Ogre Tyrant

Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 65 – By my authority – Part Two

Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 65 - By my authority - Part Two

Taking no chances, I reinstated the default Command forbidding attempts of violence against my person and extended it to include Sebet as well. The Command nearly killed the captured Awakened when I seized control over his Enslavement. However, until I had a better idea of his character, I wasn’t leaving anything to chance.

<He doesn’t appear to understand the intended context of the question.> Sebet warned as the ragged barely clothed Awakened began anxiously working his scruffy bearded jaw.

“They-sent-for-you,” the Awakened wheezed, cringing painfully with each syllable.

“It appears the Confederate command has noticed our movements and become suspicious,” Sebet explained with only mild interest, “Only a capture mission to secure actual intelligence,” she rolled her eyes and snorted derisively. “I will know more after I interrogate this Lieutenant,” Sebet purred dangerously. She could have communicated through telepathy, so I had to assume that Sebet was speaking aloud to gauge how the Awakened would respond.

The Awakened just stared at Sebet in fear and confusion. A disappointing, if rather typical, reaction upon realising Sebet could read minds.

Despite myself, I found that my approximation of the threat posed by the Awakened decreased quite considerably.

“Let me rephrase the question then,” I grunted uncomfortably, mentally preparing in case I was forced to act. “I know you’re from Earth and that you killed someone. I want to know why.”

“Why?” The Awakened wheezed stubbornly, “Why-ask?”

Sebet’s eyes narrowed and her lips tightened in disapproval. “Self-defence,” she hissed quietly. “You don’t want to hear the details.”

The Awakened’s fear and confusion turned to anger and shame. Expressions I had come to recognise only too well.

I suppressed my sympathy and used his reaction to serve as a reminder of why I was screening him in the first place. All of the Awakened were damaged, it was why we were chosen. Without knowing the extent of his self-control, there was no way I would risk releasing him into the general population.

Oaths or not, each Awakened was capable of unleashing destruction on an immense scale within mere moments and without preparation or warning. “After you died, did you harm anyone outside of the immediate need for self-defence or being Commanded to do so?”

I felt the rage inside of him continue to build. However, for whatever reason, it lacked the feral aspect that had accompanied his earlier transformation. I had already looked at his Status and knew that the rage itself was divided into two parts. The first was an emotional response. The second was a Class Ability and the foundation of his Berserker Advanced Class.

Very nearly every one of his Class Abilities enhanced or depended upon his mental instability, making him all the more unstable in the process. Making matters worse, his Species' core Racial Ability depended upon a stable mental state to maintain control during his metamorphic transformation.

If he was left as he was, he was a little more than a ticking time bomb.

“No...” The awakened wheezed defiantly.

I looked to Sebet for confirmation, uncertain whether the Awakened was refusing to answer the question or had answered honestly.

“He has killed, but only when compelled to do so,” Sebet commented with mounting interest, “With one exception.” She smirked approvingly at the Awakened and tittered in amusement. “One of his Masters was careless and lost his head, hehe.”

“How did you survive?” The default Command prohibiting attempted harm against the Master would ordinarily kill a Slave outright if left to run its course. Even assuming that the Master had incredibly low Willpower, he wouldn’t have had much time. And that was assuming that anyone had the motivation to try and save him in the first place.

“By pure chance,” Sebet replied in his stead. “One of the Slavers detected a masterless Slave and seized control before his brain melted.”

I was conflicted. Only one other Awakened hadn’t tried to kill me or those I was responsible for, and Jacque was still something of a wild card. Technically, both she and her son were my subjects. They had sworn the Oaths to abide by my laws, but only while within my extra-dimensional territory. Furthermore, as natural telepaths, neither Sebet nor Gric could read their minds without being noticed.

I suspected Jacque had simply intended to leave herself and her son with a way out of their obligations should I devolve into a despot or raving lunatic. I doubted I would act any differently if I was in her place.

But what should I do with Terry?

At a bare minimum, his Class would have to go. The undermining of his self-control and mental stability in exchange for combat prowess was a disaster waiting to happen.

In stark contrast to myself, it appeared that Terry’s Willpower had deteriorated during his Enslavement, or had otherwise been incredibly low to begin with. He had a modified Willpower of three and was losing three points to his Advanced Class progression. So even without his Class, Terry would have below-average Willpower.

“I know I haven’t given you a reason to trust me, and having someone read your mind is a violation of your privacy, but I needed to be sure that you were different from the others,” I apologised, conjuring a basket of dried spiced meats and a water skin then tossing them within arms reach.

