The Greatest Sin [Progression Fantasy][Kingdom Building]

I rarely write upon History, for history is static and set and most of it is in my memory anyway. Too many times have I written of realities that were construed to be lies and even worse is when I write realities which are twisted into stories instead of being flatly disbelieved. Nevertheless, there is a new school of thought that is emerging, questioning the might of monsters and why we do not see great ruins of their civilizations and the like. Why we do not have armies of monsters, or some other nonsensical statements that try to apply modern civilization standards to the time that was the Age of Monsters.

A monster is not a beast, nor a titan, nor a dragon, nor anything that an organised group of men armed with spear and flame cannot kill. They are cowardly creatures that prey on the weak like sickly wolves straying close to cattle fields to whisk away baby calves. There was no attempt at dialogue because it is much like attempting dialogue with a plague.

They are mind-thieves and creatures that lurk in the dark. Which play with the senses, because the senses is all they can truly rule over. They would flee on sight from men of courage or those who did not back down, operating purely on animal instinct.

And that animal instinct of theirs was cruel and domineering, and it enjoyed the chase as much as it enjoyed the feeding. Those who could copy human form could do so almost perfectly. The tells would be minor, the lack of body hair in one, or maybe the lack of skin heat in another. And instead they would deform themselves to caricature parodies of humanity, with eyes too large and mouths with too many teeth.

When people talk of Love being vindictive, they forget often that if the Love was not vindictive, tribes and settlements would be swarmed, their people taken one-by-one, their children watched over by mothers and fathers who were not their mothers and fathers and who satisfied themselves with screaming and terror, for any animal bar the slowest possesses the mind to ration a portion. Wolves hunt for a cow in a field, they do not hunt herds at once.

And it is rare that I come to Hatred’s defence, for Malam has done a great many evils, but my Love was a castle and a wall and it was staffed with soldiers. Where my Love held, Malam’s Hatred appeared where there was nothing left to hold. When the only cause of righteousness was to lay down one’s fear and one’s life, for they were already dead, and to step into the dark and chase it away. With fire and steel and blood.

The question of whether monsters possess a mind has come up many times, and this argument has been wielded against me many times, as if I supposed to kneel and beg forgiveness for the purpose of protecting humanity. No. To call monsters animals is to give them an out, for then, they purely follow their nature.

It is worse if they have a mind.

It is even worse if they possess souls.

- Excerpt from “Reconciliation”, written by Goddess Helenna, of Love.

Fortia stopped the oppressive death march of a pace that Malam set in the tunnels. It wasn’t about the monsters that would appear every now and then. Those, the Goddess of Hatred disposed of herself. It was the atmosphere down here. The darkness that came in from all sides. The fact they would find a corpse of a creature that looked almost human every few steps, and Malam would laugh and say that was Helenna’s work if she ever saw it.

The fact they were dragging cables through these tunnels, and needing to stop to install them every few steps. The fact that it was an endless maze which had a loop for every dead end. Once, they walked for hours at Divine pace, only for Malam to declare that there was no continuing. Fortia had seen the corridor stretch on forever. All of them had seen the corridor stretch on forever. But Malam, somehow, had not.

The trip one way had taken hours, the trip back, maybe twenty minutes at most. Malam immediately had Fer sniffing the walls for hidden entrances. Maisara used her axe to crack through a wall, and they had a found a creature without a path, sitting in complete darkness. “That.” Malam walked up to it, a torch in one hand, a her shotgun in the other. “We used to call a labyrinthian, the road we walked down just now was not real, we were walking into circles.”

Fortia had to know. “How did you know?”

Malam pulled the trigger, the creature died and nothing changed inside the room, but Neneria appeared from outside. “That corridor just ended. The one you told us to go back on.”

“Malam.” Fortia said. “How did you know?” Of Peace turned to Fer. “Could you smell it?”

“I could not.” Fer said. “I didn’t catch we were walking like that. The smells here are just odd in the first place.”

“We put up lights every hundred metres on the right side of the tunnel.” Malam said. “Part of it is for light, part of it is for directions, part of it is because of creatures like this. We were walking, but the light was behind us still.” Malam said. Her attitude had changed entirely the moment they saw the first of these creatures.

Fortia noticed it immediately, when the Goddess of Hatred had stopped drinking. For once, Malam was sober. And Fortia didn’t know if that made her better or worse. The steps were faster, the eyes were focused, the smile was gone. The coyness and the jokes were missing, and they were missing to such an extent that even Fer did not try to bring them back.

