Chapter 756 - Meaning and Consequence

“If you were to ask most people what they thought godhood meant, what do you think they’d say?” asked Zeke, sitting in front of his captive.  Predictably, the knight said nothing, as much because he was terrified into silence as because he was bound and gagged.  There might have been some post-traumatic stress in there as well. 

In any case, Zeke had meant the question rhetorically.  So, he answered it himself, “I think most of them would go on and on about saving lives.  Or maybe enjoying their omnipotence.  They might conjure money or love.  They might even spend a few years just relaxing.  You know, beaches and umbrella drinks.  That kind of thing.

“But then there are the others.  The ones who’d take revenge on everyone who hurt them.  They might even destroy the world in the grips of their nihilism.”  Zeke sighed.  “You know what no one ever thinks about, though?  The sheer boredom of it all.

“For instance, I look at you, and think – maybe we might’ve been friends once.  You seem like a decent enough guy,” Zeke said.  Then, he glanced at the discarded armor in the corner of the room.  It had been drained of all power and crumpled into unrecognizable shapes.  “Well, maybe not.  You did join the Radiant Host.  But outside of that – we might’ve been buddies.  Except for one factor – you’re like an ant to me.  Less than an ant, really.  You live no longer than the blink of an eye, and you’re so damned fragile.”

He shook his head.  “But the worst part is that there’s no way you could ever relate to my life.  And I can’t really relate to yours, either.  Not anymore,” Zeke revealed.  “Did you know I spent almost five years hunting down every single adherent to the Temple of the Sun?  Oh yeah – that’s what your organization’s called down in the Mortal Realm.  I didn’t really hate them.  Not like I hate the Radiant Host.  But the woman they prayed to?  Yeah – there’s plenty of hatred there.

“That’s another thing, though.  You might hate your neighbor.  I hate a goddess.  Just one more thing that puts us on entirely different wavelengths,” Zeke lamented. 

“I don’t need to tell you what I’ve been doing for the past couple of decades, either,” Zeke said.  “When I started down this path, I didn’t think it would take so long.  A quarter of a century, just gone.  More than once, I thought about just removing my cocoon – that’s what I call the metaphysical creation that allows me to walk the lower realms – and destroying the entire realm.  I could do that, you know.  It would’ve been so much easier, and it would have had the same results. 

“Do you know why I didn’t?” he asked.  Again, silence.  “I’ll tell you why – I value life.”

He gave a small chuckle at that.

“I’m sure you don’t believe me, though.  Not after everything I’ve done,” Zeke conceded.  “But I do.  Not your life, obviously.  Nor the lives of your compatriots.  But there are plenty of innocent people out there.  The ones who never asked to be part of any of this.  If I broke the realm, they would be the ones to suffer.”

He ran his hand through his hair.  “Oh, and all the people who’ve not been reborn.  They’d suffer too.  And I might be a monster, but I’m not that kind of monster.

“But here we are.  I forget – what are you?  A captain?  A knight-lieutenant?  Your ranks always confused me,” he said.  “I know you’re the last of your kind.  The very last member of the Radiant Host.  I’ll admit that you made a nice run of it.  Hiding.  Fleeing.  I had forgotten just how big the Eternal Realm really was.  So many nooks and crannies.  And you just kept recruiting, didn’t you?  It took so long for the word to spread.  For people to understand the consequences of worshipping Shar Maelaine.

“It’s funny,” Zeke went on.  “I thought she would try to stop me.  At least attack my friends.  But she’s gone into hiding.  I guess I’m going to have to hunt her down now.

“Did you know that I considered just leaving things as they are?  With what I did in the Radiant Isles, no one will worship Shar Maelaine for a long, long time.  Maybe ever, and even if they do, they’ll do so in secret.  I think it’ll be similar here,” Zeke explained.  “But even if they do start it back up, I’ll just come down and kill them all.  I’m not constrained by the Framework.  I can go wherever I please, and there’s nothing she can do to stop me.

