More than fifty Beli lay in the fields, in various states of dismemberment—craftsmen, workers, and servants. Not a single warrior among them. They never stood a chance.
Eleazar forced himself to look at the results of his actions—more shame to bear.
“Another glorious victory to increase your legend, Emperor Eleazar,” Boral the Enduring declared with mock solemnity. He enjoyed provoking Eleazar in public, hoping to incite a reaction that would give him an excuse to destroy him.
Boral was the most powerful Imperial alive, boasting eight progressions to his name. He also led the House of Commitment, and his unwavering piety had stripped him of every last remnant of humanity.
He stood as a 12-foot-tall monstrosity, a centaur made of chitin and might. His six arms dangled from his trunk, supported by the eight legs sprouting from his thorax. A single eye made of piercing flame stood in the middle of his insectoid face.
His chitin armor, covered with glowing runes that shifted as Boral moved, bathed the environment with a reddish light.
Boral had once been a good friend. As children, he and Eleazar often played together, as their fathers were leaders of factions closely allied to one another.
Then the Compendium arrived, bringing with it Evolutions, Intents, and Progression Bars.
For generations, the Imperials had joyfully slaughtered each other over their races, flags, religions, and kings, but the Compendium swept all of that aside in less than five years.
Now, most Imperials cared only about the philosophies behind their Progressions—and they still fought and killed over those.
Eleazar ignored Boral, as only his evolved brain could do: he commanded his memory to erase Boral's last words. Still, he added a subroutine to recall them when he could safely seek revenge without jeopardizing his position.
He had created many such subroutines of late. He made a note within the subroutine: Boral always mocked him when there was an opportunity to question his fighting abilities.
Eleazar strongly suspected that Boral was secretly afraid that his dedication to his Evolution had cost him too much flexibility in exchange for power. As the head of the Church of Commitment, he had little choice; he was obligated to take a single Intent to its ultimate conclusion and choose a fixed shape that embodied it.
He flagged the subroutine as a potential exploit with combat value.
“What are we seeing here, Counselor?” Eleazar asked his sister Gala, Boral’s words gone from his mind as if they had never existed.
“We are witnessing human ingenuity at its peak, my Emperor,” she replied. Gala had chosen three Intents and mainly looked human, except for the pair of dragonfly wings protruding from her back. She was the family's scholar, and her chosen Intents were Analyzing, Studying, and Advising.
“This wing is known as the Guzzler’s Den, the second area of the dungeon. The Guzzler is that boar-like monstrosity over there,” Gala said, pointing at the twenty-foot-tall humanoid boar sleeping in the middle of a muddy pool, two hundred feet away from them.
“The adventurers were supposed to open the food cans filling this room.”
Eleazar gazed at the vast collection of cans—literally tens of millions—cluttered across every possible spot in the valley-sized wing.
“One in twenty cans holds a mollusk-like creature that runs toward the Boss, aggroing him. One in one hundred cans contains a glowing key that activates the fans to blow away the toxic gas the Guzzler emits during the battle,” Gala added.
“If I understand the mechanics correctly,” Eleazar interjected, “it is the typical dungeon fight.”
“The intriguing part lies not in the fight itself, but in how they have integrated the dungeon mechanics into their everyday lives,” Gala explained. “This dungeon produces more than one-third of all the food consumed in Belona.”
Eleazar would have felt sick if his evolved body allowed him to when he heard that. What they were about to do would have been considered a war crime in the old land.
Gala continued her explanation, “The keys are used to create the glowing spheres of light that illuminate their homes. Moreover, the Guzzler is the last remaining boss in the dungeon. They have managed to turn the dungeon into a source of wealth.” For an instant, it looked as if she wanted to add something, but thought better of it.
“Something is troubling you, Gala. Speak your mind,” Eleazar urged her. He knew Gala would never do so in open court unless explicitly commanded to do so.
“Must we really do this, my Emperor?” Gala asked softly. Her wings fluttered, as if to shield her from the worst of the scene.
“These people have discovered a third way. They will survive, even without Evolutions. Can we not do the same?”
“This is not our home, Gala. It belongs to them,” Eleazar explained. “We are invaders, coming from a distant land and taking what is not ours. They will never see us as friends.”
“And we have made a promise to Necessity,” he added. “Do you want to break your word to one such as him?” That ended the debate.
Eleazar did not hold any resentment towards Gala for her doubts; he shared them as well. Ever since that fateful day when they climbed out of the Black Tower, they found themselves in a world utterly different from the one they had left behind.
There were three small gibbous moons instead of the majestic beauty of Valaia, unfamiliar constellations in the sky, strange new flora and fauna, and a sun that was smaller and a different color from the one they knew.
The clinking sound made by the Scrollbearer as he bounced his metal ball against the wall pulled Eleazar from his reverie. He could not afford to daydream; he had responsibilities to attend to.
“I am going to fight the Guzzler. Alone. Gala, protect the Scrollbearer,” he ordered.
