, he felt that blood and emotions went hand in hand with one another. He wouldn’t be diluting either their energy but boosting them instead.

He could shunt all of his cycled emotions out of their chakra point stones and down to the liver, where the refined emotions would be placed into his bloodstream. They would not only exist in his emotional channels but would literally become a part of him by infusing his bloodstream with their energies. He had no idea of what that would do, but he was sure he’d be able to survive it and if it didn’t work, he could simply cut the lines and return to business as usual.

He would run a line from each stone down his spine to the fifth dorsal vertebrae and connect them to the bloodstone from there. He started at his crown since it had the furthest to go. Tooth envisioned a silver cord growing out of his serenity stone and traveling down his spine. He snaked the cord around his backbone until it reached his D5. It then reached out like a snake until it hovered just above the bloodstone. Tooth paused, catching his breath. In spite of being in deep meditation, he could feel cold sweat trickling down his body.

Finally, he let the cord reach out and contact the blood cultivator. He felt an electric shock course through his body for the span of a handful of seconds and then all was still. He hadn’t caught fire or exploded and so he assumed he was on the right path. He repeated the process for each of his chakra points until at last, he had come to his emotional base, hope. It was significant that hope was the last emotion he used, as it was simultaneously the greatest emotion and the deadliest. No matter the outcome he had made this entire effort based on hope.

Each time he had sent out a silver cord Tooth had been careful to intertwine the new cord with the preceding one like vines wrapping around one another. He didn’t know why, but his intuition told him that it was the right thing to do. He received a jolt every time a cord connected to the bloodstone, and hope’s line had been no different.

Tooth had waited to feed the new lines the refined emotion. The cords were not technically considered channels until they were flooded with their respective emotions. He’d felt that it was important not to open one up until they were all connected and ready.

The time had come to see if his idea was going to work. If it did he would possibly double his abilities’ powers. If it didn’t and he did not burn up as a result of his experimentation then he would try something else. If he were honest with himself, he had no idea what would happen once his bloodstone filtered his emotions too.

Tooth brought himself out of his meditative state. He contemplated alerting Dev to what he was doing, but he knew that his friend was busy and that if he needed him, he would contact him. The least he could do was respect the core’s privacy as it had with him last night. This was something that he could do while in his regular frame of mind and he saw no need to involve Dev with it while he was off shoring up the town’s defenses. He took a deep breath and let the power flow freely from his chakra points.

His screams echoed across town and his body steamed like a lobster fresh from the pot. Tooth’s body slid limply from the park’s gem and collapsed in a heap on the ground. The big man’s breathing was labored and he let out low guttural moans that were barely audible. Not that there was anyone around to hear them. The pain had been so intense that he hadn’t even had time to send a thought to Dev. He was alone in the grass helpless as a worm standing against an eagle. Tooth’s body twitched and then finally lay still.

The Real Weapon of Choice

Frank, the curator of the Weapon of Choice, looked out his door and looked at the line of men, women, and even some children who were still standing in line patiently waiting for their turn at donating some blood and getting a weapon and some armor. He had expected a lot of people, but not even his creator, Dev, would have expected such a huge turnout. If he had, he would have said so to Frank when they prepped for this moment.

“A gift for the god of blood,” came a voice from behind him. Frank didn’t even turn to look. For some reason, most of the people that came in made that statement, or one very similar to it, whenever they donated blood for their items. He paid no attention, as prayers to an imaginary god would hurt nothing, and it gave people who were nervous something to focus on. He had even suggested that some of the townsfolk, the ones who were scared of the pain, make a declarative statement such as that so as to calm their nerves.

There had been many who had voiced such concerns. “Will this hurt?” and “How much blood do I need to give?” were the biggest questions he’d been asked all day. Each time, he’d directed the apprehensive individuals to the donation slot and told them that it would all be over rather quickly and that their new gear would be waiting for them when they were finished healing. At that point, he would then show them the large ruby-red gem that was inlaid into the oaken countertop. He would then explain that all they had to do was place their hand on it and it would quickly heal them. They would literally leave the shop better when they entered.

