Chapter 719 - Boredom

Countless asteroids hung suspended in space, each one at least half the size of Earth’s moon.  Some were much bigger, almost as large as a planet in their own right.  The only reason they weren’t considered as such was because they were free-floating, meaning they didn’t revolve around a sun or stand as part of a larger system.  Instead, they gathered in a cluster known as the Shatterbelt, its name originating from legends that it was the result of two massive planets colliding. 

Zeke wasn’t sure if he believed those tales.

However, even with that desolate expanse stretching before him – most of those asteroids were entirely hostile to life of any kind – he found himself excited.  It was the first time in months he’d truly felt that emotion, and it wasn’t difficult to see why.

For better or worse, Zeke was not good at waiting.  The best assessment of his character was that he was driven to act.  The worst, that he was incredibly impatient, often to his own detriment.  Perhaps there was truth to both. 

The former characteristic was one of the reasons he was so dogged about his own progression.  Certainly, there were other factors – like the constant need to prove himself that had been drilled into him from an early age.  But mostly, he just wanted to keep going, to avoid sitting still – and that gave him an advantage over people who preferred rest to action.

However, it was no secret that the latter tended to get him into trouble.  So far, he’d been capable of handling anything thrown his way, but there had been some close calls.  Someday, perhaps soon, he would bite off more than he could chew.  Maybe that day was on the horizon.

Either way, Zeke couldn’t keep the smile from his face as he leaned against the ship’s rail and took in the Shatterbelt.  According to everything he’d heard, it played host to billions of people.  Many were lesser gods, but most were simple laborers who’d been born on the Ethereal Plane. 

“Do you ever wonder what it’s like for the natives?” he asked, sensing Tucker approaching. 

“Not especially,” the Alchemist-turned-pirate answered.  “I barely notice them, honestly.  I tend to think of them as…I don’t know the word for it.  Non-entities.  They’re so inconsequential that they sort of fade into the background.”

“Oh.”

Tucker let out a chuckle.  “That makes me sound terrible, doesn’t it?”

Zeke glanced at his friend, then shook his head.  “I don’t know.  I suppose it does.”

“If it’s any consolation, I don’t really dislike them or anything.  I even donate to charities when the time comes,” Tucker revealed. “There was this orphanage in Westport that would’ve closed up shop if it wasn’t for me.  With my patronage, it’s one of the biggest and best-run orphanages in all the Eternal Realm.”

Then, he added, “Of course, a lot of them came from various wars we started, but I don’t like to think about that.  The wars were going to happen one way or another.  My participation didn’t mean much in the grand scheme of things.  Besides, just because someone does a bad thing…or a few bad things, I guess, it doesn’t nullify the good.  Two separate issues.”

“I wasn’t judging.”

“Sure you were.  Everyone’s always judging.  That’s the secret, ain’t it?  We all claim not to care what others think.  We believe we can look at things objectively.  We lie to ourselves when we say we’re not judging everyone else.  But we still do it.  We know we shouldn’t, but it’s just our nature,” Tucker explained.  “Better to accept that it’s just part of being human than to fail at overcoming something so fundamental.”

“Isn’t that what improvement is all about?  Overcoming our natures?” Zeke asked.  “Becoming better?”

“Maybe.  I sometimes think that it’s more about becoming the best version of whatever it is that we are.  The ideal.  If you’re a carpenter, be the best damned carpenter the world’s ever seen.  That’s real.  Lying to yourself about judging other people – that’s just a fool’s errand, and I’m not sure that, even if it was possible, it would make you a better person.  Actions matter.  Not what’s in our heads.”

Zeke didn’t respond.  Instead, he silently stared at the floating asteroids.  As the ship approached, he saw hundreds of small shapes flitting about.  Soon enough, those shapes resolved into other ships.  Some were built a lot like the Mercury – Iris’ ship – meaning that they resembled seagoing vessels.  Many even had voluminous sails and elaborate designs that put Zeke in mind of his elementary school days. 