The Scrollbearer was the last task entrusted to him by Governance.
It was a small, mad creature in the shape of a five-foot-tall humanoid beetle.
It never talked or responded when spoken to. Instead, it gazed into the distance, playing with a metal ball it liked to bounce against the walls or the floor while humming to itself.
Hanging from its neck, tied with a string, was the Scroll of Governance.
Governance had explicitly instructed him never to read its contents unless certain specific conditions were met. “Remember, when the day is lost, only the Scrollbearer can turn things around. He is the ultimate solution.”
Eleazar never let the eccentric creature out of his sight. He had learned many times not to question Governance’s visions.
“A fitting division of responsibilities,” Boral added.
“Your sister will protect that mad creature, and I will safeguard the treasures gifted to us by Necessity,” Boral said, holding up a Dungeon Seed in his hand. However, Eleazar noticed the greed in his eyes. Everyone coveted the secrets of the Scroll, even if they dared not admit it.
“How are the other strike teams doing?” Eleazar asked.
“Goratan the hunter is in position and ready to take on the river dragon. He will do so once he has confirmation of our success. Once he kills him, their society will be effectively crippled. They will no longer function as a unified city but as seven separate entities,” Gala replied.
“Since all districts depend on one another, without an effective way to transport goods between them, the Beli will have lost the war before it even begins.”
“Goratan will not fail,” Evershifting Andara, head of the Church of Fluidity, proclaimed.
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“His devotion to the hunt is absolute,” she added smugly.
The Fluids, much like the Committed, considered themselves the only true followers of Evolution. To Eleazar, they were just dangerous fanatics in two different flavours.
“Poor bastards,” Eleazar mumbled, his thoughts on the inhabitants of this strange, new land. “They deserve better than us.” Then he entered the fight pit.
Eleazar was both the ruling emperor and the head of the Unfocused, a catch-all for all Imperials who did not want to join any of the other doctrines. It proclaimed the use of a personal path to self-fulfilment, not focused on any specific aspect, and which could vary between members. The only requirement to enter it was to have more than one Intent. It was a dwindling faction, constantly being eroded by the other, more forceful doctrines.
While most imperials had carefully chosen their progressions, trying to wring as much personal power out of them as possible or to adhere to their individual philosophies, Eleazar had designed his considering their political weight. He could not afford to alienate potential allies.
He had two Intents: Ending and Organizing. He was only interested in the second one, but he needed at least two to keep his dwindling humanity.
Intents shaped the mind of a Progressor. Having a single one meant that most human emotions, instincts, and thoughts would be absorbed by it like water down a drainpipe, leaving only personality traits that matched the Intent’s nature.
Eleazar had two different Intents: his personality was like a swimmer caught between two whirlpools, trying to remain in the safe zone where each nullified the other.
If his soul approached too closely to one of them, he would become a monster like Boral or Andara in no time; his body would soon follow his mind.
So he had to select Endings as well, and thank God for that, because it had already saved his life twice.
At the end of the day, it is assassins who survive, not administrators.
Choosing to become Unfocused meant sacrificing power in exchange for humanity.
Intents were jealous mistresses. They were incredibly generous with those who chose them as single partners, and their rewards came in many forms.
Boral had chosen a more perfect body, brimming with stats and exquisitely suited to his only Intent.
Andara preferred more versatility. Like all Fluids, she was in a state of constant transformation, continually adapting to the environment.
Eleazar had neither extra stats nor adaptation powers, but he could still remember the face of his mother and laugh. Not that he had many reasons to laugh anymore.
As he entered the mud pool, he flexed his Intents, preparing to use them. Each of his seven Evolutions was paired with one of his two Intents.
His magical senses picked up the overlapping pulses of order and death around the snoring boar. Its breathing was too rhythmic—a feint.
Eleazar played the same game as the Guzzler, knowing that his enemy was aware of his movements.
When the Emperor was close enough to strike, the Guzzler suddenly attacked, howling with rage, expecting to catch Eleazar unaware.
He expertly dodged the Guzzler’s clumsy claw swipe, running his suddenly crystalline fingers over his foe’s forearms. His Perfect Edge evolution turned his extremities into a glassy form, excellent for cutting attacks.
Perfect Edge: Create any rank seven power as long as it meets all the following requirements.
- It must create order or increase harmony.
- It must manifest as the Unfocused’s extremities turning to glass.
- It must slice matter.
- Once invoked, the power can’t be changed for five minutes or while it is on cooldown, whichever is higher.
The Unfocused may ignore these limitations by sacrificing two power ranks for each. He may soften limitations by sacrificing one power rank for each.
It was paired with his Organizing Intent, which introduced harmony into chaos.
His evolutions were designed along the most common pattern: one limitation defined by his Intent, another by the way the power manifested physically on his body, a third constraining what the evolution could be used for, and a final, fourth freeform limitation that changed from one evolution to another.