“Diff-erent?!” Terry snarled, “From-You?!”

I slowly shook my head. “No,” I replied grimly. “Different from the others...”

Against my expectations, something in my words appeared to have undermined his anger.

“The Liche was someone like us, someone from Earth,” I explained dryly, pushing back the worst of the memories while trying to remain in the present. “She butchered millions of people and would have kept going if I hadn’t stopped her...So I had to be sure...I have to make sure you aren’t a psycho killer that will begin murdering people the moment I free you from your Enslavement...”

Terry stared up at me in shock and fear, all semblance of resistance and anger had evaporated. “You-killed?!...”

“And several others besides...” I replied grimly. “Whoever chose us, chooses who will be reincarnated in this world...They have made damned sure to pick people who have the potential for spreading immense death and destruction...And just to be sure, they take the worst part of who you are, the biggest weakness, the part of yourself you hate most, the thing that will make you the most unstable, and give it a twisted form all its own...”

“Why?” Terry wheezed incredulously.

“I don’t know...” I admitted bitterly. “Without some immutable authority to explain, all we have are assumptions and observations...”

Terry took a long draught from the water skin and devoured half of the basket's contents before working up the nerve for another question. “On Earth, you killed someone too?” He had regained a portion of his strength thanks to Iron Gut’s Synergy but was still unable to lift himself off the ground.

“I did...but I’m not sure if what I remember is what happened...” I warned. “I was in my home, at the top of the stairs. Men with knives had broken in and were attacking me...I was bleeding badly...Dying...I threw one of them through the bannisters and...and I think I fell on him...” I shook my head and shrugged. “It’s all a blur. The adrenaline and shock of it all...and I still can’t be certain that’s what happened...”

“So it was self-defence, like me,” Terry commented, seemingly choosing what he wanted to hear but looking far less afraid of me than he had been only a few moments prior.

“If what I remember can be trusted,” I replied with a healthy degree of scepticism. There was a very real chance that I had tampered with my memories so they aligned with my existing perceptions of my character. It was a well-documented phenomenon on Earth, so I had to accept that there was a possibility of it being the truth.

Sebet or Gric could probably confirm the truth of it, but I didn’t want either of them poking around so deeply within my mind. It wasn’t a matter of trust. Simply put, I had nothing to gain by learning the truth, and potentially a great deal to lose. I was better off not knowing for certain. At least for the time being.

“You said that whoever brought us here, they did things to us...” Terry had finally forced himself into a sitting position and was staring at his trembling hands in his lap, “They made us monsters...”

“As best as I can tell, yes,” I agreed.

“So you are like me?” Terry asked hesitantly.

I could tell by the way he had asked the question that he wasn’t referring to my just being a monster, but in a far more literal sense. “No,” I replied honestly, removing the vambrace from my arm and pulling up the sleeve of the gambeson and mail to expose my tattoo. Triggering the transformation, I fed mana into my armour so it would adjust to the sudden shift in size.

Terry stared up at me in what I could only assume was a combination of fear and awe. “You...You’re a giant...” He breathed hoarsely.

“Not quite.” I removed my helmet and exposed my face for the first time.

“I don’t understand...” Terry admitted after a drawn-out and rather tense stretch of silence passed between us. “You said they took a weakness and made it real...”

I smiled wryly and nodded. “This is difficult to accept, but my appearance hasn’t changed much since I first arrived,” I explained dryly. “I was born with a whole host of genetic abnormalities. Around the time the Shrek movies came out, I earned a rather unpleasant nickname...And whoever brought us here seemed to think the nickname was a good fit, because they made it official. It was the only thing they did...”

Realisation slowly dawned on Terry’s face, “You mean, they made you a-” He caught himself at the last moment and by following his sudden shift in focus, I realised my unarmoured hand had balled into a fist without my noticing.

“An Ogre...yes...” I answered in response to the interrupted question. Taking a deep breath I forced myself to calm down. “I have changed somewhat since my arrival, but not as much as you might think. I couldn’t hide in plain sight either.”

“I don’t think it would have made a difference...” Terry muttered bitterly. “They could tell that I wasn’t one of them and sold me into slavery the first chance they got...”

“Because you couldn’t speak the language?” I guessed. It was one of the biggest hurdles I would have faced even if I had a more normal appearance.

Terry nodded. “That was all it took for them to damn me to this hell...”

I wasn’t particularly surprised. Monsters were far too valuable a resource for most people to resist taking advantage of. Slavery, in general practice, was the norm for this world, and that made every man, woman, and child a commodity. Monsters were just the most convenient target due to being othered right out of the gate.

