Chapter 740 - Reasons

“I don’t know what matters anymore,” Zeke admitted.  He glanced at the memorial urn containing Tucker’s ashes.  It sat in a place of prominence, surrounded by a hundred other memorials.  They all belonged to men and women who’d done some great service for Pudge’s people.  Heroes, all. 

Even Tucker.

Especially him, Zeke supposed.  Over the past few weeks, he’d heard many stories about Tucker’s exploits.  Like when he busted a blockade to deliver much-needed supplies to people under siege.  Or when he infiltrated a spy organization meant to undermine a war effort.  He’d even fought in a great many battles over the years. 

After all, a new greater god was always under threat, and Tucker had allied himself with both Pudge and Talia.  He never lacked for enemies.

But no one had ever been able to corner him.  Even in the end, it was time itself that had claimed his life.  Not some would-be warlord.  Not a rival smuggler.  Just a body with an expiration date.

In a lot of ways, Tucker reminded Zeke of Oberon.  Both had lived wondrous lives.  Both had died, not because they were defeated, but because people weren’t meant to live forever.  Not even gods, lesser or greater, could violate that simple rule.

But Zeke could.

He was more than a god.  He would never grow old.  In fact, he wasn’t even certain he could be killed.  His experiences suggested that he was immortal in every sense of the word.  If his body failed him, he could always just reform it by manipulating the threads. 

So, was he doomed to watch his friends die, one by one?  Was that his fate?  Would he blink, only to find that everyone was already gone?

Already, his perception of time had become skewed.  Thousands of years had passed during his last training session, and he hadn’t felt the full weight of the passage of so much time until Pudge had returned to inform him of Tucker’s death.  If he hadn’t, Zeke would still be out there floating in space, steadily honing his ability to manipulate the threads that comprised all of reality.

He had cosmic power at his fingertips, but what did it really mean if he lost everything he cared about?

Predictably, no one answered his question.  Tucker was dead, and that was the problem. 

Would Pudge understand?  Would Talia?  Jasper was an old man, retired to some out-of-the-way outpost in the Eternal Realm.  He wanted nothing to do with Zeke or his armies.  And none of the kobolds could truly understand his perspective.  They’d come a long way since he’d taken them under his wing, and they’d created a powerful and progressive society all their own.  But their mindset was still collectivist in nature, and there was no chance that would truly grasp the problems of an individual. 

Even their god, such as he played that role for them.

With a sigh, Zeke pushed himself to his feet, only to realize that there were a few beastkin waiting at the edge of the memorial.  When he stepped toward them, they flinched away.  Not wanting to disturb them further, he latched onto a distant thread and pulled himself high into the sky.  From up there, the domain looked very different but no less magical. 

It extended to two planets, though Pudge had revealed that he intended to expand it soon.  He was already stronger than the first couple of greater gods Zeke had killed, so he had that going for him.  Still, he had a long way to go before he could rival someone like Aja, or even Oda.

Given enough time, he would get there.  Zeke had no doubt about it.

For a while, he just drifted through the air, contemplating the nature of his immortality as well as the inevitable demise of everything he cared about.  It was not comforting.

But he thought it necessary.

Eventually, he found himself landing next to a small pond.  There was a cottage nearby, but Zeke had no interest in disturbing its owner.  Instead, he sat on a rock near the short and just stared at the placid water.

For so long, he’d only cared about progression.  Whether it was gaining levels, improving his path, or, lately, learning how to manipulate the threads, he’d only wanted to climb.  Now, he was beginning to question the road he’d chosen to travel.  What did any of it mean if he was destined to walk alone?

Nothing.

The answer came to him so quickly, so easily, that it was easy to believe he’d known it all along.  It meant nothing. 

But in another way, it meant everything.  Never was that more obvious when he saw a woman emerge from the cottage.  She looked a bit like a bunny, complete with the floppy ears and twitching nose, so her origin was clear.  She carried a small child one arm, while another followed her, practically bouncing with excitement as they headed to the nearby garden.

There, they waged war against the weeds.

It was such a normal act.  The beastkin woman wasn’t special.  Zeke didn’t know her or her family.  By all rights, he shouldn’t have cared about her at all.  But he did. 

And following from that was the surety that he wanted to protect her existence.  Even if she’d never know what he did, even if she might one day curse his name, Zeke knew that he would do whatever it took to ensure that people like her had the chance to live their lives.

Because without him, they never would.

Reality would cease to exist unless he saved it.  No one else saw the writing on the wall, but he understood it down to his very soul thread. 

Perhaps there was a debate to be had about whether or not existence or nonexistence was preferable, one over the other.  After all, with any life necessarily came some degree of suffering.  And nonexistence omitted that along with everything else.  So, was it better to have lived and suffered or to have never lived at all?

Zeke wasn’t sure.

But if given the choice, he would have chosen existence.  So, he assumed everyone else would as well. 

