Year 123
Since time immemorial, man has been searching for means to themselves more powerful. That is true then, and that is true now. Even nature itself is forever locked in an arms race, as species evolved for an advantage, and other species evolved in response to that advantage.
War and evolution are tied together in many ways. “This is the latest generation of woodformed weapons.”
I showed my latest upgraded versions of the Wooden spears to Jura and the selected Valthorns. I had given out two more upgraded classes, one [Grand Knight], and one [Spearmaster]. It was a small group, less than 10.
“Is it’s effectiveness against demons improved?”
“Slightly.” I had spent a lot of time analysing the crystal matrices, and have managed to copy a little of its effects. But to replicate it wholesale is still beyond me, for now.
Every iteration is slightly better, slightly more powerful. Sad, to think that my [Woodforming] is used in this way. I should’ve made statues instead.
One of the wooden spears shrunk, and the attendees jumped. “Wow.”
“It’s now... expandable. That way it’s easier to move around. I copied the idea from one of the heroes’ star-mana withdrawable swords.” In hindsight, I should’ve made something like this way earlier. It’s essentially just a magical lightsaber, but with wood. Not exactly difficult to make a seed-like thing that releases a spear and later on retracts it. Nature already has many similar mechanisms.
In a way, it’s also partly pocketspace, similar to my [secret hideout].
“It’ll be tuned to all of you.”
“Tuned?”
“Yes, with runes. The gem-inserts have runes and so, add a drop of blood to it and it’ll recognise you as it’s owner.” Again, not an original idea. Some heroes have invented star-mana weapons that only recognise people who have their blood, essentially as a means of preserving power for their descendants.
“The heroes have this?”
“Well... no.” They have better ones.
“Ah.” Edna said, examining her new lance and shield. As a knight, she gets some mount-specific boosts, and so there’s some new wooden protective gear for her mount. “Seems like I’ll have to fight demons soon.”
“It’s not hard. The rule is simple, focus on your target, and don’t stray too far outside Aeon’s suppression aura.” Jura explained. He’s now Level 90.
“Aeon’s suppression aura should be everywhere.” Faris said, as he too examined his wooden staff and armor. There were not many weapons I could make for Faris, because he is a ranged and support hero.
I agree. But sadly my suppression aura’s weaker as I go further.
“This means Aeon puts the odds of the heroes winning the next battle at close to zero, doesn’t it?” Our [spearmaster] asked.
Jura paused. “It would be so. It’s not exactly uncommon for heroes to die to the demon king. Their recent string of victories is quite abnormal, and has happened no more than 5 times in the past few hundred years.”
“And so the peace of Harrisan ends.” Faris said. An era of relative peace, named after the most visible of the hero kings, Harris. “It seems our upgraded classes have not been given out for no reason.”
“Are you afraid, [Great Druid]?” Edna smiled.
“Should I not be?”
“Worry when the time comes.” Jura spoke. “For now, practice, and keep gaining levels.”
“Certainly.” Edna nodded. “Aeon, are there any restrictions of use for these items?”
“No. Try them out on the hybrids. I recall a large group has been spotted.”
“Gladly.”
Those with the upgraded classes, and Jura went for it. I believe they will succeed. Maybe even Jura himself would be sufficient, with his recently acquired strength.
On the home front, the heroes have been experimenting with new kinds of spells. They wanted to make themselves into a bomb, just like the demon king. I couldn’t help them. I mean, I don’t have the ability to give them that kind of power. Trees don’t blow up. Except for hybrid trees, but that’s an outlier.
So they had to speak to others, and Gerrard had been travelling everywhere.
Harris too, had to frequently intervene in his family conflicts. It was just lucky that his curse did not flare up when he was temporarily away.
“Aeon.” Mirei said, when the two heroes are away. “What’s it like, being a tree?”
I didn’t answer. It was more like, I didn’t even know where to begin describing it.
“Sorry. Must be offensive. I suppose it’s the equivalent of you asking me, what’s it like being a hero.” Mirei said. “I asked because well, I’m an alcoholic and tea addict now. Rumors are swirling about, that the heroes would not survive the next one. Of my curse, and Harris’s.”
She looked wistful.