Dev had made it so that the healing stone would heal everything from cuts and blood loss to warts and arthritis. The intention, Frank had been informed, was that the people would be better fighters if they had no ailments to worry about. A man with a bad back couldn’t fight very effectively, but one whose spine was in good shape would be able to duck and twist; giving him a far better chance to not only survive but to defend his fellow citizens as well.

Word had spread because there were women in their eighties coming in and getting knives, just so they could alleviate other ailments. It was none of Frank’s business. His job, for the nonce, was to make sure that people came in, gave blood, and left armed and healed. Later on, he would have actual weapons and armor to deal. The plan was rather simple. Weapons purchased later would be bought in the same way, via blood donation. The precedent would be set, and no one would question why they gave out enchanted weapons for blood. Weapons could be made to order or just offer the general stock. Each would have a quart price attached. Some would require multiple donations, but for the price, no one would complain. Twenty pints or twenty thousand in gold pieces; which would the average person prefer to pay? It wouldn’t even be a contest.

“For the blood god!”

Another satisfied customer walked out as the newest one began to give their blood. Somewhere below Dev was reaping the benefits of all the blood he was getting. Frank didn’t know a lot, but he was certain that whatever he needed the upcoming raid would provide more than enough. He hoped that the majority of the blood spilled would be from the raiders, and not the other way around. Frank had been designed to have an affable disposition and have an appreciation for the locals. Even though he knew as much, he didn’t mind. Goulcrestians were good people on the whole. If he weren’t a construct then he would have been proud to count himself among their number.

Frank, a man with a generous belly and a face full of unshaved stubble, rubbed his chin in thought. How many of these people, he wondered, would be gone forever? What was their survival rate going to be? One in ten? It was hard to say. These people were brave, but did they have the courage to face the raiders? It was something to have the skills, but one also needed heart to use them properly. Did the people of Goulcrest have enough heart?

At that thought, he noticed a youth enter the store. The boy, either barely a teen or just on his way to becoming one, said nothing. He ignored Frank and stared ahead patiently waiting his turn. Unlike the others, he was completely silent. The boy was dirty, but then most of the working class was dirty. He looked like he had gone some time without a regular diet, but was just beginning to put some weight on.

The man before him removed his hand from the slot and held his wounded appendage close to his chest. The boy carefully watched as he placed his hand on the red stone, which lit up at the touch, glowing a deep red that enveloped the wounded man. The light continued until he pulled his hand away, and stared at his palm. The cut was gone; like it had never been.

Encouraged, the lad stepped forth and made a few gestures with his hands, praying Frank assumed, and then shoved his arm into the slot in the wall. The boy winced but made not a sound. Frank wasn’t sure why, but this seemed significant. Perhaps the fact that he had just been wondering if the people of the town had the heart to defend themselves had something to do with it. The boy, in spite of his age, had the mettle of ten men so far as he could see. It wasn’t long before the lad stepped away from the donation slot and confidently walked over to the counter.

He completely ignored the set of twin daggers that sat on the countertop, and practically slapped his hand on the gem. The glow, Frank noted, lasted longer than normal. When he was done the boy turned his head and seemed to listen for something. A smile grew across his face and he stuck a finger into one of his ears and gave it a good wiggle. His smile grew larger, he grabbed his knives and ran out the door. He hadn’t seen fit to ask for armor, Frank noted, as none had appeared. Frank turned back to the rest of the people in line, ready to answer any questions they might have. He had to admit, the automated process made his job fairly simple, and Dev’s implementation of it most certainly let him focus on more important matters.

Dev’s Secret Lair, not so much a secret after all

Dev focused on creating his warriors, he was making certain that they would have the skills and raw power needed to fight the raiders. One thing that he had discovered that shocked him was the fact that per his creation logs he would not be able to create new warriors or minions while the raid occurred. He would be limited to whatever he had on hand when the bandits and their allies arrived. Dungeon rules dictated that nothing new could be created or even moved while a delver/adventurer/raider was in his depths.

