The Newt and Demon

6.17 - Evolution

“Yes, make fun of the golden throne,” Fenian groaned. “I’m going to complain to Khahar about this.”

“We’ll complain together. But not until I find the Throne of the Dreamwalker.” Theo inspected the area. It was too much for his taste. Fenian absolutely decorated this himself. Everything within the wide room screamed the gaudy elf’s style.

Fenian found his way to the throne, sitting on it and sighing. “I liked it better when I knew more than you.”

“I’m pretty sure you still know more than me. Just not about the void.”

Keeping the Throne of the Herald here was a bad idea, though. Theo and Tresk bested the last Dreamer because they hadn’t moved the throne. Keeping it in a weak realm only meant that anyone could come and take it, as long as a god would interdict them. The alchemist explained this weakness to Fenian, who agreed. Reluctantly.

“I’ll move it to Tero’gal, if that’s okay,” Theo said, spreading his willpower over the realm.

“You’re the expert. I guess.”

Theo wrapped his shadow aura around the throne, himself, and Fenian. He bore a hole through the void, and a moment later they appeared in the chamber hidden within Tero’gal. The alchemist placed the throne next to Tresk’s throne and nodded with satisfaction.

“Are you certain we’re safe here? I don’t know if there’s enough gold in this wet chamber.”

“Yes, that’s lovely. But how do I get back here? I like sitting on my shiny golden throne.”

“I brought a piece of the realm, too,” Theo gestured vaguely at the golden cloud surrounding the throne. “You can still come here.”

“Ah. Excellent. Can we leave?”

Fenian screamed again when Theo interdicted them, hurtling them to a realm fairly close to Tero’gal. They landed in the House of Healing a moment later, standing in that expansive open-air building. Glantheir turned, shaking his head.

“How are you, Theo? Fenian?”

“Doing well, how about you?”

“Can’t complain. Do you need anything?”

Theo explained the situation. He wanted a god’s opinion on the strange Town Seed Core and how he should proceed. Glantheir invited them to sit on a vast wooden platform with comfortable furniture overlooking sprawling forests and buildings below. Fenian settled into his chair, but still seemed grumpy after being hurtled across the realms. He would get over it.

“I’m afraid another god has imbued that seed with power.”

“Which one?” Fenian asked, his ire faded in an instant.

“Delcan, I think. He’s an old one.” Glantheir chuckled. “I hardly hear from him anymore.”

“What would the God of Building want with Theo’s underground town?”

“I think Twist is plotting something with Delcan. That masked elf has several cores from Delcan, so his influence clouds my sight on the mortal plane.” Glantheir swiped his hand through the air. An image of Broken Tusk appeared as though taken from high in the air. Sections were missing, or too fuzzy to make things out. “As if it wasn’t hard enough to spy on your town. The mix of energies from too many realms makes it hard.”

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“Could you show me Veosta?” Theo asked.

Glantheir looked around as though he expected Khahar to show up at any moment. “Khahar will be very upset with me. He can see through your willpower-fueled aura. You know that, right?”

Theo already knew. Because Khahar wasn’t interfering everywhere he could to uphold order or his title. “He’s fooling the monitor system, which can’t see through this.”

“Ah, you figured that out on your own,” Glantheir said, nodding. “Well, Balkor’s remnant hasn’t moved.”

Glantheir swiped his hand again, changing the image to an aerial shot of the Ruins of Veosta. The wanderer was standing among ruined buildings, motionless.

“That’s creepy.” Fenian shivered at the sight. The elf cleared his throat. “Could you show me… the other guy?”

“Kuzan? No. His influence in Tarantham is absolute. Droth Ker is a horrifying realm, and Kuzan has done everything he can to shield it.”

“No. The other guy.”

Glantheir raised a brow, his eyes dragging over from Fenian and locking on Theo. A snap issued behind the Elven God of Healing. Khahar had appeared, arms folded and a grimace on his face.

“Oh, look. The fun police,” Fenian said.

“Is this productive?” Khahar asked.

“Not everything is about productivity, Yuri,” Glantheir said. “You want Theo to help run the circus but won’t give him the whip.”

Khahar grumbled. “He won’t understand. Not yet.”

“I’m right here,” Theo said, waving his hand in front of Khahar’s face.