He chose to negate the harmony requirement and gain a rank four power based on inserting glass shards into wounds each time he struck, creating a damage-over-time effect.
He also sacrificed one rank to soften the last restriction. Now the power could be changed in thirty seconds.
Hungry Glass x4 (Perfect Edge): Your hands act as a bladed weapon.
- Add 50% to your Strength and Dexterity for purposes of calculating how much damage you do with them.
- Half of this damage will be inflicted over 10 seconds as glass shards dig deeper into the wound.
- While in pain, the target loses 20% of his Dexterity.
The Guzzler howled as four deep lacerations appeared on his forearm, from which black ichor poured out. His first strike was successful.
Eleazar lacked the impressive stats of a Committed or the versatility of a Fluid, but his innate abilities far surpassed those of an unevolved human.
He felt his sharpened fingers slicing through the Boss's flesh as if they were running through sand.
The Guzzler's quills suddenly stood on end and shot out from his body like projectiles. However, they were harmlessly deflected by the Emperor's Crystalline Skin, which utilized his power over Order to reorganize the molecules in his sweat into permanent crystalline armor. He barely felt the impact of the quills, which would have easily pierced through a human body.
He continued to strike the Guzzler with his crystalline body weapons, forcing it to retreat. Soon, its entire body was covered in pulsating wounds, within which fragments of magical glass were pushing into the Boss form, intensifying its pain.
Its screams sounded oddly human. Eleazar had not felt any joy in battle lately.
The Guzzler changed tactics, opening its mouth and ejecting a foul miasma of poisonous gas. This was the attack that was supposed to be neutralized by activating the fans with the key found inside the food cans.
Eleazar had many tricks up his sleeve. All Progressors did. Their powers were essentially meta-abilities that could transform into an infinite number of related effects.
Evolved Brain: Create any rank seven power as long as it meets all the following requirements.
- It must create order or increase harmony.
- It must manifest as the Progressor's brain emitting light through his eyes.
- It must create plans or strategies.
- While in use, the Progressor can't physically move.
The Unfocused may ignore these limitations by sacrificing two power ranks for each. He may soften limitations by sacrificing one power rank for each.
To the Guzzler’s surprise, instead of dispersing, the gas adopted a perfect spherical form and floated upwards, like a toxic green sun waiting to rain death on the land below. Eleazar had sacrificed four ranks to negate the second and fourth limitations. He did not need a high-ranked power for this.
Gaze of Order x3 (Evolved Brain): Increase the amount of order in any fluid substance you can see—scales with Intelligence.
The Boss stomped its paws on the ground, and thousands of flesh-eating worms erupted from it, moving towards Eleazar. The Emperor imposed greater order on the gas sphere, turning it into liquid. The liquid poison sphere fell on the floor, splashing over the worms and killing them instantly. They wailed while they died, as if trying to make him even guiltier than he felt.
Eleazar carved into the Guzzler again and again, while the beast tried futilely to counterattack him. Suddenly, it changed tactics, shoulder-bashing him into the ground, taking Eleazar by surprise. The beast was capable of adapting remarkably fast to the fight. It raised its foot over the Emperor’s head, intent on bashing it against the floor. Eleazar’s blood was paired to his Ending Intent. It transformed into a cloud of gas that enclosed the Guzzler, making his actions so slow that the Progressor could easily dodge the blow.
That had been closer than he would have liked.
The Guzzler charged him again, but Eleazar was ready this time and jumped nimbly over his foe. His Perfect Edge cooldown was already over, so he turned it into a ranged attack. Small glass projectiles tore across the Boss’s back as it crashed to the ground.
The Guzzler played his trump card, a self-healing ability that could be used only once per day. All the poisonous glass that had been inserted into his body flew out of him as his wounds closed and blood seeped back into them.
Eleazar utilized one of his favorite Ending Evolutions, tied to his peripheral nervous system, creating a power that allowed him to undo the consequences of any action completed in the last ten seconds.
The Guzzler tried to resist the magic, but failed. All the glass flew back into his body, reopening the wounds.
The Guzzler roared once more and then collapsed into the pool, his screams of rage growing weaker until they stopped.
The Guzzler’s Den, Belona’s main food supply, started trembling as its last lynchpin holding it to reality died.
“It is working. Necessity was true to its word,” Boral screamed as the Essence freed by the dying dungeon started to be drawn into the pulsing Dungeon Seed he held in his paws.
“Evolution is back, and it will take our race back to its rightful place,” Boral added, as a new reality was built around them.
Eleazar gazed sadly at the body of his beaten foe, searching in vain for a reason to celebrate. He felt no joy. Could he feel joy anymore? And if so, had Evolution or his own actions taken it away from him?
Then, he looked at the face of his former friend, fixed in an ecstatic grin as a new world was built at the expense of the death of an old one.
Boral, he thought, feeling more pity than disgust, Necessity is like Evolution. Its gifts come with a price. You will learn that soon.
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