After a few hours, he landed in an abandoned field, where he summoned a gate to the tower.  He’d moved past the necessity to constrain the numbers, so he could create them wherever he wanted.  In fact, Zeke suspected he could simply imagine one existing in a place he’d visited, and it would only take a deft manipulation of the threads to conjure it into existence.

Could he have simply entered in the middle of space, then exited into Pudge’s domain? Probably.  But time was not of the essence, and what’s more, he hadn’t practiced doing so.  There was every chance that he was wrong in his assumptions.  Better to simply follow the rules of which he was already aware.

In any case, he stepped inside.

In a lot of ways, the interior of the tower looked similar to the last time he’d visited.  The features were still the same.  But everything was so much larger.  If the entry hall was smaller than a true city, he would have been surprised.  And it was packed with so many people, each one hurrying from one place to another, that they didn’t even notice him.  Not at first, at least.

But then, one kobold recognized.  Then another.  And another after that.  In a domino effect, awareness cascaded across the entire population until Zeke was certain that a million sets of eyes were boring into him.  He gave a slight wave, then stepped forward.  With a gasp, the crowd parted before him. 

He tried to ignore it as he strode toward the teleportation pad. 

Idly, he realized that, had he desired, he simply could move from one point to another.  Inside the tower, every single thread connected to him.  Whether it was the structure, the people, or the air itself – everything led back to him.  And he instinctively knew how to move in that space.

He chose not to, though he resolved to test things out at his first opportunity.  He’d learned a lot in space, but he expected that he could learn much more by manipulating the tower. 

His first stop after reaching the teleporter was to visit the Residential District, which was far more expansive than he ever could have imagined.  The buildings stretched as far as he could see.  Unlike when the tower had first manifested its current layout, the buildings were no longer identical, either.  They displayed a wide variety of styles, ranging from what he considered modern to classical. 

And there were so many people living there that Zeke knew he’d never be able to keep track of them all.  Billions of subjects, all worshipping him.

But as impressed as he was with that floor, the next stop was even more shocking.  The former Craftsman’s Terrace had become something else entirely.  It had long since broken the constraints of a single world and now hosted an entire galaxy of its own.  Each one of the habitable planets hosted its own society.  Its own culture.  Its own history.  And they took the tower’s population into the trillions. 

Perhaps hundreds of trillions.

The number boggled Zeke’s mind. 

As he stood next to the teleporter, he could vaguely feel the multitude of planets.  He could perceive the stars, the moons, the animals and the plants.  And everything in between. 

“Impressive, isn’t it?” came a familiar voice. 

Zeke glanced to his right to see Eveline’s projection.  She didn’t bother with the succubus act anymore.  Instead, she had taken her true form – that of a bobbing and formless light.  A wisp. 

“How did this happen?” he asked.  “How did I not know?”

“I’ve been busy, Ezekiel,” she said.  “I told you I would guide this tower into prosperity, and so I have.  There is nothing like it in all of reality.  Did you know this tower was built on the same principles that helped guide the Creator himself?  Its history is fascinating.  I don’t know all of it.  I can only comprehend the barest fraction of what I’ve learned, but it does tell me that you were very, very lucky to have gotten this as a reward.”

Zeke knew he had Oberon to thank for that.  After all, the dwarf had set up the troll caves into which he’d been reborn.  He’d used his power to transport a dungeon into the Mortal Realm, giving Zeke the chance to earn incredible rewards like Voromir and the Crimson Tower. 

“I’ve also kept it from you,” she said in a much smaller voice.  “From what the others told me, you were busy.  I didn’t want to distract you.”

“I…I don’t know how to respond to that.”

“Good.  Best keep your mouth shut.  You’re always better as the strong, silent type,” Eveline said.  He could practically hear the smirk in her voice.  For a second, it felt like she was back to living inside his head. 

And it wasn’t a bad thing.

For as much as he’d sometimes regretted having her in there, he had missed her presence ever since she’d latched onto the tower instead. 

“How many people live in the tower now?” he asked.

“A handful over thirty-eight trillion.”

“W-what…how?”

“Kobolds breed fast.  Really, really fast.  Plus, we’ve been pulling people in from the Eternal Realm.  It’s better here than it is out there,” she said.  “And…you know, you were gone for a long time, Ezekiel.  A lot can change over the course of nine-thousand years?”

“Nine?  I thought it was less…”

“It wasn’t.”

Nine-thousand years.  It was a staggering amount of time, but in a way, it made sense.  No wonder everyone was upset.  Given how long he’d been gone, it would have been weirder if they didn’t hate him, at least a little bit. 

Eveline bobbed up and down a few more times, then offered to show him around.  He accepted that offer, saying, “I guess I’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

“You do,” Eveline agreed.  “Have you spoken to Talia?”

Zeke shook his head.  “Not yet.”

“Prepare yourself for a fight, then.  She’s even more upset than most,” Eveline remarked.  “And that’s saying something.  Now, come on.  Wait  until you see the manor.”