“If you view it then it will know you’re viewing. I forbid it.”

“I’ve talked to it, Khahar. He’s a good guy.” Fenian shrugged.

Khahar turned, glaring at Fenian. “You wouldn’t understand, Fenian. You’re not from our world.”

“Oh, fine! You’re so spiky lately.” Fenian sunk into his chair, sulking like a child.

Khahar took in a deep breath, releasing it slowly. “I’m not being the angry dad here. I’m balancing the system on the tip of a needle. Theo, I promise to explain everything I know when you get your throne. Okay? Is that good enough for you?”

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Theo held his hands up defensively. “I never asked to see whatever this thing is. I don’t really care. Just wanted to check in on Balkor’s double down on the mortal plane.”

Khahar narrowed his gaze for a moment before nodding. “You’ll need to meet him soon. That marshling in your town is building a lot of track. With most mountain ranges being destroyed, you can span the two-thousand-mile gap quickly enough.”

“I never thought of that… Thanks for destroying the mountains, Fenian.”

“No problem!” Fenian said, brightening up in an instant. “Don’t worry about it, Khahar. We’ll fix the world together! Friendship!”

Khahar grumbled, vanishing in a blink.

“See? I told you he could see us,” Glantheir grumbled. “Now he’s going to accost me.”

“Sorry about that, buddy,” Theo said, placing a comforting hand on the god’s shoulder. “Is Balkor’s double unstable or something?”

“He’s confused.” Glantheir summoned the image again. “And… wait, is he moving?”

Everyone gathered squinted, looking at the grainy image. Balkor’s double, which had yet to give himself a name, swept his hand through the air. A wave of skeletons rose from the ground, marching toward the sea. Theo clicked his tongue, eyes wide as he processed the scene.

“He’s marching on Tarantham,” Theo said.

“He sent a wave before, but the elves put the attack down. That’s what my followers on the continent said, anyway.”

Too many pieces were moving with the Balkor situation. What Theo wanted was to talk with the real Balkor, urging him to step down from whatever war path he was on. He had already concluded that the Demon God of Necromancy wasn’t evil, and was likely part of the larger plan. But he was stewing all alone in his realm. Now there was a piece of him running around the mortal realm, doubling the problem. More restrictions would be placed on the gods before this was over, so he wanted everyone to play nice.

“Too many machinations for one day,” Fenian said. “Could we go have some tea?”

“I second that idea.” Glantheir raised his hand as though waiting for a teacher to call on him in class.

“Yeah, good idea. This whole thing has me tired.”

Glantheir would take his own portal to Tero’gal while Theo dragged Fenian through the void. Their feet touched the soft grasses in the realm shortly after. Gates were already up from other gods. That was the best way to know who was hanging out. The alchemist loved how everyone was using his realm as a gathering place. Khahar appeared as the alchemist was approaching the ever-expanding cottage, jerking his head and forcing him to follow.

“The town seed core is safe enough,” Khahar said. “Fenian can undo any malicious magic, if it were there. You have plans to dive into the void, right?”

“I thought you could see through my magical aura.”

“No. I’m just adept at predicting your next stupid move.”

“That’s fair. I’m heading out soon. But I suspect it will only appear as though a few moments have passed on this side of the void.”

“Good. Let’s get some tea.”

The gods had a way of gossiping, but none had caught on to any of Theo’s many schemes. Or they were too cagey to express their concerns. The alchemist spent some time with them, but left before his visit to the realm was over. He might have used another method to reach Tero’gal, but there was still a limit on the time he could spend there. Walking with the spirits had a way of clearing his mind. And the effects of his increased Wisdom had diminished since coming here.

“What’s the latest trend?” Theo said, clapping a hand over Belgar’s shoulder. The dronon spirit was startled, turning and clutching at his chest.

“You scared me, Theo. We’re playing a realm-wide game called Monster Hunt. One spirit is the monster, and the others must flee. Those caught become monsters themselves. This game has been going on for a few months.”

Theo looked in the distance, sensing spirits running around and catching each other. He was surprised to see the spirits that had broken from the main group playing the game. What did the children on Earth call this game? Manhunt? No, something else. It hardly mattered. Everyone was having fun, but the alchemist had cornered Belgar for a different reason.

