Chapter 160: Concerning Moral Choices

Excerpt from the book “Dungeons and Diving” By the veteran diver Duncan

The Arga Archipeligo, west of the southernmost Major Earthen empire’s coastal city. A beautiful array of islands you can spot from the Dim tower within the city. How I do love my sightseeing, but this is not why I bring this up.

After the third island within the crescent moon chain, a marine trench resides. Down the deepest depths of that terrifying pit lies a dungeon. One unlike any other; in that, you cannot die within.

Now, before you stop reading, hear me out. Heralded as the safest dungeon by the locals, all telling me the same thing. “You would sooner go mad than die in that dungeon.”

Intrigued by this concept, I loaded up with ladders and dived into it. Now, I have lived for a long time. Survived hundreds of dungeons, but this place was downright lethal. Tons of traps a single hair could trigger, monsters aplenty, and the damned water.

Well, it saddens me to inform you that it was the first time I died. Accepting my fate, I allowed the drowner to pierce my heart. Only for me to feel a massive pulling sensation, gasping for air as I am thrust in a random direction. When I came to, I was alive, drowning, and naked. How I hated gathering my stuff.

“Dinner, dinner, dinner, Fatman!” I shouted on the way to my kitchen. Laughing internally at Batman and his overweight counterpart, Fatman.

Stepping into that marble kitchen, only to see Jengal cooking away. “Wow, you moved in quick,” I comment as I go and sit on one of the chairs.

“A war will do that,” he chuckles. A subtle hint of nervousness undertoning his voice, causing me to frown in concern; I hope he alright.

“You okay?

I glance away for a moment before smiling, “yeah, I am fine.”

Realizing he doesn’t wish to talk, I leave it at that. “Okay, good, you can always come to me if something is bothering you.” Clapping his shoulder, “what ya cooking?”

“Breakfast.”

Looking into the pan, I see some kind of mush. “More detail?”

“Its Coola, potato, carrot, garlic, and sometimes other vegetables steamed and then mashed into patties. Quickly fried, and you have breakfast.”

“Can I try some?”

“Sure, some are cooling over there,” he points to a plate on the side.

Walking towards the disc-shaped patties. I break a small piece off, revealing the soft inside. Taking a careful bite, quickly realizing the texture is godawful.

“Pretty good, hu?” Jengal enquires.

“Yeah, they are alright.” Politely putting the rest of it back on the plate.

“No need to be shy; have some.” Causing me to choke on air; I definitely don’t want any of them.

“I am fine, feeling cheesy.” Hoping that will get him off my back.

“Alright, I’ll add some cheese to the next batch.”

His niceness is crushing my heart.

“Please, I want some solid food.” Causing him to frown.

“Sorry, I am more of a texture person. When you are done, I will whip up some grilled cheese.”

“Smile slightly forced, okay, that’s fine.” Looking at his slightly sad face causes my heart to pang. Sorry buddy, but I would eat that if it was the last meal on earth. Shivering at the memory of the texture.

His mother walks in shortly after, smelling the air. “I smell Coola, any for me?”

“Of course, come and get them.” He says, pointing at the plate.

She quickly heads towards it, grabbing one and eating it. She cleared the plate with haste, lightly patting her belly with a smile.

“Ease up a little on the salt next time. You would kill a desert dweller with one.”

“Yeah, but those people aren’t here. They don’t appreciate salt.”

She shoots him a glare, causing him to find something interesting on the floor.

Smiling at their little bit of drama while I grab a frying pan. “Who wants a grilled cheese?” I enquire.

A unanimous “yes!” Told me I need to make 3. Grating some chedda, smoked cheese, and jalapeno cheese. Piling them onto the bread and frying it into a beautiful grilled cheese.

They were warmly received, being eaten with haste.

“Bit tough for my tastes,“ Jengal jokingly prods.

Hanna, unaware of the kitchen drama, frowns. “I think they are pretty great.”

“Thank you,” I reply. Enjoying the little bit of praise, chefs feed off it like emotional vampires. I suppose anyone who ‘creates’ is an emotional vampire. With some exceptions, I would imagine. Humans are proud creatures, and mentally, I still am one.

Halfway through dinner, Chic wanders in, riding Sling.

“Chic, Sling is not your horse,” I scold. Laughing a little at the silly appearance.

She just sends me a mental eye roll, not evening doing it physically. Is that laziness or a powerplay?

She gets off her gelatinous horse, strolling to the side of the table. Sending mental demands for food in the sassiest mental images possible.

I reply that please and thank you is how we ask for things. Instead of using manners, all I get is the pupy-dog eye. Less effective, given her species being a spider; nonetheless, the emotional weight mounted, causing me to send a white flag in defeat.

Getting up and preparing her a grilled cheese. Mentally cursing the manipulative arachnid.

Hanna and Jengle softly chuckle at my expense. “Spider got you on lock,” Jengal laughs. Hanna nods in agreement; want me to hire a priest?”

Rubbing my brows, “I’m good.”

The spider just merrily eats the grilled cheese, not giving them a lick of her attention.

“Did you bring Rex?” I ask Jengal, recalling his familiar.

“Yeah, he is in my room.” Using his hands to gesture up the hallway.

“I look forward to seeing him again.” Finding it funny he has a dinosaur.

The mealtime didn’t last long after that, everyone left to do their own thing.

This leads me to a dilemma. Do I go back to working on my build or do something else to refresh my creative batteries?