“What do you think of this idea, the hero-bomb?” It wasn’t the first time she asked. I said it was a wise decision.
“It’s a good one. It’s pragmatic.”
Mirei paused. “I hoped you’d not give me the same answer. Tell me it’s wrong.”
“It’s wrong.”
Mirei laughed, and then cried. “Fuck it. Gerrard’s running around in a wild goose chase. I don’t think there’s any mage who knows how to make themselves into a walking nuke. Even if it’s a damned good idea.”
“Keep cursing.”
“Yeah. I should probably stop wallowing in my misery.” Mirei stood. “Here’s an idea. Write runes inside my soul. Can you do that? There must be a nuclear-rune somewhere. Invent one.”
“Runes work on physical objects.” Well, in honesty, I’ve never tried. I’m not aware whether runes can be written in the soul realm, but then, the soul spring does have rune-like inscriptions and patterns.”
“Says who.”
“No one.”
“Then can you try?”
“Writing runes in the soul spring...” I’m not sure if that’s possible, but certainly worth trying.
“Try it on me. Don’t let Harris or Gerrard know.”
“Why not?” I had the impression Gerrard was open to the idea of nuclearising themselves.
“Fine. Don’t let Harris know.”
I wondered then, if it’s possible to write a rune or blood ritual into the soul-spring, such that it triggers a hexbomb-like event. Is this how we can assure victory, but making heroes into nukes? It’s pragmatic, certainly. Sensible, even. But I get Mirei and Harris’s point that there’s some quite wrong with it. How is it different from a kamikaze attack? Or in the case of a soldier charging into the firing range, preparing to die?
I couldn’t quite answer that, but no matter.
I poked into Mirei’s soul spring again, and this time I used my feelers to attempt to write runes in her soul spring. It didn’t work.
Not on the rocks of the soul spring. But, I could write runes on the water, or the ground around her spring. But then the waters from her soul spring quickly washed the rune away.
“It’s... actually possible.” I was amazed. If one could find a way to make the rune stick, then it’s possible to have a soul that’s covered in runes. Or at least, outside of the soul-spring.
“What. Does that mean you can make me a nuke?”
No. Not just that. Could I use runes to suppress her curse even further? But... how and where do I start? There are two main hurdles. One, there’s a need to find something that makes lasting runes in the soul area, around the soul spring. Two, what runes do I use, and what is it’s long term effects on a person?
That’s of course, something to research.
-
Criminals exist in every society. Each of the segments of the Freshlands administers it’s own set of rules and justice, and this is something we, as the ‘Federal’ entity, do not generally participate in.
It’s a federal-state relationship, though. Simply because I don’t want to be bothered by the minutiae, and I am also not interested in micromanaging people. I’d rather focus on trees, gardens and stuff.
One area which I do make orders, is that every large town and segment has gazetted gardens and parks, and long strips of trees-flanked roads. This is something the Federal Freshlands Authority, headquartered in Freshka, gazetted and required of all of its cities. A small requirement, really, since I’ll handle the creation of trees and parks, the towns just have to leave the space and path for it. That’s on top of the protected forests and jungles.
In a way, it’s almost possible to imagine the Federal Freshlands Authority like the National Parks Service on extreme steroids, to the point that it’s the main authority. The Valthorns’ rangers, are just a militarised version of the Park Rangers.
And since they are militarised, they do also catch... criminals.
Which are useful.
Rumors have been swirling about that criminals caught are subjected to my experiments. That the Aeon of Freshka is outwardly a benevolent deity, but it treats it’s criminals as materials for gruesome experiments.
I’m rather amused by it. Because it’s true.
Serious criminals are used for my soul-related experiments. For blood magic. For creating the [Soul-strengthening seed].
After all, the legal terminology used to describe the punishment for serious crimes is ‘Subject to Aeon’s Mercy.’. I didn’t know who came up with that, I suspect one clever lawyer or justice of peace, but yes, it’s a phrase that has begun to strike fear into everyone.
No one subjected to Aeon’s Mercy had ever returned. How could they, with their souls ripped out of their bodies and turned into living experiments.
Still, criminals persist, and many of these states have added a ‘layer’ beneath that punishment. Their citizens demanded something less frightening. Mostly involved life imprisonment.