“Well, Terry, you have a choice,” I stated calmly. “Understand that I can’t have someone else like me running around and murdering people, not when I am in a position to stop them. So you have three options.”

Terry tensed defensively but nodded to show he understood.

“The first option is exile. I will move you to a place where no one will be able to hurt you and you won’t be able to hurt anyone else. However, you will also be utterly alone except for low-level monsters you may hunt for food.” I paused for a few moments to allow the gravity of the situation a chance to settle into his mind. “The second option is integration. If you choose to become my subordinate and swear Oaths of fealty to obey me and my laws, you will be free to live just the same as all my other subjects. With the noted condition that you change your Class to one that doesn’t undermine your Willpower...”

“Why? Why would you want me?” Terry demanded quietly, narrowing his eyes at me suspiciously. ‘What’s in it for you?”

“Nothing,” Sebet replied, beating me to the punch. “Nothing except the risk that you might snap at any moment, maiming or badly injuring one or more of the millions of other people he has already taken under his protection.”

Terry baulked. “M-Millions?!” He stammered in shock.

“Millions,” Sebet confirmed coldly.

Terry slumped defeatedly and seemed to collapse in on himself, appearing to shrink in size despite occupying the same amount of space. “Why?...”

“Because I can,” I replied somewhat glibly, still adjusting emotional gears. “Because I believe you are worth giving a second chance. A chance to be better, heal, and find happiness and love...”

“Love?!” Terry barked incredulously, “There’s no such thing! It’s just a lie people use to justify hurting you! A lie to stop you from fighting back!”

Sebet shrugged subtly, saying nothing.

“Or, shitty people will use whatever is at their disposal to manipulate you and get what they want,” I countered calmly. “I don’t want anything from you, but that isn’t the whole truth either,” I admitted bluntly. “I don’t want to kill you. So I am offering alternatives that are incidentally to your benefit to get what I want. Even if you can’t bring yourself to believe that someone would offer you a chance at a new life out of a sense of genuine benevolence, you can trust me when I say I don’t want to murder you in cold blood. But I will if you leave me no other choice.”

Terry remained deathly silent for what felt like the better part of half an hour. His eyes glared determinedly at the ground, lips twitching and nails digging into the skin of his arms as the rage slowly built up inside.

Disappointed in myself, I mentally prepared myself for the inevitable.

Just as I resigned myself to the role of executioner, Terry began to stir. “I...I don’t want to live like this anymore...” He croaked.

My heart sank.

“I...I’ll swear the oath or whatever...I just don’t want to be a Slave anymore...” Terry whimpered defeatedly.

By the time I overcame my emotional whiplash, Sebet had already coached Terry through the oaths, leaving me with the final task of abolishing his Enslavement.

Despite fumbling with the latch, Terry insisted, somewhat manically, that he be allowed to remove the collar himself. As the collar came away, it revealed a ragged ring of scar tissue around his neck. Given how cruelly the collar would have chafed during his transformations, I was not surprised.

“You will be left In Sebet’s care until we can unlock an alternative Advanced Class,” I decided after giving the matter some more thought. “It will also allow you to unwind a little and learn more about how I do things differently. Alright?”

Terry nodded numbly while absently rubbing at his neck with a distant expression of disbelief on his face.

I had never been subjected to the horrors of wearing a collar over any significant amount of time, so I could only imagine how it must feel to be rid of it. However, given his evident trauma, only time would tell if I had made the right decision in sparing his life.

After sending them both away with my authority, I wasn’t surprised when Sebet returned a short while afterwards through a Breach. After all, I knew what she wanted.

“You want to use the artifice on the Confederate encampment,” I commented neutrally. She had made no secret of her desire to use the artifice for such a purpose, so it was rather obvious.

Sebet nodded eagerly, “I do.”

“Fine,” I agreed with only minimal hesitation.

The artifice needed further testing, and if it could be operated without my direct involvement, then I would be free to return to my family that much sooner.

“Restock the mana stones, confirm your target, and then come find me.” I was tempted to just hand Sebet the Key and be done with it, but I had a responsibility to take matters seriously.

“By your will, Great One!” Sebet declared cheerily, leaving through the Breach she had maintained throughout.

Just as Sebet left I felt a new stretch of territory become available for integration. At the same moment, a string of notifications imposed themselves in front of my eyes and completely obstructed my vision.