“And eventually, she’ll start to wither.  I know she’s already felt it, even if the bulk of her worshippers are in the Ethereal Realm,” he told his prisoner.  “But the real problem – for her, that is, not us – is that she can’t replenish her numbers now.  There’s no pipeline.  No reserves.  No constant stream of ascendants to bolster her forces. 

“That will take its toll.”

Zeke wasn’t just talking about the situation with Shar Maelaine, either.  Instead, he referred to the personal consequences of his actions.  It was one thing to destroy a planet and never have to look at individual faces.  Or to order the genocide of elves.  Or any of the other horrible things he’d done. 

But it was something else entirely to walk the planet hunting people down for worshipping the wrong goddess.  It wasn’t even necessary, either.  He could have simply cut it off and put his efforts into killing Shar Maelaine.  Or given that she had abandoned her campaign against Talia and Pudge, he could have just left well enough alone. 

She had learned her lesson.

Or so it seemed.

Zeke had kept going, though.  For twenty-five years, he’d hunted people who simply couldn’t fight back.  He’d slaughtered hundreds of thousands of men and women.  He’d razed cities.  He had destroyed countless fortresses.  And at every turn, he’d allowed a few survivors to tell the tale of why he’d targeted them.

The effect was obvious.  No one in the Mortal Realm would be worshipping Shar Maelaine anytime soon.  And he’d be surprised if the Radiant Host reformed in the Eternal Realm. 

Of course, once he’d gotten to the Eternal Realm, he’d also taken a little time to inspect his own holdings.  And he was unsurprised to find that everyone was thriving.  Without the infrastructure they’d built, his conquest would have taken decades longer. 

But now, he was done.

Except for the lone survivor in front of him.  There was a part of Zeke that wanted to let the man go.  Doubtless, he’d learned his lesson.  He would not be worshipping Shar Maelaine any longer.  Even if he did, so what?  The Sun Goddess’ very name was now regarded as a curse.  If he tried to rebuild the Radiant Host, he’d be hanged by his own neighbors.

But Zeke wanted to kill him.

“I guess it’s the completionist in me,” he admitted.  Then, he reached out – almost nonchalantly – and gripped the man’s throat.  This time, the last remnant of the Radiant Host did try to resist, but he was powerless to stop Zeke from choking the life out of him.  

It didn’t take him long to die. 

And with the job finally finished, Zeke looked around, entirely unsure of what to do next.  It felt like the end of an era.  He’d spent very little time – relatively speaking – on this little side project, but it felt more impactful than the thousands of years he’d spent studying the threads. 

Vaguely, he realized that he didn’t want to go back to that life.  He might’ve spent most of his time killing people who couldn’t fight back, but he’d also reconnected with his humanity in a way he couldn’t quite quantify.  There were whole days where he’d almost forgotten just how far above everyone else he stood.

But now, it all came crashing back down on him. 

He had responsibilities, and after killing all the other gods, he was the only one who could meet them.  Not that they ever would have acted in the first place.  They’d had their chance, and they’d shirked their duty.  Now, it was up to Zeke.

And he knew exactly what he needed to do.

There was one other who needed to die.  One more person who’d committed the sin of aligning herself against Zeke’s interests.  Who’d hunted his friends.  Who had authored Talia’s miserable life. 

With a sigh, he stood and looked around.  The cellar was no different than a hundred others he’d visited, which was a little frustrating.  It should have been better.  More unique.  The site where he’d ended a quarter-century-long quest. 

But it was just a nondescript basement.

He climbed the steps and entered the attached home.  The member of the Radiant Host had been living there for a couple of years, and he’d likely thought he’d escaped Zeke’s judgement.  He might have, had he refrained from spreading the Sun Goddess’ gospel.  The moment he did that, his fate was sealed.  As was the fate of every life he’d touched.