Malam looked around the room and opened her mouth to taste the air. One power she had that Fortia had always thought was odd and unexplainable and inhuman was the ability to taste magic. Now though, seeing how she moved through these corridors, how she would practically pant like a dog when she caught the scent of otherworldly forces in the air, Fortia understood.

So they continued. Through one turn, down another. Neneria and Iniri at the end of the party. The Paladins that Helenna had blessed long ago were putting up lights. Some of them talked with each other. It was an entirely different atmosphere compared to the group of Divines at the front led by Malam. Hatred led, and Hatred led in exactly the way that Fortia imagined she would. Tall quick, confident strides, more than steps, silence, eyes scanning, torch held forward, gun at the ready. Malam did not explain. Did not talk. Did not smile. For the first time since Fortia met her this era, this drunk lived up to her reputation.

They trekked another few miles, the blessed Paladins in the back continuing their light chatter and the raising the lights that Malam had tasked them with raising. And then, the Goddess of Hatred raised her own hand. She stood still, her white hair reflecting the light back them as if the woman had a sheet of snow permanently trailing behind them. “Do you feel that?” Malam asked.

Neneria stopped moving, Iniri did too. Fortia didn’t know if it was the experience, if it was the fact they had lived through those ages, but they were holding themselves together the best. Fer’s ears had fallen onto the top of her head, whilst Fortia was on the edge of summoning her spear right now. “What is it?” Maisara whispered.

“Of course you wouldn’t.” Malam whispered back. “This is important, Fortia, can you feel it or no?” Fortia couldn’t magic in the first place, she had been wandering with goosebumps and every hair on her body stood erect since they entered down here. What exactly would she be feeling?

“No.” Fortia’s answer was just a whisper.

“Neneria, I know you can.”

“Should I tell them?” Neneria asked.

“No.” Malam said. “Iniri, do you know?”

“I’m sure I sense something different than what you do, but I know what it is.”

“What do you sense?”

“Upturned roots.” Malam did not comment or laugh, she just held position.

“That makes sense, Fer?”

“I smell it.”

“What are we…” Fortia’s words trailed off as she heard footsteps from ahead. She leaned forward, to try and spot what Malam was looking at and then… A man walked into view. A human. On one hand, there was nothing odd about him. He was a human with a confident stride, the sort that countless people had when they walked through city streets. And perfectly human, even warm, green eyes.

The clothes were fashion that had been out of date since two hundred years ago. The cheeks were powdered, the hair was a wig, the pants were cut short and the man had huge calves that demanded attention through the white socks. He carried himself like a noble. And perfectly Divine, pitch-black eyes with no pupils, just an endless void. The same that Malam had.

Fortia watched as wig became hair, snow white, the jacket became a black coat that reached low. The boots transformed into a modern set. The socks became stockings which disappeared under a short skirt. And the hand that gripped the air still gripped the air.

The Malam with the gun and the torch shot the smaller, weaponless imitation of herself. “Shapeshifter.” She said. “They generally do not possess Divines.”

Maisara took a step to the side, staring at the corpse from which a puddle of blood was leaking. “That one did.”

“I force them to.” Malam said. “They’re constantly shifting and making tiny transformations, there are some tales that they have a true form.” Of Hatred took a step forward, continuing her march. “I have never seen one be born, so I cannot say what they look like truly. But they start at the eyes always, they cannot leave mine.” Fortia walked around the corpse, looking at the blood. She stepped away, over it. Neneria lifted her dress, Iniri just walked through it.

“Is it safe?” Fortia asked.

“It’s just blood.” Iniri said lightly. “You are afraid.”

The Goddess of Nature was damn right, Fortia was afraid, and she didn’t feel bad about admitting it. “Are you not?”

“No.” Iniri said. She nodded ahead. “We have her.” Fortia’s eyes went to Malam again as the Goddess of Hatred stopped at a junction, she turned left, mouth open, taking deep breaths. And then right, same thing.

“Fer.” Malam said. “Smell for dead ends.”

Fer stepped forward by her sister and sniffed the air. She shook her head. “Its goes in both directions, there’s no pull either way.” She pointed to the left. “Something is there.”

“A siren.” Malam said. “There’s a song playing right now.”

