FINAL CORE - Chapter 57 (Patreon)

‘Those who can not swim should not stay near rivers.’

Isaiah teaches us a lesson on the hubris of the living condition. Self-control and true self-love are interwoven roots that hold a tree above themselves steady and strong. A person who claims to love themself, but who has no control over their own actions and emotional state, is simply playing a game of self-deceit.

Learning about your feelings and your pains to their deepest core and why you act on them in such self-destructive ways is the metaphorical act of swimming through life. Self-love is the river. It is dangerous to indulge in the latter, without understanding the former.

A river is deadly if you can not swim. Self-love is poison if you are intent on loving self-destructiveness.

Learn to swim.

~ Draft from the Gospel of Isaiah, page eighteen - Rorate

_______________________________________

Isaiah wanders through the graveyard, looking around at the ornate, intricate markers that designate each and every grave. All of them are expertly and lovingly crafted by the uthra, despite the almost mechanical processing of life they are used to signify.

Before the ‘mercy’ ability had become unlocked, the progress and safety of the tower was bought with blood.

[Prayers]

Prayers have reached the tower!

+5 EXP

The entity bends down, wiping off a stone that flower pollen and leaves had begun to rest on top of. It examines the marker, realizing that it belongs to a member of the first inspection team.

Isaiah turns its head, looking at the other graves that mourning spirits hover around, wailing in their tormented laments.

These first inspectors were not meant to die. But neither would it wish the second team to die either, if it could have been avoided.

[Pilgrimage]

A pilgrim has arrived at the tower!

+37 EXP

But this is perhaps simply the nature of life. Co-existing forever is impossible. Perhaps living entities are things that move in parallel along the same road through their days and, in this process, it is simply unavoidable that they bump into one another now and then in the diverging swaying and wandering.

It knows as much. But it would still hope for the opposite. If this world, this metaphorical-road, is too small for all of them. Then why not use the energy of the living to expand this pathway, rather than to force others off of it?

The gods will be made aware of their lacking presence down here on this world. It will return them to their task. Isaiah doesn’t know quite how to do that just yet. But the tower is growing higher, faster. Floor one-hundred will be here soon and it grows in strength as the tower grows in power, as its name and presence spreads far across the landscape.

But is this enough to reach the gods? Is it enough to make them listen?

Isaiah rises to its feet, turning to the side. The monk of the second inspection team is sitting out in the graveyard, near a collection of stones that she meditates at.

It tilts its head.

– Is its strength enough to force them to listen, if they are not willing to comply? The gods?

These incursions have been fantastic for its experience points. As have been the prayers, the pilgrims and the spreading of its name to further places. The passive experience point generation system is working exquisitely.

But how strong is a god?

How strong do you need to be to challenge one? To challenge all of them?

Isaiah looks at its hands and talons and then over to the monk, who sits amidst the graves of her companions in silent meditation. The presence of their tombs does not seem to bother her. Living in the place they died, living under the being that was responsible in a sense, these do not bother her.

It is a strength that Isaiah would like to learn. It is strong now. But it needs to be stronger. It needs to find ways to become far, far, far more powerful and perhaps quickly, even.

The dungeon-core wanders over towards her and sits down across from her, copying her pose and posture as it tries to learn what she has to show.

The gods neglect their children and in doing so, they not only harm them, but they also harm themselves. Children can have many things to teach those who are willing to pay them some mind.

The monk says nothing. But she, without opening her eyes, makes an exaggeration of her breathing, to show the technique.

Isaiah follows.

______________________________________________

Rorate

Rorate sits hunched over on floor three of the tower, the prayer-hall and writes into a book of notes.

The gospel is… incomplete. It’s a work in progress, continually changing and adapting. She spends her days considering the events that have happened to her here and then speaks with the others, interviewing them for their stories. She wanders the tower and the grounds, watching and listening to the adventurers outside for their whispers and legends.

Stories are growing and as people pass them on to each other, they become more and more exaggerated. The stories of Isaiah’s presence and acts have become so wild, that she’s sure that by the time they reach the nearby city, they will be unrecognizable.

That is why it’s important for her to write this.

There needs to be a proper account of the events and intentions behind them here, otherwise, people will make up their own versions of the stories.

Isaiah had protected her. So this is her way of giving back.

– Some footsteps wander up the staircase from floor two. Rorate blinks and closes her ledger, lifting up the hood of her robe as some adventurers walk in from below.

Time to make a sell.

“Welcome!” greets Rorate, walking towards the altar.

_______________________________________________

Cardinal Schweig

Human, Male, Cardinal

“Brothers, sisters!” calls the cardinal from the north, Schweig, looking down over the balcony of the cathedral, down towards the market-square where hundreds of people have gathered. Citizens, adventurers, wanderers. Prominent politicians from the region and from the other cities. Mothers and fathers herd their children together into groups. The tradespeople of the city stop their crafts. The merchants stop their businesses as all eyes wander towards the man in red. Everyone knows what the topic of this spontaneous speech is going to be. There is only one thing it could be.

The tower.

“For weeks, we have been living in the shadow of a monstrosity!” he calls, lifting a hand. The crowd murmurs. Their faces, while somewhat indistinguishable to his old eyes, are painted clear with the expressions of concern. Given the destruction of the lands just outside of the city, given the horrified tales of villagers who were thrown from their homes to their deaths, mixed in with the literal shadow of the tower that looms over the city itself, people are more than on edge.

They’re past tense, they’re a hair away from exploding violently because of their anxieties, and if these aren’t redirected somewhere else, they will explode here, inside of the walls of this city and then cascade. Similar bouts of social unrest will start in the other cities as well.

He continues his speech.

______________________________________

Isaiah

[Grand Icon]

The name of Isaiah has been uttered.

+180 EXP

Wow.

This was a big one.

Isaiah looks at the window that had appeared. It must be getting popular, for people to be talking about it this much.