The Power of Ten

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https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/35487/the-power-of-ten-book-three-the-human-race

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I really appreciated the Hollow World after some of the travel restrictions up top. Being able to Linejump from one side to the other of the world, even if you’d never been there, did indeed make traveling easier.

On the other hand, I had already made a Lived-Line to my destination, so I could follow it down the North Pole and just Teleport there directly regardless.

I still did a LOT of Teleporting for supply runs. The jobs would be taken over by other Tens when I was gone, but right now those people were Leveling frantically while they could, and had a lot of Lived-Lines to draw across the face of the world.

Still, Azaia would be able to handle the resupply down here, as I’d made sure she got in some miles on Sleipner during my downtime, going all around the world and down here. She usually brought at least our sister along, and sometimes Sama or Briggs would tag along, as Tremble and Endure could now Teleport, and they had to get their Lived-Lines into place to make full use of the fact.

Sleipner, unicorn motorcycle, Tour Guide to the Whole Damn World. Maybe minus the Felldeep for now...

It had taken Professor Shellington and his group of followers from Waterdown six months to wipe the desert Shroudzone down here, fighting over the sands, burning Karma, Naming Weapons, and gaining Levels.

Some overly curious locals and Corsars had joined them in these expeditions, their skepticism about the undead staying dead burned away with the bones consumed by vivus.

Naturally enough there’d been local monsters and opportunistic tribes to deal with, but those had rapidly learned not to mess with the Waterdowners, or they too were Fed to the Land, and ceased to bother the Purgers.

When those locals saw the Shroudzone shrinking and pulling back under the assault of the Waterdowners, new tales were told, word spread, and somewhat more heroic and committed souls had arrived to help, maybe share in the glory, or try to sell them things.

Shuttling them a third of the way across the world wasn’t all that hard. I already had the Lived-Line, just needed to put a Seal Focus at the far end to lock onto, and make a Teleporting Formation everyone could fill with power to move everyone at one time. When the Pharoah of the Sands lit off en vivus, and the laenwork Axes, Spears, and Swords were lifted from its remains on the stones blasted white by the deaths of Congregants and former Dark Clergy, it was time to loot what was there and move on.

Move on they did, to the cold and cairn-filled highlands and moors where the Headless Black Duke, a Wraith King, gathered the undead to him and waited patiently for the day when he could march out and lay waste to all the living, claiming the whole of the Hollow World for himself.

That day wasn’t EVER going to come...

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Professor Shellington shook my hand as the two Tapestries blossomed into six-meter cubes on the ground, and the people whooped and got to disassembling them with gusto. A lot of the crates were food, the crates themselves made to be disassembled and used to build things with, but there were naturally more weapons fit to be Named, ammunition, and crafting supplies in general.

Cases holding a ton of gold ready to be Burned off to make things were also there, and the Patterns and things to be Infused were already waiting for them. It would all be gone within twenty days, making the greedy cry into their beards.

Amulets of Death Ward were very popular down here, too, and a reward for the elites who had proven their skill and valor. Not having to fear a soul-sucking touch or necromantic attack truly helped the prowess and morale of those who received them.

The Professor and his haror wife Osellyi had both been recipients of Stat-raises via Wishes from me. The Professor had also taken the step of upgrading all of his Expert levels to Scout, as Expert was the prime Feeder Class for that. It meant he could never gain Expert Levels in the future, but the increase to his combat prowess, while keeping his foundation of skills intact, made it worth it to him, and he was making up the new Skill Points required to do the job required and feed his Warlock Levels with Vizard and Noble Levels, among other things.

There were a lot more monstrous undead here, made from dinosaurs and magical beasts, than we had to deal with up top.

The Professor looked good, the extra Levels reducing his age slightly, and the physical exertion and combat trimming him up. He’d inherited at least some of the Draconic demeanor of his Pact, and the amethyst dragons were the wise kings of the gem dragons, if nothing else. He had to engage in constant self-analysis to fend off the aloof isolationism of the breed, but that was what having a Mark helped with.

He and his wife always made it a point to meet me when I dropped stuff off, too.

“Anything significant?” I asked them, looking over their camp with approval. I hadn’t had to set up most of the walls or buildings for this one, as the improved Casters had done most of the work themselves. It was laid out nicely, defensible and easy to traverse, and naturally had seen raids by opportunistic native tribes and hungry creatures, but few things wanted to get up onto the high moors where the Wraith King here dwelled.

They reported in all the time, of course, and if anything important happened, they knew they could count on me to come if there was a real emergency. They took steps to make sure those emergencies did not happen, of course.

The two of them glanced at one another, and I lifted my eyebrow, waiting as I watched agile anthros clambering over the crates, tossing them down to one another, making steps up the stacks and bringing them all down with the eagerness of kids receiving presents.

They really liked the upper-world’s wool blankets here in the chilly air.

“It was hinted that Legion had found and was going to wipe out a settlement of the dark elves,” Matron Osellyi finally spoke up, half statement, half question.

I frowned slightly. “They are mostly done with that already. They started about ten hours ago.”