“I can’t hear anything.” Fortia said, looking around. Fer’s ears bounced up and down as she turned around. Neneria and Iniri both, as always, seemed to know what was going on. Maisara looked just as confused as Fortia.

“Neither. I would have heard it. I can hear the heartbeat of the creature.” Fer said.

“The song affects all creatures bar Divines take one.” Malam said, setting off towards the left. Fortia tried to hide the fact she was hurrying. “There’s a theory about it, actually. That the fact we don’t produce life is the cause of our immunity to most of these mental mind-tricks.

“All creatures bar Divines take one?” Maisara asked.

“Me.” Malam answered.

“So it’s going to get you?” Fer asked nervously. “I’ll stop you sister. If you’re walking off.”

“I register it physically, I don’t feel the need to act on it.” Malam said. “Come. It’s not far.” They stopped at another junction. “Do you want to see it?”

Neneria crossed her arms and shrugged. Iniri walked around the corner to see. Fer leaned over, her ears pointed forwards, trying to make out any semblance of sound. Maisara and Fortia came last. It was not what they were expecting. The siren was more akin to a flycatcher with legs. There was no mouth on it, save for the large one that obviously was not singing right now. “How is it making the sound then?” Maisara asked.

“It’s a psychic scream.” Malam said. The siren moved slightly, it seemed to sense the light when the torch beam settled over it. Small legs, tendril-like, revealed themselves from the bottom, and it started to move away slowly. “To humans, it apparently sounds pleasant, I hear it the same as those who carry Helenna’s blessing, which is a low drone.” Malam hefted her shotgun forward and pulled the trigger. Blood splattered onto the walls.

Fortia felt no different whatsoever. Malam kept on leading on in the direction of the slain monster. “Why are we going this way?” Fortia asked.

“Because it was this way.” Malam said and Fortia stopped, turning around down the other tunnel. The blessed Paladins had already caught up, some had their rifles out, they made the turn, the group that was following split into to. They lay cable down on the ground to cross the junction and get onto the other side. And they set up a wall. One of the men painted an arrow back in the way on the ground with a spray can. Then again on the walls.

“So we’re just walking towards the danger?” Fortia asked.

“In the past hunts, I would walk endlessly with men behind men, and we would spread out in a line and we circle around them.” Malam said as she began her march. “And there would be nothing left of a nest once they left.”

“Is this a nest?” Maisara asked.

“Most likely, but not by any reasonable measure. They flee fire.” Malam said. “These torches don’t have the same effect.” She splashed her light over the walls and would physically lick the air every few steps.

“How many kinds are there?” Fortia could believe that she was asking Malam these questions, of all people.

“Countless.” Malam said. “What we have seen are the most benign and harmless ones. Paida’s expedition reported larger numbers, they were most likely chased off by human presence.” Malam stopped suddenly, then licked the air again. Something else? Or… And then she took a step. “There will be a hole soon.” Fortia did not ask a what a hole was. At this point, she would just accept it. Maisara fell in line by her side.

And then it turned out to be a hole. A real, literal hole in the ground, not particularly wide. Fortia would not be able to fit through it. None of them could, a broad man would struggle to get his shoulders through and the entire party was wider than that. Malam stepped over the hole, then shown her light down the corridor. Something skittered away in the distance. “What was that?” Fer asked. “I can smell it, it’s not gone far.”

“I caught it but not long enough.” Malam said. “You watch that side, we’ll clear this.” She turned around as Fer stepped in front of her sister, teeth bared, claws out, ready to pounce. Fortia stepped near the hole. The stone here was still brick, although it was cracked. And it looked to be dug from this side down, rather than from outside the corridor in. There were scratch marks all over the walls as if something had been searching for something to give way.

Malam took out a glowstick from her coat, cracked it, and dropped it down. Fortia was expecting it to fall forever, or at least a minute. It dropped thirty? Forty feet? Into a cave where it bounced. Before Fortia could register it, something grabbed the glowstick and devoured it. Maisara, Fer and Fortia all looked to Malam. “It’s a moleman.” Malam said. “There’s probably ten or twenty down there.” She stepped to the side. “Iniri, this is your job.”

The Goddess of Nature stepped forward, an acorn already in her fingers, she threw it down. Before the acorn hit the ground, it was already expanding. Bark and roots and piercing branches filled the darkness. There were soft yelps, then the sound of crushing. And then only the slow rumble of a tree settling and roots cracking stone. “That does not go deep.” Iniri said. “It had a second chamber that was cut off.” Fortia stared at the wood, then at Iniri.

