Chapter 794 – Monsters, Or Not?

Can the University of Camford be banned from submitting plans? I mean it seriously, because the idea of sticking supercomputers onto islands, to do little more than manage coordination between them, is the sort of idea only a professor who deals in nothing but theory could have come up. The team in Aris Imperial College of Technicians has already designed a tested system that handles this issue.

Drone coordination technology is the answer and not the substitute, half-way there, solution. There is no reason to design experimental systems that will take years to implement, and there is even less reason to listen to these academics when we are dealing with a timeline that measures half a year at most. The Camford solution may be prototyped by then, MAY.

We have no time such trite.

- Excerpt from the “M.M.M. Discussions”, for internal Imperial Administration ONLY. This part is credited to Professor Jean Altier

Fortia stared up at what obviously had to be some sort of flag of monsterkind. The creatures themselves lay dead, the careful pace that Malam had set initially had disappeared. Careful, or maybe timid was the better word. Everyone knew they had to push deeper, and no one really argued with the fact that Malam was slowing down the fights so that all of them could get their fair shot at spilling blood. They no longer fought as a group, Malam still led, Fer was still by her side but a step behind was Neneria.

The Goddesses of Hatred and Beasthood would step aside whenever they hit another pack of monsters. Whether they were standing still, waiting with their eyes closed, turned around or screaming and charging towards the Divines made no difference. Neneria raised her arms, her eyes started to leak with the open floodgates of soul energy, and the Dead Legion would come forth in a flood.

From the ceiling, from the walls, from the floor, the ghastly spirits contained within Neneria would pour forth. Their faces twisted in rage and hunger, or in pain, or in duty, and they presented themselves as they died. Most from of them were souls lost during Continent Cracking, and they bore the scratches of debris that had hit in the massive tidal wave which rolled through the UNN. It made no difference to the monsters though. The soundless flood of spirits would pour forth and ignore stone or hide or bone or claw.

No amount of struggling would have made a difference, and most of the creatures did not struggle in the first place. They gave up instead, standing their ground, or trying to flee, until their own bodies were caught in Neneria’s wave.

Every half-hour, they would make a stop though. Behind the Divines, the humans were struggling to keep up. The increased pace was testing the supply lines, Fortia had needed to fall back twice already to offer encouragement and give advice on where they should improve. The lamps did not need to be placed so tightly together, and this team was moving the fastest. The supplies did not need to be evenly spread out either.

Even now though, they could hear the echoes of gunfire burst from the walls behind them. Malam had led them through several junctions, each time making a stop on the turn and looking both ways, although could still not see the logic in the turns. Sometimes she would lead left, sometimes right, apparently the taste of the air was getting thicker now. Only once had they had to backtrack even though a dead-end had been hit twice.

That second time, it was Iniri who caught onto the fact that the stone was freshly moved and that they should try going through. Fortia ripped her eyes from the flag of monsterkind, black and white, with a white dot in the middle and a circle around it. “That has to be some meaning.” Maisara said.

“I mean…” Fortia said. “There’s an obvious one I think everyone has had cross their mind already.”

“What?” Malam asked.

“It’s Arda with a ring around it.” Fortia said dryly. It was obviously that, it was textbook military symbolism. That was more unsettling than the fact that the monsters had flags in the first place.

“That’s what you see?” Malam asked. “I see a target.” Fortia stared at the white dot with the ring around it and tried to see the target. Was the woman stupid? She was Malam after all. But that was not a target. “The edges are the white ring, and the dot is bullseye.” A target had multiple rings and everyone knew that. What was this explanation?

“I see a castle with a wall around. Or maybe a city with a wall.” Maisara said.

“That makes more sense than the target.” Fortia said and Malam sighed.

“Of course you’d back her up.”

“I see a dot and a ring.” Fer said. “So there’s that.” She shut the conversation up because it become an argument. Fortia actually had to chuckle at that explanation, that was undeniable. “You, Iniri?”

Iniri shrugged. “It’s a flag and I don’t know what it means. There could be so many interpretations that we’d need someone to tell us actually.”

“What about you Neneria?”