Back then, he’d idly doodle during class, and the results were always way overdesigned.  To a child’s mind, more was always better, so he’d keep piling on the details until whatever he was drawing – usually cars or tanks – ended up only scarcely resembling the intended result.

Or it might’ve been because he was a terrible artist.

Either way, the largest of the ships were like that, with far too many sails, way too many decks, and small details that made them look ridiculous.  One was so festooned with gold filigree that Zeke wondered if that wasn’t the predominant material of its construction. 

On the other end of the spectrum were tiny vessels that wouldn’t have been out of place in a small fishing village.  Contrary to the larger ships, which could accommodate thousands of sailors, the comparatively tiny boats were usually manned by one or two people. 

The effect was the opposite of conventional wisdom.  One would think that the richer, larger ships housed the most powerful people.  And in some cases, that might have been true.  But the fact that they brought a relative army of allies with them made Zeke question that notion.

By comparison, the small boats’ tiny crews suggested that they were individually strong enough to take care of themselves.

Or maybe they just weren’t worth the effort to kill.

Regardless, Zeke was fascinated by the dichotomy.

And then there were the other ships that resembled nothing so much as space-faring vessels like one would expect to see in a science fiction film.  Some were small and sleek.  Others were gargantuan in scope – easily large enough to house an entire city on their own. 

But that wasn’t to say that those were the only options.  There were also plenty of other vessels that were so alien in design that Zeke couldn’t make heads or tails of them.  Back in the Eternal Realm, there had been plenty of ships that looked like giant floating trees – the elves tended to favor them.  And he’d seen what could only be referred to as steampunk vessels as well. 

In the Shatterbelt, there were floating cubes, hunks of crystal with no discernible entrance or exit – or symmetry, for that matter – and even a few asteroids that had been harnessed by some enterprising individual.

“Are the resources here really worth so much?” Zeke asked.  “Seems like a lot of trouble to go through just for rocks.”

Tucker shook his head.  “You’re coming at it all wrong,” he said.

“Oh?  How so?” asked Zeke.

“You’re looking at it from the perspective of one of the most powerful people in all of existence,” Tucker answered.  “A man who has more stuff than he could ever use and no real need for it.  Look at your tower.  That place is a marvel by anyone’s standards.  It’s entirely inaccessible by anyone whose entrance you don’t approve and has nearly infinite potential for space.  Yet, you don’t really need it, do you?  You can’t appreciate something like that when it doesn’t really offer much benefit to you.”

“I appreciate it,” Zeke argued.  And he did.  Without the tower, he’d have been dead a thousand times over.

“You appreciate what it represents.  Not what it can do for you now.  Most of the benefit is for the rest of your people.  Maybe you value that, but even without us, you’d still be just fine.”

Zeke frowned and was about to respond before Tucker raised his hands in surrender.  He continued, “I’m not criticizing here.  Just pointing out that you have no real context for how the little people of this universe live.  It’s been a long time since you were one of us.”

He pointed to the ships flitting through the asteroid belt.  “Those people out there, they have needs.  They want to progress.  They need money and resources to support their crews, themselves, and their families.  This is considered one of the most dangerous ways to make a living, but people still flock to the Shatterbelt because it’s worth it.  Neither of those two factors really affect you though.

“It’s not dangerous for you.  Not really, unless you go and provoke one of the god beasts near the center, and even then…”

“God beasts?”

“Of course.  Do you think only sapient creatures can become gods?  There are creatures in that asteroid belt that could rival some of the greater gods.  And there are more of them than there are of us,” Tucker stated.  “Even if you don’t pick a fight with one of them, there are hordes of lesser god beasts out there just waiting to attack anyone who lands on the wrong asteroid.”

“Hmm.”

“No.”

“What?” Zeke asked.