[ Conditions for {Intermediate Dimensional Authority} have been met. Candidate {Tim} is now bestowed with {Intermediate Dimensional Authority}. {Conquest} has been upgraded to {Invasion}. Subordinates may now be granted {Limited Dimensional Authority} while in possession of a {Key of Awakening}. ]

[ {Invasion}: Neutral/Hostile {Dimensional Assets and Territories} can be contested by subordinates possessing the {Overseer} Title without a {Key of Awakening}. A subordinate possessing both the {Overseer} title and a {Key of Awakening} will increase the scale of Neutral/Hostile {Dimensional Assets and Territories} contested by the {Invasion}. Possession of multiple {Keys of Awakening} provides no additional effects. ]

[ Construction of the {Intermediate Dimensional Plane} and Conversion of existing {Dimensional Assets and Territories} will now commence. ]

[ Connection to the {Universal Communication Network} status: (Pending...) ]

[ Connection to the {Universal Communication Network} status: (Error...) ]

[ Connection to the {Universal Communication Network} status: (Connection Not Found...) ]

[ Connection to the {Universal Communication Network} status: (Terminated) ]

[ Connection to the {Awakened Monarch Network} status: (Pending...) ]

[ Connection to the {Awakened Monarch Network} status: (Error...) ]

[ Connection to the {Awakened Monarch Network} status: (Error...) ]

[ Connection to the {Awakened Monarch Network} status: (Error...) ]

[ Connection to the {Awakened Monarch Network} status: (Error...) ]

[ Connection to the {Awakened Monarch Network} status: (Connected) ]

“What the?...” To a certain degree, I had been expecting the advancement of the Demi-Plane. I just hadn’t anticipated that things would change to such an extent.

Leveraging my newly increased authority to search for answers, I was left even more confused than before when just thinking about the pair of networks gave me a grating headache and left me with nothing to show for it.

Sweating profusely in the wake of the pain, I removed my helmet and conjured a barrel full of cool fresh water to help clear my head.

As the pain began to recede, Sebet and Gric each stepped out of their respective Breach in near unison. Daemon and Devil alike wore expressions of exaltation and expectation.

“Great One! We have sensed your ascension and wish to pay our respects in your hour of triumph!” Sebet declared with manic intensity, her wings twitching and flapping with every step she made in my direction.

Far more composed, Gric wore a triumphant grin and his eyes burned with pride. “My Tyrant, this is indeed a well-deserved triumph!” He pumped his right fist and clenched it so tightly that his knuckles popped with a loud crack.

I didn’t doubt that their primary intentions were exactly what they appeared to be. However, I knew Gric and Sebet well enough to be certain that they also wanted promotions. To share in my authority, even in a limited form.

With a thought, I vested both of them with the newly available Limited Dimensional Authority.

Essentially, it would allow them to move themselves and others throughout the Intermediate Dimensional Plane at will. It would also allow the reshaping of natural landscapes, but not the relocation of territories.

“Endless gratitude! Great One!” Sebet exclaimed with perverse glee, jogging on the spot and pumping her clawed fists in her excitement.

Gric dropped to one knee and bowed his head low, “My Tyrant! I will endeavour to prove your trust is well founded!” He promised fervently.

Despite the difference in their outward reactions, I knew that the promotion meant a great deal to them both.

Sebet wasted no time in jaunting from one side of my Intermediate Dimensional Plane to the other, reshaping a mountain within Tartarus to her likeness within a single second before returning.

Much to my surprise, Sebet’s desire to test the artifice had only intensified and she wasted no time at all in replacing the mana stones and attempting to bend the artifice to her will. As I had hoped would be the case, the artifice responded to Sebet the same as it had with me.

Objectively, I couldn’t think of a reason why it shouldn’t have done so, since we both had access to the Dimensional Breach Spell, and the artifice was otherwise just a repository for mana stones. But a part of me had still expected her to fail, or at least suffer a minor setback.

With Sebet and Gric ready and able to take care of the remaining evacuation efforts, I was tempted to return home and wash my hands of the Semenovian drama altogether. However, as much as I wanted it to be over, I refused to shirk my responsibilities. Even if my remaining role was to watch as my subordinates performed the actual work, I needed to make myself available in the event they needed my leadership.

The remaining evacuations were scheduled to begin during the next evening. so I spent a couple of hours rigorously assessing options for policy regarding the loan of Overseers to the multitude of Factions scrambling to acquire territory.

So far as I was aware, my involvement in a Conquest, and presumably an Invasion, was awarded an Overseer alongside a cache of monster eggs. There was a real possibility that a subordinate granted sufficient authority would trigger the same rewards. If true, the number of Overseers would increase exponentially.

However, it presented a political problem all its own.