Criminals are quite fun, actually, and I actually received some rather interesting criminal classes. I even fused them to create more powerful criminal classes. Like [Bandit Lord], or [Master Thief]. As I thought of this, Jura had just finished capturing a runaway murderer.
Punishment for multiple murders? Aeon’s mercy.
I feel like that’s such an evil euphemism. It’s like saying walk the plank, instead of jumping off the ship. The criminal is tied up, and loaded into a Beetle with a cage. A Cage-Beetle. There are hundreds of these beetles, travelling between all the various segments of the Freshland, collecting all these criminals and ferrying them here.
To me. For my experiments.
A logistic network of high-sec criminals set up to feed my need for materials, coordinated by my artificial minds.
“Alright. That’s three.” Jura locked the criminals inside. They wailed and screamed.
“Let me out! Please, counsel, I beg you. Not Aeon’s Mercy!”
“The Federal Law is clear. Multiple murders and domestic crimes put you under Federal Jurisdiction. Aeon has every right to claim you.”
“Please no!”
Such exchanges were common. Why is it that bad? Kings sentence criminals to death all the time. Usually an executioner with a massive axe would do the dirty job.
Jura shrugged. “You may consider your appeal before Aeon himself.”
None succeeded. The very fact that my artificial minds have assessed them as targets meant they’ve passed the preset thresholds.
A fellow Valthorn just gulped and looked at Jura. Every year they collect about 1,000 or so criminals. It’s on a steady decline, as more and more criminals learn not to cross that threshold. Not much, when the entire Freshland region is now home to some 4 million people, spread across the 15 segments and the 50 cities, 300 towns and 5,000 or so villages within it.
The Freshlands is massive, now that I have recovered close to 10 percent of what was the entire Rottedlands. Time needed for a beetle to travel from one end to another without rest takes a full 7 days. Freshka itself now is home to about 150,000, being the Federal Capital and Administrative Seat of the Freshlands Representative Council.
They’ve been changing the names every now and then. Little matters that I left to Kavio and the representatives.
“Oh the Aeon of the Freshlands...” My attention was drawn to a voice that called out to me. Jasmine was quick to prompt me to look. One of the nobles of the outer cities, he was alone, and he called out to me. “If you can hear me, please talk to me.”
“Father, have you gone insane?” His son was behind him, he was a lot younger, in his teens.
“No.” The noble said. Jasmine quickly gave me his brief. He’s a level 31 [Noble] and he is the ruler of this city. It’s a mid-sized city on the northern edges of the Freshlands, and mainly works with mining and farming from the recovered lands.
“Then why are you talking like that?”
“I got a skill, young foolish son of mine, and that skill tells me Aeon knows I’m talking to him.”
“Really? What skill is that?” The teenage son asked.
“[Territorial Awareness]. It’s common for Kings to have a version of it, but it seemed I got lucky and somehow obtained this.”
“And so you’re testing it out by shouting and calling out to Aeon, our faraway supposed benefactor?”
The noble smacked the young teenager. “Watch your words.”
At this point, I supposed I should respond, so I telepathically spoke to both of them. “Yes, nobleman. You called?” A vine emerged from the ground and crawled in through the window. The teenager looked deathly pale.
The nobleman instantly prostrated himself before the vine. “Greetings, Aeon. So it is true, those rumors of Aeon’s ever-presence in the Freshlands.”
“Had it not been true?”
“Indeed. It is just that us, those on the fringes do not feel your presence.”
“Have the Valthorns not sent their men to deal with the hybrids?”
“...ah.” I was wasting my time.
“Is there anything serious?”
“...no. I just wanted to test my skill.”
Ah. I sometimes wonder whether my presence and surveillance was a good thing.
---
I floated in my soul realm, and watched the souls drift in. There were about 150,000 souls in my [soul realm], all awaiting reincarnation or whatever awaited their next step. When they are ready, they will shed their outer shells, and only the inner core will move on, to inhabit whatever that the gods had planned.
I wondered whether there’s a standard process to it. I recall Mozart, the being that reincarnated me, referring to himself as the administrator of this entire process. To think, since that day, I now play a part in the same process that they administered.
A cog in the big machine.