She knew what the Goddess of Nature could do, but seeing Iniri like this, almost relaxed, was completely different than seeing her in the White Pantheon where she was as quiet as a mouse. “That was useful.” Fortia said.

“They’re animals.” Iniri said. “Below animals even. If you fell down there, I doubt they’d even scratch you.”

“They’re that safe?” Fortia said.

“They don’t prey on us.” Malam said. “We, at least I, was incarnated specifically to kill them.” Malam turned back around. “We’ll follow the route that thing went.” Fortia followed as Malam led. Fer close to the side, her ears would swivel every now and then. There was definitely skittering ahead of them. Iniri and Neneria took the rear still, idly walking, the Goddess of Death seeming as she was bored here.

Malam licked the air, stopped and aimed her flashlight forward. “What now?” Maisara asked, her voice as quiet as she could make.

“You don’t have to whisper.” Malam said dryly as she past her torch to Fer. “In fact, don’t whisper, they should know what comes their way.” Of Beasthood took it, Malam loaded fresh shells into the chamber. But Fortia just stared at Malam, at the way she licked her lips. That was it, she could practically feel it. The old adage that would be said every now and then, that Kassandora’s war was just the officialization of nation-state against nation-state, but that Malam had began and laid the foundation of what war would look like on Arda. Kassandora wore the same expressions when leading. “There’s a fair few ahead.” Malam stepped forward, and took her torch back. “Leave it to me.”

“You sure?” Fer asked.

“Fer.” Malam said. “I enjoy drinking, and I enjoy this. And I have moments, but these are the two things in my life I enjoy consistently.” Another step forward. Fortia called upon her spear and held it at the ready. Her torch in the other side. Malam took a step forward, the end of her barrel bounced against the stone. “See.” She said. “It becomes smoother here. There’s been travel scurrying about that they’ve ground the tiles down.” Something moved in the dark. A creature snarled. Malam ignored it even as the snarling got wider. “Veins filled with cowardice, creatures that prey on the helpless, that scurry to their nests to try. Not to defend and hold but to hide and shiver in the presence of a human spirit that gives them nothing.”

Darkness slowly spiralled along the walls, nothing like Irinika’s dark but a slow miasmic spread. Like roots or vines growing and claiming terrain. “Underserving of existence, much less of life. You do not know hatred until you see a village overtaken by them and hear the screams of children in the dark.” Malam stepped into onto the miasmic darkness, ignoring it. “Humanity prayed for salvation, and humanity got me. And we repaid them in kind for every soul lost and every life taken. I would say that quick deaths are too good for them, but torture is wasted on them.” The darkness hit Fortia. She stood there, unmoving for a moment. It wasn’t Irinika’s darkness, that had a presence and a supernatural fear to it. This was just mass. Slime.

The people remained, but suddenly the world went dark. Fortia turned to look at herself, and at Maisara. Fer growled. Iniri looked around, Neneria didn’t react. All the edges of the corridor disappeared, the stonework around them, the bricks in the ground. The ceiling above. It was all plain darkness, flat. Not as terrible as Irinika’s, which swallowed and felt endless. It was rather as something had decided to turn the entire world save for the people into matte-black.

Malam stepped forward, her gun raised with one hand. Her white hair a beacon in the darkness, she tasted the air slightly, tilted her gun to the right slightly, and then pulled the trigger. The flash was real though, and so was the splashing of blood and a thud. And just like that, the illusion, if it could even be called that, was gone. “That doesn’t have a modern name.” Malam said. “It would slide around and get into homes with that power though.”

Malam took another step forward. Her gun shifted, she fired into the darkness again. And this time, Fortia saw the illumination of the flash. Figures in the distance. All illuminated for a brief instant, all malformed caricatures of humanity. Some too tall, some too short and rounded. Some with shoulders the size of heads, others with claws for hands. Teeth that spilled out of mouths, hair fashioned out of spines. Something swallowed the light of the torch, pulling the beams into maw as when it came in contact. Malam fired again, the slug caught a dozen of them. And again. And again.

Fortia stared at what she was watching, Fer took a step forward and Neneria finally rushed. Not to help but to catch Fer’s shoulder. “Don’t.”

“And if she gets hurt?” Fer asked quietly.

“She won’t.”

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