It wouldn’t take the Factions much time at all to realise that Overseers working under my orders were seizing territory far above what they should otherwise be capable of. Stripping Hana of her title had been an exceptional circumstance and I had no intentions of making a habit out of it. Which meant I would hold the monopoly on the services of the Overseers.

I doubted that appreciating I was sticking to my principles would rank highly amongst the Faction Leaders’ concerns.

Fortunately, Overseers like Ochram were living beings of free will and not just inanimate objects. Meaning I could leave the terms of their activities up to them if I chose to do so. While I had no intentions of throwing my Overseers into the political deep end, it was nice knowing that I had a certain degree of wiggle room.

Ultimately, I decided to follow the same taxation principle I already employed with Artefacts. For every four territories seized, three would be allocated to that faction's use, and the remainder would be mine.

Assuming the involvement of an Overseer with Limited Dimensional Authority was sufficient to generate additional Overseers, I intended to waive taxation on those territories.

My military experience, in every regard, was incredibly limited. Seizing territories from the Labyrinths was not particularly complicated. However, there was a great deal of established military infrastructure that made things considerably easier to manage over the long term.

I needed to establish a standing military of my own, and I intended to make it a priority once the Semenovian refugee crisis was resolved. However, forming an elite fighting force from scratch, and filling the leadership positions required to effectively field it would take time. Which made using friendly and subordinate forces the next best alternative.

So long as the Factions believed they were getting sufficiently compensated, I doubted there would be any significant problems. It was the transition from that state of affairs to the next that had me concerned. Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything I could do about it at the moment that wouldn’t make things worse.

Retiring to the inn, I tried to get as much rest as I could manage.

As the sun began to set, I left the inn and made my way to Asphodel.

Looking down the main street I was somewhat surprised to find that only a hundred or so refugees remained to be processed from the previous evacuation. Then I noticed the increased scale of the processing facility. It had nearly doubled in overall size since I had last seen it.

Using the roof of the processing facility as a vantage point I realised that the number of apartment buildings had nearly quintupled in my absence. Drawn toward movement on the outermost buildings, I relocated myself to investigate further and found Gric patiently erecting three apartment complexes simultaneously.

Motioning for Gric to continue what he was doing, I watched with interest as Gric meticulously built up the new apartments in a similar fashion to a 3D printer. Using his elevated position to his advantage, Gric was free to work on the building layer by layer and slowly work his way skyward, ensuring each level met his standards before moving on to the next.

Unlike the apartments I had created, which were little more than empty shells, Gric was shaping fully formed homes, complete with functional doors and windows that could be barred from the inside. Having expected Gric to adhere to more Spartan design principles, I was pleasantly surprised to find upon closer inspection that he had gone so far as to engrave intricate landscapes into the walls.

“That is not a problem, is it, my Tyrant?” Gric asked with the faintest trace of nervousness in his voice.

“No, not at all,” I replied hurriedly, “I was just surprised. I’m impressed with what you have accomplished.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of Gric’s mouth. “Gratitude, my Tyrant.”

Watching Gric work, I gained a better understanding of how to shape the stone using authority alone. I lacked Gric’s intense and sustained focus, so I could only work in relatively short bursts. However, the results spoke for themselves.

“This is?” Gric asked curiously.

“A distribution centre,” I answered before relocating the both of us inside.

“Like a warehouse,” Gric commented as he walked around the perimeter.

“More or less,” I agreed. “The general idea is to have workers use this distribution centre as a base while patrolling the main road and offering food and water.”

Gric nodded in understanding and disappeared.

I issued several quests across all the Factions to secure the materials needed to furbish the distribution centre and secure a small fleet of handcarts. I wasn’t certain of the normal costs of each item, but the rapid rate with which each quest was completed suggested that the rewards I had offered were probably higher than the market rate.

Recruiting Semenovian and Werrian volunteers was just as simple. Granted, the workforce was older than I would have preferred, but they were motivated and would be accepted far more readily than volunteers I could secure from the other Factions.

The quests had already divided the workforce into teams according to their roles and they wasted no time in sorting through the materials I had secured and preparing themselves for the night ahead. A large degree of those preparations involved eating a large meal while the cooks prepared monstrously large batches of stew. However, given the sorry state they were in, I doubted they would make it through the night without it.

Besides the cooks, it was the small army of carpenters that were the busiest of the volunteers.

Many of the handcarts needed at least some degree of minor changes to begin their new life as food carts. In most cases, it was as simple as raising the railings to increase the number of bread loaves that could be carried without tumbling over the sides. For others, the bed of the carts were reinforced so they could handle more weight than their original owners had intended.