“Please don’t go and pick a fight with one of the god beasts,” he said.  “You’ll disrupt the entire ecosystem here – if you don’t destroy the whole belt.”

“You can’t really dangle something like a god beast in front of me – especially when I’m bored – and not expect me to want to fight it,” Zeke said.

Indeed, genocide – he hated the word, but he couldn’t deny its appropriateness – was not a quick endeavor.  All estimates pointed to the destruction of elven kind taking at least a couple of years.  To date, only six months had passed, and though they’d made great progress, the end wasn’t really in sight.  The logistics alone were mind-bogglingly complex, and Zeke knew that accomplishing the goal was still a long way off.

That was why he’d decided to take a trip.  Hanging out in the Ways was, in a word, boring.  Even for Zeke, who spent much of his time trying to make sense of the Void – what he could sense of it without plunging headfirst into the Framework, at least – it was mind-numbingly dull. 

And no amount of sightseeing or tending to matters in the tower could cure that. 

So, when Tucker described the Shatterbelt, he’d decided to take a look.  Of course, there was more danger than posed by the denizens of the asteroid cluster. 

There was always a chance that Aja or one of the other greater gods would choose to target him the second he left the Ways behind.  However, he had it on good authority – the tower featured an extensive spy network that spanned two realms and had even made forays into Mal’canus – that those greater gods were all currently occupied. 

Aja was busy trying to coordinate the war against her people, both in the Eternal and Ethereal Realms.  So long as Zeke didn’t join, she wouldn’t either – perhaps because she hoped he would abandon his quest to kill her. 

The greater gods functioned on a doctrine of mutually assured destruction.  If one personally joined a battle, then the resultant destruction would become incalculable.  Zeke had already proven that when he’d killed the previous three greater gods.  And while he posed a threat to Aja and the others, they clearly still hoped he would come to his senses.  He’d encouraged that line of thinking, letting the rumors spread that he’d thought twice about his vendetta.

He hadn’t.

They probably suspected as much.  But their hope combined with those rumors to stay their hands – temporarily, at least. 

Even then, Zeke had also taken great pains to conceal his departure.  As far as he could tell, no one knew he was even gone.  Was it a guarantee of safety?  Perhaps not.  But he was okay with the other greater gods coming after him.  After all, their key advantage lay in their own domains.  Without that power, they would have struggled to match him.

And they knew it.

So, he felt reasonably certain that his trip wouldn’t be interrupted by any greater gods who wanted to end the threat he represented. 

Which was one of the problems – a good fight might break up the monotony.  As much as he often lamented his life of constant battle, the reality was that he just wasn’t built for peace.  Maybe that was what awaited anyone who’d attained god-like power.  His nature wasn’t absolute, but overcoming it had become increasingly difficult.

Was that just because he’d steered into it for so long?  Was it merely habit?

Or was there some deeper reasoning?  He had no idea, and he didn’t believe he’d soon discover more than half-truths and rumors.  After all, greater gods didn’t run around spouting their secrets to anyone who might be listening.  If he wanted to figure things out, he could depend on no one but himself.

Those thoughts accompanied him as the ship traversed the asteroid belt, and he saw more of the same.  Thousands of different types of ships, and thousands more of each category.  There were beasts, too.  Great winged creatures that looked a little like bats and were the size of the Mercury, smaller swarms of glittering globes of light that could burn through a less-protected ship with ease, and giant lizard-like creatures that claimed some of the smaller asteroids were just a smattering of examples. 

But it seemed that variety was a given, and few creatures looked similar to others he’d seen.  There was even a giant octopus-like thing that wrapped its thousand tentacles around a ship and completely devoured it. 

Thankfully, Iris was a powerful captain in her own right, and they skated through the region without issue.  Finally, they arrived at their destination.  A glimmering city floating in between a hundred asteroids, it was like nothing Zeke had ever seen before.

“Welcome to the Shattered Hold,” Tucker said.