I once described the soul as a car and a driver, the driver as the inner core, the car as the outer core. But maybe it’s also more accurate to imagine their bodies as the car, their clothes and look as their outer core, and their physical body as the inner core.
One can change their outer soul shells, just as how Meela and Alexis adopted new [classes] and new [skills]. The outer soul is after all just a frame, and the skills that are attached to that frame.
Now that I have four colors, my ability to interact with these floating souls improved. Some of them are in need of repairs. In a way, this entire realm is my ‘body’, and there are segments where these damaged souls are repaired.
There’s a lot of memories. Of their families. Of life in this world. I had chosen to just ignore these flashbacks. In a way, I’m just behaving like a soulless office administrator, putting a stamp on their documents before sending them on their way.
I didn’t want to care about their life story. It was too much. In fact, the more I learned of their life story, it just made me feel worse, because here I am, as a soul tree. It’s like that meme from the MCU movies. I guide others to a treasure I cannot possess. And here, I see memories of a life had and lost, that I cannot obtain.
> Are you a soul tree too, Lilies? Do you have a [soul realm]? <
< Yes, but we accept only the souls of those thrown into the lake. >
Ah. > What do you do with their... memories? <
< Nothing. >
I paused. > Yeah. Me too. <
Maybe it was right that I didn’t go through their memories. Do they deserve at least that bit of dignity?
I recall that Lilies was rather aloof about this whole arrangement, that they looked at it all from the angle of an overarching ecosystem. That the death of one is but a necessity.
Am I becoming like that, desensitised to death? Now that my domain and grand mind tree is able to block outside influences, is this... really me that’s transformed into this jaded tree?
> I’m... I’m afraid of what I’m becoming. < I didn’t know why I said that to Lilies, but at that point, I really didn’t have anyone else to turn to for advice on life as a tree.
I had become desensitized. When I think about it, some of my choices are not my best. Even when I tried making better choices, it doesn’t always turn out better.
Lilies didn’t reply for a whole week, then one day they just responded.
< We are many things. >
< Some, forced onto us by the gods. >
< Some a reaction, or as a response. We think, and we act. Or we don’t think, and act. A reaction nonetheless >
< What we become, is a path on a confusing road. >
< Our faces are many, even if you are just one. >
< Fear not what you’ve become, because this world demands monsters of all kinds, to do what we must. >
How? Where? I don’t know.
[Grand Mind Tree had blocked outside influence from fellow trees]
Override.
[Grand Mind Tree has temporarily allowed outside influence.]
I felt a sense of comfort. My fellow forests. Our now vast network of trees that stretched the entirety of the Freshlands. The land has been damaged by the demons, but we’ve brought it back from the dead. The land is hurt, but we can fix it. Must I become one with the rest of the forests? Our fates are tied together. These trees depend on me, and as it is, I too, depend on them.
> Do you lean on your fellow trees? < I suppose as a crutch. Maybe Lilies doesn’t need it, because she, they, were born this way. But I was human, and my mind still has the lingering structure and processes of a human. It is a lot.
< Certainly. Numbers are strength. Lean on them, but let them not be your crutches. >
I feel like it is.
-
The two of them sparred. Jura was quicker. Edna was still about level 60s, though she had an upgraded class, Jura’s [Warlord] class is pretty much an upgraded-class too, though a common one. But as a [Grand Knight], she had a unique set of skills.
It was the whole debacle of the fused classes, such as warlord, versus specialist classes, such as Grand Knight and Great Druit.
The other Valthorns watched, Yvon, too.
“Jura’s gotten a lot stronger.”
“He somehow broke through his level cap.”
It’s a secret, of course. No one knew how he broke through the level cap, just that it happened. But Yvon was no fool, and she quickly concluded that I did something. After all, it wasn’t the first time I tried to help Jura break through the level cap. She was also smart enough not to publicly say it.
Faris was level 50 plus, his leveling was a little slower as somehow he didn’t gain levels as frequently from battling hybrids or demons. If he wanted, his ability to influence trees was quite strong.
Luckily, he couldn’t get past my defenses.
I wonder if the [Lord of the Forest] could, so, I decided to just destroy that seed instead. If I wanted it again, I could just merge 30 [Great Druid] seeds, but keeping it lying around was a risk I didn’t want to take.
