Chapter 308 - The Sea of Corruption (Patreon)

The hell in question had a proper name – Mal’pravitas, or according to the translation granted by the Framework, The Sea of Corruption – and it lived up to that moniker. Everywhere Zeke looked, twisted coral sprouted from the black, sandy ground. Most of the coral was stark white, making it look like the bones of some long dead leviathan, but here and there, red versions dotted the landscape.

In the distance, Zeke could see a huge pillar jutting toward the sky; it was at least a mile tall, and probably half as wide, and even from so far away, he could see agonized faces of various demons carved into its surface.

“So, that’s where we’re going?” he asked, glancing at Eefik.

Over the past few days, Zeke had been given a crash course in his new life as a Forerunner. The title was appropriate, given that they were expected to act as scouts and trailbreakers for the dwarves as they attempted to carve a path to the pillar. The problems with that were manyfold.

First, the dwarves could only remain in Mal’pravitas for a day or so before the ambient corruption forced them to retreat to safety. Zeke had no idea why they were so sensitive – perhaps it had something to do with their long exposure – but it was widely accepted as fact, so he had no interest in disputing the claim. The slaves, by comparison, could stay in the Sea of Corruption for weeks before they succumbed to the ill effects of the atmosphere. So, Zeke and others like him were used accordingly.

“Yep,” was Eefik’s reply. “Get back to work, yeah? You don’t want to get assigned as a scout.”

But that was precisely what Zeke wanted.

After that first battle, which was a common occurrence in the fort the dwarves had built around the doorway, Zeke and most of the others had been given the job of carving a road through the forest of coral so that the dwarves could more easily reach their destination. It was a thankless job that mostly boiled down to breaking the rock-like coral and carting it away, and in that way, it closely resembled mining.

Except that instead of guarding against a few juvenile kobolds bold enough to attack, they were forced to endure constant assaults from the sea’s resident demonkind. Zeke had referred to them as mer-demons because that was the first description that had come to mind when he’d first seen them. However, like the Sea of Corruption, they had a proper name as well – Nikapa – and they were the primary reason the dwarves hadn’t made more headway.

Zeke preferred to call them mer-demons. It was easier, more descriptive, and, he had to admit, due to the derogatory nature of the name, more satisfying to use.

In any case, the latest brand of demons were a scourge, swooping in and swimming through the air to raid the Forerunners as well as the dwarven fort. Zeke had yet to see it, but they were apparently sapient and intelligent enough to know to attack the dwarven stronghold when it was at its weakest.

The dwarves tried to mitigate their vulnerability by staggering the rotation of their people, but they did so with limited success. That, like every other problem they seemed to encounter, was solved with slavery. Zeke and his fellow captives were the sole reason the dwarves had maintained their foothold in the demon realm for so long.

“Why?” Zeke asked. “What’s so important about that tower?”

“Spire.”

“What?”

“It’s a spire,” Eefik stated, swinging his pickaxe at a particularly thick and twisted pillar of coral. All around, other slaves did the same, filling the air with a chorus of sound. “The dwarves are very particular about the names of things.”

Zeke shook his head. That much was true; the shorter humanoids seemed to care quite a bit about labels. “Whatever. None of them around right now anyway,” he muttered. “But seriously – what’s so special about that spire? I’ve asked around, but –”

“But nobody’s dumb enough to tell you,” Eefik interrupted. “And for good reason, too. New guy like you? Who’s to say you aren’t a spy? Wouldn’t be the first time. The dwarves get pretty touchy about their gods.”

“Gods?”

“Yup,” was Eefik’s response, continuing to attack the corral. “Gods. Or in this case, God. Singular. He’s trapped up at the top of that spire. Some great dwarf god or something. Can’t remember his name, and I’m not even sure he exists. I mean, what can trap a god?”

“Another god?” Zeke suggested.

“Maybe. But that’s why we’re doing this,” Eefik explained. “Real or not, the dwarves believe it. And considering they hold our leashes, we don’t have any choice but to go along with it. Not that it’ll ever work.”

