Meanwhile, my other sub-brain has been hard at work pumping out Lava Mana, the combined essence of earth and fire. In a true test, I force the sub-brain to continue operating the construct whilst weaving a simple bolt spell. Though it’s a strain, it succeeds and soon an arrow of sizzling lava splatters against a shadow monster, who roars in pain.
This is fantastic! This is the dream! I’m casting multiple spells at the same time whilst maintaining a truly devilish construct, and my main mind isn’t involved at all. Muahahahaha! How far I’ve come! And if the main mind isn’t involved, then I can get busy doing other things. Move aside, Tiny. Time for this beefy ant to head to the front lines and get my chomp on!
My jaws locking into place, I charge forward, shouldering the ape aside in the process, and unleash my most potent physical attack, the Doom Chomp!
CRUNCH!
Twin jaws of dark light, larger than any I’ve seen before, manifest beside my head and slam forward, tearing into the hordes of monsters and clearing space instantly. A flood of messages stream in from Gandalf, but I ignore them. That was crazy strong! Is this the benefit of increasing my Might to this extent? No regrets on that front!
[Gwahahahahaaa! Come on, Crinis! You need to get your share of the experience so you can evolve. No holding back now!]
[Yes, Master!]
The four of us rip into the onrushing wave with wild abandon, unleashing our strength to its limit, while behind us the garrison of ants watches on in amazement.
“I want the second and fourth squad off the wall and resting in two minutes!” the general roars at the stunned insects. “The rest of you hold firm! The Eldest is working hard to give you a rest and you are going to get one! Where are the medics? Get out here!”
Firing back into motion, the ants scurry with urgency as the Eldest and his guardians tear into the hordes that had pressed them so hard only a moment ago.
38. Real Strength
This talk of Ancients, mysterious creatures of supreme power that supposedly rule in the depths of our world, is naught but superstitious nonsense. As a scholar, how can I put my faith in hearsay, tattered records, and stories passed down over centuries? I need evidence. I need facts, verified by firsthand accounts. When we sit down and try to prove the existence of these monsters, what do we actually have?
Almost no written records survived the Rending, certainly not any which I can access or have heard of, a fact which I believe lends credence to my own arguments. If the pre-Cataclysm society was so powerful, so wondrous, as many of my contemporaries would claim, then surely they would have survived the scourge of the Dungeon far better than they did. Waves are nothing new, we have experienced hundreds of them in the millennia since they first began. Many kingdoms maintain cities, outposts, and forts in the Dungeon during these times, something that we know the civilisations of old were unable, or barely able to do.
“Oh,” those who disagree would say. “You are comparing people with hundreds of years of accumulated expertise against those taken by surprise, without any knowledge of what lay beneath their feet!”
A foolish point that only lends further strength to my view. My detractors seem to be unable to see the contradiction they themselves have constructed. Were the old kingdoms immensely powerful centres of learning and strength far in excess of what we now possess, as they claim? Or were they weak, falling victim to the ravages of the wave and swept away by a tide of weaker monsters capable of existing on the surface? It can’t be both!
I have heard such nonsense as to suggest that the first wave that occurred during the Rending was simply of a scale larger than any that has occurred since, but again I ask: where is the proof? More than a thousand years later, we have records of waves all over Pangera that date back centuries, and nothing such as what is posited to have taken place has ever been recorded. Not only has it never been recorded, the level of Mana readings have never approached even HALF what would be necessary to create the conditions they describe.
It is my studied opinion that, as I have stated before in my earlier writings, the Cataclysm was indeed a real event. To say otherwise would be foolish, as the weight of evidence on this matter is conclusive. But rather than the delusion of impossibly strong societies falling to monsters of such strength that have never been seen or heard from again, instead the Cataclysm consisted of weak, unprepared societies falling victim to what was, at worst, a slightly above average wave.
The ‘Ancients’ are simply an excuse for weak-minded and lazy researchers who are unwilling to let go of the concept of a pre-Dungeon golden age, despite the lack of concrete evidence. In truth, the old-races of Pangera have never been stronger, and the Ancients do not exist. These are the facts, and I challenge any who dispute me to provide evidence to the contrary. I am supremely confident that I won’t be taken up on my offer, since no such evidence exists.
The power! The unbelievable power! Flinging spells and chomping my way through the rampaging hordes is far more fun than it really ought to be. Deep down, I think I feel the stirrings of the long slumbering Dark Anthony.
No! I reject thee, evil one! I need to get a grip on myself. This pointless and wanton slaying doesn’t serve my purposes as well as I need.
[Come on, Crinis, Tiny! You need to get up here and vacuum in as much experience as you can. Can’t have you lagging behind me and Invidia forever! Let’s go, go, go!]
Tiny gives me a look that speaks volumes. I’ve been wanting to, but you jumped in front of me, and I haven’t been able to hit a monster since, idiot. Which may be true, but there’s no need to frame it quite so roughly, Tiny! Forgive me, alright? I got carried away!
[Yes, Master!] Crinis is far more forgiving and leaps forward, her blobby body taking on the form of its full terror, her three mouths revealing themselves from within the shadows of her form.
After those gnashing maws appear, Crinis takes a brief moment to gather her strength before she unleashes the devastating scream that I heard once before in Rylleh. The effect on the nearby monsters is instantaneous, as many rear back clutching at their heads or simply drop to the ground, writhing as their sanity is assaulted by the psychic waves of fear that accompany her roar.
Waves I can sense now, thanks to my antennae. Just how sensitive are these things? I can clearly detect the mental assault that rides along her voice, somehow attacking the mind of her foes without even employing Mind Magic. It’s like an injection of pure fear, straight into the vein, and it appears to work wonders. They cower back from Crinis, revealed in her full majesty.
What happens next to those monsters cowering in terror, I would rather not describe. Let’s just say I wish I could avert my eyes.
[Don’t forget the Biomass!] I call over my shoulder, having pressed my face up against the tunnel wall. It’s not perfect but it’s better than nothing. [You guys need to max out your mutations before you evolve. I know it’s not easy to get space to eat, so take turns or something. If you need help, call Invidia or me and we can chip in.]
With a roar, Tiny pushes off the ground and barrels headlong into the fray. We’ve been making solid progress, pushing down the tunnel and putting some distance between us and the checkpoint manned by the Colony. My hope is that the deeper we can go, the more checkpoints we can relieve by cutting off the flow of demons to as many places as possible.