Year 123
Since time immemorial, man has been searching for means to themselves more powerful. That is true then, and that is true now. Even nature itself is forever locked in an arms race, as species evolved for an advantage, and other species evolved in response to that advantage.
War and evolution are tied together in many ways. “This is the latest generation of woodformed weapons.”
I showed my latest upgraded versions of the Wooden spears to Jura and the selected Valthorns. I had given out two more upgraded classes, one [Grand Knight], and one [Spearmaster]. It was a small group, less than 10.
“Is it’s effectiveness against demons improved?”
“Slightly.” I had spent a lot of time analysing the crystal matrices, and have managed to copy a little of its effects. But to replicate it wholesale is still beyond me, for now.
Every iteration is slightly better, slightly more powerful. Sad, to think that my [Woodforming] is used in this way. I should’ve made statues instead.
One of the wooden spears shrunk, and the attendees jumped. “Wow.”
“It’s now... expandable. That way it’s easier to move around. I copied the idea from one of the heroes’ star-mana withdrawable swords.” In hindsight, I should’ve made something like this way earlier. It’s essentially just a magical lightsaber, but with wood. Not exactly difficult to make a seed-like thing that releases a spear and later on retracts it. Nature already has many similar mechanisms.
In a way, it’s also partly pocketspace, similar to my [secret hideout].
“It’ll be tuned to all of you.”
“Tuned?”
“Yes, with runes. The gem-inserts have runes and so, add a drop of blood to it and it’ll recognise you as it’s owner.” Again, not an original idea. Some heroes have invented star-mana weapons that only recognise people who have their blood, essentially as a means of preserving power for their descendants.
“The heroes have this?”
“Well... no.” They have better ones.
“Ah.” Edna said, examining her new lance and shield. As a knight, she gets some mount-specific boosts, and so there’s some new wooden protective gear for her mount. “Seems like I’ll have to fight demons soon.”
“It’s not hard. The rule is simple, focus on your target, and don’t stray too far outside Aeon’s suppression aura.” Jura explained. He’s now Level 90.
“Aeon’s suppression aura should be everywhere.” Faris said, as he too examined his wooden staff and armor. There were not many weapons I could make for Faris, because he is a ranged and support hero.
I agree. But sadly my suppression aura’s weaker as I go further.
“This means Aeon puts the odds of the heroes winning the next battle at close to zero, doesn’t it?” Our [spearmaster] asked.
Jura paused. “It would be so. It’s not exactly uncommon for heroes to die to the demon king. Their recent string of victories is quite abnormal, and has happened no more than 5 times in the past few hundred years.”
“And so the peace of Harrisan ends.” Faris said. An era of relative peace, named after the most visible of the hero kings, Harris. “It seems our upgraded classes have not been given out for no reason.”
“Are you afraid, [Great Druid]?” Edna smiled.
“Should I not be?”
“Worry when the time comes.” Jura spoke. “For now, practice, and keep gaining levels.”
“Certainly.” Edna nodded. “Aeon, are there any restrictions of use for these items?”
“No. Try them out on the hybrids. I recall a large group has been spotted.”
“Gladly.”
Those with the upgraded classes, and Jura went for it. I believe they will succeed. Maybe even Jura himself would be sufficient, with his recently acquired strength.
On the home front, the heroes have been experimenting with new kinds of spells. They wanted to make themselves into a bomb, just like the demon king. I couldn’t help them. I mean, I don’t have the ability to give them that kind of power. Trees don’t blow up. Except for hybrid trees, but that’s an outlier.
So they had to speak to others, and Gerrard had been travelling everywhere.
Harris too, had to frequently intervene in his family conflicts. It was just lucky that his curse did not flare up when he was temporarily away.
“Aeon.” Mirei said, when the two heroes are away. “What’s it like, being a tree?”
I didn’t answer. It was more like, I didn’t even know where to begin describing it.
“Sorry. Must be offensive. I suppose it’s the equivalent of you asking me, what’s it like being a hero.” Mirei said. “I asked because well, I’m an alcoholic and tea addict now. Rumors are swirling about, that the heroes would not survive the next one. Of my curse, and Harris’s.”
She looked wistful.
