Chương 142

-0-0-0-0-0- The Creator, Atlantis, The Kalenic Sea -0-0-0-0-0- As much fun as watching the CHI guilders is, it was absolutely hilarious to watch the Isekai'd heroes discover my memes. I had no idea which generation they belonged to. Still, at least Akio and Bruce were familiar enough with internet culture to identify Loss and references to The Game. It would be interesting to see if they recognised the older stuff I remembered, as well as the memes from just before I'd reincarnated as a Dungeon Core.

Gobble the Kobold was an interesting case. A quick investigation later, and I discovered she did indeed have an insatiable appetite, though I was unsure why. As one of my Children and a monster besides, she was perfectly capable of living off mana alone. Given that she'd seemingly been adopted by the party of displaced teens, I decided to let that whole situation play out. At least they were a proper party, now. They had a Healer, a Mage, a Paladin, a Rogue, and an added mascot.

After having beaten that one Kobold Warrior, they navigated the thick jungle of the Third to reach the next miniboss. Thanks to that map of theirs, one that I knew was handed out to every party, they were able to identify and avoid the most hazardous spots. They did lose that next miniboss fight, though, and returned to the surface shortly afterwards. Their plan was to beat each trial individually, then, when they felt ready to progress, beat them all after they were confident.

After they left, I once again turned my attention to the Twelfth. I stared at the desert, then at the cavernous space the thirteenth had become. Yeah, my method wasn't working. I needed way more rock and stone than what I'd already used, and carving it out of the Thirteenth would produce a space far, far, far larger than I needed. I needed to get the rock from somewhere, though, and I had the beginnings of a plan. First, I contacted the Earth Faerie, Sonum, on the Eleventh.

If Water spirits had access to an infinite plane of water, and air spirits had access to an endless plane of air, then it was possible the Earth Spirits had access to an endless plane of Earth. I briefly wondered what an infinite plane of Gravity would look like. Probably one enormous black hole, or a realm of constantly shifting gravity wells. Sonum was settled in the middle of the enormous hole in the middle of Terra Isla.

Like Sidhe and Igna, Sonum's potentium golem body represented Earth, showing both his power and control. He had skin of soft Earth, showing through the armoured plates of stone arranged like muscles across his body. His eyes were black like obsidian, as were his nails. Around him, dozens of statue-like golems rested, immobile.' We can make portals to the Earth Plane,' he almost immediately answered.' But it would be no use to you. The Earth Plane is not under pressure, as the Water Plane and Air Planes are.

It just is. Solid and stable.' Drat. Could you make a pair of portals between the magma chamber of the Atlantis Volcano and a point on the Twelfth? I asked instead, and there was a moment of pause as the fairie answered.' We could,' he replied, thoughtfully, ponderously rubbing his cleft chin.' It is merely Earth at high temperature and pressure. Why do you need this magma? Are you making a volcano of some sort?' I might as well, but that's not the end goal.

I have enchanted stones that teleport matter from one to the other when they touch. I just need to get it into the magma chamber, and it will take care of the rest. Your sprites are only required to open the initial portal, so I can get the input stone in there.

The first few sets I'd used on the Sixth were still working to this day, though I'd grown far more capable since then and was sure my newest set would outperform them handily. As for the why, I need stone to grind into sand, to create a great desert. My current method is labourious and my current source of stone is limited. The magma will act as a near-infinite source of rock. I plan to employ twister golems, and perhaps some of your own subordinates, to grind that rock into sand and distribute it.

Both you and the subordinates you provide will be given an increased allowance of mana as payment. There was a minute of silence from the manabeing as he pondered. He accepted with a nod and, with a wave of his hand, ten of the statues in the statuary garden moved and began to trudge up to the edge of the hole. These ten will make their way to the Twelfth on their own, to help grind the stone into sand, later. Do not worry about transport, they can walk the ocean floor with no issues.