Each role was rewarded according to their performance in that role, so the carpenters were taking no chances and took every opportunity to improve the handcarts within the allotted time frame.

Observing their progress was like watching a tv drama during a special time-crunch event. The carpenters all knew that the preparation period presented their best chance for accruing rewards, and they were throwing everything they had into wringing the quest for all it was worth.

Watching the thousands of volunteers swarming through the distribution centre, it was difficult to reconcile the fact that they probably wouldn't be enough to satisfy the absurd scale of demand.

It had taken longer than twenty-four hours to process a single city of refugees. Even assuming that Gric’s expanded workforce would double the rate of processing the refugees, which was unlikely since the new staff wouldn’t be nearly as experienced, there would be concurrent evacuations taking place. A twelve-hour processing rate per city would still leave a backlog that would drag on into the next couple of days. And that was assuming there would be no problems.

Leaving the distribution centre behind, I was pleased to find that Gric had continued erecting apartments in my absence and had even retrofitted the originals.

In anticipation of the refugees' arrival, Semenovian soldiers and militia were arriving in increasingly greater numbers and taking positions along the main road and at the entrances of each of the apartment buildings.

Gric’s improvements generated a considerable degree of interest and it quickly got to the point that the junior officers had to begin chastising their men for leaving their posts and exploring the apartments.

King Savva and a host of his vassals and allies were waiting atop a series of raised platforms on the outskirts in preparation to address the incoming refugees and direct them toward the processing centre. The hope was that familiar faces would provide at least some measure of reassurance to the refugees who would otherwise be understandably disoriented and frightened by their sudden change in locale and circumstances.

With Gric otherwise occupied, I assumed Sebet would be the one who would open the Breach.

Sure enough, just as I was beginning to wonder when the first wave of evacuations would begin, my authority alerted me to the host of new arrivals entering my Intermediate Dimensional Plane and being redirected to Tartarus, Acheron and Asphodel respectively.

Fighting back a smile, I watched as the first of the geriatric volunteers began racing down the main road, the lantern swinging madly to and fro as the old man pushing the handcart stacked full of bread attempted to edge out his competition who were only a handful of seconds behind him.

I wasn’t the only one that found the impromptu cart race to be entertaining. After overcoming their initial surprise, many of the soldiers and even the officers cheered on the volunteers as they raced past them and down the road.

I couldn’t help but snicker in amusement after I spotted a small cadre of ramshackle carts stacked with spare parts and supplies trailing behind the food carts. It appeared that the carpenters were taking a more proactive approach to securing their rewards. Not that I could blame them.

Being uprooted from their homes and faced with an utterly alien economy to contend with, it only made sense that they would try to wring every ounce of reward from the quest that they could before the opportunity came to an end.

The initial excitement took a while to settle down. However, the presence of the volunteers, and the supplies they provided, seemed to go a long way toward maintaining a sense of calm and order to the unending processing of refugees.

What had me worried was the sheer number of criminals Gric was relocating to Tartarus. I knew Gric was taking his duty seriously and had applied a more lenient standard to account for the actions of the truly desperate. However, while assault and theft were being temporarily overlooked, murder and rape were not.

Otherwise unable to reconcile the sheer number of individuals being sent to Tartarus, I travelled to Sebet’s fortress so I could get some answers.

“Forgive me, Great One, but I believe you have underestimated the living conditions of the Slaves within this particular society,” Sebet cautioned as she led the way down into the prison below her fortress. “While not worthless, they were not considered people, merely property.”

“I know that...” I grunted irritably, still trying to wrap my mind around the sheer numbers at play.

“Then you know that assault, murder, and rape would be ubiquitous in such a society, provided Slaves were afforded the same legal protections and definitions as a citizen,” Sebet stated candidly. “Still, two in every hundred is lower than I had initially expected...” She mused distractedly while rubbing her chin. “Perhaps it is because the population was so thoroughly ravaged already? It is hard to be certain...”

As we entered the prison proper, I could see for myself that Sebet had not been exaggerating. The prison had been expanded more than a hundredfold since I last saw it.

Little more than an immense pit, barred walls worked into the sides of the pit forming the cells for the criminals imprisoned within. Each of the hundreds of layers had a thick inner ring that provided a walkway between the cells and a landing for the four Dwergi mechanical elevators that provided access between each layer and the fortress above.

Looking down into the pit, I could see several Dwergi work teams busily adjusting the landings on several layers. Given the enmity the Dwergi held toward the Werrians, I could only assume that Sebet had negotiated for their services with that fact in mind.