“What do you think of this idea, the hero-bomb?” It wasn’t the first time she asked. I said it was a wise decision.
“It’s a good one. It’s pragmatic.”
Mirei paused. “I hoped you’d not give me the same answer. Tell me it’s wrong.”
“It’s wrong.”
Mirei laughed, and then cried. “Fuck it. Gerrard’s running around in a wild goose chase. I don’t think there’s any mage who knows how to make themselves into a walking nuke. Even if it’s a damned good idea.”
“Keep cursing.”
“Yeah. I should probably stop wallowing in my misery.” Mirei stood. “Here’s an idea. Write runes inside my soul. Can you do that? There must be a nuclear-rune somewhere. Invent one.”
“Runes work on physical objects.” Well, in honesty, I’ve never tried. I’m not aware whether runes can be written in the soul realm, but then, the soul spring does have rune-like inscriptions and patterns.”
“Says who.”
“No one.”
“Then can you try?”
“Writing runes in the soul spring...” I’m not sure if that’s possible, but certainly worth trying.
“Try it on me. Don’t let Harris or Gerrard know.”
“Why not?” I had the impression Gerrard was open to the idea of nuclearising themselves.
“Fine. Don’t let Harris know.”
I wondered then, if it’s possible to write a rune or blood ritual into the soul-spring, such that it triggers a hexbomb-like event. Is this how we can assure victory, but making heroes into nukes? It’s pragmatic, certainly. Sensible, even. But I get Mirei and Harris’s point that there’s some quite wrong with it. How is it different from a kamikaze attack? Or in the case of a soldier charging into the firing range, preparing to die?
I couldn’t quite answer that, but no matter.
I poked into Mirei’s soul spring again, and this time I used my feelers to attempt to write runes in her soul spring. It didn’t work.
Not on the rocks of the soul spring. But, I could write runes on the water, or the ground around her spring. But then the waters from her soul spring quickly washed the rune away.
“It’s... actually possible.” I was amazed. If one could find a way to make the rune stick, then it’s possible to have a soul that’s covered in runes. Or at least, outside of the soul-spring.
“What. Does that mean you can make me a nuke?”
No. Not just that. Could I use runes to suppress her curse even further? But... how and where do I start? There are two main hurdles. One, there’s a need to find something that makes lasting runes in the soul area, around the soul spring. Two, what runes do I use, and what is it’s long term effects on a person?
That’s of course, something to research.
-
Criminals exist in every society. Each of the segments of the Freshlands administers it’s own set of rules and justice, and this is something we, as the ‘Federal’ entity, do not generally participate in.
It’s a federal-state relationship, though. Simply because I don’t want to be bothered by the minutiae, and I am also not interested in micromanaging people. I’d rather focus on trees, gardens and stuff.
One area which I do make orders, is that every large town and segment has gazetted gardens and parks, and long strips of trees-flanked roads. This is something the Federal Freshlands Authority, headquartered in Freshka, gazetted and required of all of its cities. A small requirement, really, since I’ll handle the creation of trees and parks, the towns just have to leave the space and path for it. That’s on top of the protected forests and jungles.
In a way, it’s almost possible to imagine the Federal Freshlands Authority like the National Parks Service on extreme steroids, to the point that it’s the main authority. The Valthorns’ rangers, are just a militarised version of the Park Rangers.
And since they are militarised, they do also catch... criminals.
Which are useful.
Rumors have been swirling about that criminals caught are subjected to my experiments. That the Aeon of Freshka is outwardly a benevolent deity, but it treats it’s criminals as materials for gruesome experiments.
I’m rather amused by it. Because it’s true.
Serious criminals are used for my soul-related experiments. For blood magic. For creating the [Soul-strengthening seed].
After all, the legal terminology used to describe the punishment for serious crimes is ‘Subject to Aeon’s Mercy.’. I didn’t know who came up with that, I suspect one clever lawyer or justice of peace, but yes, it’s a phrase that has begun to strike fear into everyone.
No one subjected to Aeon’s Mercy had ever returned. How could they, with their souls ripped out of their bodies and turned into living experiments.
Still, criminals persist, and many of these states have added a ‘layer’ beneath that punishment. Their citizens demanded something less frightening. Mostly involved life imprisonment.