With another wave, about twenty sprites emerged from the caves lining the edge of the hole and quickly left the island. These will open the portal. With that, his obsidian eyes closed, and once again, he appeared as nothing more than a statue, resting upon a plinth at the centre of intricately carved statues in a great variety of poses. I let him be, moved on, and found that Sidhe was more than happy to help again.

She provided me with two dozen Sprites who wanted to become golems, and they zoomed on their way to the Twelfth. Within a day, all three groups were on the Twelfth, though it would take another month at least for the Earth Golems to march across the continent-sized floor. They weren't exactly fast, but the lack of need for sleep, food, or rest certainly sped their journey. The Wind and Earth Sprites moved much faster, reaching the edge of the desert within a few days.

The Wind Sprites were provided with the same enchanted manacores that I'd used for the Twister Golems on the Ninth, hereafter referred to as Twister Cores. The Earth Sprites, however, I ordered them to the southern corner of the floor. I needed a mountain there, and I decided I might as well make it a volcano instead. It made more sense for a singular mountain, anyway. It would take another day for the sprites to cross the ocean, and I was spoilt for choice on what I could do.

Before I could decide, however, that choice was taken from me. My connection to Kata flared with desperate panic and need. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. -0-0-0-0-0- The Voice's Manse, Atlantis, The Kalenic Sea -0-0-0-0-0- Kata was panicking, frozen, as she stared at the missive in her clawed, trembling hands.

She felt The Creator's attention grow, but while she felt his panic rise with hers, He remained calm and gently reminded her that they'd planned for this. It helped, but now confronted with the very concept... she couldn't stop her panic.

"As you can see, the high priests and priestesses of The Holy City are... unhappy about the Children worshipping your creator as a god," Guildmistress Losat commented, and Kata could feel the intensity of her gaze behind that black silk blindfold. Kata had long ago learned that Layla had a talent for understatement, and she certainly lived up to it. Her assistant/lover/partner Felin snorted softly, barely perceptible to even her enhanced senses. The letter read like a proclamation of her doom.

Much of it was presented in religious terms, but it was still easily understandable nonetheless. To all pious and moral lords of Theona, hear this proclamation from the High Council of The Holy City. Upon an isle cast off the coast of our blessed continent, a blasphemous cult festers and spreads—its poison seeping into our soil, its heresies taking root in the hearts of our people.

This False God, called The Creator by its monstrous cult, spreads its cursed influence to our eastern coast, inciting rebellion in loyal cities and counties. This False God is a dungeon, and its cultists are monsters granted cunning beyond reason. By the will of The Gods, it must be destroyed. All faithful and pious lords are called to take up arms in the Seventeenth Holy Crusade, to cleanse the Island of 'Atlantis' of the dungeon's unholy presence and restore sacred order to the realm.

This Crusade will be led by the Templar Order and Heroes, newly summoned to fulfil this most holy of duties. All lords who answer this call will be granted a proportional gelt from the treasure and resources pillaged, and they may rest assured that the gods look kindly upon them. All who wish to participate must gather at key ports on the Eastern Coast, and the Crusade will commence from the First Bloom of Spring.

The High Priests and Priestesses of the Gods, The High Temple, The Holy City"It's looking bleak, to be sure," Layla continued as Kata scanned the page.

"They probably summoned the heroes months ago and have been training them for this exact purpose. The Templar exemplify the pinnacle of what ordinary humans can reach through training and mana, and Heroes are a cut even above them. Increased growth speed, learning speed, and intuition for combat that so far outstrips everyone else, it's not funny.

"So what are you going to do about it?" Layla asked. There was silence as Kata sat, stock-still. The Creator asked, and Kata allowed Him to speak through her.

"This was inevitable," He answered the guildmistress with her lips. The guildmistress noticed the change immediately. He had such a different tone and speaking rhythm, more masculine and harsh.

"I became aware of the existence of the Templars and the Heroes mentioned some time ago, and have made preparations of my own. Look here, they mention inciting rebellion. The teachings my Children spread at Blackwater Bay were peaceful, expounding on the virtues of charity, curiosity, community and reciprocation. That a few extremists, already unsatisfied with the nobles of the city, took them as an excuse and a scapegoat to get their own revenge is no fault of my Children.

