“I hate this,” Zeke muttered, half under his breath, as he watched his army of former slaves march ahead of him. Thankfully, the dwarf known as the Arsenal had been more than happy to help out by providing plenty of weapons and armor, so each of the slaves were equipped. Not well, but even patchwork armor and poor quality weapons were better than nothing.

“A good general does not lead from the front,” said Jasper, a refrain he’d repeated a dozen times since beginning their trek through the maze of the tunnels that would lead them to the spire at the center of Min Ferilik. There, they expected to find the bulk of the dwarven resistance.

Over the past few hours, they’d encountered a few scattered patrols, but the slaves had fallen upon them with vicious fervor. Zeke couldn’t blame them, either. If someone had enslaved him for years, he might’ve reacted with even more ferocity.

Of course, he had been enslaved, but his captivity had been a matter of choice. If he’d wanted to escape, he could have. He’d only gone along with it because the dwarves had access to something he had needed. Now, he judged that he’d gained every benefit he could from the situation, and he was keen to escape. The other former slaves were even more eager.

Zeke shook his head. “I’m no general,” he stated.

“Tell that to them,” Jasper said, gesturing at the others. The dark elf had armed himself with a rapier and a parrying dirk, and he’d clad himself in low-quality leather armor. It fit poorly, but it bore a rudimentary enchantment that would offer some meager protection. As Zeke kept reminding himself, it was better than nothing.

“Everyone doesn’t have built-in armor,” remarked Eveline from within his own mind. “You’re a very special boy.”

“Shut up,” Zeke thought.

“Oh, you’re testy. I thought this was what you wanted,” she said.

“Most of these people are going to die,” he answered. But in the back of his mind, he knew that he’d much prefer to sacrifice them than to see the kobolds killed. It was a curious dichotomy. The former slaves were largely innocent, and they certainly didn’t deserve their fate. So, Zeke should have been just as worried about them. But try as he might, he couldn’t think of them as anything but tools to be used.

There were a few he desperately wanted to see survive, but by and large, the others were all strangers. Sending them to their deaths was easy. Besides, they would attack with or without Zeke’s blessing or support. He had no real control over them.

But the kobolds? They were depending on him. He hadn’t forgotten his promise to the great wyrm far beneath the mountain. She had raised the kobolds from nothing, instilling them with something approaching sapience, and she had entrusted Zeke to see them through the current crisis. And the kobolds, as a result, trusted him completely. He couldn’t imagine letting them down – not willingly.

He shook his head in bemusement, and Eveline asked, “What?”

“You can read my mind, Eveline. You know exactly what I was thinking,” he said.

“Yes, but I’m being polite,” she stated primly.

“That’s a first.”

“You’re not the only one who can evolve,” she stated. “Just tell me what you’re thinking, okay? I don’t want to pluck it out of your thoughts.”

“Fine. It’s just that I should be more worried about these people than the kobolds, right? I mean, the kobolds are still just monsters,” he explained. “Advanced monsters, and maybe on the verge of becoming something else, but still monsters all the same.”

“So was Pudge.”

“That’s different,” Zeke said.

“How?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. In the beginning, he’d thought of Pudge like a pet. A beloved one, sure, but a pet all the same. However, as the bear cub had grown into a young adult, and their connection had deepened, Zeke had begun to see him as a person. A hairy, four-legged person, sure. But still a person. And judging by what Zeke felt through the bond, Pudge had further evolved. Perhaps when they were reunited, he would be fully sapient.

Were the kobolds any different? Really? Their connection to the wyrm hadn’t been a soul bond – not like what Zeke shared with Pudge – but it wasn’t far off, either. At least as Zeke understood it.

“You’re on the right track,” Eveline said. “My knowledge in this subject is very limited. Mostly myths and legends, and even that is muddled by my…ah…situation. But it is well-known that the truly powerful can reach down and drag others up with them. The world – both of them – is littered with beings who only gained sapience in service to someone more powerful. From what I can tell from your memories, the wyrm was in the process of doing something similar with the kobolds. She didn’t finish. Her efforts were cut short by the necessity of opposing this…blood wraith…so she latched onto someone with vast potential.”

“Me.”

“You,” she confirmed.

Suddenly, Zeke felt the weight of even more responsibility settle onto his shoulders. They might be monsters, but they were his monsters. And soon, they would become his people. There was never even a question of whether or not he would refuse the obligation.

“Is it regret?” Eveline asked, her mental voice quiet. “Is that why? You don’t have to save them any more than you were required to save those people back in the Radiant Isles. It’s okay to be selfish.”

Maybe Eveline was right. It seemed that everyone else believed that selfishness was the only way to progress. And many of Zeke’s own choices had reflected that. But as much as his decisions made sense, he couldn’t help but feel a note of shame. All those people back in the Radiant Isles were probably already dead. Or undead. And maybe he couldn’t have stopped it, but then again, he’d done plenty of things he shouldn’t have been capable of doing. He’d done the impossible often enough, so who was to say that he couldn’t have done it again?

He'd had his reasons for abandoning the people to the undead scourge. When he’d first made the choice, it had come because he truly didn’t see how he could win. However, as he’d progressed, growing more powerful along the way, that line had become blurred. In the end, he probably could have saved some of them. It would have been a long, difficult war, but he could have dragged some people to the appropriate level and saved them.

But along with those blurred lines of possibility came a host of other reasons to move on. For one, there was his corrupted skill. He’d mostly ignored it at the time, but only because he’d expected to fix things upon ascension. However, he didn’t know how he would have dealt with it in the long-term. Could he have endured it? Maybe. Probably. But it would not have been pleasant.