Criminals are quite fun, actually, and I actually received some rather interesting criminal classes. I even fused them to create more powerful criminal classes. Like [Bandit Lord], or [Master Thief]. As I thought of this, Jura had just finished capturing a runaway murderer.
Punishment for multiple murders? Aeon’s mercy.
I feel like that’s such an evil euphemism. It’s like saying walk the plank, instead of jumping off the ship. The criminal is tied up, and loaded into a Beetle with a cage. A Cage-Beetle. There are hundreds of these beetles, travelling between all the various segments of the Freshland, collecting all these criminals and ferrying them here.
To me. For my experiments.
A logistic network of high-sec criminals set up to feed my need for materials, coordinated by my artificial minds.
“Alright. That’s three.” Jura locked the criminals inside. They wailed and screamed.
“Let me out! Please, counsel, I beg you. Not Aeon’s Mercy!”
“The Federal Law is clear. Multiple murders and domestic crimes put you under Federal Jurisdiction. Aeon has every right to claim you.”
“Please no!”
Such exchanges were common. Why is it that bad? Kings sentence criminals to death all the time. Usually an executioner with a massive axe would do the dirty job.
Jura shrugged. “You may consider your appeal before Aeon himself.”
None succeeded. The very fact that my artificial minds have assessed them as targets meant they’ve passed the preset thresholds.
A fellow Valthorn just gulped and looked at Jura. Every year they collect about 1,000 or so criminals. It’s on a steady decline, as more and more criminals learn not to cross that threshold. Not much, when the entire Freshland region is now home to some 4 million people, spread across the 15 segments and the 50 cities, 300 towns and 5,000 or so villages within it.
The Freshlands is massive, now that I have recovered close to 10 percent of what was the entire Rottedlands. Time needed for a beetle to travel from one end to another without rest takes a full 7 days. Freshka itself now is home to about 150,000, being the Federal Capital and Administrative Seat of the Freshlands Representative Council.
They’ve been changing the names every now and then. Little matters that I left to Kavio and the representatives.
“Oh the Aeon of the Freshlands...” My attention was drawn to a voice that called out to me. Jasmine was quick to prompt me to look. One of the nobles of the outer cities, he was alone, and he called out to me. “If you can hear me, please talk to me.”
“Father, have you gone insane?” His son was behind him, he was a lot younger, in his teens.
“No.” The noble said. Jasmine quickly gave me his brief. He’s a level 31 [Noble] and he is the ruler of this city. It’s a mid-sized city on the northern edges of the Freshlands, and mainly works with mining and farming from the recovered lands.
“Then why are you talking like that?”
“I got a skill, young foolish son of mine, and that skill tells me Aeon knows I’m talking to him.”
“Really? What skill is that?” The teenage son asked.
“[Territorial Awareness]. It’s common for Kings to have a version of it, but it seemed I got lucky and somehow obtained this.”
“And so you’re testing it out by shouting and calling out to Aeon, our faraway supposed benefactor?”
The noble smacked the young teenager. “Watch your words.”
At this point, I supposed I should respond, so I telepathically spoke to both of them. “Yes, nobleman. You called?” A vine emerged from the ground and crawled in through the window. The teenager looked deathly pale.
The nobleman instantly prostrated himself before the vine. “Greetings, Aeon. So it is true, those rumors of Aeon’s ever-presence in the Freshlands.”
“Had it not been true?”
“Indeed. It is just that us, those on the fringes do not feel your presence.”
“Have the Valthorns not sent their men to deal with the hybrids?”
“...ah.” I was wasting my time.
“Is there anything serious?”
“...no. I just wanted to test my skill.”
Ah. I sometimes wonder whether my presence and surveillance was a good thing.
---
I floated in my soul realm, and watched the souls drift in. There were about 150,000 souls in my [soul realm], all awaiting reincarnation or whatever awaited their next step. When they are ready, they will shed their outer shells, and only the inner core will move on, to inhabit whatever that the gods had planned.
I wondered whether there’s a standard process to it. I recall Mozart, the being that reincarnated me, referring to himself as the administrator of this entire process. To think, since that day, I now play a part in the same process that they administered.
A cog in the big machine.