This is merely a convenient excuse, not the true reason for this Crusade." Kata couldn't help but agree with His explanation. Something stunk in that proclamation.

"What's your theory, then?" Guildmistress Losat asked, crossing her arms and shifting her weight.

"I believe it's because of my Children," The Creator answered, simply.

"From what I've been able to discover, humans dominate this world. Why do you think that is? Your creation myth mentions that the Life Goddess discovered and favoured you, but, notably, not that she created you. I have created new species. Peoples just as intelligent and just as capable as humans. They are a threat, and your Gods wish to strike them down, to preserve this stagnant civilisation that worships them without reservation. They're not even real gods!

They're the pinnacle of what a Manabeing can become, likely the first manabeings, having existed since the dawn of the universe."

"What are they then, if not gods?" Layla challenged, "They are higher beings who once freely meddled and interfered with our lives. After that chaotic era, they swore to only act through champions and priests, to guide our world with a lighter touch."

"And where has that gotten you?" He responded.

"Thousands of years of nothing. You are stagnant. How long ago was this Chaotic Era, exactly?"

"Thirty-three thousand, three hundred, and thirty-three years ago," Losat answered simply.

"Your point?"

"That's.. an oddly specific number, but doesn't that seem weird to you?" The Creator asked, pushing His point.

"That your civilisation has endured for more than thirty thousand years without significant change? Your gods limit you. They prevent your advancement because if you were to grow beyond this constant struggle, you would no longer need them. They would no longer receive your worship. They need you, not the other way around."

"The gods do not demand our worship," Layla Losat answered, though Kata had never heard her sound so... unsure.

"Then why are they calling this crusade?" He rebutted, "They are scared. They call me a False God, but you know I've never called myself a god. I know what I am." He huffed through Kata's nose, uncrossing her arms and legs. Under His influence, she stood from her chair, turned, and looked out the window. In the fading light, Kata saw the town and port winding down for the evening, and the Lighthouse burst into light as the dark of night crept ever closer.

"We have until Spring," The Creator stated as Layla circled the table to join Kata at the window.

"This isn't something we can suppress, nor would I ever do so. The people of Atlantis have a right to know."

"They will panic," Losat replied.

"The faithful will flee in droves."

"And I will let them go." He answered, to the surprise of the guildmistress.

"Why are you surprised? I'm perhaps the greatest proponent of free will and of the right of all sentient beings to make their own decisions in all the world. If they leave, they leave. Any who remain will be offered shelter in The Dungeon. I have ample space on the Eleventh and Twelfth floors."

"I thought you only had eleven floors?" Layla asked, confused. He chuckled, and Kata felt His amusement mingle with her own as he turned her to face the human woman.

"I did, once. And now I have Thirteen," He stated.

"I am not stagnant. I am not satisfied with what I have created. With the dungeon as my canvas, I craft wonders. Landscapes that awe and inspire." He paused, staring right into Losat's blindfold.

"You have a choice, one far more damning than the last. Who are you more Loyal to, Layla Losat? Your religion, who demands my destruction? The Guilders under your aegis, who have their own choices to make? Your family? Your lover?" Kata's eyes flicked to the man standing back by the desk. The man scowled in her direction, and The Creator held his gaze for a moment before turning back to the guildmistress.

"Leave Us," He said.

"Your answer can wait a week. Ensure you do not regret your decision, whatever you choose. It's been a pleasure working with you." Layla and Felin left without another word, and Kata regained control over her body. However, she didn't move from her position by the window. In the town below, lanterns were lit, and the town's bustling nightlife took over as its nocturnal residents took to the streets.

"You're offering to take them to the Twelfth? Isn't it unfinished?" Kata eventually asked. He hummed. For now, he answered her. We have almost three months until they launch their Crusade against me. Time enough to finish the Twelfth. Time enough to prepare some truly devious defences -0-0-0-0-0-