“What? Why?” Zeke asked, swinging his own pickaxe. “It’s a long way away, but with a few months, we could probably make it.”

Eefik gave a harsh laugh. “Oh, you sweet, innocent idiot,” Eefik said, shaking his head. “That spire is only a hundred miles from here. Maybe less. But reaching it…not possible. Maybe with a million slaves, we could come close. Probably not, though.”

“Why, though?”

To Zeke, it seemed easy enough. The coral was incredibly dense, and progress was glacial, but even after only a few days, they’d come a long way.

“Because of the flames,” he said, pointing to the sky. Thousands of feet in the air, a sea of fire roiled, stretching as far as Zeke could see. It was as if the entire world lay under a blanket of flames.

Zeke sighed. “Do you have any idea how frustrating that is?” he spat. “Just tell me. None of this piecemeal stuff. If I have to pull every little fact out of you piece by piece, we’re going to be here all day.”

Eefik chuckled. “We’re here all day anyway,” he said. “But fine. The flames. Every week or so, this whole region is buried beneath a tidal wave of flames that persist for a few days. Just touching it is enough to burn even the most powerful warriors to a crisp. But for the coral, it’s like fertilizer. The Nikapa, too. Heals them. Makes them stronger for a couple of days. Same with the other demonkind. You think this is hell now? Wait until the whole realm is bathed in flames.”

For a moment, Zeke was surprised by the revelation; suddenly, the slow progress made sense. But then, he asked, “What about the fort?”

“Most of the dwarves retreat to the our world during a wave. Slaves, too. But some have to stay to maintain the shield on the fort,” Eefik explained. “Most of those don’t survive.”

Eefik went on to explain that the attack Zeke had experienced upon crossing over into the Sea of Corruption had come at the tail end of a wave. The fort’s defenders had been overrun, and the only reason they hadn’t completely lost the fort was because of the timely reinforcements that had come after the wave of flame had withdrawn back into the sky. If it had taken even a few hours more, retaking the fort would have become exponentially more difficult.

Once Eefik completed the explanation, he added, “But we don’t have to worry about any of that. We have one job. Knock down coral, cart it away, and earn whatever benefits the dwarves throw our way. That’s it. And who knows? One day, you might get strong enough that they leave you behind to guard the fort during a wave.”

“That doesn’t seem like a good thing,” Zeke said, wiping sweat from his brow.

Eefik laughed, slapping Zeke on the back. “Of course it is! Because that’s when you’re allowed to die!” he bellowed good-naturedly. “It’s the only escape we can look forward to.”

Zeke could only shake his head at the part-orc’s fatalistic mindset. Among the slaves, such an attitude wasn’t abnormal; most seemed to look forward to death in a way Zeke could scarcely understand. He wasn’t one to advocate suicide – he fully intended to keep fighting until his dying breath, regardless of his situation – but for the other captives, who seemed completely resigned to their fate, the idea had to have crossed their minds.

That they hadn’t taken that final step didn’t make much sense to him.

But then again, perhaps it was just black humor. Or maybe they simply couldn’t bring themselves to take the leap. There might’ve even been a small sliver of hope buried beneath a mountain of inevitability. People would invariably latch onto that sort of thing, even if they didn’t want to openly acknowledge its existence.

In any case, they kept going even though they, like Eefik, seemed to look forward to the day it would all end.

For Zeke’s part, he felt sorry for his fellow slaves, but he had no intention of falling into that rut. Of course, if his captivity – nominal though it was – persisted for years, he might end up just like Eefik and his ilk.

Thankfully, Zeke had a plan.

“Does it feel weird to you?” Zeke asked, pointing to the roiling flames that filled the sky. “Even from this far away…”

Again, Eefik laughed – a common occurrence for the outwardly jovial man – and, as he swung his pick, he answered, “Like a bunch of acidic maggots trying to burrow into my skin. I’ll tell you the truth, friend – you don’t want to be anywhere near here when the flames descend. I once took a turn as one of the fort’s defenders.” He shuddered. “Never again. Even protected by the fort’s shield, I could feel the corruption seeping into me. A few of the weaker slaves…they couldn’t take it. Didn’t kill ‘em.  No – that would’ve been a mercy. Instead, it twisted them into ugly, hateful things.”

