Eternium ~ 38!

“Dale!” A voice called out frantically. Dale felt a flash of irritation: why did so many conversations start like this for him? Couldn't people just say ‘hello’ like they were supposed to do? Then he understood as a dark cloud seemed to obscure everything. No, wait… nothing was hidden! Everything was just… empty. Then Mountaindale started to fall out of the sky, and the screaming started.

Grabbing everyone in range that wasn't a Mage, Dale tossed out streamers of Mana and connected them to the walls so they wouldn’t break if the dungeon hit the ground. This, sadly, was a bad idea as he felt Mana surge out of him and into the nothingness around himself. Then, as if it had never arrived, the feeling was gone. Dale was panting hard, and the dungeon started to slow gradually. “What was that?”

“I have no idea,” Hans started, then looked at his hands, “it was if all the Mana and Essence was sucked out of the world. I could only see what was touched by light, there was… nothing else.”

Dale agreed, that was exactly what it had been like. “I never want to have to go back to only seeing the surface layer of things, that’s what being a cultivator is all about! Yuck.”

A necromancer stumbled into the area, his face ashen and tears rolling down his cheeks. “Please… get The Master… a Purge has started.”

“What?” Dale was shocked for a split second, his high-order processing skills allowing him to grasp the situation and sprinting off to The Master. By the time he got to the area where the portal frame was kept, he found that there were people waiting. Specifically, Barry had already arrived and was speaking to The Master.

“Just like that, all of the tricks and corpses that your people were using to defend themselves fell at the exact. Same. Moment.” Barry laughed in The Master’s haggard face. “Now, finally your people will be put back in their proper place! What fortuitous timing as well, just as you were planning on announcing that the portal was complete!”

“I can still consign you to oblivion, Barry the Devourer.” The Master threatened, his power seeping outward.

“I think not, trash.” Barry smiled. “I’ve only killed the most troublesome of the necromancers, most are in holding units that we have been making and importing, or wearing this handy device.”

The Master paled at the ugly, Inscribed collar that the de facto leader of the Guild was holding up. “You dare to-”

“I see you remember your time in a slave collar, don’t you male?” Barry’s grin was a snarl. “I heard the whole story from the Amazonians. So… you then remember that if the person controlling the slave dies, all of them do as well? Because I currently control the necromancers that live. I am ‘The Master’, if you will. Now, you will hand over the gate key to this portal, or all your people will die. Also, the portal itself will be destroyed. You have a choice. Kill everyone that could possibly be saved by going through there, or let me rule them all. Choose.”

“You are a twisted man, Barry.” The Master held out an object, which was carefully taken by Barry.

“Huh.” Barry squinted at the key, then at The Master. “I honestly expected you to say some cheesy line like ‘death is better than servitude’ or some malarkey.”

The Master shook his head slowly. “As long as there is life, there is hope.”

“There it is!” Barry shouted with false joviality, grabbing The Master and throwing him through the wall. “You’re under house arrest. You’ll get a beautiful first-hand view of the world ending. In the meantime, it’s time for me to consolidate my power and start the migration process!”

Barry turned and vanished, his laughter echoing in the area for a long moment longer. Dale walked forward, passing the dispersing crowd and stepping up to The Master. “Now… now what?”

“Now nothing.” The Master responded flatly. “He wins. I recommend… bowing, I suppose?”

“You aren’t actually… giving up?” Dale frantically demanded. “You are The Master! The herald of freedom for the oppressed! The man who never gave up even when all seemed lost! You are going to throw all that away now?”

“Throw away a reputation?” The Master scoffed. “Dale, do you understand what is like to spend four. Hundred. Years. As the person who fought back when all was lost? That’s how long I’ve been fighting for the freedom and respect that we are owed, and now - in the final hour of our world - the people relying on me were collared and rendered powerless. I’m not going to do anything to hurt them anymore. Fighting back now will only kill them.”

“Won’t that be preferable to most of them?” Dale demanded with clenched fists. “What heinous acts will they be forced to participate in, what will happen to them? What if Barry just orders them to stand out in the open as the moon lands on them?”