I once described the soul as a car and a driver, the driver as the inner core, the car as the outer core. But maybe it’s also more accurate to imagine their bodies as the car, their clothes and look as their outer core, and their physical body as the inner core.
One can change their outer soul shells, just as how Meela and Alexis adopted new [classes] and new [skills]. The outer soul is after all just a frame, and the skills that are attached to that frame.
Now that I have four colors, my ability to interact with these floating souls improved. Some of them are in need of repairs. In a way, this entire realm is my ‘body’, and there are segments where these damaged souls are repaired.
There’s a lot of memories. Of their families. Of life in this world. I had chosen to just ignore these flashbacks. In a way, I’m just behaving like a soulless office administrator, putting a stamp on their documents before sending them on their way.
I didn’t want to care about their life story. It was too much. In fact, the more I learned of their life story, it just made me feel worse, because here I am, as a soul tree. It’s like that meme from the MCU movies. I guide others to a treasure I cannot possess. And here, I see memories of a life had and lost, that I cannot obtain.
> Are you a soul tree too, Lilies? Do you have a [soul realm]? <
< Yes, but we accept only the souls of those thrown into the lake. >
Ah. > What do you do with their... memories? <
< Nothing. >
I paused. > Yeah. Me too. <
Maybe it was right that I didn’t go through their memories. Do they deserve at least that bit of dignity?
I recall that Lilies was rather aloof about this whole arrangement, that they looked at it all from the angle of an overarching ecosystem. That the death of one is but a necessity.
Am I becoming like that, desensitised to death? Now that my domain and grand mind tree is able to block outside influences, is this... really me that’s transformed into this jaded tree?
> I’m... I’m afraid of what I’m becoming. < I didn’t know why I said that to Lilies, but at that point, I really didn’t have anyone else to turn to for advice on life as a tree.
I had become desensitized. When I think about it, some of my choices are not my best. Even when I tried making better choices, it doesn’t always turn out better.
Lilies didn’t reply for a whole week, then one day they just responded.
< We are many things. >
< Some, forced onto us by the gods. >
< Some a reaction, or as a response. We think, and we act. Or we don’t think, and act. A reaction nonetheless >
< What we become, is a path on a confusing road. >
< Our faces are many, even if you are just one. >
< Fear not what you’ve become, because this world demands monsters of all kinds, to do what we must. >
How? Where? I don’t know.
[Grand Mind Tree had blocked outside influence from fellow trees]
Override.
[Grand Mind Tree has temporarily allowed outside influence.]
I felt a sense of comfort. My fellow forests. Our now vast network of trees that stretched the entirety of the Freshlands. The land has been damaged by the demons, but we’ve brought it back from the dead. The land is hurt, but we can fix it. Must I become one with the rest of the forests? Our fates are tied together. These trees depend on me, and as it is, I too, depend on them.
> Do you lean on your fellow trees? < I suppose as a crutch. Maybe Lilies doesn’t need it, because she, they, were born this way. But I was human, and my mind still has the lingering structure and processes of a human. It is a lot.
< Certainly. Numbers are strength. Lean on them, but let them not be your crutches. >
I feel like it is.
-
The two of them sparred. Jura was quicker. Edna was still about level 60s, though she had an upgraded class, Jura’s [Warlord] class is pretty much an upgraded-class too, though a common one. But as a [Grand Knight], she had a unique set of skills.
It was the whole debacle of the fused classes, such as warlord, versus specialist classes, such as Grand Knight and Great Druit.
The other Valthorns watched, Yvon, too.
“Jura’s gotten a lot stronger.”
“He somehow broke through his level cap.”
It’s a secret, of course. No one knew how he broke through the level cap, just that it happened. But Yvon was no fool, and she quickly concluded that I did something. After all, it wasn’t the first time I tried to help Jura break through the level cap. She was also smart enough not to publicly say it.
Faris was level 50 plus, his leveling was a little slower as somehow he didn’t gain levels as frequently from battling hybrids or demons. If he wanted, his ability to influence trees was quite strong.
Luckily, he couldn’t get past my defenses.
I wonder if the [Lord of the Forest] could, so, I decided to just destroy that seed instead. If I wanted it again, I could just merge 30 [Great Druid] seeds, but keeping it lying around was a risk I didn’t want to take.