“Craftsmanship and sewing ability.” Neneria said. “The pattern on the flag is a perfect circle, we can assume they know how to conceptualize a circle, so they most likely have invented the wheel.” She looked around this nest that had just been slaughtered. Corpses lay on the ground, disfigured already before they were dead by their own biology, and physically uninjured by the tidal wave of ghosts which had cleaned the room.

“Invented the wheel.” Malam mused. “That is most likely correct, and I would have asked for you to share what medicine you were on if you told me a week ago, I would be agreeing that monsters could invent.”

“I’m on no medicine.” Neneria said dryly, she turned around and looked down the tunnel they had come. There was a junction there. Another team was holding it as they waited for lighting supplies. One of the men walked around with a small device, an electronic mapper that had been brought down recently and was being used to chart the tunnels. “We should explore here though.” Neneria shown her own flashlight around. “The air here tastes strange.”

“Does it now?” Malam opened her mouth and licked the air. Fer sniffed and shrugged, her ears spiralling into every direction before unwinding and returning to their default, forward-resting position. “It’s thicker with them.” Neneria shook her head. This nest had multiple entrances, or maybe they were exits, although only two of them were the major tunnels that were tall enough for a party of Divines. Fortia had her inklings that they were getting to barracks. She had it since they arrived here, but that feeling only grew more certain the more the party wandered down here.

Malam turned a flashlight to the first door opening on the right. There were six altogether, and then the two that had to be the extensions of the tunnels, at the front and back. “This one first.” Malam said, she took a step, a deep breath, and then another, flashlight pointed forwards. Fer was by her side first, Neneria went last, Fortia and Maisara and Iniri in the middle.

“What is that?” Fer asked, every torch had settled onto the pit in the middle of the room. It had charred edges around the stone, although there didn’t look to be any ashes or fuel leftover. “That is what I think it is?” She knelt down by the stone and dragged her finger through the dark mark. It peeled away. “Ash.”

“Burnpit.” Malam said.

“Or cookpit.” Fortia said.

“Can monsters cook?” Iniri asked.

“I don’t know if they can burn in the first place.” Malam answered.

Maisara posed the question that everyone was thinking and no one dared to ask. “Where’s the fuel then?” She said. Fortia looked around the chamber, it was small. Only Iniri could walk through this corridor without craning her head, the rest of them had to bend at the hip to fit in here and six Divines made the chamber downright claustrophobic.

Claustrophobic and empty. Save for the pit in the middle, and the scorch marks left there. Someone had to say it, didn’t they? It may as well be Fortia. “Magic.” Fortia said and Malam dropped her head.

“I’m not even going to argue with you.” She said. “It’s thick here.”

“I can’t smell it though.”

“Magic has a smell?” Malam asked.

“Mmh.” Fer said. “It’s a like refined mint. Do you know diesel fuel, mix that with mint. That’s magic. I don’t smell that here.”

Maisara pointed across the pit to Fer. “You once told me it smelled of sulphur though.”

“Everything from Tartarus smells of sulphur, that’s different. Ardan magic is refined mint.” Fer corrected herself. She smelled the air. “This is just the monster smell, vomit, before you ask. I don’t know how else to explain it. It’s just refuse smell.”

“But it has to be magic.” Fortia said.

“It could be a clean fuel?” Maisara said. “Something that burns entirely.”

“Like what?” Malam asked.

“Fat?” Maisara said. “Or just diesel?”

“Monster fat or monster diesel.” Fer said.

“Those were just examples.” Maisara said. “Do monsters burn up?” Malam stared at Maisara, her black eyes unmoving for a moment. She looked at the pit, her white hair shifting with her. Then back at Maisara. Then at the burn pit.

“They would still need to dispose of the bones but there’s some that eat bones.” She said. “Is this a corpse pit?”

“Oh fucking hell.” Fortia said. “There we go again.”

“I’m being serious.” Malam said. “That would explain… Well, they can’t be cooking here, there’s no utensils or anything.” The party of Divines shared looks between themselves and Malam finally cracked. A smile that had not been on her face since the surface returned and she actually laughed. “I need a fucking drink.”