It hadn’t been that difficult. They were a de facto Twenty, and the toughest of the things there were no match for them. Yes, there’d been an actual archmage, of all things, still able to wield those high-Valence spells down below the Strata, and a half-succubi archpriestess as well.

Neither had been able to resist Legion, as was the case for basically the entire drow population. Combining speed and dimension-hopping with the ability to strafe and Consume dozens of them at a time, and the fact that any of the oft succubi-blooded drow that laid eyes on them wanted to do nothing more than to have wild and energetic sex with them, ignoring whatever they were supposed to be doing, meant there was no big drawn-out fighting at all.

It was basically a speed run that got ever more thorough and precise as they went along, their increasing combined knowledge of the city and its inhabitants coming into play. Sure, there were Constructs to destroy in some places, slaves to send out of the city in others, leashed beasts and monsters to sometimes destroy, and spell defenses to bring down or tear apart.

But there was no out and out fighting. Even the more savage and deranged Fiends living there just sort of gaped at Legion and came bounding forwards to start an orgy, not to fight. They died so quickly it couldn’t even be called fighting, really.

The succubi, of course, didn’t have a prayer, nor any of their many fey’ri children.

I had watched Legion clearing out their main temple, kissing and Consuming the guards, acolytes, and Priestesses without any resistance whatsoever from them, and just shook my head. That Nereid Aura was just too powerful in some ways...

“Legion met a fey’ri Pact Patron while investigating an offshoot upriver of the Deepsea. That’s where they got the initial knowledge of the city from. It was called Yvradimyae. Do you know of it?” I asked the Matron.

She nodded slowly. “There are two drow settlements in the High Strata, as it is called. The other eight I know of are all connected to the Hollow World, here. Yvradimyae is a name known to me, devoted to the scorpion-demoness.”

I wasn’t bugging Legion, who probably knew at least some of this, too. “That is correct. Why are you asking this?”

Her obsidian shoulders drooped ever so slightly. “I would like to know if Legion would clear Hrish Vag, my home city, as well.”

I flinched despite myself. “Ouch!” I exclaimed with feeling. “That bad?”

Professor Shellington was the one to answer. “Save perhaps some of the children, I doubt heavily that there are any souls within the City of Silken Lies worth saving. The sacrifices of slaves and battle trophies, the internal strife, the very Evil that seems to permeate the air... these are things that must not be used as a bridge from things outside this world as proof that they can enter and change things as they will.

“The cities of the drow need to die before the Shroud comes down. We’ve heard the tales of the cephalids that are being persecuted by the elite teams, and those creatures are, in the end, only backed by themselves. The drow bring in worship of demons in number, and Hrish Vag has temples to no less than six Princes of the Abyssal Pits.”

That was unwelcome news, and I could only nod agreement at that assessment. “If you have a path to Hrish Vag, or those of the other drow cities, put it in the Map. The Map of the Felldeep here in the Hollow World is very incomplete, and I still have much work to do on the surface, and may never even get down here to do it properly, based on how things are proceeding.” Which meant it would fall to Azaia, or one of the others, to do the job the best they could. It still needed to get done.

“But if we can find those places of the drow, we will do what we must, and save who we can,” I promised, and they both nodded in grim relief.

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I popped up on the Seal Focus next to Legion, Earthjumping down from far below a sand dune in Morocco and emerging smoothly from the stone under the Strata. Without a Lived-line, I’d had to Earthjump down to the edge of the Strata while incorporeal, then Stone Shape a two-mile tunnel down through the protective layer, and Earthjump again on the other side of it.

The young drow on all sides, none of them older than the equivalent of a human eight-year-old, all drew back in alarm at the sight of me.

“Did her skin bleed into her hair?” one exclaimed in shock.

“Something clipped her ears!” another blurted out.

“She has eyes like mama!” a third pointed out.

“Tails! She has tails and wings and horns like mama!”

The last thing these young haror were scared of were horns and tails and demonic wings, as these were displays of power and strength, and the similarity of mine to Legion’s, if more reversed in color, was impossible to miss.

“A pleasure to meet you all,” I Said in Elvish, and magic thrummed all around them, making them jump and widen eyes scarlet, violet, purple, yellow, and orange.

Legion was in full demon-goddess-homigawd form, albeit altered for some fuzzy cuteness instead of Queen of Sexy Doom. The furry fox-ears and nine fluffy tails certainly left a different impression then the poison-spear draconic tails and burning frill. The extra eyes actually looked more like jeweled accessories than anything, and her horns like a crown setting off that glorious cloud of silken hair.

Telekinetic fingers and gentle winds, in addition to all their arms, wings, and tails, were extended out and being touched by all these children. Whether it was the nine infants being held effortlessly in their arms and hair, the twenty toddlers riding on their tails, the two-year-olds hanging onto their wings to stay upright, or the older children reaching out to grasp one of those or simply acknowledging a gentle TK or wind tug on fingers or ears or noses in accordance with one of Legion’s voices in their heads. One way or another, Legion was touching all of them right now, and they were all Legion’s children.