“If you want to do something about it, Dale, then I suppose you should.” The Master snarled back, the power in his body resonating with the world around him and causing the color to be leeched out of the area. He coughed, and the world snapped back to normal. His anger had fled, and he was clutching his chest and grimacing. “Ugh.” 

“What actually happened to you out there?” Dale demanded, feeling like the man in front of him was getting weaker by the second.

“I lost,” came the bitter reply.

“I meant when Xenocide grabbed you and acted like you were a sacrifice.” Dale explained more fully.

“Oh.” The Master sighed and sat down. “Nothing that would normally be an issue if I had time to fix it. Xenocide grabbed my center and damaged it. With everyone else, he fed it to his blood Runes, but mine was simply dispersed. Damage to an S-ranker is damage done to the soul. This typically means very little, as the souls is incredibly resilient. But what he did was damage the actual image of me that was imprinted on my soul. Until I am able to heal that, the image my soul has of me is a weakening and hurt person.”

Dale tried to accept the explanation at face value, but was having trouble wrapping his mind around it. “Your… soul image?”

“As an S-ranker, our body is made of our soul.” The Master explained with a heavy sigh. “While I am very good at Soul-based attacks and defense, Xenocide specializes in soul attacks. Madness can infect who you are as a person, it can insidiously alter the very makeup of your soul. And, I’m afraid that Xenocide had his hooks in me for a very long time. He was tearing out his artificial madness and using it to drag the entirety of the soul’s power into his Runes. That was why he could handle all of the most powerful people in the world like children… he had power over us for centuries, and we never even noticed.”

“What will it take for you to fix this?” Dale queried uneasily. “Can you defeat the collars? Can you heal yourself?”

“Give me about ninety years to focus on healing all the damage in myself, and sure.” The Master shook his head gravely. “Sadly, we have a week at best.”

Dale turned and stalked away. He couldn't believe that the man who was supposed to be the greatest threat to life and civilized society would end up in such a state. Such a weak and pathetic state. Dale decided that even if it took his entire life, he would fight against this being that had taken the world for his own. Then, when all of that was over, somehow he would work to end Xenocide as well.

He paused, reevaluating his new choices. Dale shook his head, trying to figure out where these thoughts were coming from. This wasn’t natural, was it? To dedicate yourself to defeating opponents that were so much stronger than you that it was the difference between heaven and earth? Even as he thought the words, he found that he hated that phrase. Then he had to chuckle, “Who would say that in a serious manner?”

In a more realistic sense, Dale knew that his first priority should be ensuring his survival in the new and current world order. That started with making sure that Xenocide had no issue with him, and he was sure that the man held grudges against him for working so closely with The Master, if nothing else. What would be the next step? Going into the world Cal built? That seemed like a dangerous proposition, even if it would allow them to survive for a longer period of time. There was nothing that said for sure that it would keep them alive, after all.

Dale needed to do something active, his mind was going wild with all the various scenarios and circumstances that he could find himself in. He walked around until he saw Minya talking to a large group of people, and waited patiently until she was free. To her credit, there was no more talk of joining Cal, there were only answers to the myriad questions being tossed at her.

As the small crowd went about their business, Dale walked up to Minya and struck up a conversation. “Hey Minya! I’m feeling pretty out of sorts, and I was really hoping that you’d be interested in coming with me to get some exercise. Interested?”

“A little stress relief?” Minya smiled at him and blushed lightly. “While I wasn't sure if we would pick things up after my faux pas, I’m really glad that you came back. I’d love to get you some stress relief. It’s been a long while for me as well.”

“Let’s get going then!” Dale smiled at her as she took his arm. Odd, but that was fine. They started walking, and soon were at the portal to the dungeon. She looked at him with confusion in her eyes, but they sparkled as he laid out his plan. “I hear that there is a Mage’s area under the next level? If we can get to it, apparently there are great benefits?”

“That sounds lovely.” Minya’s face turned predatory as she looked at the portal to the second layer of golems. She planned to have plenty of fun today.