And then there had been Abby’s betrayal. After, if he’d chosen to stay and help the people of the Radiant Isles, he’d have had to deal with her, too.

“Can I say something?” asked Eveline.

“I don’t think I can stop you.”

“Stop beating yourself up,” she said.

“I don’t know if I can stop feeling guilty.”

“That’s not what I said,” Eveline stated. “I’m telling you to accept that you’re not perfect. No one is. You made mistakes. You probably should have stayed to save those people. But you didn’t. That’s in the past.”

“I can’t just –”

“You can’t change the past, Ezekiel,” she interrupted. “You can only learn from it and vow to do better in the future. You feel guilty about the people you didn’t save? Well, there are thousands of kobolds who need you. These slaves, too.”

“And the dwarves?” asked Zeke. He was well aware that they hadn’t chosen their path. The corruption had robbed them of their humanity –

“Dwarfanity?” suggested Eveline.

“Sure. We’ll go with that.”

The demonic corrosion had fundamentally changed them, and over multiple generations, they’d lost touch with whatever it meant to be a dwarf. So, could they be held accountable for not adhering to concepts of good and evil they could no longer understand?

“It’s moot. They’re too far gone,” Eveline said. “Perhaps if you’d come along right after they opened the portal, but now? If they survive, they’ll just rebuild the portal to Hell and resume their pointless search for their Prince, never even knowing that he’s already dead.”

Zeke sighed aloud, and Jasper eyed him suspiciously. The dark elf had no idea that Zeke was holding an entirely silent conversation and if he did know that Zeke had a demoness in his mind, there was no telling how he would react. No – it was better for Zeke to keep that to himself.

“I wish you were wrong,” Zeke responded. Though, he knew better. He’d seen their lifeless eyes. In some ways, it reminded him of the frost giants back in the Radiant Isles. The jotuns’ inability to procreate had stripped all hope from their lives, and they’d responded with apathy and despair. The dwarves were like that, but magnified by a dozen generations. Once, they might’ve been a mighty civilization – the fact that they’d held on so long suggested as much – but now? They weren’t even a shadow of their former glory, and they would only get worse. Ending them was almost a mercy.

Or maybe Zeke was just rationalizing it so he wouldn’t add another genocide to the mountain of guilt he bore on his shoulders. Pointedly, Eveline did not refute that notion, though she didn’t seem to support it either.

“A neutral observer. That’s me,” she said, her mental voice quiet.

Zeke snorted an audible laugh, which garnered another sideways look from his dark elf friend. Jasper didn’t say anything though. Perhaps he thought Zeke had gone crazy in the demon realm.

Over the next few hours, the group of former slaves slowly traversed the tunnels, gradually ascending towards the city proper. Moving so many people, regardless of how eager they were, proved to take a lot longer than Zeke anticipated, and eventually, they were forced to call a halt. Once they had, Zeke summoned enough food to feed them, which exhausted most of his reserves, and the group proceeded to rest. Some of the weaker slaves immediately went to sleep, but others milled around, conversing with their acquaintances and friends.

Finally, once everyone had been fed, Zeke directed Jasper to let everyone know that they were moving out, and soon after, they resumed their march. Eventually, they started to pass empty domiciles carved into the mountain, which told Zeke that they were drawing ever closer to the city. But it wasn’t until he heard the sounds of battle that he realized just how much ground they’d covered.

Echoed shouts filled the tunnels, and upon hearing the fight ahead, the slaves could be held back no longer. They surged as one, roaring in a challenge that said one thing: they were thirsty for dwarven blood, and they would not be satisfied until they got it. They weren’t an army; rather, they were a mob, wild and uncontrollable.

Zeke may have been able to reign them in, but he chose not to. What right did he have, after all? They weren’t his people. And what’s more, they deserved their vengeance. Even Jasper looked eager to join the fray, but when he looked in Zeke’s direction, he was pulled up short by a shake of Zeke’s head.

“Not yet,” he said.

There were a few others that had looked toward Zeke for guidance. Eta, for one. The Arsenal, for another. The orc who’d spread the story of Zeke’s first encounter with a bronze golem hung back as well. Altogether, nearly a dozen former slaves chose to ignore their bloodlust in favor of sticking with Zeke.

Almost as soon as the last of the former slaves rounded the next curve, which took them out of view, Zeke heard an enormous clatter as they joined the battle. It was clearly much closer than he’d expected.

“You don’t think they’ll attack the kobolds, do you?” asked Zeke aloud. He regretted it the moment the words left his mouth, but there was no pulling them back in. He’d meant to confine the question to his thoughts, but in the excitement of the impending battle, he’d made a mistake.

Jasper asked, “The kobolds are here?”

“What kobolds?” asked Eta.

Eveline chuckled at his misstep, but she answered the question anyway. “Probably not. They’ll only have eyes for the dwarves,” she said. “Now, after all the dwarves are dead, they might prove to be a bit of a problem. If only there was someone to take charge of the survivors…”

“I hate you sometimes,” Zeke muttered in his head. Then, aloud, he said, “The kobolds are allies. Don’t attack them, and they shouldn’t attack you either. I’ll explain more once we’re all free.”

Then, without waiting around to answer more questions, Zeke strode forward, following the tunnel until he beheld the sight he’d been waiting on for quite some time. Min Ferilik lay before him with its glittering bridges and intimidating spire. And more importantly, somewhere up above was the exit.