“I don’t blame you.” Fortia said. “There’s five more rooms.” Fer finally got up from her squat and began to walk back. They had taken long enough in there that the humans had caught up. The paladins in their rugged armours, all carrying Helenna’s blessing of love. They were arranging the lights, pulling the monster corpses to the side. A pair took point at other tunnel, with flashlights mounted onto their rifles and ready to fire if they even saw the inkling of movement in the thick, miasmic darkness.

“Inspect the rooms!” Malam shouted. “Report back, we’ll stay here and hold the entrance.” The soldiers groaned with more emotion than Maisara would ever allow her Paladins to expel, that Fortia would give a beating for, and that Kassandora would find unacceptable in the Imperial Army. But they did follow orders thought and Malam didn’t seem to care.

“You can’t let them react like that.” Maisara said.

“They have Helenna’s blessing.” Malam said. “Men like that will always be more open about themselves.” She chuckled. “And in the ancient fashion, where they swear and say what is on their mind.”

“So basically, she makes them drunk on life.” Fer said and cooed a sweet sound. “How lovely is that?”

The men split up, disappeared. There were a few sounds of surprise. Some cursing from the rooms. No gunshots though, Neneria had cleared out this area entirely. And then they started returning. One of the rooms had a mole-man hole, apparently. The other had something that could be described as an empty altar. But then came the middle room on the left. The men returned without words and with pale faces. “There’s something in there.” One of the men reported.

“It’s a statue. It’s stone. We didn’t touch it.” His partner reported.

“A statue of what?” Fortia asked immediately. She didn’t know if she even wanted to look at it. But she had to check, and everyone would look. Their own curiosity would kill them if they didn’t check. So they checked, going inside that tunnel.

“What the fuck.” Malam held her flashlight up at the stone. Fortia’s hand shook. Fer froze, all her hairs standing on edge. Neneria let out a gasp and Iniri bristled. Both of them did not complete, . Even Maisara who usually gave no reaction stared up without a word.

A statue, carved stone, proper carved stone. Of a deity. There were no two ways about it, they were looking at an image of a God. His face hard and angular, his brow low, he sat on a throne, it was obvious from the size of him, the shoulders were too broad to be a human. The head itself was almost too handsome, there was a certain quality to it that Divinity possessed. Fortia scanned the statue for anything that could be a tell. No probably, and the crown on his head was huge. Nothing like the ones that were standard in Empire either. “Well…” Malam said. “I can tell you one thing.”

“What?” Maisara asked.

Malam pointed to the base of the statue, where the work was rougher. “That was made by a hammer, you can see the chipping of it.”

Fortia’s eyes went to the base. That was indeed made by a hammer, the cracks were there. The statute itself was a masterpiece of art, it could have been done by magic. But the base? That was chiselling through and through. “I actually don’t think monsters made that.” Fortia said.

“I wish they didn’t.” Malam added.

“We’ve not seen a single tool of theirs.” Fortia said. “Even now, they have these flags, but there’s no thread or anything. There’s…” She swallowed nervously, they had been working under one assumption, but that was just an assumption. “That burn pit we found… Fer, how old was the ash?”

“I don’t know.” Fer said.

“What if monsters didn’t make this then?” Fortia said.

“Who would then?” Fer said.

“Oh.” Malam said. “I see what you’re saying.”

“Do you?”

“That these caves are old.” Malam said. “How old though?” She waved at the statue. “I don’t recognise that deity so…” She turned to Neneria and Iniri, who had stopped at the doorway and did not come a step closer. “Do you two recognise him?”

Neneria and Iniri turned to each other. Fortia watched them, eyebrows furrowed. That wasn’t… surprise. Well, it was, but there was no confusion there. More like… recognition? They both said nothing, but their eyes said everything. “What I will say will sound crazy Malam.” Neneria said. “But I know who that is.”

“Who?”

“I am barred from saying.” Fortia turned back to the statue, then to Neneria, and she finally put two and two together. This is the figure they had memories of, but they were memories that weren’t theirs and they were forbidden from speaking about. She said what they could not.

“This is a Pre-Gaian God.”