“We might have some rowdy spirits coming in. Elves from the deep, and spirits that were afflicted by Balkor. Can you handle a few?”

“I’m the most realized spirit in the realm, Theo. I can handle anything.”

“Thanks, Belgar. I’ll try to remember bringing Zarali here.”

“Tresk has brought her quite a few times.” Belgar laughed. His eyes went wide and he hid behind a giant rock, gesturing for Theo to get down with him. “A monster approaches.”

“Tresk has been interdicting Zarali? That’s sweet of her.”

“Yes. My sister realizes how busy you are,” Belgar whispered.

A half-formed dronon spirit jumped over the rock, roaring. Belgar shrieked, scrambling along the ground before the ‘monster’ wrapped her arms around him. “You have been bested, Belgar!”

“Damn! Fine. Theo is playing too, so you must capture him.”

Theo’s eyes darted between the two spirits. “I’m gonna cheat,” he said, relocating himself to the far side of the realm with a thought. He felt the spirits shouting after him.

The alchemist found a decent rock to sit on, admiring the view of the mountain in the distance. He withdrew a journal and a pen and wrote his theories on capturing the ghosts. They weren’t genuine ghosts, of course. But transporting souls from the mortal realm to his own should have been simple work. If he could expand his aura to a large area, he could draw in more souls. The ordeal was strange. They should have been fading, but they weren’t. Some nonsense about Balkor’s magic which only meant there would be ancient souls in the Fallen Kingdom of Gardreth.

“A haunting thought,” Theo muttered. He then laughed to himself. “Hope no one gets mad about me stealing souls. Oh, I’m not evil. Just harvesting souls for… reasons.”

Willpower would be the first thing they would patch when his work was done. Along with a few mechanics concerning attributes. Intelligence shouldn’t increase how smart a person is, and Wisdom shouldn’t make them wiser. He hoped Khahar was on the same page, but that was the point of the summit he wanted to hold. Theo sketched his plans in his secret notebook over the hours, finally getting bored enough to leave. The gods that remained within his realm would play poker, eat cookies, and do whatever else they wanted to pass the time.

Theo collected Fenian and brought him back to the mortal realm. The elf scampered off, leaving the alchemist with nothing much to do. He returned to the lab, leaving the administrators to do their thing. Salire wasn’t in the shop. She was likely sleeping yesterday’s event off, and he couldn’t blame her. Tresk and Alex were in the underground, exploring the tunnels and mapping it for the army. Both Gronro and Rivers had sent reinforcements, even if they weren’t needed.

The printing machine Salire had bought was nice. She had a few copies printed by now, bound but without covers. The collective knowledge of dronon alchemy was nice to have. It served as a record for a culture he had borrowed. Something Theo could only hope to understand by the time this ended. At least people like Belgar and Zarali were still alive and able to maintain those traditions. He had hoped to get one of each dronon race minimum, but had come up short. Perhaps collecting souls from each race was a good idea.

The stock of potions within the shop was good. Salire had done a great job keeping the healing and curative potions brewed. His focus had once again fallen into creating powerful potions. His legs took him toward the door for a moment, but he resisted. Going out to find more rare reagents in the wild wouldn’t be smart without Rowan and Sarisa. Even with his golems trailing along, they just weren’t as good as the half-ogres.

Boredom drew Theo into his experiment garden. He moved a few plants around, created a ton of Mana Constructs, and started a batch of Refined Mana Essence to make more. Although he had placed an order with Throk’s artificer workshop, he doubted he’d get the hundreds of mechanisms soon. That rail project had consumed his time and patience. At least Ziz was working on the suspension bridge.

Theo worked away in silence, wishing more as the hours rolled on that he had someone to joke around with in the lab. Broken Tusk was lonely when it was empty. But folks would wake up soon enough. He tipped a flask of Refined Mana Essence over a stone tablet, infusing the construct with power before adding it to a stack. Hundreds of golems meant hundreds of power sources. Perhaps he had made too many.

Just when things were getting to their height of boring monotony, something appeared in his vision. Theo swallowed hard as he read through the message, double-checking that he wasn’t seeing things.

[Core Evolution]

Your [Governance Core] has soaked enough Drogramathi energy to evolve into a [Drogramath Governor’s Core].

Do you wish to accept?

Y/N?