“I did,” Sebet readily admitted, “As well as several dozen warden and guard positions for the maintenance of the prison.”

“They will abuse their positions to get revenge, you know that, don’t you?” I complained flatly.

Sebet nodded and shrugged indifferently, “And now you do as well,” she countered. “So the question is whether you will override my decision, or allow it to stand?” Sebet had a winning hand and knew it.

Anyone Gric believed to be capable of rehabilitation would have been sent to Acheron, not Tartarus. Furthermore, Sebet was obliged to send any prisoners who met the conditions for parole forward to Acheron as well. The majority of the soldiers Sebet had abducted had already been relocated.

However, the problem came from how many people Sebet was capable of processing within a given amount of time, and whether parole candidates would suffer from ‘accidents’ before having their chance to be processed.

“I have taken steps to minimise those risks,” Sebet declared confidently. “This is the prison for the guilty, and the guilty alone. Those awaiting further scrutiny are held elsewhere.”

“Show me,” I demanded.

Sebet bowed her head obediently and the pit I was more familiar with took its place. Or rather, the transition between locations happened so quickly that it tricked my brain into thinking that it was what had happened. “Its scale is adequate for my needs,” Sebet explained with a modest shrug. “And I have made a point of leaving no one waiting any longer than a single hour. As much as it pains me to say it, Overseer Gric has a talent for rooting out the bad seeds...” An irritated snap from her tail left a deep gouge in the stone wall and floor.

Using my authority, I could tell that the cells below us were empty, confirming that Sebet had been telling the truth and hadn’t made an idle boast. “Then this is the best I should expect, for now at least,” I decided, unwilling to go out on a limb for those that failed to meet the already lenient probation standards.

At a certain point, actions and choices needed to have consequences.

***** Chen ~ Wang Chen’s Interdimensional-Plane ~ Peak of a Thousand Swords *****

The cold winds rolling off the mountains brought clarity and focus to Chen’s mind as he circulated Healing Chi through his body. All the while, the faint but rich fragrance of the rare mountain grasses and flowers eased his aching spirit.

Chen’s last battle against his rival, Gim Yi, had very nearly become his last when his rival deployed a new secret technique. A decades-long rivalry had very nearly ended in the blink of an eye.

Chen scowled as he stared down at the long bloody tear in his robes. Beginning above his right shoulder and ending just above his left hip, the blow had very nearly killed Chen on the spot. He had only survived by sacrificing several powerful Elixirs and ceding the contested territory.

As bad as the wound had been, the damage to Chen’s pride was worse.

Shrugging away the damaged portions of his robe, Chen grit his teeth in defiance as the frigid air bit deep into his exposed flesh.

Pain was the reward for his failure and Chen would not allow himself to shy away from it.

Chen took what consolation he could in the fact that the divine system allowed him to choose which territories had been lost. Careful management had ensured that he and his rival had more or less been exchanging the same barren stretches of land between one another for the past twenty years. However, as a result of their last battle, Chen was now dangerously close to losing the populated territories of his Hidden Plane.

Losing the peasants and minor nobles of the outermost territories wasn’t of significant concern. However, losing populated territories would be reflected in his overall rank amongst the other Monarchs, and losing significant ground in the ranks would trigger a feeding frenzy only two Monarchs in living memory had ever survived.

Chen’s scowl deepened, causing wrinkles to mar his otherwise beautifully immaculate face. With his long waist-length hair already in disarray, Chen paid his appearance no mind. So long as he remained on the Peak of a Thousand Swords, no one, not even his disciples would be able to approach him.

Allowing his emotions time to settle, Chen conjured new robes and absently cast the bloody rags to the winds. They had not been inherently magical, so they were easy enough to replace. The armour that had once covered them was a different matter but had been lost as one of the conditions of his surrender.

Magical armour was not particularly difficult to come by, and greater tiers of protection were not excessively rare. However, armour with unique effects that could enhance a Monarch’s Abilities were jealously guarded treasures. Losing the Jade Dragon armour hurt Chen more than the sword that had sheared through his internal organs.

Hours passed by in near complete silence as Chen reflected upon the battle and what he could have done differently.

However, the only answer Chen could find was to set aside his pride, and he would rather die than sink to Gim Yi’s level.

Besides, it no longer mattered. Now that Chen was aware of the seemingly broken sword’s true nature, it was simply a matter of accounting for its hidden length and acting accordingly.

“Filthy Korean dog!” Chen cursed quietly before slowly donning a new robe and descending from the peak.