The townspeople, he learned were not considered to be of that class, since they sought nothing from him. Their presence had no impact on his creation ability whatsoever. Only when someone entered his border and actively sought to kill his minions, guardians, or take his treasures would this rule take effect. It made sense. How fair would it be if he could just keep generating monsters while adventurers tried to complete his levels? It was an understandable rule and one that he wished he could find a loophole to get around. The battle was going to be brutal, and many would die, but if he could just generate new guardians every time he lost one, things wouldn’t be so bad. He might have even managed to defend the citizens all by himself. That option was locked.

The core was concerned but believed he could work around this issue. Blood was coming in via the weapon shop, but not in enough volume that it would allow him to catapult to the next level. That was why he needed the raid. He hated to admit that, but the raid would provide him with templates from other races, and enough blood for him to get to the second level. It might even provide enough that he might even reach level three. Who knew? Dev certainly didn’t. Which was why he wanted his guardians to be designed to their utmost form.

He had hoped beyond hope that he would have caught the rampaging duck by this point. Its raw power would have been a welcome addition to his guardian’s forms, but he had failed to draw it out, or even find a trace of it anywhere.

That last bit bothered Dev. He ought to be able to see anything inside of his dungeon’s borders, but he knew that he wasn’t seeing everything. When he had replicated Chozen the clerk’s brain, the memories therein told the core that there was a being known as Skull that came and went without his notice. Skull, like the duck, had gone completely unnoticed. The only reason that Dev had taken note of the duck was because of its murder spree. Bodies, and the memories of the victims, told him what had happened. So far as he could tell, the duck appeared out of nowhere and then returned once its grisly task was completed. Likewise, the mysterious Skull came and went as he or she pleased, and never was Dev the wiser.

This told Dev that either his vision within his dungeon was not without flaws, or the creatures did something that hid their presence from him. Dungeons weren’t all-powerful, and so Dev assumed that there would be creatures that could avert his gaze without him noticing. He would have to look into it in the future. The impending raid took all of his attention. He was thankful that he had automated the weapon receiving process like he had the exchange of trash for coins. If he’d had to focus on those two things and work on his warriors he would be overwhelmed. As it stood, he watched the town walls and gates like a blood hawk, keen for any sign of the raiders, on top of trying to develop some deadly traps and his guardians.

He had traps to place and people to kill, and worrying about how many pennies someone got for a bag of trash would have taken away from his resources and time. That was why he had abandoned his search for the duck. As badly as he wanted it and wondered where it was, he had resigned himself to focus on the bigger picture and not worry about a feathered fiend or a skull-wearing manipulator. Still, it would have been nice just to know where one of them was.

Had Dev had a physical form he would have jumped at the sound that echoed throughout his secret lair. It was something that he had not expected or prepared for, and the moment he heard it he realized that he had not a single guardian in his chamber to protect him.

“Waugh!”

Dev focused his attention to his core chamber, and the only thing he could think of when he saw the missing mallard twenty feet away was just how fragile hematite was. Where had Moe ranked it? He couldn’t recall, but he knew that it was fragile enough that no one ever made rings from the material, the stones tended to shatter or crack with little effort. That duck had torn through bodies and tissue that would have given a bear pause. He would stand little chance of lasting more than seconds if he faced its fury.

“Quack, quack, Ack, ack!” Dev swore that he could see rows of fangs in the duck’s bill, fangs that were sharp and would have no issue crunching his sediment into powder. His mind raced. What could he do? If he contacted Tooth his companion wouldn’t have time to get to him before the duck destroyed him. He couldn’t create a guardian, as it was clear the beast had come here looking to harm him, and the rules said he could not make any life form to attack or defend himself so long as one creature was within his confines that sought something from him. He did the only thing he could think of in this situation.

The core readied his cheeriest voice and said, “Hello!”

His attempt to lighten the situation shattered when he heard Tooth scream, and felt the shock that was so severe that even Dev’s core was rocked by its intensity. The core lost focus and completely forgot about his own predicament when Tooth was overwhelmed by his emotion cycling. Even the dragon core that had been immured in the wall seemed shaken by the event. Dev could hear its shock at being awakened from the pain they shared. The cold dead eyes of the duck staring at him brought back to sobriety in a flash. Dev regretted not being able to look in on Tooth, but he had a major problem to deal with himself.