Zeke hadn’t taken any pleasure in killing them, but it had to be done. 

That was the excuse he kept telling himself, and it had accompanied him through much of his gruesome quest. 

The house itself was even less interesting than the cellar.  The man had lived alone, and he’d lacked any interesting possessions.  By every account, he was a normal man.

Zeke ignored it all as he left the house behind. 

Nearby, the city’s guards watched him.  They knew better than to get in his way.  Everyone in the Eternal Realm did.  So long as they left him to his own devices, they would survive.  If they tried to impede him, they would die. 

Simple.

And horrifying.

Zeke had no idea what they even called him, and though he’d wondered about it, he chose not to ask the question.  They had already been traumatized by his presence.  There was no sense in making it worse. 

His boots thudded against the cobblestones with every step as he crossed the city.  He would have preferred to blend in with the crowd, but after everything he’d done over the past twenty years, there was no chance of that happening.  The eyes of the residents followed his every move, as if they were simply holding their breath and waiting for him to destroy the city.

He'd done that a few times, but not for something so meaningless as a stray breath.  Whether they knew it or not, he’d constrained himself quite a bit.  He’d even ignored attacks against him.  Not from the Radiant Host, but certainly when they originated from guards or others who only wanted to do their jobs. 

As he’d told the last member of the Radiant Host, he was a monster.  Just not that kind of monster.

Crossing the city was just a reminder of the reputation he’d created, so he was relieved when he finally reached the edge of town and left it behind.  The wilderness was better.  Soothing.  The wildlife could sense his power, so they mostly left him alone.  A double-edged sword if there ever was one, because not only did it prevent the dangerous ones from attacking him, but it also kept the more peaceful ones away.

Every now and then, he caught sight of a scurrying squirrel or a bird fleeing through the sky, but even that was rare. 

But the environment was still pleasant enough, and it reminded him of better times. 

A day – and hundreds of miles – later, he arrived at his destination.  The physical representation of the Crimson Tower was still where he’d originally left it – right in the middle of the Muk’ti Plains.  However, the tower itself had grown much taller and wider, until it was as big around as any city and taller than any skyscraper back on Earth. 

It was also surrounded by a sizable city in its own right, which stretched for miles in every direction.  From the kobolds, he’d learned that the standard for entry into the Crimson Tower was much too high to allow anyone inside, and so, the Tower City had sprung up around it. 

Mostly, it housed peripheral citizens.  People who were on good terms with the tower, but for whatever reason chose not to live inside.  Or they failed to meet the tower’s standards.  Whatever the case, they still enjoyed many of the same benefits, so it was a win-win for most involved.

Zeke strode through the Tower City, never stopping.  He’d seen it all before, and while he was still a little surprised at how far the culture had come, he didn’t need to see it again. 

After a while, he reached the tower proper and stepped inside. 

Finally, he relaxed his cocoon, letting it unravel.  He’d grown accustomed to wearing his self-styled tangle of threads, but that didn’t mean he liked it.  Having his power constrained and the threads hidden from him wasn’t unlike walking around while holding his breath.  Could he do it?  Certainly.  Did he enjoy it?  Not at all.

But the interior of the Crimson Tower needed no such precautions. 

Establishing a gate in the Mortal Realm meant that he didn’t need to return to the Ways in order to traverse the various levels of reality.  Now, he could go where he wanted, when he wanted, and without having to deal with anyone else. 

But for now, he just wanted to go home for a few days and recenter himself before he took the next step.  So, that was how he ended up in the Lord’s Manor.

He half expected to see Pudge or Adara or Talia lounging on the grounds, but the place was empty.  Not deserted, but it might as well have been.

Even Eveline left him alone. 

With a sigh, he stepped into the manor itself, took a shower, then planted himself in his meditation room where he returned to his study of the threads.  After all, just because he’d gone on a bit of a side quest, that didn’t mean he’d abandoned his primary purpose.