I’ve done a lot of building; let’s do some work on getting that magic mirror. The primary thing that may make this difficult is the need for a demon. I either have to think of a substitute sacrifice or contact the witches.

Well, let’s do both. Quickly writing a letter and sending it to the witches. Asking to trade for an ethical method to summon demons.

Now, what do I have that could emulate a human. I would try my clone if they didn’t break apart when the shell is broken.

Quickly skimming the book mentioned that you can talk and trade with them. If only I could access that infernal dimension. I could perhaps try and use the Tardis.

With haste, using my dislocator, I am brought to that dreary town the witches call home. Finding an apothecary that a witch runs, an easy means to contact them. Stepping out of the dim, grey, spooky city, I enter into a much brighter room.

A sweet smell permeates the room, flowers bloom along old wooden shelves, and a youthful, wise-looking woman stands behind the counter. She eyes me warily but doesn’t speak.

Tearing my eyes away from the rainbow, I walk towards her. Standing in front of an ancient look desk that she sits behind. “Hello, my name is Aeternum.” Watching her face, much like the flowers, bloom in surprise. “I would like to speak with someone higher up the chain. Thought it prudent to politely start from the bottom.”

“Of course,” she says with a half bow, rushing through the backroom. Using my free time to look through a dusty catalog on the desk. Lists and descriptions of flowers I’ve never heard or seen before; it is interesting.

Sneakily transcribing it straight onto the reading app for future perusal. He comes back shortly, spotting me taking photos of the book. She sends me a confused look but remains silent. Shrugging, I continue.

After about 15 minutes, I hear a slight chime. Turning around, I see a familiar face. “Hello, it has been a while,” I say to the youthful, small woman.

“Hello, Aeternum, it has been some time, hasn’t it?” She steps towards me, standing only a meter away.

“I am surprised you came in person.” Smiling lightly at her.

“Of course, I would come in person for my favorite witch.” Coughing slightly at the praise. “It is nice to see your face.”

Opening my eyes wide, “right, I never did show you my face! How did you recognize me?”

She just scoffs, “who doesn’t know at least your description. Although, it is surreal seeing you in person. What species are you again?”

“Ah, yes, it’s, I am never gonna tell you. Did you catch it that time?”

The brat just rolled her eyes. “Walk with me.”

“Okay,” following her out of the shop. Walking along the hallowed streets.

“I got your letter, how to safe summon. Gonna be pricy.”

Laughing lightly, “as if our last deal wasn’t heavily lopsided in your favor.”

With a wide grin, “Yeah, I won’t deny that, but that was the past this is now.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I say defeatedly. “So, what do you want to scam out of me this time?”

“The source of how you got those books.”

“Not gonna happen,” I say bluntly. “It is intrinsically linked to me and not something I share without serious thought.”

“Nice to know that It involves you. Worth a try.”

“Damned fisherman. My access to resources has increased; truly, do you need any materials?”

“How about vampire blood?”

Pausing in surprise, that is absolutely loaded. If I say yes, it verifies that vampires exist; if I deny it, it will hurt my deal. Thinking about it, pausing as that has already told her the answer. “Yes, I can get you vampire blood.” Shooting her the dirtiest glare I can achieve.

“Okay, deliver us some vampire blood, and we will give you our ethical method.”

“I will be right back.” Teleporting away and heading towards my shells. Slipping into my vampire lord form, feeling extremely tired. The weight of the sun, even beyond walls, makes being in this form difficult. Using a little too much force, I slice my arm wide open. Stressing my jaw shut in a combination of pain and stress. Tasting iron, as they bleed from me chewing my lips.

After collecting a bottle, I return. Already having returned to human form. I would have asked one of the vampires for a donation, but I have curse resistance; they do not.

“Back already,” she warmly greets.

“Of course, I need that method.” Handing her the bottle of still-warm blood.

She uncorks the bottle and smells it, rolling it in the bottle before corking the rapidly coagulating blood. “So they are back.”

“With peace on the agenda. Please keep it to yourself, or I might be forced to do things I otherwise wouldn’t.”

A slight smile returns my threat, “something I never expected you to say. Fear not; we have no reason to ruin our relationship with you. The cat is already more or less out the bag.”

“How is it already out the bag?”

“People talk. I only asked you in hopes of confirming a million rumors that have reached my ears.”

“I will have to speak with them about secrecy.” Pausing for a moment to think. “By the way, the war is starting.”

She is the one to pause this time. “Nonsense, we are at a political wall regarding it.”

“You don’t have to believe me, but I have reason to believe it is going to happen, and soon.”

“We will consider what you have said,” She says, looking down in contemplation.

“Now, how do I do it?”

“Use prisoners on death row.” She says simply.

“What!” I shout. “You damn actual people to Inferno!”

“So that’s what it is called.” She says, writing in her magically appearing notepad. “What? they were evil and may as well be useful for something.”

Rage starts bubbling in my stomach, anger, pure, distilled, anger. “No matter what, damning souls to living in a deeper hell than the nether is a crime of pure evil!” Shouting at her. She seems stunned, stepping back. White-hot fury still simmers under the surface, “no matter how correct you may feel, depriving a soul the right to an afterlife is pure criminal.” I manage to say in a patient tone.

“I need to cool off; I would advise you to look into other methods. Because no soul, no matter how heinous, deserves to be cast into such a nightmare.

Teleporting away before I do something I would regret.