Gim Yi was always pulling underhanded tricks to compensate for his innate lack of skill and discipline. Even so, they had rarely worked and had never accomplished anything so devastating.

In terms of swordsmanship alone, Chen knew he was far superior to Gim Yi. The problem lay in the fact that Gim Yi openly acknowledged this fact and made a point of keeping his distance whenever possible. As a practitioner of sword arts himself, the disadvantage of using weapons outside of his discipline should have made Gim Yi far weaker than he otherwise was. However, for whatever reason, Gim Yi proved almost equally as capable with bows, spears and clubs as he was with the sword.

Chen suspected foul play.

Chen had not managed to gather definitive evidence, but the signs all pointed to Gim Yi having unsanctioned support from the divine system.

Settling his heart, Chen did his best to push thoughts of Gim Yi from his mind. The loss itself was bad enough, but facing his descendants and disciples with a disturbed heart and mind would only invite panic. So long as Chen was in control, he knew they would have no choice but to believe in his previous explanation.

“The minister of treasury humbly greets the honoured Patriarch!” Wang Feng, Chen’s minister of the treasury, announced in greeting while bowing so low at the waist that his forehead very nearly struck the ground between his feet.

“Minister Feng, I trust you have good cause for seeking me out so soon after exchanging pointers with my old acquaintance...” Chen was smiling, but the coldness in his words caused the temperature surrounding them to plummet.

“A-Ah, n-n-no, I-I m-m-mean y-y-yes!” The minister stammered, his teeth chattering noisily. Despite the chill, he remained incredibly excited.

With a minor effort of will, Chen dispelled the cold air. “Truly?” He asked with an expression of mild interest. The minister was responsible for a wide range of duties and most of them were incredibly dull subjects of conversation.

“Indeed! I swear upon my life, honoured Patriarch!” The minister replied with fanatical zeal.

Wang Feng was not one of Chen’s disciples, nor was he one of Chen’s descendants. He was a man entirely devoid of combat instincts. However, Wang Feng had an unparalleled gift for commerce. It was why Chen entrusted Wang Feng with handling his family’s finances and even allowed him to marry into his clan and take his prestigious family name. It was an honour Chen’s disciples would have sacrificed their right arms to attain.

Chen motioned for Wang Feng to proceed.

“A new Monarch has joined the rankings!” Wang Feng exclaimed excitedly, “Furthermore, his rating is incredibly low! Even lower than the Turtle King after his loss to the Storm Dragon Prince!”

Chen’s heart skipped a beat.

Fresh meat!

With a flick of his wrist, Chen conjured the divine system interface and the Monarch Rankings. Sure enough, he found a new entry at the bottom of the list. The Monarch’s name was missing, leaving only the title of Tyrant.

Just as Wang Feng had said, the Tyrant had only one hundred and seven points, leaving the Tyrant trailing far behind the next lowest entry at nine hundred and twelve points.

There was no way the Tyrant would have any treasures worth fighting over. However, Chen was more interested in something else. He wanted the Tyrant's territories.

Without hesitation, Chen used his divine authority to issue a formal challenge against the Tyrant. To his immense delight, Chen received confirmation that his challenge had been received by the Tyrant.

Reading the confirmation, Chen could hardly suppress his immense surprise and delight at securing the Tyrant’s first mandatory challenge.

Eyes burning with greed, Chen smiled as he imagined the surprise and horror the Tyrant must be feeling as they read the divine system’s mandatory challenge and its conditions for refusal. In almost every respect, the penalty was worse than losing. Assuming, of course, that your opponent accepted your surrender.

“Fwa! You have secured the mandatory challenge, honoured Patriarch!” Wang Feng exclaimed with pride and sycophantic deference. ”I should have expected nothing less!”

“Hrmf, indeed, you shouldn’t have,” Chen preened pridefully. “No doubt this bumpkin will attempt to draw out the grace period for all it is worth before accepting the inevitable.” Which would suit him just fine. Chen’s wounds had only very recently healed and he still needed time to recover to return to his peak fighting form.

If such an opportunity hadn’t appeared, Chen would have waited a full week before challenging one of the lower rankers to recover territory.

“Truly the heavens look upon you with great favour!” Wang Feng cheered, buoying Chen’s spirits to greater heights.

“Indeed,” Chen agreed with feigned humility.

Gim Yi might have won the battle, but with the heavens’ favour, Chen was confident that he would ultimately win the war. After all, there were only so many tricks Gim Yi could play before Chen’s blade relieved his head from his shoulders.

All Chen had to do now was wait for his prey to accept its fate.

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