The last part, he said quietly, all joviality draining away until only the monotone voice of regret remained. Reasoning that the memory haunted the man, Zeke said, “I’m sorry. People shouldn’t have to go through this.”

Eefik shrugged. “Should and shouldn’t doesn’t come into it. Power’s the only thing that matters,” he said. “And she…if we were stronger, none of us would be here. That’s the truth of it.”

There was clearly more to Eefik’s story, but that was true of everyone there. None had been born as slaves, after all. They were captives who’d been forced into an unwinnable situation. Everyone there had regrets.

Except Zeke.

Aside from how things had worked out with Abby – and that was its own thing – Zeke was fine with his choices. But then again, he had a purpose, and he felt confident that he could escape whenever he wanted. Sure, it wouldn’t be easy, but he had far more hope than any of the other slaves.

But perhaps they had too, once upon a time. Maybe their captivity had simply worn them down.

Zeke shook his head and focused on the task before him. Not breaking the coral down. That required no thought. Even watching for attacking mer-demons didn’t take much in the way of processing power. Instead, he considered everything he knew about this new version of the demon realm.

The most troubling aspect was that, upon crossing over and engaging in battle, he’d all but lost control of himself. At times, it was easy to trick himself into believing that the atmosphere didn’t affect him. But it did, albeit in a different way than it seemed to corrupt everyone else. In fact, he felt almost as strong now as he had when steadily absorbing earthen energy.

But unlike his earth attunement, his cambion nature came with a price – chiefly that he was more prone to losing himself to battle. Already, he felt more aggressive than ever before, and he suspected that, when the flames descended, it would get markedly worse.

Perhaps that was what was responsible for the surge of demonic activity during a wave. Maybe they, too, felt more aggressive and simply lost control. Would that happen to him? It was a distinct possibility.

Not for the first time, Zeke wished he had someone to consult for advice. But who could he ask? As far as he knew, his race was unique. Or at least it had been back in the Mortal Realm. Because of that, he had little choice but to make his own way as best as he could. He needed to figure things out for himself.

And he wasn’t going to do that on the other side of the gate.

So, he had multiple reasons to remain in the Sea of Corruption during a wave. The only question was whether or not he would do so according to the rules, or if he would simply wander off and hope to survive the wildlife.

Over the next few hours, Zeke and the other slaves continued breaking apart and carting off the coral until, at last, the next shift took over and they were allowed to return to their forward camp. By that point, the slaves were all completely exhausted – except for Zeke, of course. He had the benefit of drawing energy from the atmosphere, so while he wasn’t entirely fresh, he didn’t feel nearly so worn out as the others.

The trip back to the forward camp took half an hour, and when they reached the collection of tents, Zeke’s companions all collapsed onto their pallets with exhausted groans. Zeke didn’t have that luxury, because he’d already volunteered for watch duty. After overcoming the surge of mer-demons right after crossing over, they’d yet to be attacked – a rarity, according to Eefik.

But Zeke found himself hoping for a change. Was that the effect of the atmosphere on his psyche? Or was he really such a battle junkie that he couldn’t go a few days without a good fight without growing bored?

Maybe.

Or perhaps he was just ready to advance his plans, and to do that, he needed an opportunity to take action. After all, he still hadn’t discovered anything that might be black adamantite, so he expected that he’d have to stray a bit from the established path if he wanted to satisfy the final requirement of his quest. And unless he missed his guess, he expected that he’d have to get much closer to the giant pillar if he was going to do so.

In any case, he had a job to do. So, surrounded by bone-white corral and bathed in the light from the roiling flames above, Zeke settled down to watch for raiding mer-demons.

He was only sitting there for an hour before he caught sight of a flicker of movement. Hefting his club, he called out, “Attack!”

A moment later, a mer-demon darted out from a small gap between stalks of twisted coral, and tried to spear him through the gut with its trident.